Archie pulled away. "Who are you?!"
He dared not look back at his reflection to wait for an answer or see if it was still there. ‘It’, because he knew what it was but did not dare think it. Archie half walked, half ran back to his rooms as fast as he could without drawing suspicion as his heart pounded in his ears. He felt safer, somewhat, the moment he stepped inside and the corridor lamplight washed across him. The palace had to be the best protected place in the country against demons. The royal family had a longstanding pact with two of the most powerful demon clans in exchange for magical protections. Archie didn't pretend to understand it, politics were well out of his realm, but it meant that there should be absolutely no stray demons lurking in shadows, and especially not in the palace itself.
By the time Archie got back to the family suite, his parents had left for the evening, so thankfully there was no one to comment on his embarrassing shortness of breath or the way his hands shook. He caught one glance of his reflection in the giant mirror in his room, wane and sweating as if he were dying of consumption, and threw a blanket over the whole thing. He just didn't have the energy to deal with it, the spike of fear still painful in his chest.
Archie poured himself a glass of sherry from the drinks tray with unsteady hands. He didn’t even like sherry much butit was all his mother had set out at the moment, and at least it burned warm down his throat and in his stomach. He sank onto the rug right in front of the fireplace and hunkered there until the fire burned uncomfortably hot against his face, as if the heat could peel away the strange chill from the garden.
When Archie pulled himself up, his legs were steadier. It was too early to turn in for the night but he suddenly felt exhausted, between the disaster of a luncheon, the ill weather, and the other strange happenings. Although his clothes had been put away, there was still a box of books and personal effects left on the side table. He could get ready for bed and then finish the novel he'd started last night, that was bound to relax him. As he drew the book out, he hesitated, then also rummaged for a small, worn sachet he kept tucked in his eyeglasses box.
It was a silly thing. His mother had bought it for him as a child when he'd been prone to nightmares, to help him sleep and to banish bad dreams. Whatever magic had been on it eighteen years ago had likely faded long ago, but he still kept it. Mother had probably forgotten she'd ever given it to him, the fabric that had once been a light purple now a faded gray and the lace around the edges raggedy. Archie slipped it under the pillow, and got himself ready for bed.
By the time Archie had brushed his teeth and changed into his nightshirt, he had started to feel foolish. It had just been a series of misfortunes today and he’d let it all get under his skin too much. He'd already known he didn't want to court Amelia, there was no reason her lack of interest should have felt insulting. The weather and encounter with Estelle’s friends had left him feeling wet and miserable, and then he’d been displaced from the house without any warning. And finally, he’dbeen spooked by a few shadows in a new and unfamiliar place, like a child, all because he'd been caught up in commiserating over how lonely he felt. How pathetic. He dimmed the lights and flopped over onto the bed.
As for his attraction to men... well, it wasn't a new thought to him. It was just that he tried to avoid acknowledging it was there. Archie had been having such thoughts since he was perhaps ten or eleven, when he had followed Ollie's best friend like a puppy around all winter. His family had dismissed it as funny, and sweet that he was trying to copy his adult mannerisms at the time. He'd had a lot of practice at dealing with these thoughts, only allowing himself to indulge when he was by himself and keeping his face schooled appropriately in public.
That could be the problem. It had been a while since Archie had let himself do that, it must have all built up. He just had to release it, like letting his blood be leeched, and then he wouldn't be so distracted again. The main issue was that this was Archie's fifth year out in society. He'd already seen all the men who turned up regularly in court, already knew the tepid personalities that soured the pretty faces.
There had been a few newcomers this season, Archie told himself reluctantly. There had been that Earl who had been abroad, arriving back with a daring brimmed hat. Archie rolled onto his back, shifting his underwear down his hips enough to slide his hand down the front to grasp himself. He let his mind linger on the man’s broad shoulders, the easy curve of his smile — ruined by the little beard that looked like a tuft of fluff stuck on his chin, urgh. Archie sighed, letting his cock slide limp out ofhis hand. He just wasn’t in the mood. Why was it so difficult to even indulge?
Perhaps he needed to toss himself off with abandon today, just take the edge off of things. He pushed his hand back down again and gripped himself, working his hand back and forth with no finesse. One day, he'd like to do it with someone else. Someone whose hand was bigger than his, perhaps, who could take more of his cock in their palm. He let his eyes close, imagining how it might feel. Someone who would want him to spread his legs, who would grab him by the hips and pull him up. Someone who would touch his chest, drag their hands over his bare skin. He reached up and pinched his nipple, shuddering as it hardened to a nub.
There was a breeze, the cool edge of it catching on his bare skin, enough that Archie could pretend it was a kiss, or a tongue. His hand tightened as he felt the pressure build. He was close now. He breathed in, and with it came the earthy scent of moss. Cloying, heavy, thick enough that Archie choked around it. It felt heavy on his skin, like a blanket. That made no sense, a smell was just a smell. He must have not latched the window properly. He shivered as another sliver of wind curled across his too-sensitive bare skin.
