Page 71 of The Succubi's Choice

“Wait, are you butthurt they thought I charmed you?” She asks, pushing herself up so she can see his face again.

“Not the best phrasing here,” he murmurs, his cheek twitching.

She stares at him, then breaks into a cheeky smile, finally she understands where she stands and what he’s doing here. “Though I must say, if that’s what you’re going for, bringing me to an orgy isn’t helping.”

Again, the cheek twitching, but this time it might be from laughter.

“Cause if I could trick an all-powerful demon with no consequences, one of the first things I would do is get an orgy invite.” Without the haze of want in her mind, without the all-encompassing hunger combined with confusion and pain, she’s able to look around. Absorb the environment.

The dim lighting does a lot more to suggest incriminating things than hide them. For all she knows, the dim bodies in some of the corners might just be sitting, like they are, with only the hint of motion to suggest otherwise.

A couple to their left are definitely fucking, though, and it’s hard not to watch, not to stare.

“Well, not very many people inside that community know,” he says, and his chest rumbles when he speaks, when she’s pressed up against him.

They sit, for a few minutes, until she’s back in her skin, back to feeling like an actual person and not just a bundle of spent nerves. Without her having to say anything, he pulls her upright. Like he can tell she can move again, which, he probably can. Who knows what sort of magical powers he has in his repertoire; if he can easily observe her needing to feed he can probably monitor her mental state. Or something.

“I have to speak to some people,” he says, and she really doesn’t want to leave the room. “I am sure you will be more than welcomed there as well.”

“There’s more than just here?” She asks, walking briskly to keep up with him and his strides. “You mean there’s more?”

This time, he gives her a delighted smile, like indulging her in this is the best thing ever. “Miri, they have the whole house.”

* * *

The next room,he quickly finds a short, voluptuously round brunette in a corset and immediately begins to talk to her about blood donations with a completely straight face.

“Are you one of his unusual people?” She asks, and her voice is high, much higher than Miri would think with her body type.

“I suppose so,” Miri says, out of a lack of anything else to say.

She regards Miri with sharp eyes, not unfriendly, before shrugging. “Welcome to my home.” She lays a hand on Not-Thomas’s arm, like she’s going to drag him away. “Don’t hurt anyone, and you’ll be fine.”

“Oh, you’re the host?” Miri says, feeling again ungangly. “That’s...cool.”

“At least you’re pretty,” she says, not unkindly. “If you want sex, you’ll not be wanting here.”

And that should be somewhat offensive, but Miri can’t really argue that she isn’t acting like an idiot. “I haven’t exactly been to one of these before.”

The woman looks up at Not-Thomas, and she has to crane her neck to look him in the eye. “She’s not going to —"

“She feeds off of sexual energy, this is the last place she’d want to cause trouble,” he says, cutting her off smoothly, but the woman seems unbothered. “She won’t harm anyone, as long as they don’t sleep with her more than a few times over the night.”

“Twice, usually,” Miri says, because being forthright with information seems like the best way to go about it. “Twice and they might get a hangover.”

The woman hesitates, then shrugs, and her breasts jiggle so wonderfully in the corset that Miri immediately knows why she wore it. “That would be impressive if they did that, so that’s on them.” She refocuses, laser eyes, on Not-Thomas, before launching into another conversation about blood palates, leaving Miri to observe the room freely, without even having to pretend to pay attention.

There’s no spectacle, no center of attention, and the light is soft, tinted a warm pinkish orange, casting everyone in a surreal glow. More people are talking, obviously talking, just associating while in the most provocative of clothing and positions.

There’s a man, in the tiniest of leather clothing, giving a beautifully naked woman a massage, and she looks so content she may fall asleep.

The woman with the candy pink hair is on her knees in front of a different man, and he holds her head in place. All Miri can see from the angle is the tightening of muscles in his thighs, and the woman’s smooth brown skin glistening in the soft light.

In a back corner, almost as an afterthought, there’s a man handcuffed to a brace on the wall, and another man leaning over him, tender and slow in his motions. Even from this distance, she can see the red lines around the man’s wrists, as the handcuffs bite in, and the sharp glint of clamps over his nipples.

It’s a different sort of room, a different sort of vibe, and there’s a small well of curiosity inside of her.

She knows, she definitely knows, that there are people who get the same amount of pleasure from roughness as they do gentleness, but something inside of her is, by nature, wired somewhat differently. A succubi doesn’t feed on pain, after all, and she’s never exactly been in a position to feel the sexual pleasure from them that they receive from such treatment.

---