Something less raunchy and more romance based. Hope you like it!
The Hunter and the Succubus
Damon winced as he slammed down his shot of scotch, feeling the burn of the beverage embrace his esophagus as it slithered to a stop in his stomach. It was a phenomenon that he hadn't experienced in awhile, due to his last engagement with said beverage ending in a terrible hangover that lasted three days, making his job all the harder. Lucky for him, it was only his first shot, seeing he wasn't at this bar to get drunk and potentially end up in a bed with zero memory of the previous night the following day. He was here on business.
Damon wasn't your casual demon that possessed the ability to naturally lure any woman into bed with him, as much as having the looks and body that every man wished to have. He was a special subject that hunted down things that no human could possibly catch; a bounty hunter of rogue demons, vampires, and many other mythological creatures that humans were oblivious to knowing lurked among them. A job he had given himself when he was cursed with immortality by a vampire he'd slept with unknowingly.
Less to say, the witty harlot who had marked him eternally hadn't lived much longer after the fact, being killed with a satisfying strike through her cold heart.
While it was his own fault that he ended up cursed, he had devoted his eternal life to hunting down these monsters and sending them back to Hell. And he had followed through, which was how he had ended up in this bar. He'd been told of this unique inquiry through very specific means, and was told that this special source of information came here every Saturday night and picked up drunks.
He gulped down another shot of scotch, peeking up at the clock, reading 1 AM. He was starting to wonder if he'd been fed lies, up until a voice caught his attention.
"So, I hear you wanna talk?"
The voice was one of elegance. It was soft and had a sense of seduction to it, and to Damon's surprise, it had affected him a little bit.
"Way to make an entrance, Driscella," Damon addressed.
Driscella fancied his remark with a pleasant seating on the leather stool next to Damon's own.
"So, what has brought you to my little corner of the city? Can't be for the obvious reason men and women normally seek me out. Not to mention, your job is to solely rid the world of beings such as me, so why the sudden change of heart?"
Damon was surprised by Driscella's approach. He had expected her to be more aggressive in her tactics, given her nature as a succubus.
He turned to look at her, only to meet a sight that he nearly lost all sense at.
She had beautiful long black hair, sapphire-blue eyes that glistened in the low light of the bar, and flawless mildly-tanned skin. Her body had curves that Damon's eyes bulged at, and she wore attire that intentionally was meant to attract mortals without trouble.
It was what he'd been expecting, but fantasy and reality were two different perspectives, and seeing her in reality made him doubt he could've ever been prepared for Driscella's introduction.
"Always with fucking succubi...
Shaking himself back to reality, he finally addressed his business.
"I'm not interested in killing you," Damon stated forwardly, causing Driscella's eyebrows to raise in surprise. "You've never killed any of your victims or fucked up their lives; I only hunt succubi that only intend harm to humans, not every single one."
"And how do you know that's not me, sweety?" she asked with a playful giggle.
"You wouldn't have approached like you did," Damon answered. "Succubi mainly prefer to keep their identity hidden in places with heavy crowds, and normally use their abilities to seduce the mind and senses to lead and control the target, until they have their prey somewhere more private."
Driscella only smiled in her chair, sitting up and eyeing Damon with an impressed look.
"Impressive," she commented. "I already like you more than any of my previous victims of lustful desire. You actually interest me enough to give a shit on what you have to say, so please entertain me more."
Damon expressed his own smile of satisfaction, then he continued to please Driscella's ears with her form of "interest "
"Word in the darkest shadows of this town says that you used to be an employee of a secret business named "Hell's Pub;" a hidden place in this city that's about the equivalent of a whorehouse, but instead of whores, you have deadly and agile beauties. I simply need to know how you managed to escape one of Satan's personal Hell's on Earth."
Driscella signalled the bartender for a drink, and as expected, and no surprise to Damon, she was poured and gifted a single shot of some godawful concoction that singed Damon's nostrils upon one whiff. All free of charge.
"Typical for a succubus."
Driscella downed the mysterious alcohol with a single gulp, smacking the shot glass back down on the counter; the apparent signal for a second shot, given how the bartender reacted to it. Damon couldn't tell if the bartender was bewitched or just kissing Driscella's ass, and he frankly didn't care. He just allowed Driscella her drink then attempted to continue.
