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25

Though Benjamin’s day became like a crawl, Mel’s Sunday was practically over within the blink of an eye. He finished his breakfast, at his pace, then remade his bed, the stand, the telly, and tried to play not horse dong for once. No, he settled in for yet another session of large-as-an-ocean-but-deep-as-a-puddle, or, to put it simply, skyhigh rimjob. He wanted to be a big, bulky bruiser this time, but, as all his four-hundred playthroughs went, it quickly became apparent he was going to be yet another stealth-archer. Such is the curse of the game: You either stick to your guns or you get that one taste of clicking in the stick and watching people die and never go back.

Thankfully, he had Brin run interference and shove the game aside for yet another round of... feeding... Mel was no stranger to porn, especially of the drawn variety. He had partaken in terabytes of it since he entered this school alone, and goodness knows how many petabytes prior. However, in all his scouring, specifically of succubus, he had never seen one this... voracious. Was this truly normal for succubus? If so, then why didn’t Saliim jump his bones before this? If the Hunger was this bad for her, he’d have little capacity to truly stop her; instead, she spent the entire time circling like a beta hound, hoping for scraps that would never come.

But why was he paying attention to her and not the succubus making him into a full-sized dildo? It’s quite simple, really: BRIN WAS SCARY. Mel could not look at those eyes. He tried, but all he saw was fire and his very essence burning inside, so he tried to avoid her gaze, even though she kept trying to pull him back to it. It wasn’t like she had malice in them, nor hatred nor any form of vitriol. In fact, he could feel her passion, the admiration and devotion and true, unfettered love she had for him, which only made her gaze all the more cruel.

Monday was upon them soon enough, and once more Mel was little more than a heap in the corner. What cloth he had the morning before was long gone, little more than dust in the wind, so dense, so heavy with blood that he could taste it with every panting, languid breath. Yet he could not help but wear the biggest, goofiest smiles. He was getting his mileage in at long last, after all, like someone who failed their driver’s test forty-seven times and finally got their license on the forty-eighth. He finally had his Lamborghini and was driving the Autobahn as fast as he could, where it wasn’t a question of if he will crash but when.

Saliim fell into his chest again, and he could feel her quivering. He could see, through his lids, the thick, pink lines that drew her runes, and could even (somewhat) smell her desire, but with Brin around there wasn’t a thin candlewick in a tornado’s chance. Kind of cruel of Brin, but it wasn’t exactly her fault. She was simply... enjoying him within an inch (though this time it felt like a cell-length) of his life that he simply could not think of doing any more. Not without breakfast.

But that’s exactly what he was waiting for, what Brin said she was making. She told him not to move from the crumpled futon -at least it managed to stay (somewhat) intact; only the top half was torn to shreds, while the bottom was taken by the metal, rolled in- until she returned. Not like he could; his legs were trapped in the frame, and his whole body was... relaxed. Content.

Mel thought he knew contentment before. He once went numb with an experiment for “contentment” that involved a bit of rope, some good content, and his door, but, though that was immaculate (and almost transcendent; if he didn’t have his pocket knife, he would have become a part of the spooky ectoplasm around), what she had done to him already put that to shame. It wasn’t as if she was being “rough”, either. For all intents and purposes, what they have done was incredibly vanilla. Sure, it escalated to three dimensions, but it was still the same old positions. No toys, no whips or chains; just the two of them, in a room, being romantically intimate. If only the putty men didn’t mysteriously vanish; he knew they were still there, plotting, waiting for the most opportune moment.

At last he could hear Brin’s soft hums grow and enter the room with him. Her feet never seemed to touch the ground anymore, but he could feel the air change as she approached, as if he was placed in an oven and the heat finally met him. Saliim whimpered and scurried over top of him, settling against the wall, but the futon didn’t have to worry about rising, Brin taking her place. She kissed Mel’s forehead, which seemed to give him the energy to open his eyes, seeing what awaited him this morning: a pizza. Not just any pizza, though. It was a breakfast pizza, the crust a thin, wheat base covered in cheddar cheese sauce then topped with scrambled egg, diced bacon, sausage, Canadian bacon, steak, and ham, then topped with fried eggs sprinkled with shredded cheddar and served with whole bacon on the sides. She remembered to put the pitcher of orange juice and towel on the platter this time, but made him wait as she cut it into eight, perfect slices, that each slice had a perfectly round fried egg on it and matched the length of the bacon making its “crust”.

“Here you go,” Brin sung, gently putting a piece on a serving dish before handing it to him. She tried to pick it up for him, but he gave her hand a gentle slap, taking it for himself. She pouted, rubbing her hand, and whined. “Hey... that wasn’t nice.”

“And I don’t like to be choked,” he mumbled, already halfway through the first piece. Juices from the fried egg ran down his chin, but he couldn’t care less at that moment. He was in umami heaven; there was only one additional ingredient that would have launched him straight to Nirvana. “Could you please get me the Tobasco?”

“But of course, master. Of course.” She sprung to her feet, quite literally flying back into the kitchen, and returned with the little red bottle of evil. She put it on the tray, which he quickly popped open and put seven quick shakes onto the piece, continuing to douse his chin in a mixture of juices. “So how is it?”

“Perfect now. It was damn near close to it before, too, but the bitter heat really seals the deal.”

“I was wondering if I should have added it or not while cooking, but I thought it would be better for you to add it yourself... It simply slipped my mind when I was bringing it out; I’m sorry!”

“It’s fine. It was still really good.”

She giggled, hugging him, and picked up the towel, wiping his chin and chest.

“I’m so happy, master, but why aren’t you dipping the bacon into the egg?”

“Meh. I was starved, and it just smelled so fucking good.”

