#succubus bhh

[directionlessfanficinspo]

Succubus BBH pt. 1

Bad is burning the candle at both ends.

Deep down he can sense his body fraying, but the contracts and bounties are seemingly endless.

Before he knows it, ten whole years have passed since his last feeding. He has just finished a job when the realization hits, bringing him to his knees on the cold stone floor of the inn.

Ten whole years.

How is he still standing?

He examines his hands and sees them shaking like dry leaves in the wind. His skin is hot, he realizes dimly. More so than usual. It feels as though he is back in the Nether.

Feverishly, he shrugs off his clothes draws a bath, but the water boils as soon as he steps into it.

Angrily, he wipes bloody tears out of his eyes and stares unseeingly at the bed.

It is too late to take a mortal lover. They would burn under his touch long before they had the chance to climax.

Bad looks down at his naked body and grimaces. His gray skin has grown so hot that it shimmers under the light, and little flames roll off of his long black hair. His breasts hang heavy and sore, swollen to the point of absurdity. Behind him his tail hangs limp, and the scars where his wings used to be ache anew.

He has not felt this terrible since his fall.

Outside the window, a tall, statuesque castle looms on the horizon. Gold towers sparkle in the moonlight.

Bad grimaces.

He must've subconsciously realized what was happening to him and gravitated toward the one person who would be able to help. It always seems to come to this, in the end.

He hates it. He doesn't.

The fireproof material of his Nether cloak scrapes harshly against his bare skin and he shudders. It covers his whole body from horns to toes, but his false halo remains visible. A bright, clinical white instead of golden it shines over his head, matching his empty eyes.

Inhaling deeply he braces himself. It will be a long walk, but he can make it. It has been ten years, after all. What is a few hours more?

The palace doors are unlocked, as usual. Their creator has no need to fear trespassers. Bad slips deftly through them and shivers as his God's familiar aura surrounds him like a physical presence.

It is dominant and powerful, but simultaneously cool and comforting, like ocean spray.

The palace is built for a giant, with absurdly high ceilings and intricately carved archways. There are no chandeliers, but Bad knows better than to be surprised. His arch nemesis has sworn off them for over three hundred years.

Instead, sea lanterns and and glowstone light up the hallways. There are even End rods, overt in their impossibility.

Bad ignores a pang of loss at the reminder of his former home and continues onward. Instinctually he can sense where the palace's sole inhabitant is.

His presence must be known by now, but neither welcome nor confrontation takes place.

His God is in the library. He stands in his true form, well over thirty feet tall. Golden skin glints in the glowstone light and jewels sparkle along his body. He is reading a book that appears comically small in his enormous hands.

Meanly, Bad wonders if it is upside down.

"Well, well, well" Foolish drawls. All at once his full attention presses down on Bad. It feels something like having a house dropped on his head and his knees buckle beneath him.

Foolish's enormous head tilts to one side.

"Look what the cat dragged in." He says thoughtfully. "How's it going there, pal?"

Bad shrugs weakly.

"Oh, you know." He replies in a poor attempt at his usual cheer. "Same old. Can't complain."

His skin heats a few degrees as if in disagreement and he whines through clenched teeth.

Foolish's massive body flares with warm, bright light, and the next thing Bad knows is warm hands on his face

"You're burning pretty hot, there." Foolish says, human and distinctly concerned. His black hair is longer than the last time they met, curtaning his eyes, but the worry shines through nonetheless. He places one hand on Bad's forehead. "Did you just come back from the Nether?"

Bad shakes his head, unable to keep pretending.

"White." He whispers. "Please, Foolish. White. I can't- I can't take it anymore."

Foolish's expression morphs from one of concern to understanding, sympathy and a subtle hunger.

"How long?" He asks gently.

Bad avoids his eyes. He doesn't want to see the judgement he knows will be there.

"Ten years." He whispers. "I didn't mean to. I swear."

Foolish touches his chin gently and guides his gaze upward.

"Bad, that's- I don't-" He takes a deep breath they both know he doesn't need. "What can I do?"

Bad's brain is foggy, but he doesn't hesitate.

"I just need to feed." His voice breaks. "Please, Foolish. I'll do anything."

His God searches his face for an agonizingly long time.

"Okay." He says at length. "What's your word, Bad? Can you tell me?"

Bad swallows a groan at the steadily growing heat in his core. His body can sense Foolish. It knows what is about to happen.

"Diamond." He replies. "If something is wrong, I'll tell you."

Foolish nods.

"Alright." He says. His voice is low, a little gravelly. It is the voice that will always bring Bad to his knees. "I'll feed you."

He steps back and Bad whines out loud, a high, keening sound. Foolish grins at him. His teeth are many and very, very sharp.

"Why don't you take off your clothes, hmm? It's awfully hot in here."

Bad glares at him, hating the way his body responds to the God's words.

Foolish cocks an eyebrow and waits. He will not give in. Bad knows that from experience.

Reluctantly, he pulls off his hood, allowing his long, curly black hair to flow free.

His God makes an approving sound low in his chest and, encouraged, Bad allows the rest to slip off of his body.

He must look ruined, if Foolish's hungry expression is anything to go by.

Heavy, engorged tits, feverishly flushed skin and a dripping cunt. Even his normally shiny hair is stringy with sweat, hanging down his back like ropes.

