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Fishnets and Broken Promises

Demian paused in the dark alleyway, wondering if he’d found the right place. The directions he’d been given weren’t entirely clear, but they pointed to the particular alleyway he stood in, and the dark set of doors that lay before him. Never one to give in to his fear, Demian pushed open the doors, stepping into a small room that seemed rather like a lobby. On the other side stood a tall, broad man with a dark suit on, who seemed to be guarding another door behind him. He frowned slightly as the Incubus approached him in his tiny skirt and sexy fishnet tights.

“Demons only.” the man grunted and Demian moved to stand before him, bearing his elongated, curved fangs.

“Care to test them out?” he asked and the bodyguard’s frown only deepened.

“Incubus?” he queried, waiting for the nod before he moved aside, placing a large hand on the door. “I don’t want any trouble.” He warned, before pushing the door open to allow Demian inside.

He had been expecting music, the dancing of sweaty bodies pressed against one another, but the club was relatively quiet. The Incubus moved through a thin corridor like room, with booths on either side filled with lounging demons of all types, some drinking, some just chatting and some with small bags of white powder that made him smile wryly.

There were beads hanging down in the next doorway and when he pushed through them, he found himself in a different room entirely. It was larger than the previous one and around it sat numerous demons with humans sitting at their feet. On one side of the room, there seemed to be a display of sorts, with a demon teaching his young human slave the ways of discipline. The others watched with lidded eyes and tented pants. The scent of arousal was so thick in the air, filling Demian’s nostrils almost enough for him to get hard.

“My, my.”

A hand caught Demian around the waist and before he had chance to lash out, fingers squeezed the curve of his ass beneath his skirt, caressing the smooth flesh. The Incubus growled beneath his breath, pushing with all his might to get the man off of him and whirled round to find a dark looking demon leering at him. He was clearly high on a mix of drink, drugs and atmosphere.

“Get your hand off me, unless you want to lose it.” Demian hissed and the demon just laughed drunkenly, staggering on his feet.

“Cheer up, pretty one. Why are you here if you’re not looking for a good time?”

Demian sighed, glancing around before turning back to the demon.

“I’m looking for someone named Lebos.”

The demon nodded, turning in a circle slowly as if looking for the person in question before turning back to Demian with a grin on his face.

“Lebos...” he began, staggering again before suddenly keeling over, crashing to the floor.

Demian growled again, stepping over the prone form, about to look for someone else to ask when someone grasped his arm, pulling him around almost gently. He found himself looking up into a strong, handsome face surrounded with dark, blond hair.

“I am Lebos, little demon.” the man had a heavy accent, but something about him was very appealing. Demian had to wonder just what he was. “What do you want of me?”

The Incubus opened his mouth to speak, but the demon silenced him, taking his arm once more to pull him through yet another partition into another part of the club. This one was filled with a heavy, acrid smoke that made Demian’s eyes sting.

Lebos lead him across to a booth on the far side of the club where he invited him to sit before sliding in opposite him, eyeing him with an almost hungry look.

“What can I do for you, little demon?” he asked, his eyes trailing down the length of the Incubus’s body.

“I need to find someone.” Demian replied, resisting the urge to cough at the heavy smoke. It filled his head, beginning to make him feel a little lightheaded. “He’s a man I met a few weeks ago, but I can’t contact him. I need to see him again...”

Lebos gave a small chuckle, placing his hand atop the Incubus’s on the table top.

“Then you’ve come to the right person. I know everyone there is to know.”

Demian didn’t like the way the man was looking at him. But he wasn’t sure why- it was the same way every man he had ever met looked at him. None of them could resist him...save for one. The one he was looking for and so desperately hoped to find.

“His name is Lyre Westreach,” he began, averting his eyes from the other demon, feeling slightly shamed by his obsession. “He’s a God.”

Lebos gave him the strangest look then, caught between confusion and curiosity, and then he removed his hand and rose to his feet, sliding out of the booth before he spoke.

“I can’t help you, little demon. The only way to find a God is to pray.”

He disappeared then, leaving Demian with an intense feeling of anger. After all the searching, Lebos had been the only one he’d found with a chance of helping him and the man had been just as useless as the others. Pray? He wouldn’t pray, he was a demon. Praying would only confirm his obsession with finding Lyre, an obsession he had tried to hide since he’d met the God. It had only been one night they’d shared, a night where Demian had been totally out of control and out of his comfort zone, but it had ruined everything. After Lyre, no one was good enough and he hated the God for that. He wasn’t entirely sure why he wanted to find him, perhaps only to vent his frustrations, but perhaps for something more.

