Don't Open the Box

Part 1          Part 2          Part 3          Part 4 

“‘Don’t open the box’ those instructions were fairly easy to follow,” the creature said to Henry from where it sat on his Great Grandfather Whateley’s mahogany desk.

“But it’s not fair.”

The creature raised one dark eyebrow but said nothing. Henry wanted a drink. He cursed whatever law abiding notion had possessed him to pour out his stock when prohibition passed.

“You know perfectly well it’s not fair,” Henry said. “I’m only human. It’s not possible to instruct a human not to open something without explaining why and have any expectation for the words to be heeded. Whateley should have known better. He spent all that time writing out that garrulous journal and that needlessly explicit will, but all he could say was ‘don’t open the box’ on the most important matter of all.”

“Would you have believed the explanation?”

Henry stared at the thing in frustration. Of course he wouldn’t have believed Whateley. Everyone knew he was insane. Henry would have assumed his instructions were little more than a sign of his ever growing eccentricity. But it was insane. Opening a small metal box could not possibly summon a demon from another dimension. Henry knew better than to believe in such ridiculous superstitions. He had spent six years in higher education, and intended to spend several more, learning rational things. Not things like this.

Henry wondered briefly if the creature existed only in his mind and that he had in fact inherited Whateley's madness along with the rest of his possessions.

“You should be happy, you’re the sole heir to Erich's massive estate and considerable funds,” it referred to the property almost lovingly, as if it expected to have access to all of the privileges that ownership entailed.

“Happy? Of course I’m happy. I inherited everything: the many acres of undeveloped backwoods, the house that hadn't been updated since 1789, and his macabre library of mildew infested esoteric tomes.”

“And what an extensive collection it is.”

“I've been blessed with absolutely everything Great Grandfather Whateley had, even his succubus.”

“Incubus, dear.”

“Incubus, whatever. Don’t call me dear.”

It only smiled.

“So are you going to follow me around day and night for the rest of my life?”

“Only at night.”

“How am I ever going to get any sleep?”

“I wouldn't dream of preventing you from sleeping.”

“Then what are you interested in, my soul?”

The incubus laughed, he (for Henry had to concede it did appear to be male, very male) made Henry uncomfortable in several ways, not just in inspiring suspicion. There was a stunning amount of skin confronting Henry outside of the incubus’ outdated breeches. While it was an obvious impossibility, since the creature had evidently known Whateley in his youth, the incubus looked to be similar in age to Henry’s twenty-three years. But that was where the similarity ended. Unlike Henry's short brown hair, the incubus' hair was unfashionably long and black. His body was strong and powerful and he seemed in touch with it in a way that only degenerates and savages were. Whereas Henry, trapped in the confines of his own narrow suit and proper sensibilities, was far removed from such sensations.

“Let’s wait to discuss that until later,” the incubus said. “I think you’ve had enough shocks for one day.”

“Oh God…you do want my soul.”

“Not exactly.”

“'Not exactly'? Then what will you take—'exactly'?”

“Nothing. I’m just going to—borrow—your body, while you sleep.”

“You’re going to possess me?”

“No no…” he sighed. “This is getting us nowhere. Why don’t you make use of Erich's 'macabre library' and look it up.”

“Don't call him Erich, it sounds too familiar.”

Instead of responding to Henry the incubus made an exit that rivaled his abrupt and fantastical entrance. Rather than vanishing in an instant the way he had arrived, he faded gradually. His likeness lingered a few seconds before it drifted away like dust motes. Henry was impressed and somewhat envious. There had been many events in his life where he had wanted to disappear, and to do so in such a manner would have made things much less dreary.

           

* * *

The incubus wasn’t present to see just how flushed Henry’s face was, and for that he was grateful. Henry imagined it would be the last favor the universe did for him in a while. According to the grimoire he was reading, the word incubus was from the Latin word incubāre, meaning to lie upon. This type of demon invaded the dreams of women to seduce them and make them bear half demon children. Repeat sexual encounters would prove detrimental to the women’s health.

It didn’t make any sense. What possible use could an incubus have for a human male? He certainly wasn’t going to have much luck impregnating him…Henry felt suddenly disquieted. Did this mean the incubus was going to try? Maybe the demon was too unversed on human anatomy to realize it was impossible for a male to become pregnant. Henry would have to clear that up straight away.