It wasn't wind. The realization came to him suddenly. Archie should be alarmed. But something fogged his mind, soothing the confusion. Archie moved his hand again and it didn't feel like his hand against his own cock. He knew what his hand felt like, he was (tragically) intimately familiar with it. It felt like his hand, but bigger. He went to push himself up onto his elbows but his body felt too heavy.
It receded, just for a moment, just enough for Archie to let go. Except his hand wouldn't move. It remained, fisted aroundhis cock.Let go, he told himself, except his hand moved of his own accord, slow and languid up and down his cock. It felt good. Exactly how he imagined it would feel to have a lover whose hand clasped over his.Let go, he told himself, even as his body betrayed him, his hips pumping up to meet his hand. He didn't want to let go. He wanted this to carry on forever.
"Who," Archie tried to say, and the sound came out strange. Muffled. His mouth filled with that a pressure, a press that felt like hands or lips or tongues, it caressed the inside of his mouth. He groaned. He'd never been kissed before, didn't know if it felt like this, but if it felt even a fraction like this, he never wanted it to stop.
Demon, his mind supplied, but the thought washed away the moment he thought of it, chased by the delicious haze of the moss-filled air. He tried to say it aloud before it slipped completely.
"Demon." The words sounded strange in his mouth, his tongue heavy, the sounds dissipating as if someone sucked the words out of his mouth. His hand, the demon's hand, whatever it was, tightened around Archie's cock, so enough that it hurt. He cried out, gasping as it loosened. Archie was harder than he'd ever been. He could feel the rush of blood to his head, the heady sweep of desire.
The demon, for surely it must have been a demon, complied. His hand squeezed as Archie snapped his hips up into it, tight around his base. The pain burst like starlight in his eyes, this time holding on for long enough that Archie screamed. He'd never felt like that before. Had never known that pleasuring himself even could feel like that. He jerked his hand away and this time his hand obeyed him. He flexed his hand, clenching it into a fist and releasing it, checking over and over that he could control himself again. His body still felt heavy, like a heavyblanket pulling him down, but this time, when he tried to sit up, he could claw himself upright.
Archie didn't need to look down. He could feel his cock, the bob of it against his inner thigh, an ache in his stomach that wished he hadn’t stopped. Embarrassment flooded him, a surge of it so fast that he could feel the heat in his face. He reached for the bedside table until he found a lamp string. The warm orange light was dim, but it was enough.
When Archie looked down, his hand was surrounded by that same inky darkness he’d seen in the mirror earlier, a gathering of shadowy tendrils that moved as he moved. Archie lurched the two steps to the mirror, his cock still out, obscenely erect against his stomach, and flung the blanket off.
In the reflection, a dark wispy sheen blanketed his entire body, a caress against his skin everywhere it touched him. Archie opened his mouth, gasped when the shadows filled his mouth. It wasn’t solid, but neither was it like smoke. Thick, substantial and coating the inside of his mouth. He had to cough to expel it, twice, before he could force the word out.
“Succubus.” It had to be. Archie knew of no other demon that could overwhelm a person’s senses in this way.
And then, all of a sudden, it was there. The shadows stopped drifting, and Archie got the sense they had consolidated, even though shadows didn’t move like that.
Clever boy. The demon was behind him. So close that Archie could feel the tickle of its energy, for that was surely what the shadows were, against his back. Its words caressed the back of his neck and his knees buckled. It caught him, a velvet embrace of darkness wrapped around his waist that kept him standing, and then Archie could hear a soft sound like breathing. Laughter, he realized, that tickled his skin, and then he saw it in the mirror, a tendril that flicked out near his ear and ran down the shell of his ear.
Archie felt his gut clench in pleasure, saw his eyes dilate in his reflection. So did the demon, he knew, because it did it again.
What do you want from me, Archie thought at it. He clamped his mouth shut, he didn't trust himself with words at the moment, because the only thing he wanted to do was beg it for more. His jaw ached with how hard he kept it vised together. It could read his thoughts, he knew. It had, earlier, when he had been thinking of —
Large hands, full lips. Thighs. Deft wrist.That was the demon. A taunt, but also a reply.I want what you want.
The darkness rippled and Archie could almost see it, the outline of a hand that drew out of the shadows. It drifted over his hip, gentle, a tease.
“No,” exhaled Archie, trying not to let any of his thoughts leak out to it. “No, I don’t — want this.” The lie sat thick on his tongue.
The demon stilled.No?It slowly, deliberately, dragged against the fabric, stopping just shy of his cock. Archie’s traitorous body melted into it.
