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The night was dark, a thick layer of clouds obscuring the pale light of the waning moon. Through the trees, the thin figure limped quickly, hurrying as much as he could on his wounded leg. The majority of the gunshots had missed—it seemed the townsfolk, for all their talk, had terrible aim—but a few had grazed his arms, and one had lodged itself securely in his leg. The pain was negligible; he'd suffered far worse over the decades. The blood loss, on the other hand, was becoming a bit of a problem; his head was spinning, and it was becoming harder and harder to run. But he had to keep moving, had to push on through the trees, had to find somewhere to hide until they stopped chasing after him. He could hear the hunters moving through the trees, making feeble attempts to mask their loud, crunching footsteps in the dark. They were gaining; he needed to hide, and fast.
He spotted a light off to his left, and darted toward it, hoping that it wasn't more of the hunters. Perhaps there was a building nearby where he could hide until his wounds healed...
It was getting late. The church doors should have been locked hours ago, but a storm was moving in, and the priest wanted to make sure that any stragglers in the woods had a safe place to stay if the rain hit earlier than expected. Storms in the area could be rough ordeals, going from calm skies to furious downpours in a matter of seconds.
Still, he had to lock the doors before he went to bed. And it was getting awfully late...
The doors crashed open, and a man ran in, limping quickly across the room. He left a light trail of blood in his wake, and glanced anxiously over his shoulder as he moved quickly between the pews. Hesitantly, the priest moved behind him and closed the doors, recognizing a man in trouble when he saw one. Even if the man in question had a few... questionable traits.
For one, there was the bullet hole in the man's leg and the scrapes on his arms and face; whoever he was, it seemed like someone was trying to harm him. Then there was the unusually pale skin, a near translucent, semi-gray shade that seemed almost like that of a corpse. The man turned to face him, and he saw that behind his long, obsidian hair were a pair of strikingly blue eyes. And, strangest of all, the man had horns. Small ones, to be fair, but still visible in his forehead as two small, pointed nubs.
A slight chill ran up the clergyman's spine. What exactly was he looking at? The intruder appeared to be human, but was obviously not; the thought crept into his mind that he may have encountered a demon, and he reflexively signed a quick cross across his chest.
The demon, once his panic had calmed slightly, turned to look at him as if only now realizing that he was not alone in the church. Humans all looked mostly the same to him, but a few features of this one stood out to him. The clothes, first of all; it was obvious that this human was a priest. Of course he was a priest—who else would be in a church at this time of night? And the priest was watching him, not with the same horror as the townsfolk had, but with a quiet apprehension. This human wouldn't attack; perhaps, he could even be reasoned with.
The demon fought to remember what language the humans in this area used. There were so many, and it seemed they evolved so quickly. After a moment's thought, he chose one at random and began to speak. “Paenitet enim intrusionem. Ego...” He paused, noting the blank look on the priest's face.
“Um...” The priest stammered. “I'm sorry, I... was that Latin?”
Of course. He should have assumed it would be English. It was his least favorite language.
The demon focused on his words, attempting to keep his sentences coherent. “Apologies. Language is... challenging. I am sorry for the intrusion, Father...”
“Pendragon.”
“I am sorry for the intrusion, Father Pendragon. I require some assistance, if you are willing. I...” The demon hesitated as a wave of dizziness passed over him, and he sank into one of the pews.
Pendragon hurried forward, concern quickly overwhelming his uneasiness regarding his visitor. “You're hurt, aren't you?” The demon shot him a sharp look before turning his attention to his wounded leg. “Right, dumb question. Sorry. Here, let me help.”
The leg was bleeding heavily, and the floor around the demon was quickly becoming a pool of red. The priest produced a handkerchief from his pocket and wrapped it quickly around the wound, tying it tightly and hoping that the thin cloth would be enough to stem the flow. The demon watched him quietly, a slight frown on his face.
“...Thank you,” he murmured. “Not many would offer to help someone like me.”
“What... are you?” the priest hazarded, directing his gaze up toward the icy blue eyes.
The demon was silent for a moment, pensive. Then, very quietly, he asked, “Do you really want to know, Father?”
Pendragon began to respond, and hesitated. Did he want to know? The answer came to him easily enough, breaking through the apprehension and fear of the unknown. “I'd like to, I think.”