'To lie upon'—the image of the demon climbing on top of Henry while he slept, with his muscular body and dark features, slipped unbidden into his mind. Henry felt himself stir in response and was immediately disgusted with his reaction. He wasn’t supposed to be aroused at the idea. It would be rape, he reminded himself, and doubly terrible because it would be from a man...

But there was no need to worry because none of that would come to fruition. Henry would simply appeal to the demon’s logic. He would explain the impossibility of male to male reproduction and then the matter would be settled. The incubus would simply have to return to his home dimension.

Just like he had returned when he discovered Whateley was male. There was an incongruity in Henry’s logical solution somewhere, but it would have to be examined later, when his mind was in a better state to handle such things.

* * *

Henry was uncertain if he was still awake when he felt someone moving in bed beside him. The hair on the back of his neck rose, for he was certain nothing had been there a moment before.

Henry turned to face the incubus. He employed considerable restraint to prevent his body from leaping from the bed. He wanted to stay calm and collected. He sensed the incubus might behave like a feral animal in that giving it a chance for pursuit would do little more than awaken his prey drive.

“Hello, Henry,” the incubus said. His tone was expectedly seductive.

“Hello—um—” It occurred to Henry that he had no idea what to call him.

The incubus smiled. “You’ll have to make something up.”

“What?”

“You were wondering what my name was…unless something else was rendering you speechless?”

“Why won’t you tell me your name?”

“My name isn’t pronounceable by the human tongue, so there would be little point in me telling you.”

“How convenient.”

“Erich—forgive me, Whateley—was also curious about my real name, but in time he managed to choose one for me.”

“What did he call you?”

The incubus turned away from Henry to stretch his long body. Henry wasn’t certain but he thought he might have been hiding a smile. “That name would no longer be fitting.”

“I want to hear it.”

“You won't like it, but if you insist…”

“I do.”

“Sarah,” the incubus said too quickly for it to be truly guarded information.

“Sarah? Is that a joke?”

“Of course it isn’t.”

“Then why would he call you that?”

“Because it suited the form I appeared to him in.”

“The form?”

“He saw me as a woman.”

“You can change genders? At will?”

“I have no gender. I appear as what my human most desires.”

There were several things wrong with that statement, not the least of which was that Henry had no desire for a man in any way. He wasn’t thrilled with the word choice of “my human” either. Henry was having difficulty forming his protests into sentences so he simply decided to st op talking about it.

“I would like to hear your real name.”

           

“If ‘Sarah’ displeases you then my actual name will—”

           

“Stop stalling and tell me now demon.”

           

“If you insist…”

“Of course I do, you don’t need to keep making sure of that.”

The incubus looked at Henry in a way that he didn't particularly care for. He looked ravenous and yet strangely expectant. He leaned in close to Henry and whispered his name into his ear.

Unpronounceable was an understatement. It was completely impossible to replicate. His name was like the sound of a thousand lovers' bedtime whispers, the sensation of their breath upon the back of his neck, teeth gently scraping the lobes of his ears, a soft warm tongue caressing ever lower down his chest. By the time the incubus was done saying, or rather making him experience his name, Henry was in the most heightened state of arousal of his life.

“Oh God,” Henry whispered.

“Is that my new name?”

 

“Of course not,” Henry said, still struggling to get himself under control.

“Well you’d better come up with something. Or else I'll have to try and teach you how to say my name after all.” He started to lean in close as if to do it again.

“How about ‘Richard’?” Henry said, blurting out the first name that came to mind.

“Richard,” the incubus said the name like he was caressing it with his tongue, attempting to get a good sense of the flavor. “It’s a good name. Strong.”

“Yes, yes. But I think we need to talk about the nature of our relationship…I mean your requirements of me.” Henry moved away from the incubus, Richard, as he spoke. He needed air. It was incredibly hard to think in such close proximity.

“You read the meaning of the word incubus, did you not? ‘To lie on top of'…I think our relationship is fairly well defined,” Richard said causing Henry to blush.

“It is not physiologically possible for me to bear your offspring so I’m really of no use to you.”

Richard grinned at him. He didn’t seem disturbed by the revelation.

“I mean it’s not possible, right? There isn’t some way that you can get around that because you’re a demon… oh God, please tell me it’s not possible.” Henry was starting to panic. Rape was bad enough but impregnation? Unbearable.

