Page 17 of By the Fae

All around us, the glamoured shadows of people undulated. I shut my eyes. Not that they bothered me. An audience had never bothered me before, and I knew they weren’t real. A figment of my magic. I’d put them there. I could just as easily remove them. Make them solid and touchable, or ethereal, and pass my hand through them. I could make them more distinct, give them features, make them talk, make them join us.

When I opened my eyes, it was to catch a glimpse of purple hair twisted around my knuckles. I received a jolt of . . . something. Something new tightened my balls, surging me closer to finishing. Good. Never had I prayed release would happen sooner rather than later. Usually, I did everything I could to delay this moment. But there I was, wishing it over as I continued to fuck my hand into her mouth.

That was when I saw it. The shadow directly behind the succubus stepped into the light. Curly brown hair, spectacles, an on-brand indignant look on her face.

NO, screamed my brain, but my body reacted differently. My balls tightened again, and that same jolt as before shot straight down my cock.

The succubus made a strangled groan of encouragement, her nails digging into the sensitive flesh behind my knees.

I squeezed my eyes tight, blinking away the magic. I placed her there. Or my subconscious did. Just like when it glamoured her onto the page at work. I needed to make her go away. Dissipate into nothingness.

But, fuck, my body wanted her there.

The shadow vanished. And I felt my momentum faltering. The fuck was wrong with me?

The succubus renewed her supportive mews, picking up her pace.

I closed my eyes again, trying to picture all the hottest moments from the last few centuries of my life. And boy were there a lot. But they weren’t working. Nothing was. At this rate, I was at risk of boring the poor succubus to death.

And I knew when I opened my eyes,she’dbe there. I knew, with unwavering certainty, the only way I’d reach completion was if I allowed myself to look ather. I didn’t want to contemplate what that meant. If it meant anything. Which it probably didn’t because fucking never meant anything more than a release. A goal reached. An itch scratched.

She would help me scratch it and that would be all.

Yep, that’s all it was.

I had no choice. If I wanted to finish this half of the century, I would have to let it happen.

I peeled open my eyelids. Sure enough, there she was. Gone were her dungarees. In their place, she wore a lacy bra and knickers set. Purple. Matching the streaks in her hair. The glamoured image of her stared straight into my eyes. I tried, and failed, to keep my breath steady. She bit her lip.

I’m just scratching an itch.

Her hand grazed over the soft mound of her human tummy, dipping into the top of those purple panties. Breath rushed out past parted lips.

“Goldie,” she said, in that high-pitched whiny voice she had.

And in that moment, I lost it. I cried out, my back spasmed into a curve, and my release fired from my cock into the succubus’s mouth, down her chin, onto those impossibly perky tits.

“Yes, sweetie. Yes, sweetie,” she said, spitting me out.

No, no, it was all wrong.

The glamoured Holly fizzled away, like a desert mirage evaporating because I’d gotten too close. Yet I was sure I saw a gloating smile on her lips before she disappeared.

I let the magic in my room drop away, revealing how horrifically messy it was. The succubus didn’t react, didn’t ask who our mystery guest was. I handed her a t-shirt, or whatever it was, from the floor to clean herself up with.

“Do you want me to see you out?” I said. Unable to find anything else to say, and realising I wanted nothing more than to be alone.

“Sure, sweetheart.”

I pulled sweatpants on while she dressed in her skirt and vest and shoes, and then, silently, I walked her down the stairs to the front door.

“You want me to drive you home?” I asked.

She shook her head. “I’m a big girl. ‘Til next time?” The succubus pushed herself onto tiptoes and leaned in to kiss me on the lips, but at the last second, I turned my face, giving her a mouthful of cheek and ear. She gave my biceps a consoling squeeze. “We all have bad days. Try not to dwell on it.” And then she left.

When I got to the top of the stairs, it was to find Sugar Paste leaning against the jamb of her door, wearing one of Taur’s ridiculously oversized grey t-shirts. Her legs were bare.

Their room was next to mine. She would have heard everything that happened this evening. Or rather, everything that didn’t happen, especially when compared with my usual nighttime escapades. Pre four months ago, obviously.

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