Succubus

*Andy’s POV*

Oona and I had decided, for the time being, that it was actually ideal that I had fucked us both into a frenzy and managed to manifest as an incubus. She suspected it would be easier for her to try and teach me how to work with energy when I was ‘in incubal form.’ Just talking about myself like that sounded so fake and weird. But frankly, I looked fake and weird.

I mean, I had little nubbins popping out of my head that Ooona swore grew when I started to get off (creepy) or got angry, but she said that was normal. How the fuck is that normal? Deer with antlers, sure they grow, but, like, over the course of a season. And when the season is over, they fall off, they don't resorb into their heads just because they don’t have boners or they aren’t mad or what have you. What exactly are the physics and biology of that? I mean, right? I just was not used to this demon shit! Besides, antlers got deer shot, I didn’t want to be shot! Jules would kill me as I was dying! What if some crazy trophy hunter…

No, no… I was over-thinking. If, like, lots of sex-demons had horns or whatever, I should be ok. Grampy had some wicked horns that poked out all the time, I guess because he was old or whatever, I didn’t really know. I really didn’t know a whole lot about, well, anything that wasn’t terrestrial, normal-normal, stuff. Ugh. Calm down, Biersack. I just need to be fucking mindful and NOT answer the door when I’m, uh, practicing being an incubus. At least my voice was the same so I could answer my phone. I'd just have to be careful not to scratch the damned screen.

First thing, I had taught Oona how to make pancakes. I wasn’t huge on pancakes these days, but I really needed to go with something simple. It was a lot harder, gripping the spatula with clawed hands, and I fucked up my first one. After that, I had gone for smaller sized pancakes.

I felt like, even if all we technically needed to do was have a bunch of sex to eat, when I was in this 'form,' I still wanted to do something to contribute, for once, and Oona was incredibly excited when she made her first pancake all by herself. The joy she radiated, the pride, made it all worth it. I liked teaching her stuff.

Oona was also a lot of help when I almost caught one of my wings on fire. How she caught it before I did, I’m not sure. I turned around, uncomfortable and confused, only to find her with a wet washcloth pressed around a singed feather. She had reacted, extinguished it before it had even really started, before I’d even had the chance to figure out what her panicked thoughts meant. My guardian demoness.

We brought our pancakes to the table and I showed her the butter and syrup. “I am familiar with them Andy. I have watched you eat these things, but have not tasted them.” She was curious, and a little frightened. She wondered if this was what some said came from the rectum of the bee?

I laughed. “No, you’re thinking of honey, would you like some-“

Worried, Oona interrupted me, “-No thank you, Andy! What is this sticky oil? Why would you put it on our nice-smelling bread items, the panned cakes? And this ivory spread, it comes from the breast of a cow?”

I was totally revolted, the way she said it. Eeew. “Uh, yes… Butter comes from cow’s milk, but, um, it’s been pasteurized. Meaning, processed. And syrup, it comes from trees.”

Oona nodded solemnly. “I see. The lifesblood of trees. You are a maudlin man, Andy, feasting on the death of trees. Truly, Sebastian would be so proud. When we see him next, we must tell him you eat the dead for breakfast.” I smiled, too shocked to say anything, as I listened to Oona wondering what covert, black human markets I must frequent to buy such ghastly products. At least it didn't seem to bother her ethically. She just thought I was a little dark in my tastes. Kind of edgy.

I cleared my throat. I couldn’t resist. “I really like pancakes a little better with something on them. Did you want to try either?” Oona held her fork, watching me in awe as I put both butter and syrup on my pancakes. How incredibly hedonistic I was! Was it because I was in my incubal form? Perhaps she’d best coax me into returning to my human form at once, lest I go on some manner of homicidal spree! Or would my sexual appetite be increased as an incubus? She was a bit hungry still, having been drained so profoundly by Juliet, and my thick, black strands of pleasure tasted so divin- “Oona?”

She blinked. “Just a small amount of each, to try them. Both the mammary secretions of cattle and the death sap of plants, please.” I chuckled and passed her the containers, watching as she took little smidgeons out and eyed them distrustfully.

After watching me eat for a bit, Oona took a bite of plain pancake. She liked it! Spongy and sweet! She got braver after three bites, and went for a bite with butter on it. She liked that a lot more, and felt guilty about it, averting her eyes from mine and chewing rapidly. Curious, she went for an area with syrup. Oh, NO! She hated it, it was so sticky! It ruined everything about the fine, little pancake we had made together! It was too sweet! She spat it out, right onto the table, and made a crumpled face of disapproval, like a toddler. I laughed. I gathered demons didn't teach table manners either.

“Do you want a drink to wash the taste away?” Oona looked at me, horrified that the man she so loved could enjoy something so sticky. How was it possible? I was so perfect in so many ways, even in my many flaws, but this? This syrup!?! Even so... she still loved me. But she would never, ever let syrup pass her lips again. Only to save my life would she do it, it was the epitome of foul, it had ruined our precious, little panca-

I shook my head, chuckling. “I’ll get you some water.”

Notes

fun and interesting news! i am randomly on speaking terms with my ex-boyfriend again, and he's actually reading this story. i was excited to learn that i succeeded in giving him a boner while on public transportation. yay! *flexes literary muscles*

not unlike my so-called arch-nemesis, i, too like having my ego stroked. i'm just less of a fucking hussy about it.

everyone say 'hi Drake!' (be nice, anyone who reads LOJ, he's actually a 98% nice guy in reality and has been through some incredibly horrifying shit and seriously needs some support right now.) he's also the last person i boned, approximately eight million years ago, before my vagina sealed shut, so you can thank him personally for any good smut i've ever written, as the best sex i ever had was with that bastard. so be nice if you like my stuff.

borrowing this from self-styled 'arch-nemesis' (you wish you were worthy, babe). advice for Drake:



to aforementioned 'arch-nemesis':

let's see your ex get a boner on the bus, bitch! oh, i went there! (love you, luck with new story) ;o)