“Whether it’s possible or not is something other demons prefer to test. I have no intention, nor desire to impregnate you.”

“Thank God.”

“I only want your lust.”

“What?”

“The more of your lust I sate, the more strength I gain. I’ve gotten very weak after being locked away for so long. But you look like you have plenty of energy to share.”

“You can’t have my energy, I—”

“You argue too much. Your body likes what I offer it.”

“I don’t want to be raped.” Henry made as if to get up from the bed.

“Tonight I will only do things for you, I won’t enter you until you beg me to.”

“Then you will wait forever, because I will never—”

Richard stopped him with a kiss. It was so much more passionate than he thought a kiss could be. The incubus' hard body pressed insistently against him while his hands began to explore. A woman had never dared to be so direct, or to touch him with so much…accuracy. Henry had forgotten what he was so angry about. He attributed it to some sort of glamour the demon possessed. It felt good and he forgot what the point of protesting was. What was the harm when it was only a dream?

* * *

The harm of course was that giving in to the incubus only made it grow stronger. It was only when Henry woke that he was completely sure that it had been a dream. It was unlike any dream he had ever had before, for it had felt exactly like being awake.

Henry breathed slow and deep as he pulled himself out of bed. It was just a dream. A nightmare. He felt relieved that everything that Richard had done to him hadn't been real. He blushed with shame at the memory of his reaction to the incubus' touch. Henry shoved the thoughts away. He had no control over what he did while asleep. That wasn't his fault. What was important was that he didn't let it happen again. He couldn't lose sight of what the incubus was by calling it by a false human name. It was a demon and he wouldn't let himself forget again.

Henry didn't feel as if he hadn't rested at all. He wondered if this is what the demon had meant by taking his energy. He had thought when he said lust...Henry didn't want to think about that anymore. Despite his exhaustion he dragged himself down to use the facilities. Before moving in he'd had the mansion fitted with all the modern amenities. One of the signs of Whateley's eccentricity was a fear of any kind of change. He didn't even trust electricity and neither apparently had most of his neighbors. Henry had been forced to choose between having lines run a considerable distance and for no small fortune, or having a private generator installed. He opted for the latter.

Henry wondered if he would ever have a normal dream again, or if the demon would forever haunt him. No longer would he have dreams with the random meaningless meanderings that were so easily forgotten upon waking. He had never appreciated them for the escape that they were. He would miss the prior innocence of his dreams, riddled with their acceptable nonsense. Now he would be forever burdened by the unacceptable nonsense of Rich—the demon doing unfathomable things to his body every time he lost consciousness.

           

Henry's fatigue was nearly debilitating. Just before waking, the demon had urged him to rest again as soon as possible. He had implied he would be waiting eagerly, no doubt to siphon off more of Henry's precious life force. There was one solution that was obvious if not very appealing.

He would never sleep again.

* * *

Henry’s resolve lasted only a few hours. He was going to have to sleep unless he took some kind of medicinal assistance. He would’ve gladly taken cocaine had he a license for it, but he had never bothered for he had never enjoyed its effects. He tried to bolster his alertness with some rather brisk tea, but found it wanting after only a short period of time.

Two years prior, while at the University, Henry had gone to listen to a lecture on primal sleep patterns. He didn't remember much of it. He had been up most of the night before preparing his own speech on Epicureanism and had found himself nodding off more than once during the presentation. He recalled that it was based on a Brazilian tribe—or was it Venezuelan?—that only slept for very short periods at a time. They accomplished it by sleeping frequently at very regimented intervals. Henry wished he could remember the specifics. He didn't realize at the time how much more pertinent the sleep habits of the primitives would be over the philosophies of the elite in his future.

Sleeping for only a quarter of an hour at a time would severely limit the demon’s access to him. What could he possibly accomplish in such a small amount of time?

* * *

           

“So you managed to go all day without taking a rest. I was disappointed,” the demon said in Henry's dream. To Henry's relief he was sitting cross-legged at the foot of the bed instead of right beside him. He was still wearing only breeches though and the expanse of exposed flesh was unsettling as always. Henry sat up right so as not to encourage anything.

“I wasn't tired—demon.” Henry said the word as if it had a particularly foul taste.

