Nightgaunt and her husband

Every night. Every agonizingly long and slow night in the Dreamlands. She could feel his hands all about her, even if he wasn’t currently in human form. Her sisters would not understand. How could they? This marriage, more than any other, was the utmost licentious. The black and shining ‘suit’ that covered her quivered in sweet anticipation.

There was a soft groan at first, her sidelong glance catching two eyes opening. Her husband smirked, the quivering becoming more frequent. She’d known him since he was only a boy, properly groomed him. If only she had known the effects of her body’s emissions on a human boy. It was true—succubus though she was, this was something… more.

Her wings—No, his arms, unfurled from their resting position against her back. He let out a soft chuckle as the suffocating snugness of his own fluids tightening around her. She squealed softly, nearly breaking her composure. Unseen hands played with her nipples, kneading them almost painfully, intensifying the sensation.

‘You understand it, don’t you?’ He crooned in her head.

The creature’s ministrations became more focused, more forceful. Parts of the symbiotic mass receded, allowing it more freedom of access to her pale skin beneath. Wherever his hands— huge and slimy fell she felt flush of rosy pink and heat. Tendrils wrapped around her chin and neck, pulling her head to look upwards. He was half-formed now. Breath hitched in her throat as he began to pull himself off of her.

‘You. Are. MINE.’ His voice roared in her head.

Forcefully, his hands gripped at her buttocks, forcing the length and girth of his member into her. This too was a sort of game. The head of his cock tickling every inch of her insides as he thrust in and out of her. This was no longer the ideal that all succubus held in their hearts—This was the frenzied love-making of the Chaos. His human form seemed to darken into a silhouette, hands freeing themselves from her sticky posterior.

Kneading and violating. She knew every inch of her body belonged to him. But there was another truth to it as well. He was hers. Forever and always. Without his unfettered lust and desire for her body, she’d never truly be complete. It was the riddle of the Old Ones, she supposed.

The two become one.

Wetly slapping against her from behind, she could sense a frenzied new desire rising up in him. A desire to impregnate. Electricity drug up as he pulled himself nearly out of her to plunge back into the deepest places within. His member swelled, and finally, with tendrils forcing her legs open, he let loose.

Sweet, glorious ecstasy carried them both to the highest of the iniquitous plateaus. But, such as with all things, one round was never enough. They spent the entire evening violating one another. Sometimes, she would ride on top of him in the traditional manner of all of her ken, using her weight to force him down. Others, he’d use his own slime to kiss her so deeply and passionately that it felt that she was melting.

--

Erick woke up to the smell of sizzling bacon, sweet juicy pork on the skillet in the kitchen. She was there, as she’d always been. His night haunt. There was a small voice in the back of his head that told him she was nothing more than an imaginary friend. His father’s voice, chiding him for staying up too late and playing. But, Erick knew the truth as he playfully pinched her bare, shining black buttock: He’d never ask for a better friend, or wife.