Page 221 of Lost in the Dark
He ought to throw her bodily into the flaming remains of the plane, something that would make her scream, something that would terrify her to her core, somethingotherthan what he was doing,anything else! He should have, but he didn’t.
“Shhh, it’s over now, sweet.” Corviss held her close, his wings rising to buffer her from anything more, inhaling the smell of her hair. His mouth moved over her, absorbing the force of her sobs and the rest of her fear, draining her dry until the world around them was plunged into darkness. She wavered in the water, suspended like a doll, her hands reaching out in vain to hold onto his as he pushed her into the deep.
When his eyes opened, he was still in her bed, the girl unmoving beneath him. He had pushed her off the plane of the dreamscape, down through the water into the dark heart of the sea, where dreams could not penetrate. Her breath was slow and steady, and she would stay that way until she woke. There would be no paralysis from him that night, he decided, pressing his nose to her hair one last time.
He was confident, as he took wing, leaving the sleeping girl behind, that this was not the way the incubus would be handling his time with her. It was not whathewas meant to be doing either.You’re supposed to be leaving her bruised and bloodied. He was filling her with his seed, fulfilling at least that duty, but he was not meant to be comforting her.But, he thought, crossing through the endless sea of night to his own plane of existence,that’s what they get.Nightmares ended. Fear was the point, and he had fed on her fear. What he did after was no one’s business but his own.If they wanted her hurt, they shouldn’t have sent a nightmare to do the work of a demon.
Tara
The man was a bird. Or else... it was a bird, the size of a man? It was a bird-like man? She had no idea how to describe the creature who had been there in her dream. He had been standing before her on the plane, just beyond the flight attendant, moving up the aisle with the beverage cart.
She didn’t know why she had been on that flight again in her dreams. It had been a trip home, one she’d been guilted into taking. She loved her family and missed living closer to them occasionally, but her mother didn’t always understand that the brief intersessions from school—when students were home with their families, going on vacation, leaving thoughts of their schedules and homework behind —weren’t always vacations for her. And even if she didn’t have paperwork to catch up on, she didn’t want todoanything. She certainly didn’t want to haul herself to the airport at the crack of dawn, wedging herself into an ever-shrinking coach-class seat in the overcrowded center of the plane, the cabin pressure hurting her ears and giving her a headache.
That flight had been particularly bad. There had been a baby screaming for most of the duration, not that it was the infant’s fault, but still adding to the tense atmosphere and short tempers of the passengers and crew. The man next to her had taken manspreading to obnoxious levels, all the while complaining abouther, as if he weren’t invadingherspace. She hated flying. She hated being singled out as too much, which somehow made her less; hated the fact that corporate greed was the only reason the seats were so small, resented that her ticket price never went down commensurately, and traveled by air as little as possible as a result.
She wasn’t sure she would ever board a plane again, not now.Not after that dream. No, not a dream. A nightmare. She had never been so afraid, never before in her waking memory. Her dreams had always been hazy and indistinct. She had never bothered with dream guides before, for she never remembered enough to ascribe meaning to anything... but she remembered every second of that doomed flight with a clarity so sharp, it sliced her lungs to ribbons on every inhalation.
The plane had tipped in the sky without warning, plummeting to the earth like a stone. People were screaming. An alarm blared so loudly that she’d been able to feel the echo of it in her bones the following morning. The flight attendant had gone flying, and the unsecured beverage cart pitched through the fuselage like a cannon. The rude man beside her had been killed gruesomely. The plane had hit the ground with enough force to snap what was left of it in half, catching fire immediately... and yet somehow, she’d survived.
He had been there for that too, the winged bird man. Standing off to the side like a spectator, watching her. Not watching the wreckage, watchingher. He was compact but slender, with alabaster skin and raven black hair that may have been feathers. More iridescent black feathers lined his long neck, covering the tops of his shoulders and extending down his back until they expanded in wide wings. He had the long, bone-white torso of a man, arms that caught her, long fingers... and hooked talons on the tips of his bird-like feet. He had been responsible for the crash; she’d known it without question in her dream. Still, he’d comforted her as she cried, and then... that was all she remembered.