No one he’d found had been able to help him and he was nearing the end of his options. If he couldn’t find Lyre, then he would have to go on living a life where nothing was good enough.

The thought alone made the anger bubble up inside him and that mixed with the highs from the smoke floating around him made an interesting mix. The anger seemed to give way to a languid haze and Demian got to his feet, making his way across the room to a small bar set up in the corner. He withdrew a fold of notes from his pocket, laying them on the bar and looking the man standing behind it in the eye.

“Give me the strongest thing you’ve got,” he said sharply, “Anything. Everything.”

The man took his money first, tucking it away behind the bar before he placed two pills on the surface. They were small and pink and Demian picked them up quickly, opening his mouth to place them on his tongue. He didn’t even need water and after swallowing the pills, he left the bar, moving back through the partition into the second room where the demon had grabbed him.

There was a nice, dark booth in the corner that he slid into, curling his legs beneath him, embracing the fog that settled over his mind. The pills were strong, getting to work within his system in mere moments and after a short while; his problems seemed to melt away. Demian wasn’t sure what the pills weren’t meant to do, or even if he should have taken them in the first place, but they were beginning to make him feel incredibly sleepy. His limbs felt heavy and he laid his head against the side of the booth to watch the goings on, his eyes drawn to the lights that seemed to swim before him in his drug-filled haze.

A few minutes later and the Incubus felt himself slipping into the dark abyss.

“Wake up, beautiful one.”

Long, curved lashes parted to reveal deep violet orbs and Demian let out a soft moan of discomfort, his eyes searching for something familiar. He’d fallen asleep in the club- whatever he’d been given hadn’t been what he was after and he awoke to something strange and unfamiliar. He seemed to be lying on his front on a bed laid with a dark silk covering, but why he was there he wasn’t sure. An attempt to move his arms or legs told him he was tied down and the anger cut steadily through the haze of his mind.

Demian could move his head enough to see a dark shape beside him, kneeling on the bed over him and a hand slid slowly down his spine, sending goose bumps down the length of his back.

“Welcome back to the waking world,” a smooth, accented voice told him, the hand continuing lower to slide over the curve of his backside. “I was wondering how long you were planning to sleep.”

Demian jerked his head around as far as he could to see a fall of rich, dark brown hair and a strong looking figure, but still no face.

“Who the hell are you?” he growled, tugging at his bonds. “Why am I here? Let me go!”

“Hush,” the voice told him and the man shifted closer, sliding hands down his back once more. It was then that Demian realized his shirt was missing and he lay trussed up in just his tiny skirt and the fishnet stockings.

“I was going to take these off you,” the man said, tugging ever so slightly at Demian’s stockings as if he could read his thoughts, “But you looked so sexy in them that I decided to leave them on.”

A moment later, the man left the bed, moving out of Demian’s line of vision and he heard the distinct rustle of clothing being removed. The thought made him tug more insistently at his bonds, trying to free himself to face his attacker. So far, his natural allure didn’t seem to be working, which only meant one thing- the man was a demon, or worse...a God.

“My name is Kame, beautiful one,” the accented voice lilted as the weight returned to the bed. Moments later, soft, hot skin brushed against his own and then a mouth was right next to his shoulder, breathing hot breath across him. “I saw you in that club and I knew I just had to have you. It didn’t take much persuasion to get the man to give you those pills and I must say...they worked perfectly.”

“What do you want with me?” Demian growled, flicking back his head in an attempt to head butt the God, but his attempts proved futile.

“Well...” The hand drifted up to tangle in his long, soft locks, pulling his head back slightly to expose the length of his pale neck. “I’ve been looking for a new toy to play with, you see. I’d just about given up when I saw you.”

“Let me go!” Demian repeated angrily, jerking his head away from the God’s grip and turning his face away from him, staring up at the rope tied around his wrist. It was tight pretty tight, he wasn’t sure if he could get it loose. He didn’t know what it was, but he’d been getting overpowered a lot lately, and he was sick of it. And even when he had gone back to having the power, being the one in control, it hadn’t been good enough.

The hands on his body didn’t feel as good as Lyre’s did. The mouth that pressed along the length of his bare back didn’t arouse him. He had been put out at first with Lyre, but the God had felt so good, so right inside of him and it was that he craved. Like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle that fit perfectly. Every sexual encounter he’d ever had had been so hollow, but it had been different.

Incubi were made to be unfeeling, to move through life from one encounter to the next, but it just wasn’t good enough for him anymore. He felt disgusted with himself. He was acting just like a human. But that was only one of Demian’s problems. The slightly more pressing matter involved the God that was currently sitting next to him on the bed, running a hand down the back of his thigh slowly. The God’s touch was unwelcome, it made him feel hot and irritable and he wanted nothing more than to be back at his apartment, where he knew it was safe.