“Well.” A rough, bitter laugh escaped the demon's lips, and his lips twitched up into a slight smirk. “I suppose I could show you.” He reached out with one hand, pressing it lightly against the priest's cheek. Pendragon inhaled sharply at the surprisingly warm touch, freezing in place at the demon began to work his spell.
It was suddenly very warm. Not unpleasantly so, but a comfortable, soothing warmth. The priest relaxed into the gentle touch, his breathing becoming soft and even as his mind began to cloud over. It felt as if he were drifting off to sleep, staring into the bright blue, mesmerizing eyes. The demon was murmuring under his breath, but he could barely make out the words. It all seemed far away, in another time and place, muffled by the warmth.
“.... Relax, and breathe. There are no worries, no threats. Nothing but the moment, and the warmth, and us. Isn't that right... Bobby?”
Pendragon blinked, attempting to fight through the cloud. “How... how do you know my name? I didn't...”
The demon was smirking again, still lightly caressing his cheek. “One of my little tricks. One of many that I could show you, if you'd like...”
The warmth was making it hard to think, hard to focus. Bobby blinked again, trying to clear his head. He couldn't move, except to press his cheek against the inviting warmth of the demon's hand; his thoughts were cloudy, all concern melting away into the sound of the demon's voice, suddenly much louder than it had been before.
“I could show you so many things...”
The demon had leaned forward, until their lips were nearly brushing together. Bobby could hear his heart pounding in his chest, could feel the heat radiating from the pale man in front of him. He couldn't move, couldn't think, and above all he had a strong urge to lean forward, to close the gap between them and feel the demon's lips pressing roughly against his own.
The priest shut his eyes tightly, raising his arms in front of him and pushing himself away from the demon. As the hand left his cheek, the warmth receded and his mind began to clear; he stared, flushed and overwhelmed, as the demon came back into focus in front of him.
“What...” he managed, moving quickly away and putting a few feet between him and his visitor.
“I did ask if you wanted to know,” the demon said calmly. He leaned back in the pew, a light smile teasing at his lips. “I possess a number of powers, namely those of control over base human emotions. I am what you would call an incubus.”
Bobby felt an embarrassed blush spread across his face as the realization of what had happened dawned on him. So he was that kind of demon. The kind that they told stories about in dark corners, the ones that... that seduced people...
“You were... you were trying to...”
“I felt it was the best way to explain. In retrospect, you have much more will power than most. I haven't been rejected in quite some time.” The demon laughed lightly at the scarlet priest, a gentle amusement crossing over his face. “Don't worry, you're perfectly safe from me. I'm not in much of a state to be mesmerizing anyone for very long. I simply need rest, and a place to stay until I am well.”
The priest frowned, his mouth set in a firm, disapproving line.
“I know it may be a stretch to trust me, Father, but I give you my word. You're safe from me.”
“How do I know that?”
Again, the demon laughed. “Because if you weren't, we would already be in bed. I can be quite persuasive when I want to be.”
The sun shone brightly through the windows, the morning not showing a hint of the storm that had arrived late the night before. As Bobby stepped into the church, he was tempted to believe for a moment that it had all been a vivid dream. The belief lasted until his eyes fell on the pale figure lying on one of the pews, fast asleep with his wounded leg propped up on a small stack of bibles.
Right. The incubus.
The demon didn't look quite as sickly as the night before; his skin, while still pale, was less corpse-like in the morning light. Asleep, he seemed almost harmless, peaceful. A memory of the night before rose in Bobby's mind, and he felt a blush rise to his face as he remembered the demon's touch on his cheek, the gentle warmth of his seduction, the way that just for a moment, he had almost given in to the compulsion to embrace the demon, consequences be damned. He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. It was a trick, he reminded himself, a spell that the demon had mastered a long time ago. There was no point in falling prey to him, not when he knew what an incubus could do.
Bracing himself for any tricks, Bobby reached out and lightly shook the demon's shoulder. The blue eyes opened up immediately, a moment of panic visible before a guarded calm took its place. The demon sat up slowly, lifting his injured leg and moving it gently to the floor in front of him. Bobby moved quickly away, keeping an arm's length between him and the demon at all times.
“Good morning,” the demon mumbled sleepily. “I can't say these pews were meant for a good night's rest. I trust you slept well, Father?”
“You can't stay here,” Bobby stated flatly. “I let you stay the night because of the weather, but I can't let you stay any longer.”