“Careful, too many lies aren't good for your soul.” At Henry's expression the incubus laughed. “Well it seems to be something you're concerned about. I could care less. But I do care that you don't deplete all of your energy—human.”

Henry ignored the demon's mockery of his attempt to point out the distinction between them. Instead he said, “Recently my slumber hasn't been restful at all.”

“Don't worry the young are amazingly resilient.”

“I'm not young at all. I'm nearly twenty-four.”

“That's quite young to me. Remember I was with Eri—Whateley for nearly seventy years and before that—”

“Please don't talk about my great-grandfather. I find thinking of you with him distasteful.”

“Jealous?”

“Obviously not—it has nothing to do with that—it's just, he was so old—”

The incubus’ sudden outburst of laughter caused Henry to frown.

“You are very unreserved,” Henry said.

“So you don't like picturing the wrinkled, liver-spotted skin of an old man—”

“I said I didn't want to hear about it.”

“He wasn't always old. He was quite fetching when I first—”

“He was also a relative and if you don't stop I'm going to leave this—”

“I'm sorry, I'll stop,” the incubus said finally gaining control of his mirth. He smiled at Henry in a way that Henry found patronizing. The incubus started to lean closer but Henry pulled away.

“Don't be so disagreeable. I promise I don't possess any wrinkled flesh, I only appear the way you want me to.”

“Then I want you to appear as a woman. With long raven black hair and skin that is pure and lily white.”

“Did you read that in a sonnet?”

“I'm deadly serious demon, change into a woman now.”

“I can come to you as a woman...”

“Do it. Why do you hesitate?”

“All you have to do is...” Richard crept forward, until his presence forced Henry to lean back. Henry could feel the warmth radiating off his skin and part of him wanted to fill the gap between them. Reach out and place his hand on the hard, muscular chest.

“What...what do I have to do?” Henry asked, yanking his mind back to what they were talking about. He couldn't let himself be distracted, not when this might be his one chance for escape. For salvation.

“All you have to do is really, truly want me to be a woman. I am only the manifestation of your fantasies.”

“That's not—”

Henry was jolted awake by the crash of pots and pans landing on the floor beside the bed. He was lying on his right side instead of sitting up as he had been in the dream. He felt disoriented. He had slept for such a short time, both the memory of right before he went to bed and his dream when the incubus had been about to touch him, seemed equally real.

Henry looked at the night stand where he had rigged the pans to fall. It had taken hours to get the timing down to a quarter hour before the string that held the pans would break free of the wax. He was pleased to see the candle had not fallen over. He'd been a little anxious about that. It wouldn't do to immolate himself in his attempt to avoid the fiery damnation of the demon's embrace.

Henry moved to sit up in his bed when he saw a sight that made the contents of his stomach curdle.

The incubus was still sitting on the edge of the bed.

“That was a vicious trick,” he said.

“Trick?” Henry parroted. The words had lost all meaning in his confusion. He was awake, wasn't he?      

“How did you accomplish it? With those?” He made a sweeping gesture that encompassed all of Henry's setup. “That candle isn't very heavy. It could have been pulled over by the weight of the pans. What if you’d burned the estate down? You could have perished in the fire as well.”

“I tested it.”

The incubus shook his head with disapproval. “Do you not have an alarm?”

“Why are you here? Am I dreaming? I thought—”

“You're awake,” the incubus said, and then he sighed. “I was just starting to get a taste of—but that doesn't matter. You are prematurely awake thanks to your…contraption. It’s common for humans do try to defeat sleep, but sleep is always victorious in the end. You will not be able to function on mere minutes a night. But if you're going to make the attempt then at least get an alarm. You're old enough to know better than to play with fire.”

Henry just stared at him for a moment. There was something rather disquieting about being scolded by a demon, and a sex demon at that. He had no right to be lecturing anybody about safety, when he was by far the most dangerous thing Henry would ever contend with. But that wasn't the most pressing matter of the moment.

“But if I'm awake, then how are you—”

“Here?”

“Yes? I mean—”

“Were you sleeping when you opened the box?”

“No, but—”

“But?”

“I thought you had rules.”

“I do.”

“They don't make any sense.”

“It uses energy to appear, until I build up a reserve by feeding—”

“I won't let you feed off me anymore.”

The incubus blinked at him as if surprised by his sudden anger. “But you enjoy it.”

