House of Dark Delights (3 page)

She told him what she always told them, because the resemblance was too profound to disregard. “I'm Elic's twin. Elle.”
Elle,
that was how she always thought of herself during the transformation.
She.

“Have we…?” He groaned helplessly as she squeezed his cock in a way she knew—or rather, Elic knew—would excite him beyond reason.
“Jösses…Herre Gud,”
he moaned, gripping her waist as he writhed beneath her.

“We haven't met, but I've been watching you. And thinking about you.” She dipped her fingers into her pussy, daubed the slickness onto a nipple, and teased it while she pumped him harder, faster. “I've got to have you, Viktor. Just for tonight.”

“But…Heather…,” he managed.

“No one will know. You'll never see me again. Please, Viktor. Please…”

“Helsike,”
he muttered, rubbing his eyes. “
Ja.
Fuck it. Okay. Yes.” Eyeing the strip of condoms on the nightstand, he said, “Just let me—”

“Patience.” Shifting forward, she knelt over his face and spread her labia to expose her aching clit. “Suck it.”

He gripped her hips to bring her into better contact with his mouth. Shoving her fingers through his hair, she tilted his head up slightly, shivering at the gust of hot breath on her wide-open slit.

“No, Viktor, not with the tongue,” she told him. “With the lips, like you're drinking from a straw. Right here. Yes,” she sighed as he suckled her. “Like that. Oh, God, yes.” Having your cock sucked was wonderful, as she knew very well, but having your cock shrink into a tiny little organ jammed with thousands of nerve endings, and having
that
sucked…there were no words to describe the sensation. The pleasure escalated swiftly, too swiftly.

He protested when she rose off of him. “But you haven't—”

“I want you inside me when I come. Wouldn't that be nice? If we came together?”

“Ja,”
he agreed, sitting up. “Okay. Sure.”

Leaning over him, she grabbed Heather's pink makeup case. “Lie back down, Viktor.”

“
Nä,
I like to be on top.”

“I know you do.” All the
gabrus
did. She'd been looking for some kind of night cream or lotion, but found a little plastic bottle of personal warming lubricant instead. Just the thing. “Viktor, are you going to lie down, or do I have to tie you up?”

His surliness gave way to a sly grin. “Maybe I should tie
you
up.”

“Does it frighten you to think of losing control to a woman?” Elle untied one of the gold cords securing the bedcurtains and snapped it to test its strength.

With a snort of laughter, he said, “I am not so easily frightened.”

“Prove it,” she said as she took his right hand and looped the cord around it twice. Softly, seductively, she said, “Lie down,
chéri.
”

He did, watching her closely while she knotted the cord securely to the bedpost. His erection, which had waned a bit during their verbal sparring, filled and rose as she lashed his hands and feet to the four corners of the bed. The gauzy curtains fell closed, enveloping them in a dreamlike little bower.

Taking him in—the golden god spread-eagled—she said, “You remind me of
Vitruvian Man
. That's a drawing by Leonardo da—”

“
Ja, ja,
inspired by a treatise on proportions by the Roman architect Vitruvius. What do you think, I'm just some dumb jock? You'll have to put a rubber on me.”

“Shh.” She flipped open the bottle of lube and drizzled a bead up the length of his penis.

He groaned in pleasure as she coated his cock and balls with the slippery balm, which heated up deliciously as she worked it in. Ah, the delights of twenty-first-century technology.

“Sjysta prylar,”
he breathed as he writhed to her touch. “Put a rubber on me. Now.”

“I'm disease-free,” she said, “I promise.”

He shook his head. “Once, back home, I got slapped with a…a
faderskaps
…You know, with the court and lawyers.”

“A paternity suit?”

“
Ja.
Put a rubber on me. Just do it.”

Elle got off the bed, retrieved the strip of condoms from his nightstand, and tossed them out the window.