The demon nodded. “Understandable. I doubt you approve of a devil in your holy space. Would you mind helping me to stand?”
Hesitantly, the priest moved forward and offered a cautious hand to the demon. The pale man reached out and took it, rising to his feet unsteadily and leaning heavily on Bobby for a moment before regaining his balance. Standing face to face, the priest realized just how tall the demon was; easily seven feet, if not more, and intimidating when towering over him. Bobby moved to pull his hand away, and the demon's grip tightened slightly, just enough to halt the motion. Then, in one swift movement, the tall man leaned forward and pressed their lips together.
In an instant, the warmth from the night before returned, and this time Bobby was unable to pull away from its grasp. He leaned forward into the kiss, feeling the demon pull him into a tight embrace as his mind began to cloud over and all thought was replaced by the warmth, the emotion, the need...
He inhaled sharply, forcing himself to pull away from the taller man, trying to catch his breath as his mind swirled. The demon still held him tightly, their faces still incredibly, temptingly close, and Bobby shut his eyes tightly, forcing down the blush rising against his cheeks, avoiding the gaze of those bright blue, beautiful eyes, trying to block out the deep voice whispering lightly in his ear...
“Bobby...”
The demon's voice was a low grumble, a purr that communicated all the emotions and feelings that had been present in the kiss. All the raw yearning and desire and the need...
Bobby took another deep breath, trying to block out the feeling of the demon's hands on his waist, the warmth of breath on his neck, the heat radiating from the taller man and clouding his thoughts. It would be so easy, he realized, so easy to give in. To let the demon continue to run his hands along his body, to feel the rough passion of all the acts he had never even let himself imagine, to maybe, just for one day, let the temptation win...
“I don't...” he murmured, searching for some way to ground himself in reality as his mind began to drift. “I don't even know your name...”
The demon chuckled, and the priest felt an embarrassed blush rise across his face as he realized how silly the statement sounded. What did it matter what the demon's name was? What kind of a ridiculous statement was that, to ask him his name?
“That's my secret,” came the response. “Don't you know that a name holds power, Bobby?”
Of course, he realized, that explains it. He had given the demon his last name, and the trickster had used it to get into his head. And once his mind was open, it was easy enough to learn his first name, to find that one final thing to give him control; gather the weapons, wait for the target to lower their guard, and attack. Through the haze of his mind, a thought drifted to the surface; the demon had opened a door into his mind, but a door can be opened both ways...
Bobby took a deep breath and closed his eyes, forcing himself to relax. He could feel the heat of the demon's body against his, the gentle touch of the hands at his waist, the light brush of breath against his neck. And beyond that, he could feel something else, like light tendrils pressing against his mind, bringing the cloud and the haze. He could feel the demon's mind, pressing it's way into his, intruding his thoughts. And, hesitantly, he began to push back. He willed his own thoughts forward, probing into the cool, unfamiliar territory of someone else's mind.
A light smile drifted across his face, and he opened his eyes, staring face-to-face with the demon. “I guess they do... Dane.”
Surprise was evident on the demon's face. His eyes widened, and the haze around the priest's mind began to slip. A moment later, the shock was covered up by another confident smirk, and the demon leaned in, locking eyes with the smaller man. “Well. Color me impressed. There's just one thing, though...” His hands moved quickly, pressing more insistently against Bobby's sides in a much more urgent fashion. “A weapon means nothing if you don't know how to use it.”
The priest hummed lightly, pressing himself forward and mimicking Dane's expression. “And who says I don't know how to use it?” He reached up and tangled his fingers in the demon's hair, pulling the taller man's head back and letting his lips run lightly along the pale skin. The demon inhaled sharply, and the haze over Bobby's mind slipped a fraction more. That was the trick, he realized; to beat him, they would first have to be playing the same game. And the game was simple: seduction.
“Tell me, Dane,” he murmured into the nape of the demon's neck, “How long has it been since you let someone else take the lead?”
The demon shivered slightly, and Bobby felt a smile creep onto his face. Dane obviously wasn't expecting this response, and as his mind began to clear Bobby realized that the tables had turned. He was in control now, and the demon was fighting to keep up.