“I don't.”

“If that's what you say, then you must not.” The demon grinned in a way that made Henry want to knock the expression off of his face.

“It's true, regardless of what you think. And I won't give you the chance to steal my energy because I'm not avoiding sleep like some illiterate simpleton. I'm going to sleep for fifteen minutes every four hours. I can continue doing that indefinitely because it's what primal humans did!” Henry was aware he was mixing his words up, but he was too outraged to try and correct himself.

“Primal humans?”

“Don't mock me!”

The demon held Henry's gaze without replying, his face dispassionate. Henry was displeased by the lack of a reaction. Anything would have been better than indifference. Before the thought had time to be examined by his better judgment, Henry's fist arced outwards to connect with the demon's jaw.

Only it didn't. His fist went through the incubus meeting only air for resistance. The force of the blow carried Henry through the apparition causing him to sprawl face down on the duvet. Henry scrambled to get back into a sitting position and away from what appeared to be the inside of a ghost. His dignity was harder to recover, it had scattered about like the wrinkles in the blanket from where he'd landed.

“It will take a few more feeding sessions before our bodies can meet outside of dreams.”

“I swear upon my life,” Henry said. “That you will never get any more of my energy. I will never, ever sleep long enough for you to do anything to me again.” Henry fixed the incubus with a cold stare before continuing. “You are going to starve, demon.”

The incubus narrowed his eyes briefly before his placid expression returned. “There are an unimaginable number of things I can do to your body in less than a quarter of an hour. I was taking the time to talk to you first because I mistakenly thought that’s what you wanted.”

           

“Well you were wrong. I mean about everything. I don't want—”

“Hush, I understand now. You're giving me time limits because I failed to respond to the subtle language of your appetence. I apologize. Now that I know that what you really want is for me to rend the clothes from your body, trap your writhing form beneath me and take you with insensate brutality—I will no longer waste our time on trite pleasantries.”

“No—that's not it at all—I—” Henry stammered as he rolled off the bed, forgetting the insubstantial nature of his foe.

“No need to deny your wantonness, your need to be violated. The smell of your lascivious thoughts pervades my senses and makes me drunk with my need to devour you. I know you only want to appear hesitant so that you will remain blameless in our sin.”

“Stop—that's not what—you can't do that—”

“You will set your alarm and we'll make a game of it, a race. We'll see who takes home the bigger prize.”

Henry examined the demon for a moment to see how likely he was to actually carry out this mad threat. Things had been done to Henry while he slept, but he had yet to suffer any form of desecration. He was uncertain enough of the incubus' resolve not to want to test it.

“Demo—”

“Why did you give me a name if you have no intention of using it?”

Henry swallowed. “Richard...I don't want you to do those things to me,” Henry said softly. He hoped a calm tone would create a better outcome than his indignant one had.

“Don't want me to do what?”

If Henry wasn't certain he was already damned he would have cursed the incubus for making him spell it out. “I don't want to be taken.”

“Wooing you and then performing the tricks I do with my hands and my tongue,” Henry shivered involuntarily at the memory, “takes longer than you would give me, so that leaves me no choice—”

“I won't use the alarm, or pans. I'll sleep longer when I do sleep, but...” Henry paused, unable to give in without at least a small concession. “That won't be anytime soon.”

“Agreed.”

“I'm only yielding because you’re not making me commit these atrocities in reality, only in dreams.”

“For now.” Richard held up his hand to forestall any arguments. “I must leave this debate for another time. I didn't get but a taste of your passions tonight and I am tired. I must rest.”

Unfairly the demon disappeared to get the sleep Henry was cruelly denied.

                       

* * *

After eighteen hours Henry succumbed. It wasn't a conscious decision. He was sitting at Whateley's desk trying to find anything to distract him from his fatigue. He read a terrible article about how sleep deprivation was used in some cultures as a form of torture. It was highly believable, every inch of his body ached, his spine was stiff and his head throbbed. All he wanted was to rest his eyes, even for a moment. At some point he laid his head down on the desk.  

Henry was standing on a bridge looking down at the stars reflected in the water. The moon formed a fat crescent that was interrupted by the ripples of the slow moving stream. Henry wasn't tired at all. It was the only way he could tell he was dreaming.

“What are you looking at?” a voice beside him asked. Henry knew who it was without looking.