“Come on, now,” Kame said, pushing hands beneath his skirt to toy with the edges of his underpants. “It’s no fun if you don’t want to play along.”

Demian frowned. He was done playing games. Games weren’t fun unless he won them and went away from the experience well fucked and well fed. He had the feeling he was going to end up getting fucked, but he didn’t want it.

“I don’t want you.” he growled, bucking his lower body in an attempt to get the God to let him go, but the hands just gripped tighter. “Vile, disgusting God, thinking you can do whatever you want with me.”

His mouth was rewarded with a painful yank on his hair, hard enough almost to pull it out at the root and the next thing he knew, his underwear was ripped from his body, leaving him open and exposed. If things had been following his plan, he would have enjoyed it, but he fought with all his strength, as much as the bonds would allow to get the God off of him.

“It isn’t me that’s vile,” Kame replied, moving to untie Demian’s legs enough to pull his legs apart, giving enough room for him to settle between. His long, hard cock nudged at the crease of the Incubus’s buttocks, the head slipping between enough for him to rub it up and down, torturing Demian with his movements and smearing pre-cum along his flesh. “I’m not the one who feeds off human life and discards them afterwards. I’m not the one who uses my body to get what I want. I’m not the one who would open his legs for anyone willing to take him.”

He pressed forward then, pushing the monstrous head of his cock against Demian’s tight opening without any sort of lubrication. The Incubus did the only thing he could and kicked out hard with his leg, amazingly seeming to dislodge Kame long enough for him to scramble to his knees, his hands still tied tightly to the bed. There wasn’t enough time to get his hands free before the God was back on him, yanking him back into a lying position by his ankles, pressing him down into the mattress with a painful firmness and a hand gripping the back of his slender neck.

The hardness was back at his entrance again, pushing relentlessly. Every inch was such intense torture and amongst it all, Demian even felt the sting of tears at his eyes. He had never cried before, not properly. He was an Incubus. Incubi weren’t meant to get sexually abused; they were supposed to be in control of everything.

He had never felt more ashamed than he did lying on the mattress, pressed into the silken covers with his flesh tearing around the God’s monstrous cock and the tears at his eyes. And even with everything going on, there was only one man he could think about, one who he wanted to be with more than anything.

“Lyre...” he whispered, finally gaining some relief as Kame came to a stop inside him, fully sheathed into his body. His way was made smoother by the blood that had begun to flow, lubricating his passage.

“Lyre?” the God asked, leaning over the Incubus. “Lyre...that fool of a God is the only one you can think about while I’m buried inside you?”

Kame’s hand tightened around Demian’s neck almost to the point of crushing his bones and he let loose a hoarse moan of pain. He couldn’t help but wonder if he deserved what was happening to him, for all the lives he had taken throughout his long existence.

“Soon enough you won’t need anyone else,” Kame grunted as he withdrew from Demian’s body almost entirely, only to push back into him again fully. “I’ll be the only one you can think about, the only one whose name will be on your pretty lips. You’re mine now, little Incubus. I own you.”

It hurt less when Demian forced himself to relax, fighting every part of his body that wanted to resist. There was nothing he could do- the man on top of him was a God. He’d learned throughout his long life to avoid Gods, but he seemed unable to do that anymore.

“You’ll never own me,” Demian replied finally through gritted teeth, resisting the bile that rose in his throat. Everything hurt to the point that he just wanted to scream, but he would never give the God the satisfaction. He was still an Incubus, whether he was in control or not, and he would still act like one until the day he died.

“The second you turn your back,” he continued, his hands balled into tight fists, “Then I’ll be away. I’ll be so fast and so silent you won’t be able to catch me. After all...you don’t even know my name.”

He feared he had gone too far when the God paused in his rough, hard fucking and for a long time there was nothing. Then the hand squeezed tighter on his throat, cutting off his air, choking him until there was nothing but blissful darkness.

When Demian awoke, he was alone. His body ached and he felt dirty, the blood, sweat and semen sticking to his skin. His legs had been retied to the bed and the rope around his hands seemed tighter, cutting into his skin painfully. But it was only superficial compared to the pain within, mostly to his pride.

With a sigh, Demian lay his head down on the pillow, staring across at whatever part of the walls he could see, covered in dark, dank wallpaper. He lay for a long time, wondering if Kame ever planned to come back before a thought crossed his mind, a memory of the night before at the club, what Lebos had told him.

There was little else to do. With a deep breath, and an unsettled feeling in stomach, Demian closed his eyes and prayed.

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