Preview
All that studying, only to never take those entrance examinations because the city had descended into anarchy. Poor Isaphine. They separated during the city’s downfall, and Lucretia never apologized for being such a noisy roommate.
It was the same dreams again: of her Dustian roommate, of their countless nights in the palace library, and of their occasional strolls through the city square. Those dreams jolted her awake with chilling sweat throughout the week, and she fought off such curses by not sleeping, a simple task for a summoning familiar without needs.
Unfortunately, that just made her consciously sift through those memories through her nightly strolls.
Those dreams felt different this time. As if she were tending to a fire or maybe a garden someone else had started.
Lucretia’s eyes wrinkled as the sun’s gaze pierced through the tent’s cloth and her eyelids. Warmth from the morning light and Alsindor’s adjacent body gentled her rise as she propped herself up with an arm.
No longer was there a weight over her like the previous days. That change in mindset must’ve helped, as did the lack of guilt.
And the recent feeding. She had given the Dust an apology last night. A thorough, heartfelt apology that dripped more than just tears.
It felt strange being inside the tent for so long. The cloth was light brown like the outside, and patches of various sizes, umm… patched its many holes and tears.
Her free hand peeled a scribbled note off her back. Basics of Succubus Physiology. Looking at the edges of the tent, it was a surprise there weren’t any more glued to her. Notes, some bound and others loose, littered the interior and clumped into piles in the corners. The isolated ones blended in with the patchwork.
The top of the tent dangled a lantern; her wing had dismissed its flame last night.
And next to her, on the very edge of the bedroll, was Alsindor. While being in his tent was strange, being next to him was surreal. She’d done terrible things to him in the days following her rebirth, so he’d bunker inside the tent as a countermeasure. Merely touching the enchanted cloth would’ve zapped her to ashes, and staying near it decayed her.
Now, those magics were gone, and he snoozed in arm’s reach, looking super delicious and vulnerable. Alsindor’s faint abs rose and fell with every breath, and his flesh dimpled where there was elegant muscle. Had she kept her humanity, their skin tones and hair would’ve melded perfectly: dark browns across dark browns, and hair a tad darker than that.
Now her complexion was violet, and her hair was violet-black, so every union made it obvious that they were of different species.
Which was equally enjoyable.
Lucretia was practically laying next to a campfire. Furnace elves, as some would call them. A handsome and petite prey slumbering and giving away his position to a predator on the hunt. A predator who had cleared her stomach a few hours ago. In the name of sneakiness and not interrupting his dreams, rousing him was not an option. Arousing him, however…
His spread legs invited her, so she humbly accepted and crawled between them. There she ogled his bounty, guarded only by a meager distance. What a contrast with the rest of him!
The skin near his groin darkened as it climbed his length before rich purple bloomed underneath his half-retracted foreskin. The member followed its owner’s inhales and exhales, waving at her, twitching at her, and pleading with her to be put out of its misery.
As if it sensed her presence, nectar gathered at the tip, and its scent honeyed her nostrils as she drew in a breath. His cock pulsed, and the dewdrop stretched down to his groin, pooling there while a heroic strand connected it to his glans.
In the haste of tasting him last time, she had forgotten to admire such peculiarities.
From swollen bases to having two to sheer size, the more monstrous monsters back in Mednessa were certainly enjoyable for the former human, but dust elves always held a special place in her metaphorical menagerie. They were like humans, but softer in all regards, feeling like smooth velvet against and inside her. And best of all, they could go flesh-to-flesh with no protection.
Dustians were so scholarly, so focused on studies instead of casual lays, and so Lucretia gloriously claimed virgins and their first internal finishes simultaneously. There was a bit of irony in finding the most humanlike monster the most exotic, but it wasn’t like she could recreate such pleasures of the flesh with her round-eared brethren. Not without spending a fortune on herbs or scrolls.
Elves offered a familiar unfamiliarity that soaked her underwear whenever she fantasized about them for too long.
The succubus licked her lips. She would draw him to the base, choke him in her flesh, and wring his come into her insides. But which part of her to use?
Her mouth was more personal, and she’d get to enjoy his sweet taste and scent. Her pussy was more traditional, and rationing his thick essence in her womb ensured pleasure for hours.
Actually, why not do both? The wondrous duality of having her stomach and cradle drenched in seed… Lucretia swallowed a tangle of spit as she leaned closer to his groin. Yes, she’d start by cleaning up that puddle of pre there.
Memories reeled through her head as she blinked a few times and frowned.
She didn’t have his permission.
They had done things by mutual agreement last night, and that was part of the reason things felt so divine—his willing surrender to her body. Unlike all those times prior, there was no suffocating guilt, just the balanced exchange of pleasure between two friendly parties.
If she succumbed to her nearsighted whims here, she’d undo all that work. All that foundation-building that opened the floodgates for more proper, willing feedings in the future. The unsacred right for a summoner to be his succubus’s host over someone less deserving.
To reconcile her thoughts with her instincts, it was wise to hold back. In one timeline she’d get to eat earlier, and in another strand he’d shun and deny her forever for her second betrayal.
Of course, that didn’t mean she couldn’t stare at it until he woke up. A small visual appetizer for things to come.
An hour must’ve passed until his face scrunched up and his red eyes opened. After a few flutters of the eye, he propped himself up and squinted as he looked around: at the various papers strewn about, at the tent flap, at the hanging lantern, at Lucretia, and at himself.
Finally, the elf darted his eyes between the succubus and his erect member. After he traced the gaze of her golden, slitted eyes to it, he trembled and turned rosy.
His first time waking to a woman after bedding her! Lucretia’s lips curled into a smile.
“I’m, uhh, gonna go take a bath!” Alsindor’s hands covered his groin as he flung himself up. After tackling the tent flap open, he ran off into the glimmering lake.
Lucretia matched his running, but not much else. Wind rushed through her dampened cleavage and nethers, feeling rather good as she nearly trampled him with her wavering wings and tail in tow. “Wait for me, I’m dirty too!”