She watched him. He must have been having some pretty fantastic dreams, the way he kept moaning, tossing and turning. She then realized that's because she was there. For her, the act of copulation was nothing more than a means to an end, a way to survive. She might as well be reading a book for all the excitement and pleasure it gave her. She thought on this for a moment and decided that next time she'd bring a book, then yawned out of boredom. With mild interest she watched him tense for a moment, then snuggle under the covers with a smile on his face. "Yay," she thought to herself, mentally checked him off of a list, and disappeared in a puff of ember.
- - -
Later that night, she crept into another house, further down the street. Or she would have if she had to creep, which she didn't. One by one, burning embers filled the air of a small bedroom. After a few moments, they began to bob and weave around, eventually forming a vortex of sorts. Within this vortex a doorway formed to the nether realms, and out through this doorway she stepped.
She looked around her in irritation as the embers flew about her. She held up one of her milky white hands above her head, snapped her red-polished fingers, and the embers froze in place. Suddenly, it was as if a black hole had formed in the center of the room and all the embers zipped through the nothingth of an opening and out of existence. She smirked to herself in amazement that that had never once awoken anyone.
Moonlight fell across the room from slatted window blinds, casting a magical glow over everything. Across the room she saw her target, all sprawled out on top of the covers, resting on a nice four poster bed. He was probably no more than 22 or 23. She watched as he breathed deeply, obviously fast asleep, and licked her lips. Then, with a heavy sigh, she crossed the room.
At the foot of the bed, she stopped, watching him. He was lying on his stomach, his arms crooked around in an almost impossible position, his sandy hair in a great disarray. "Well, this'll never do," she said with a frown. Her heels clicked as she strode around to the side of the bed, shafts of silken light illuminating creamy, pale thighs.
Bending over, she couldn't see his face. It was stuffed into a ridiculously fluffy pillow. She frowned again, reached down, and grasped him gently by the shoulder with one hand and his knee with the other. Pushing ever so gently he began to roll over to his right. After a moment, his body decided to take over, and he fell over, with a flop, unto his back.
He was fairly well built, she mused. She pulled a small book from a satchel and double-checked the name: "Scott W-_--s_n". Ugh, she couldn't read the last name. Her handwriting was horrible, but she was pretty sure this was the guy she'd picked. With a sigh, she returned the book to her satchel, and leaned down.
She hovered only an inch away from his face and closed her eyes. Gently, she blew into his open mouth, a perfumed mist escaping her lips. He breathed this in fully and seemed to fall into a deeper state of sleep. Once she was satisfied that he was asleep, and going to stay that way, she slipped out of her skin tight pants, removed her satchel, and clambered onto the soft covers of the bed.
She noticed that he wore boxers and said "thank you!" out loud. Briefs gave her too much trouble. Too much to fiddle with. With a deft motion, she had his member exposed and ready for action. She straddled him, wishing she'd remembered to bring a book and stifled a yawn. She paused mid-yawn when she heard him groan and move restlessly.
After moment, she relaxed, and let the rest of the yawn out, smacking her lips afterwards. No one had ever woken in the centuries that she'd been doing what she did. How long had it been exactly? Something like 500 years, give or take a decade or two. Hmm, it seemed to go by so quickly.
Suddenly, she felt a touch on her arm, scaring her half to death, and breaking her out of her train of thought. She instinctively reached out and flicked on the light next to the bed. The small desk lamp first illuminated the small bedside table on which is was perched, then the bed, then the man whom she was straddling, then his outreached hand, then her snowy white breast, which the hand happened to be gripping.
"Hey!" she said in shock, pulling herself backwards.
The man recoiled his hand instantly, shielding his eyes from the blinding light. His brow was furled for a moment. Apparently the blaring white light hurt his eyes. After a moment, he opened them, but just a little. His eyes then proceeded to open wide, as his jaw fell comically open. She thought, "if they open any wider, they might pop out of his head."
She watched with some bemusement as he looked her over, first starting with her long, flowing dark hair. Hair so black, it looked blue in the light. Then he turned his attention to her smooth, pale skin, with nary a blemish. Her lips blazed with the color of candied cherries. He then moved downward toward her black, snugly fitting corset, her ample breasts, and her trim abdomen. His eyes continued to sink lower to where their bodies met, where she was wearing nothing at all. A grin slowly crept onto his face. She frowned.