He pressed forward, pushing the demon back onto the pew and straddling his hips, holding their faces less than an inch apart and gripping the taller man's hair tightly. Dane shut his eyes tightly for a moment, then glared at the priest as he guided his hands to the buttons on the man's shirt, working them open with enough force that a few buttons popped loose and fell to the floor.
“Don't think you're in control,” the demon growled under his breath. “This is my game, Pendragon, and you're out of your depth.”
His hand shot up, pulling their faces together in a rough, angry kiss. Their teeth crashed together, their tongues sliding past one another as both of their breathing became hot and heavy. Bobby pressed his hips down onto the demon's lap, smiling through the kiss as the demon groaned lightly and pressed back; the two moved together, grinding over their clothes with increased speed and desperation. A quick shrug, and Bobby's shirt had fallen to the floor, Dane's hands gripping tightly at the bare skin, his nails leaving red marks along his back. Bobby reached down, coaxing the demon's shirt up and over his head, their lips parting only long enough for the article of clothing to pass between them.
Dane's arms wrapped tightly around Bobby's waist, spinning him quickly and pinning him to the pew; just as quickly, the demon seized the priest's wrists and pinned them over his head. Bobby frowned, struggling to pull free of the vice-like grip, and the demon chuckled lightly.
“What exactly were you planning?” Dane asked, teasing his lips directly over Bobby's. “Did you think you could overwhelm me, beat me at my own game? Trust me, it would take much more than a name to win me over.” He sat up slightly, allowing his eyes to trail over the pinned man's bare chest. “Though maybe, I could give you a few tips...?” He leaned forward, running his lips along Bobby's neck and collar bone, sucking gently at the skin until he left a small, red mark. Then he moved lower, running his teeth along the gentle skin of the smaller man's nipple and smirking as the action elicited a moan. Releasing the priest's wrists, Dane slid one hand down across Bobby's stomach, teasing along the top of his pants as lightly as he could.
Bobby fought back another moan, trying to force back the haze once again spreading over his mind. This route had been a mistake, he could tell; the moment of control had been fleeting, and then Dane had once again gained the upper hand, seizing control of the situation with renewed vigor, and now the priest could feel the heat spreading through his body as the demon's hands worked quickly, wrenching open the button on his pants as his mouth traveled lower on Bobby's chest, his stomach...
His hips pressed forward of their own accord, and he heard a moan escape his lips as Dane ran his tongue along bare skin; the demon moved skillfully, his fingers sliding into Bobby's pants and coaxing out his swiftly growing erection, stroking him with the ease of a well-practiced man. The priest's breathing turned heavy and ragged, and the demon increased his speed, stroking with an eager intensity as Bobby reached down and gripped fistfuls of Dane's hair, no longer holding back the moans escaping from his lips. The haze had fully taken over his mind, and all thought was blocked out by the heat and excitement and the growing need, the sensations of pleasure spiking through him with every moment. The demon released his grip, and a moment later the fingers were replaced by his mouth, taking in the throbbing length and earning more moans from Bobby as he bobbed up and down with swift, practiced motions. Bobby's fingers tightened in Dane's hair, and with a swell of pleasure he felt himself release fully into the demon's mouth.
Dane sat up slowly, wiping the edges of his mouth with one hand as he smirked knowingly at Bobby. There was no denying that the demon had gotten exactly what he wanted from the priest; Bobby lay on the pew, red faced and sweating, his breath coming in heavy gasps. As his breathing returned to normal, he sat up slowly, avoiding the blue-eyed gaze of the demon as he wiped the sweat form his brow and grabbed his shirt from where it had fallen on the ground. He threw the shirt over his shoulders, not bothering with the half-destroyed buttons, and risked a glance up at the demon; Dane was watching him intently, a light smile on his face. There was a strange electricity in the air, a cloud of unsaid feelings and scrambled thoughts.
“So, what now?” Bobby muttered. “You got what you wanted; are you just gonna leave now?”
“Do you want me to?” the demon asked.
The priest began to respond, and hesitated. He frowned. “I... That's what you do, isn't it?”
“I could always stay.”
Bobby scoffed. “Yeah, that'd look great. The local priest and his demon lover.” Immediately after the words left his mouth, his eyes grew wide and he blushed, looking quickly away from Dane. “I mean—that is—I didn't mean I--”
The demon chuckled lightly, running a hand gently through the nervous man's hair. “Alternatively. You could always come with me.”
“Really? Where would we go?”
“Anywhere we want.”