“Nothing that would interest you. Where are we?”

“It's your dream, isn't it?”

“Who knows anymore.” Henry turned to look at the demon for the first time and his appearance startled him.

“Clothes?” he asked.

“It's a brisk night. Besides I promised we'd talk first, I thought you might find this reassuring.”

It was. Henry was relieved that the incubus was abiding by their agreement.

“What do you expect of me?” Henry asked.

“Walk with me.”

“Walk? But—”

“We’re going to be spending a very long time together. The human life span can be over one hundred years. It would be best if we became friends.”

“I could never be friends with a demon,” Henry said, cautiously looking at the incubus for a reaction. He felt nervous about calling him anything other than Richard now. But the incubus said nothing and as he began to walk down the path Henry followed him.

One hundred years or more…Henry wondered if Whateley wasn't really eccentric at all, maybe his madness was only the result of having to keep company with an incubus. Henry felt he was also on the crest of insanity, brought on by too little sleep and too much otherworldly harassment.

“Why did you choose me?” Henry asked after a while.

“I didn't.”

“Right, I was the unlucky one that opened the box.”

“You complain with an irritating frequency.”

“We could always let someone else open the box and then you could haunt someone less irritating.”

“We could. But you wouldn't like the way that would work.”

“It couldn't possibly be as bad—”

“Don't speak with such ignorance.”

“I'm not—”

“The box will be sealed upon the moment of your last breath.”

“Oh.”

“Oh,” the incubus repeated.

Then he sighed. “You blame me for what you've inspired. If you want me to be female then change your desires. I've never seen a human succeed at that, but you could always be the first. I'm only doing what you want me to do.”

“Then why can't I make you go away?”

“Because...” The incubus grinned at him and it made Henry's pulse quicken despite himself.

“Because what?”

“I don't think you want me to say.” The incubus reached out slowly and took Henry's arm. Henry allowed himself to be drawn in close. “For now, just enjoy what I offer, during the day you can focus on changing the way I look.”

Henry's heart was pounding. In the darkness the demon's hair almost disappeared into the night, his eyes looked black except for where the moonlight reflected. His strong body pressed gradually against him and Henry slowly lost himself in the sensation. Henry was almost impatient for his kiss when it finally came.

Somehow, when he was close, the words Richard said had a way of making sense. Maybe Henry was going about this wrong. All he had to do was change his fantasies and he could have a beautiful, willing woman at his beck and call every night. Maybe he would be able to keep her a secret and then he could still have another woman, a wife to bear his children. It was possible this arrangement didn’t have to be as unsuitable as he had feared.

* * *

Three days passed. Henry went to bed on time, but it only helped marginally with his exhaustion. Each day he felt more drained than the day before. It was lowering his will to resist as well, for he stopped fighting the incubus' advances. Richard had kept his word not to go beyond sensual caresses. Henry would never be ready for anything more invasive and so far Richard hadn't pressured him. He never demanded anything in return, although Henry imagined drinking his lust was all he really required. He made some attempts at thinking about women, but he was too tired and his mind continually wandered to a pair of strong, talented hands and everything that was attached to them.

That night as they were parting he told Richard about his increasing malaise.

“Today is the last day you will feel that way. I've taken enough of your energy and you’ll have your dreams to yourself again.”

“You're going away?” Henry hated the tone of his voice, it almost sounded plaintive.

“Just from your dreams.”

“I don't understand.”

“You managed to rebuild my supply in a remarkably short amount of time. So tonight at midnight I will be able to move about in the world again.”

“You'll—what?”

“I'll be flesh and blood again. I'll still need to feed fairly often, but I'll be able to do that while you're awake.”

“Feed—like you've been feeding?”

“There isn't any other way for me.”

“But, but this was just a dream. I wouldn't actually—with a man—”

Henry awoke from the dream suddenly, whether due to fright or coincidence he didn't know, nor did he care. He had been lulled into a sense of complacency over the last few days and he had wasted precious time he could have been exercising Rich—the demon. Not even bothering to dress, Henry went to Whateley's library to look for a way to stop the incubus. He only had until midnight.