She cleared her throat, putting her hands on her hips. "What do you think you're doing?" she said, tilting her head to one side.
The man looked up with eyes that saw an oncoming truck instead of a beautiful woman. He stammered, "I... um... well, you see... er....", but nothing coherent came out.
"I... um... well, you see... er...." she mocked, tilting her head to the other side, her hair spilling over her shoulder, exposing the tip of one of her small, but pointed ears.
He continued to stare at her in confusion for a moment but finally managed to say, "I... um, was, sleeping."
"Yes, were. That's the whole problem, mister. You're awake. You're supposed to be asleep, but here we are, having this conversation."
He lay there in silence for a few moments. "Well, you're, uh... you're, um..." he said with a smile that was probably meant to be genuine, but instead looked nervous. She liked this guy already.
"I'm what?" she asked in a huff, leaning down toward his face.
"You're riding me?" he said, the same smile on his face, his mouth pulling taught in a smirk on one side, exposing his teeth. She scoffed. This was just too much.
"Oh, so because I'm riding you," she gestured with both hands toward her crotch, "which I'm actually not, you're awake? Is that what you're saying? That it's my fault?" she snorted, her brow cinching in the middle. She leaned down so close to his face, that their noses almost touched.
That was technically a half truth. She had fully planned on riding him, or at least having him inside her. He had started getting hard, but Mr. Wakey Pants apparently woke up. She stayed like that for a few moments more and, just as he was about to say something, she quickly sat upright.
She cinched her mouth, then looked down at him. A sigh escaped her lips and she let her arms fall, relaxed, down to her sides. "You know this really throws a monkey wrench into everything, right?" she said, raising her eyebrows. "You were supposed to be asleep, Scott. I get in, do my thing, and I get out," she finished with a shrug.
"Do what?" the man asked, wincing. Then his eyes widened, "Hey, how do you know my name?"
A look of incredulity crossed her face as she answered, "to fuck you?" in a tone to match.
"Fuck me?" Scott said in wide-eyed disbelief.
"Yes, to fuck you. You do know what fucking is right? You know: screw, bang, get off, get it on, get laid, poontang, shag, pork, nooky, whoopee. Seriously?" she said, throwing her hands in the air and rolling her eyes.
Scott didn't understand any of this, apparently. "Ok, I get it, I get it," he said in a hurt tone of voice. "You're here to fuck me."
Her face softened. "Look, I'm sure you're a really sweet guy and everything, but the fact is I was supposed to get in and get out. You weren't even supposed to know about it and it's kinda got me in a bind."
"Why?"
She let out another sigh and said, "We try to stay in the shadows and not draw attention to ourselves."
"We? But, who are you?" he asked shrugging his shoulders.
"My name is unpronounceable in your tongue."
"What are you talking about?" he asked, obviously still lost. After a second, an apparently more pertinent question came to mind, "What are you?"
"I am a succubus," she said with a flourish.
"A what?"
"Do they not teach anyone anything in school anymore", he told the ceiling in a low voice. Her eyes came back to rest on his face and then she added, "Yes. A succubus. If you don't know what one is, it's far too complicated to go into that whole business right now."
Scott burst out laughing. "Are you kidding me?" he said, choking back more laughter.
The cross look returned to her face as Scott continued laughing. After a moment, she placed a hand on his chest and with the other gestured to her back with her thumb. "Check the wings, sport."
The smile was instantly swept from his face as she exposed a pair of large, leathery wings protruding from her back. She sat upright and stretched them to their full width.
Scott lay there dumbfounded for a moment, a twitch at the corner of his mouth. Then, suddenly, he began flailing about trying to get away from her. He cried out. He flailed ineffectually one way, and then equally ineffectually in another, and then tried both at the same time.
She quickly cupped her hand over his mouth, to quieten his cries, and shushed him. "Be quiet!" His reaction was the opposite that she had expected. She might as well have said, "I've come for your soul, Scott!" as he had redoubled his efforts. She knew that no matter how hard he tried, he could not throw her off of him, nor could he move out from under her. Until this whole business was concluded, he was staying right where he was.