Fuck me, I loved her.
It was a stupid, dangerous thought. She was a demon, an inhuman creature who couldn't even understand love, let alone feel it. I'd bound her with a spell; our relationship was built on compulsion.
Love was a stupid, dangerous thought, and it didn't persist for long. Love had burned me badly not six months ago, and I was liable to get literally burned if I made the same mistakes with a demon from hell. But thrusting deep into her pussy, our fingers intertwined I looked down into her poison-green eyes, I felt something a lot more powerful – a lot scarier- than mere lust.
"Harder, master!"
"Fuck, Rosie!"
"Harder! Fuck me! Fuck – "
"Aah– "
Once again, the body-shaking, brain-blasting, balls-blowing power of a succubus-grade orgasm hit me like the fiery fist of Hell itself. Once again, it was so good that I slipped out of Rosmerta, lost feeling in my legs, and fell off the bed.
A minute later, my succubus' perfect face appeared above me, horns first. Her scarlet hair was a little frazzled. "Heya, Eric."
My throat croaked. "Hey, Rosie."
"You okay down there?"
I gave a game thumbs-up, tried to raise myself up on my elbows, and decided it wasn't worth the effort.
"Feeling lazy today are we?" she smiled.
I wiped some saliva off my chin; I wasn't sure whose it was. "As much as I'm loving the Shaped orgasms, they kind of kill my after-sex cuddling game." I rubbed the back of my scalp. "Also, I think I hit my head."
Rosie rolled her eyes and hopped daintily off the bed with a little flap of her wings. Not two minutes ago she'd been screaming louder than I was and making just as much of a mess, but she never seemed to need more than a few seconds to recover. "I told you, stud, you just need practice. Learn to let the pleasure flow through you, rather than straight into you."
"I think my problem is when it flows
out
of me. We forgot to put towels down, again." My room had never been a palace of hygiene, but my mattress was well and truly a biohazard by now. Brimstone or cum: those were the only two things a succubus's room could smell like, apparently. I sat up with my back against the bed.
Rosie, standing over me like a conquering goddess, crinkled her nose. "I'll go get some new sheets," she said, tail sashaying behind her as she left the room.
"And a flamethrower?" I called after her before letting myself collapse. Fuck. That was – how long? I checked my wrist. Almost an hour since we'd started having sex. It had blurred by in a timeless slurry of suspended moments. Rosie bobbing atop me with cowgirl ease, her gently beating wings keeping her hands free to explore my body. Rosie's hard nipples leaking milk into my mouth while I returned the favour, fingering her slit and massaging her buttocks. Rosie bending my dick back almost to the point of pain, letting her fuck me scissor-style with each others' feet by our faces. That last part was new; I'd never thought of myself as a foot fetishist, but I could suck Rosie's toes all morning.
Without the watch, it could have been ten minutes or five hours. Einstein was right about relativity: time and space are not constants. When you're fucking a succubus, for example, time is measured only in the suspended, desperate moments at the apex of each thrust. There is no space but the curve of her thigh, the weight of her breast, the arch of her spine.
But I don't think Einstein had any clue about magic. I'd have to be careful not to get big-headed.
My demon swept back into the room, tottering under a pile of linen. "Lift your head," she said before reaching out with a bare foot. Balancing on one leg, she used her toes to grab my soaked sheets and strip them off the bed in a couple of dainty kicks. She used the same foot to flip the mattress without once using her hands or putting two feet on the ground. The new bedclothes were applied with the same dextrous pragmatism. I supposed it was fitting that an inhumanly skilled lover would also be an inhumanly skilled homemaker.
Her chores done, Rosmerta came around to assume a 'conquering goddess' pose above me, wings splayed, hands on her hips. From this angle I could take in (almost) every part of her delicious form: an athlete's long legs, tattoo-framed breasts riding high above a flat stomach, and of course her hungry pussy. Its pink lips were tantalizingly out of reach of my own. Damn it, I'd just creampied that slit hard enough to fall off the bed, and it was still so damn beautiful I wanted to stick my face on it. In fact, given that Rosie's inhuman pussy sucked up and consumed my cum like a Hoover, maybe it'd be fine if I just leaned forward and...
Rosie was too soft and feminine to be really capable of a sneer, but her face still had a slightly judgmental air as she smiled down at me. "Your sister," she pronounced dramatically, "is not home."
I looked up at her for a few seconds before doing a slow clap. "Do you think?" I asked. "We just fucked in an unlocked room at 10am in the morning. I didn't cover your mouth while you were wailing loud enough to frighten migrating birds. And," I gestured at her phenomenal, Faustian form, "I let you go out to the linen closet looking like a sexy Sauron without any protest."
She pouted. "Your sister isn't home, so we totally could have done that roleplay thing. You should have said."
I shrugged. "Dad will be away for at least another week and a half, and Cassie's at... some sports thing, I dunno."
"And you really aren't expecting your mother home at all, are you?" She'd asked the question casually, but she noticed when I didn't answer and frowned before bending into a crouch. "Sorry, master. Your blood is your business."
"It's fine," I said, waving my hand. I really wasn't upset, but I wasn't exactly prepared for the topic to come up. "She's not dead or anything, she's just... not here."
"Ah." Rosmerta rocked back and forth on her heels, studying my face cautiously. "Would it be appropriate for me to give you a hug?"
That made me chuckle a bit and shake my head. "I'm really fine, Rosie, it's not – oh, we're hugging, okay."
With both of us naked it was a little less platonic than most hugs I received, but that didn't lessen the emotional impact. Damn it, I'd never felt like this even with Moira. Her wing wrapped around my back like another arm. I stroked her hair between her horns and tried not to think about my mother, which reminded me of something. "Rosie," I asked, "you can't read my mind with the amulet, can you?"
"Nope," she said, nibbling my earlobe.
"You can see what I see when I'm wearing it, though. Doesn't that mean you're receiving some, uh, data from me?"
"Paranoid, much?" She released my ear and shrugged. "I can see what you see, hear what you hear, but your thoughts don't come through. It's magic, master; you're the sorcerer, I just work here."
"Shouldn't you understand magic, given how much you use it?"
She snorted. "Master, the questions you ask, sometimes I wonder whether you're making fun of me."
"Right." Before I could really think about it, before I could feel anything but her weight on my lap and her scent in my lungs, I spoke again. "I, uh, have a confession to make."