* * *

According to Great Grandfather Whateley’s misguidedly detailed journal, his library contained 3,794 rare manuscripts of “indescribable” knowledge. Despite their alleged indescribable contents, the authors had certainly tried. Henry intended to go through each verbose and voluminous text until he discovered how to prevent what was going to happen tonight from ever occurring. What the incubus planned to do to him was unnatural. Of course that was to be expected with a demon, but even had he been human...Richard had coaxed reactions from his body that certainly would not have been possible without strong devilry. Henry was not the kind of man that would respond so strongly to administrations from such powerful, large hands and the hot moist mouth lined with the right amount of stubble…

Even just remembering was producing a strong reaction in Henry. It was powerful devilry at work indeed.

           

Henry continued his search for a cure for his malady.

* * *

It was a few minutes till midnight when Henry climbed nervously into his bed. He felt incredibly vulnerable, despite being adorned in his most covering night clothes. They were a paltry armor against the incubus’ lustful onslaught.

Richard materialized in bed beside him. Naked.

“Dear God please cover up!”

“As you wish,” Richard said before he slipped under the covers. Henry couldn’t decide if that was an improvement, while he no longer could see the evidence of the demon’s masculinity, he was now trapped under the blankets with him.

Henry breathed in deeply. He had to remain calm for his plan to work.

“You may as well get this over with. Don’t go on tormenting me,” Henry said.

Richard studied him for a moment. “It's only nourishing when you like it.”

“Then use your spells and force me to like it, like you did before.”

The incubus smirked. “Use my spells hm? Is that what you call this?” He pulled Henry in close, causing little pulses of electricity to travel across his skin. Richard nuzzled the side of Henry’s face before he flicked out his tongue to explore his neck.

Richard jumped back in sudden revulsion, gagging as if on a very unpleasant taste.

“Agus bas dunach ort!” Henry shouted. He cast a handful of salt at the demon that had been concealed at his side.

Henry was puzzled when Richard didn’t just disappear. Instead he was wiping out his mouth with the back of his hand.

“What the Devil did you put on your skin?”

“Toadstools, sage, and urine from a pregnant cow. You are here by dispelled. No more will you work your devilry on a hapless mortal.”

“Hapless?” Richard said. He was still not fading and was looking increasingly nonplussed.

Henry was starting to worry about what was taking so long. Richard might have time to do him harm before he vanished if the spell didn’t work soon.

“Of all the inane things that have been tried to banish me…that is simply disgusting.”

“It’s supposed to be more than that…it’s, well, supposed to repel you, isn’t it?”

“It repulses me. That was very, very naughty Henry. I’m going to have to punish you for that.”

Henry felt a drop in the temperature of his lowest extremities, which paradoxically led to some disquieting stirrings. His body was proving to be more and more at conflict with itself.

“You’re not supposed to be able to withstand those components—”

“I have been very understanding of your inexperience, your reluctance. I could have had you begging to let me violate you in a thousand different ways. Instead I only did what you naturally wanted me to do to you. Yet this is what you do, you try to destroy me?”

“Not destroy, only make you go somewhere else,” Henry said nervously. He started to slide away from Richard.

“Oh, is that what 'agus bas dunach ort' means, 'make me go somewhere else'? On to greener pastures?”

“I'm not sure exactly what the direct translation is—my Cymric isn't very good—”

“Obviously not, since it's Gaelic. It's a death curse.”

“I didn't know. It was supposed to be a banishment—”

“Take off your clothes,” Richard said in a way that was, for once, not seductive.

“Are you—going to rape me?” Henry whispered. He couldn’t take his mind off what Richard had said, ‘a thousand ways.’  Could there possibly be as many as that? A sex demon would be the expert on that he supposed. But there were only two methods of violating a man…weren’t there? Henry couldn’t possibly imagine much could be done with nostrils or arm pits…Not that could be considered enjoyable at least.

“No,” Richard said. Henry felt a wave of disappointment. Disappointment? How was that possible? Rape was an abominable crime. Unforgivable. But the incubus was, supposedly, a reflection of Henry’s fantasies. Was it still rape if he was only being forced to do things he secretly wanted to do?

“Then what are you…?”

“I’m going to spank you. Although I do think you've earned a lot worse.”

Henry snapped his jaw shut. He'd not previously been aware it was open.

“That’s insane. I wasn’t trying to hurt you, I just wanted my freedom back. I plan to marry a woman some day and I don’t want to have to explain you to her. I don’t like men, really…” Henry knew he was babbling, but it was better than the alternative of doing what he had been told to do and removing his clothes.