“Are you going to do with it the next p-” She received her answer as he simply tore into the second, after having doused it in a healthy amount of Tobasco. As if he needed any more red on him, but him and his stomach were too lost in ecstasy to care. She giggled, wiping it up quicker, and kissed his forehead. “Silly master. There’s going to be wasted bacon at this rate.”

“There will never be such a thing as wasted bacon. It’ll get eaten, one way or another... but I should probably hurry.”

“Why?”

“Because... there’s class?”

“Oh. Right.” Mel picked up on the bitterness in her words, but his attention was lost to the third slice, then the fourth. He ate the four shares of bacon for each, but his stomach couldn’t take any more, especially after he washed it all down with half of the pitcher of orange juice. He eased it back towards Brin, who floated back to the kitchen, and finally found the strength to unbend the metal from his legs and to stand. He lumbered to the entry, watched a second as Brin bagged the rest of the pizza and bacon in two servings, then swiped his hand across the doorway, stepping into the bathroom.

Considering the day before, Mel decided to indulge in a hot shower, feeling his muscles melt under the scalding fountain. The fairies seemed to have listened to him, as well; the majority of the walls were one-way glass. He could see out onto the courtyard and castle, but he could see the glare from the panes on the grass, making it sizzle and smoke. Sadly, he could only enjoy it for so long before the entirety was fogged over by the steam, but he had no doubt, during a normal shower, the view would be extravagant and worth waking up t-

“Mind if I join you?” Saliim, of all people, said. She didn’t wait for an answer before climbing in either, staying towards the back of the tub. Mel could feel her gaze on his back, tracing the scratches on it. “She has done that much damage...”

“Huh?”

“Don’t mind me. Simply... assessing.” Mel shrugged, and turned around, wiping his eyes clear of soap before he opened them and watched her. There was no lust in her eyes, stone cold as she scanned him over, taking note of every bruise, every cut and laceration on his form, quickly becoming a map of scars.

“Well? How bad, doc?”

She didn’t speak for a moment, still simply lost to the maze of raised grooves and sunken, torn flesh, but she finally shook her head and he could finally see emotion on her face. Worry. Fear.

“This level of damage... It’s... unprecedented,” she said.

“Yes, well, not to toot my own horn or anything, but I think I’m doing pretty-”

“A bit of cuts and bruises is normal, but this... I’ve never seen a succubus this... feral before. This... predacious. Could she be... No. There’s no way... I mean, he could, but he really, really shouldn’t have-”

“Shouldn’t have what?”

She shook her head again, and snatched his hands, squeezing them tight.

“Let’s simply say not all succubus are created equal... As much as it pains me to say, I’m your basic, run-of-the-mill succubus... A mutt.”

“And I take it you are trying to imply Brin isn’t?”

“Exactly. There are the lesser, the neonates, that are humans made into succubus-”

“That’s a thing?” He exclaimed.

“Well, yeah.”

“Huh... Neat.”

“Not really. They tend to go mad and end up simply becoming fuck toys for whoever summons them. No personalities; just spit out baby succubus and breathe.”

“I take it you aren’t saying Brin’s one of those.”

“As much as I wish I could... No... I think she is one of the pure-blooded, one of the last few of a long line of succubus that have, thankfully, died out.”

“Thankfully? That’s mean to say.”

She chuckled, a dour thing, and sighed.

“Trust me when I say us succubus wouldn’t be as popular if they were in larger number. They are monogamous, after all. Don’t like sharing whatsoever. Rumor has it they’ll do anything to stop the person’s life so they can enjoy each other in loving bliss until the end of their days –which isn’t very long. Their Hunger far surpasses any other succubus and literally consumes them as much as their prey. In turn, they die alongside their target but leave an offspring.”

“Well, that’s sort of nice. At least it isn’t completely pointless.”

“The child has the potential of the prey. Meaning, the next generation has the chance to be even more powerful than the one before.”

“Isn’t that supposed to be the case?”

“Normally, yes, but when it comes to Ladies of Mercy... I may not... appreciate the circumstances I find myself in, master Mel, but I must admonish you. You must find a way to unbind her, send her back home, before it is-”

“What are you two doing?” Brin said, sticking her head through the shower curtain. Darkness pulsed through her runes, seeing Mel’s hands captive in Saliim’s but was back to normal quick enough as Saliim let go. Saliim seemed to shrink into the corner, almost becoming like a sponge as Brin entered the shower, holding Mel tight. She looked him up and down, frowning at the scars, and nuzzled his chest. “Looks like I did a number on you, master.”

“Yeah, but it’s a small number. Like... seven? Most likely seven.” He ruffled her hair then turned off the water, stepping out to find fresh robes on the sink. He started to tie them himself when his hands were eased away and he was turned around. Brin took the two sides of the sash and slowly tied them into place, looking him in the eyes the entire time as her hands gently kneaded the cloth, caressing his legs with every pass with her long, nimble fingers. As she finished, she gave it three sharp tugs, pulling him into her embrace, and kissed him. Mel broke the kiss, but was slow about it, gentle-like, cupping her chin. “I still need to get to class.”

“But why, though?”

“I ask that question all the time... I think the answer I came to was ‘because I have to’.”

“Wouldn’t you prefer to spend it in your room... with me?”

“I’d love to just spend every day in my room, but I somewhat have to apply myself, so come along!”

He gave her rump two quick smacks, which made her squeak and weakened her grip enough for him to hurry out of the bathroom and through his room. A Lady of Mercy, huh? Couldn’t have picked a more ironic name? Regardless, Brin was a sweetheart; why would he rush to get rid of her? That seemed rude, almost worse than those one-night stands that lead a girl on then leave her diseased and pregnant. He wasn’t a monster; he’ll leave that to Benjamin.

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