The thoughts carried with her throughout her day, distracting her until the final bell was ringing, students filled the hallway, and she realized it had been the fastest school day she’d ever worked through.You’re losing your mind. This is probably from inhaling that incense. Who knows what sort of hallucinogens are in it? This is what you get for trusting some random “witch” you don’t even know.
It was incredible, Tara thought. Two decades of being fascinated with the craft, and all it had taken was one failed ritual and a disturbing dream to put her off it entirely.You should have done this back in college. You would have saved a lot of money over the years.She’d still not dismantled the makeshift altar and had briefly entertained the idea of trying the ritual again, finally deciding it was not worth her effort.You should take it all down tomorrow, she thought, slipping between her sheets.You need your table back if nothing else.
There was something about the bird man in her dreams, something niggled at the back of her mind. Tara was certain she had dreamt of him before. She wondered if it was possible to set a trap for a dream, to lure him into her consciousness somehow. She paused in the doorway of her small living room as she got ready for bed, glaring at her table, still strewn with the trappings of her failed ritual.Tomorrow. Pack all that shit up tomorrow.
Making herself a piece of toast before bed, she placed a second slice in the toaster on a whim, grinning to herself. She was frustrated and ready to put her fascination with the craft behind her, but some habits were too deeply ingrained. If she wanted to attract a bird into her dreams, she needed to manifest that. When the toaster popped, she smeared a bit of peanut butter on her slice, setting it aside, before quartering the other slice with her knife and placing it on its own paper plate. It would’ve been better if there was a spooky old cedar chest at the foot of her bed, but her small nightstand table would have to do.Bird foodshe scrawled on a Post-it, fixing it to the edge of the plate and setting it on the table before sliding beneath the sheets. She didn’t know what she was doing, but the official rituals hadn’t worked for her either.This is free unless you want to count the few pennies for a single slice of bread.
She willed herself to fall asleep quickly, wanting her dreams to find her tonight, eager to see if she would dream of the bird man again, but of course, because she wanted to sleep, it was elusive. Hesitating, she considered the fastest way to get to sleep.
She had been waking up embarrassingly wet, dripping in arousal and aching as if she’d gone several rounds on a mechanical bull, her thighs tight, feeling a lance of pain every time she bent. There had been another wet spot beneath her in the sheets when she’d woken that morning, so large that once again she’d thought she’d wet the bed, but the slippery slickness between her thighs had told a different story. She always slept deeply and dreamlessly when she orgasmed, she reminded herself, settling back and nestling the curved head of the vibrator against her clit. Perhaps this would aid her sleep and the less-than-pleasant dreams she’d been having.
It never took her long to get off this way. She could use her fingers and take her time with it; read some deliciously filthy story or watch some bookmarked porn, rolling over and rubbing her clit herself, achieving a deep, satisfying climax that would leave her exhausted... or she could let the vibrator do the work and achieve the same results in just a few minutes. The vivid nightmare had left her feeling out of sorts, but she wanted to dream again, something buzzing in her skin, a certainty she would see him again. Pausing to turn off the light, she ensured her phone was charging and returned to the business at hand.Get off and go immediately unconscious, no need to move. She would find the vibrator in the sheets in the morning and clean it then.
Exhaling slowly, she closed her eyes, sighing as the vibration pattern jolted through her like a live wire. Her head felt impossibly heavy, inky darkness crowding on the edges of her consciousness like gathering shadows, and only the buzzing sensation jolting against her sensitive skin kept her grounded in reality. There was a weight on her chest, holding her in place. Rather than it feeling suffocating, Tara thought it was comforting, a weighted blanket. She could not move beneath it, but the vibrator never stopped buzzing.