Richard straddled him, pinning him to the bed so that he couldn’t slip away as Henry wanted to do. The demon deftly started undoing the ties on his night clothes.

“Wait. Stop. I—”

“Quiet.”

“Please.”

“You are terrible at obeying directions.” The demon pulled Henry’s night shirt off while the human struggled to keep it on. It was futile; in moments he had been entirely stripped and was still penned beneath the equally unclothed incubus.

“Richard, I’m sorry I tried to dispel you. I honestly am sorry. I won’t try it again. You have to understand that this is hard for me. It was extremely unexpected.” Henry was begging. Normally he would have thought himself above such activity, but something terrified him about letting the demon discipline him. It was partly that he’d never been spanked, and the unknown is always a terrifying thing to confront. But also due to another more disturbing reason; that the idea of giving up control to Richard was appealing in a way. That was something he didn't want to explore. He didn’t need to become anymore confused about what he liked in bed.

Richard didn't respond to Henry's pleas. Instead he placed him face down over his solid thighs and firmly locked an arm around his waist. Henry buried his face into the sheets, wishing he could disappear into them.

“It’s not hard to get along with me,” the incubus said. “I'm fully capable of making all your fantasies a reality and all I ask in return is that you refrain…” Richard patted his large rough palm against Henry’s exposed backside as if to acquaint it with what was coming, “from trying to kill me.”

“And give in to all your perverted whims of course.” Henry was shocked to hear that sentence come out of his mouth. While it was true, he knew better than to share an observation like that while in such a vulnerable position. Didn’t he?

Richard’s answer was to bring his hand down with a crack against the Henry’s tender flesh.

Henry gasped and jerked in reaction. His heart began to pound in apprehension with the knowledge that something terrible had only just begun. It hurt much more than he'd imagined was possible.

Richard’s palm fell like fire, burning its impression into each inch of skin that it contacted. Henry writhed and gripped the sheets with his fists.

How was it possible that a child’s punishment could hurt this badly? If he ever had children he would never, ever do such a thing to them. It was an epidemic of blatant abuse.

When Henry’s control began to break down; Richard repressed his struggles. When he began to plead; Richard ignored him. It was only when Henry was completely drained of his will to fight and all emotion that he was finally released.

Once free from the incubus Henry collapsed into the covers. He buried his head in the pillows to hide his tears. He was deeply ashamed of his weakness. No wonder his succubus turned out to be male. Henry wasn’t much of a man himself.

The incubus sat in the bed not touching the human. As time calmed Henry’s turmoil he became increasingly aware of the separation. While he was still not fond of the idea of the incubus’s existence, he hadn’t lied when he said he hadn't wanted to kill him. Which he had apparently attempted to do.

“I never thought it would do you any actual harm, but I should have considered the possibility. I didn’t think. I’m sorry,” Henry mumbled into the pillow without looking up.

“Hm,” Richard intoned noncommittally, but he placed a hand gently on Henry’s back.

To his surprise (and dismay) this contact sent a tremor of relief through Henry. He turned to look at Richard. The demon hesitated only a moment before he accepted Henry into his arms, but then just as quickly he pushed him away again.

“If this is going to go anywhere we absolutely must wash you off first. Let’s go heat some water. I haven't seen any signs of servants so I assume we'll have to do it ourselves.”

“I had modern plumbing installed before I moved in.”

“Meaning?”

“The water doesn’t have to be heated manually since it's already warm in the pipes.”


“Really? That's wonderful, how does it work?”


“I...have no idea. ”

“It doesn't matter. That will save us some time since we are off to such a slow beginning. It's supposed to be the first time I get to taste you in the flesh and you've found all manner of ways to make me wait.”

Henry repressed a smile. If ever he needed proof that devilry was responsible for his arousal, this was it. There was no way he would be looking forward to sharing a bath with a demon, especially after the thrashing he had received. It had to be devilry.

Part 1          Part 2          Part 3          Part 4 

*According to S. T. Joshi in The Annotated H. P. Lovecraft “agus bas dunach ort” can be translated as “and may a death of woe be yours” (54).

Joshi, S. T. The Annotated H.P. Lovecraft. New York: Dell, 1997. Print.