Everything aches.

Before he can blink Foolish is back in his space, one hand around his waist and the other cupping the side of his neck.

"Is this okay?" He asks quietly. "Are you sure this is what you want?"

Bad nods so quickly he thinks he might actually pull a muscle.

"I want this." He mumbles, then, quieter. "I want you."

Foolish smiles widely.

The world around them melts. Colours fade and blur together until they are all that remains, highlighted in the starry dark of the void.

He is pressed tightly against Foolish, so much so that he can feel ever piece of jewellery imprint against his flesh.

Colour returns before he can complain, reforming into his God's bedroom. A bedroom isn't what he'd call the cavernous room, but that is what it is.

A plunging lagoon, surrounded by marble pillars inlaid with gold and mother of pearl. The uneven walls are tales of the past caught in jewel-like mosaic patterns. Bad sees himself in several of them.

He does not have time to stare, as Foolish hoists him up into his arms. He wraps his legs reflexively around Foolish's waist and Foolish grins impishly at him through dark curtains of hair.

"Let's cool you down." He says, far too lightly. "A little holy water never hurt anyone, right?"

If he wasn't so far gone, Bad would've bitten him.

The water is delicious against his burning skin, kept magically freezing by Foolish's divine magic. It soothes an ache inside him that he'd barely known he had.

Until tonight.

He is tall, just under twice the size of an ordinary human. Even he cannot even begin to touch the bottom. Every drop of water in the lake is holy but instead of burning, he is soothed.

His God. The only divine being to even look at him after his fall. The only one to ever offer relief or sanctuary.

As if reading his thoughts, Foolish traces his fingers down the parallel scars on Bad's back. His touch is feather-light and reverent, nothing like the brutality that had made those scars thousands of years ago.

"They were beautiful, you know." Foolish says lowly, his breath tickling Bad's piercing riddled, pointed ear. "More than anyone else's. When we met, your wings were the most beautiful things I'd ever seen."

Bad stifles a sob against Foolish's broad chest, and feels a large hand cup the back of his head comfortingly.

He misses his wings. They were huge and magnificent, a resplendent shade of red that the universe will never see again. They had brought him high in the sky and through the bottomless depths of space. Not once had they failed him. After his fall, it had taken him months to readjust to their missing weight. He'd taken to wearing heavy cloaks, just to have some semblance to clutch to.

"Please." He whispers, his words muffled against golden flesh. He doesn't even know what he is begging for. "Please, Foolish."

His God hums softly, the sound rumbling through their joined chests.

The next thing Bad knows he is underwater, suspended over a bottomless hole.

I'll be quick. Foolish's voice ripples through his mind. This first time.

Bad does not have time to react before Foolish surges over him, his skilled mouth sealing over one of Bad's nipples. His hands are not idle, massaging, squeezing and tugging engorged flesh. He tugs cruelly on pierced nipples, melding pleasure with sharp pain.

Bad moans soundlessly, his back arching into the bottomless void. The water silences him as effectively as any gag, but lifts the weight from his immortal body and soothes his red hot skin.

Nimble fingers tweak one pierced nipple, while a rough tongue laps mercilessly at the other. A muscular thigh presses between his legs, creating a welcome pressure against his cunt.

Foolish's free hand reaches up, pressing two fingers against his lips. Bad opens eagerly for him, his split tongue laving long fingers like his life depended on it.

Foolish is the only one to treat him like this. The only one who goes out of his way to makes him feel good. Like a precious thing to be treasured, instead of just used and tossed aside upon completion.

His tears roll freely now, tainting the holy water of the lagoon with damned blood.

Foolish raises his head for a moment, his nostrils flaring.

The darkness of a shark flashes in his eyes, but is gone in a moment as he sees the source of the blood.

Oh sweetheart. He says. It's okay. I've got you. Let me just get you ready, and then you can feed, alright?

Bad nods. He is grinding freely against Foolish's thigh, he realizes distantly. When had he started that?

Foolish moves them once more so that they are floating upright, with Bad's chest level with his face.

I'm going to start opening you up now, okay? He checks gently. You're already so wet for me. You're perfect, Bad, do you hear me?

Even as he speaks his tongue and teeth remain occupied, tugging and nipping at engorged nipples. It hurts so deliciously that Bad arches against him, pressing his tits further into his face. He cannot even think enough to answer.

Foolish seems to take this as agreement as he lowers his hands to Bad's hips and guides him down, bit by bit, onto his cock.

They groan as one and Foolish bites down, hard. More blood clouds the water.

Foolish's thickness is unmatched, even thousands of years later. Bad does not think he will ever meet anyone who fills him up as thoroughly as his God does.

Pleasure whites out his brain and he drifts into a space outside of time. All that remains is hot pleasure and an aching sense of safety. Even now, Foolish does not stop pleasuring him, his hands and mouth still busy with anything they can reach.

Bad knows it immediately when he climaxes. Golden energy penetrates the fog in his mind, searing his entire body with holy warmth.

It is not the same as the infernal heat of the Nether, to which he had been banished. He should be burnt from the inside out but he isn't, and slowly, his aching body begins to recover its strength. Foolish's energy is like nothing else. It is deafening echo of home.