The cupped head surrounded her clit, vibrating against it from every side, and as she moaned softly, Tara suddenly felt the sensation of someone else touching her. Long digits, teasing and curling into her heat. They rubbed her from the inside, finding her g-spot and stroking against the spongy place until her legs shook. She was unable to open her eyes, unable to move her head. She wasn’t capable of doing anything other than cry out in ecstasy, feeling herself winch tighter and tighter, closer to her release. The vibrator buzzed against her clit, and her phantom partner fingered her until the combination caused a band of pressure within her to snap, and she tightened around the intrusion, bucking against the pleasure.
The world fell away. She always fell asleep quickly after release, but that night, the darkness that enveloped her as she went boneless had weight and form. She struggled to open her eyes, suddenly realizing in a panic that she could not, could not move at all. Something was holding her down, paralyzing her. The darkness in her bedroom was all-encompassing, with no light coming in from the street beyond her window and no light from the moon. She was shrouded in blackness, and it occurred to her that she ought to be wondering what exactly she had clenched around when she had been alone in her bed. The only answer to her unspoken question was the curious rustle of bird wings as she screamed in her head.
Corviss
His cock was already drooling.
He’d expected her to be sleeping when he arrived that night, expected to climb atop her as he had since his summoning. He hadnotbeen prepared to chance upon her pleasuring herself.
She teetered, balancing on the knife tip between her world and sleep, making it easy for him to enter. Her mind was heavy and tired, her body warm and wound tight as she held the vibrating apparatus, sinking into her pillows and the dreamscape alike. Her full breasts had taken on the same lovely flush of her face, and her head tipped back, mouth open, looking as beautiful as one of the nymphs at the Firefly Queen’s Midsummer Revel, being taken by a cluster of other partygoers.
He slid like a shadow to the foot of the bed, sliding his nails up her thighs as he took his perch, curling one finger and then a second into the hot cavern of her sex, as tight and sucking around them as it would be around his cock. The girl cried out as she unraveled, the device she used to aid her pleasure finishing her off quickly. When she tightened around him, Corviss nearly took wing at the flood of slickness around his fingers, the smell of which made his feathers fluff and raise.
He could taste her desire on the air, and it was even more delicious than her fear. His cock was dripping, drooling pre-cum, hard and eager, and he didn’t need to wonder what the incubus who should have been here would have done. He would have fucked the girl before she was even sleeping, hard and punishing...But you’re not a demon. You’re a nightmare, and you should do what nightmares do.He was, and he should. She had not been fully asleep yet, he realized, her conscious mind not beneath the waters of the dreamsea, and she struggled against the paralysis that came with his perch.Good. Perfect.He turned where he sat, pushing her legs open and curling in on himself until he could reach his prize. Pushing his face between her soft thighs, the heat of her beckoned him. He wanted her fear,fedon her fear... but he wanted to taste her desire more, and he didn’t actually give a shit about what the incubus would have done just then, nor what he wasmeantto be doing.
The first dip of his tongue between her hot, slick folds made her back arch as if she were being electrocuted. The taste of her slick was sweet and thick like ambrosia, absent the sharpness of her fear. It enveloped his tongue and coated his throat, and he licked deeper, wanting more.
The girl made a gurgling noise in her throat, jerking against his mouth as his tongue moved from her slit to clit, licking a broad stripe up the lips of her sex, grunting at the delectable taste. She made one of her small animal noises when he suckled that protuberant little button, and so he did it again and again, finding that she jolted every time he did so. He wanted her to climax again, wanted to feel that rush of hot honey against his tongue, wanted toswimin her juices.
He could feel her tension, the tremor in her muscles, and the pulsing in her cunt, telltale signs that she would soon be wracked by convulsing contractions, flooding his mouth in her sweet nectar. When she did so at last, he crowed in triumph. The rest of her body was still frozen by his presence, but her cunt was not, and it pulsed against his tongue as she shook with her orgasm, nearly shaking apart. He lapped her up, uncertain of how this knowledge had been kept from him all his life. He wondered if they all tasted this sweet, all the humans whose fear he fed on, or if the girl was singular.