He stopped short upon Driscella's next action though, settling a cigarette between her lips and lighting it with a single flicker of her lighter. He couldn't help but glance at the nearby NO SMOKING signs as he found his words again.
"You realize you can't smoke in here, right?" he questioned with sincerity.
Driscella only grinned.
"Awww, you're so cute when you're foolish," she mocked with a short giggle. "Honey, I've got this place wrapped around my finger. I can do pretty much anything in this place."
Flicking a string of ash into a makeshift ashtray, Driscella rested the cigarette back in-between her lips coated in a black lipstick, a little residue staining the butt of it.
"So, back to what you came to my side of town for," she addressed, taking a drag and gripping the cigarette with her fingers, allowing the fumes to flow to the ceiling. "You really are a special subject. Most come to me for what you'd expect, but here you are coming to me about things that may or may not be true."
Damon didn't give her any sort of reply and only held a stern gaze, to which Driscella only purred curiously at.
"I might be up for telling you what you want, but only if you give me something in return."
Her tone had shifted drastically, and Damon had a feeling this would happen, so he just answered in his best way.
"Let me guess, your usual work?" he addressed almost instantly.
"Depends if you're worth the trouble," she playfully clarified. "I've still got a job to do, and I'm quite picky with my preference of victims."
Driscella moved her eyes from the countertop to Damon's groin, noticing a very evident bulge that made her lick her lips in anticipation.
"And you just might fit that criteria," she complimented seductively. "You've definitely gotten around."
Then something happened that Damon hadn't been expecting; he suddenly felt a strong but soothing grip on his groin, and while he wanted to object, Driscella was only getting started.
"Ah yes... I see a prostitute... some drunk mortal on a one night stand...oh, but what's this? A vampire mistress? My oh my, you have seen and experienced quite a variety, but there's something special about the mistress...
Damon fought back, managing to snap out of whatever daze Driscella had trapped him in.
"That's far enough," he commanded, coming back to reality.
Driscella pouted in the midst of her interrupted sexual fantasies, giving Damon an expression that mimicked a child begging for something.
"You're no fun," she pouted. "I was almost to the good parts of your engagement with that mistress too."
Damon only frowned and eyed Driscella with annoyance. She was like a child in a way; playful, cynical, tricky; but when she shifted on the stool, the reality of her true identity became evident, along with the fact that she was far from a child.
"That's none of your business, now cut to the chase," Damon commanded. "Otherwise, I'll be taking my leave."
"Fine, fine. We'll do it your way," she somewhat-agreed, taking another puff of her cigarette. "However, before I even tell you anything, let me ask, what do you plan to do with this information?"
"It's for myself," Damon answered. "I seek to rid myself of what that mistress did to me."
Driscella nodded.
"Ah, you want free of the curse you've been bestowed," she stated. "How does me escaping one of Hell's personal businesses have to do with breaking a curse?"
"One born of Satan's creation doesn't escape Satan's grasp so easily," Damon started. "If it's true that all things created not in God's image are of the Devil's creation and Will, then with the curse being a part of me, I am partly a creature of the Devil's creation. Which means if I can find a way to escape Satan's grasp, I can be free of immortality and hunting the Otherworldly for eternity once again."
Driscella tapped her chin with the tip of her right index finger in thought. Was Damon onto something or completely and utterly holding onto false hope of living a normal life? Taking the cigarette from her lips, Driscella answered him.
"While you are correct in a sense, halfbreeds are a more tricky case," Driscella informed. "You were born as one of God's creations and given the curse by a creature of Satan. You may be right, and also dead wrong. My assumption, given what I know, is if you tried to rid yourself of the curse through the same method I did, you'd most likely die in the end."
Damon didn't even flinch upon that comment like Driscella had expected him to. He just remained as still as a stone statue untainted by nature.
"So be it," he solidified. "I'd rather die than live with this for the rest of my life."
Driscella expressed a grin, strangely feeling turned on by Damon's ambition. She licked her lips and finally responded, smothering her cigarette in the ashtray.
"Dying rather than living under Satan's belt. That's hot," she complimented seductively.