“What the hell!” He yanked at his tethers as she returned to the bed. “
Slyna!
You crazy bitch, why would you do that? You
want
to get pregnant. That's it, isn't it? This is a setup.”

“Relax, Viktor.” She grabbed a pillow and shoved it under his butt to give her better access for her next assault. “I can't even get pregnant.”

“
Skitsnack!
Bullshit! You're a lying bitch.”

“Viktor, really—relax,” she said as she dripped a little of the lube onto the tip of her right middle finger. “This next part will go easier for you if you do.”

“Äsch!”
he cried as she pressed her fingertip to his anus, circling the tiny opening to slacken it. “
Vad gör du?
What are you—?”

“Relax,” she repeated, pushing through the sphincter. Crooking her finger toward his belly, she located a nutlike bulge, which she rubbed toward her in a slow, steady rhythm as the lube warmed up. “You'll like this, I promise you. You'll come better than you've ever come in your life.” And far more copiously, which was really the point.

Larsson struggled against his bonds, spewing invective in English and Swedish, until the stimulation just got too much to ignore. He dropped his head onto the pillow with a sigh and some muttered Swedish curses; his eyes rolled up.

Elle pleasured herself as she milked Larsson. He turned his head to watch her with evident fascination, his breath coming faster now, hips straining in tempo with the prostate massage. His balls began to swell, the skin of his scrotum growing taut as the sac drew upward. His cock looked as if it were carved out of polished pink marble—rock-hard and glossy, with a network of delicate blue veins, the glans inflamed a deep, purplish red. Pre-ejaculate oozed like syrup from its tiny slit, puddling onto his belly, an exquisite sight. He was ready now, bursting with come and about to explode.

“Suck me,” he rasped, his head rocking on the pillow in sensual delirium.

“Sorry, no,” she said as evenly as she could, given her own white-hot arousal. “But I'll fuck you if you ask me nicely.”

“
Nej då!
Don't you dare.”

“But we were going to come at the same time, remember?”

“Suck me!”
he yelled, his voice raw and unsteady. “Do it. Just do it, you fucking bitch!”

“Viktor, trust me—the only way I'm going to let you come is if I fuck you. But you have to ask me first.”

“Sug min kuk!”
he screamed, straining at the cords, red-faced and wild-eyed. “Suck it!”

Soothingly Elle said, “I know you need to come,
chéri.
Just ask me and I'll—”

“Din satkäring! Sur-fjas!”
he roared, the bed quaking and creaking as he thrashed. “Bitch! Whore!”

Sliding her finger out of his body and backing off the bed, she said, “I
could
just leave you here, tied up and helpless, with those poor balls of yours turning bluer by the—”

“
Nä,
don't! Don't!
Varsågod!
Please!” He was heaving and quivering, every muscle in his body bulging with veins, a tethered beast straining for release.

“Please what?” she asked from the foot of the bed, still fingering herself. “Please fuck you?”

“Vad som helst,”
he groaned. “Okay. Okay, goddamn it, just do it. Do it.”

“Do what?” she asked, plucking absently at a nipple.

He let out a snarl of frustration that degenerated into a hoarse little sob. “
Jösses.
Fuck me.”

“You didn't say please.”

“Please!”
he screamed. “Please, you fucking cunt, will you please just fuck me!”

“You're sure, now?” she asked as she crawled over him.

“Slyna! Hora!”
he yelled as he thrashed against his bindings.
“Do it! Fuck me! Just fuck—”
A quavering moan issued from him as she took hold of his cock, which was almost too stiff to tilt up, and seated the head inside her. With a grunt of effort, Larsson snapped his hips, filling her; she groaned in agonized pleasure. He bucked beneath her, sweat-sheened and moaning. It didn't take long, of course. Quite soon he stilled and shuddered, a low, grinding sound, almost like a death rattle, rising from his chest.

Elle ground hard against him, igniting her own climax. Larsson roared, his cock jerking as it shot out a jet of hot come. It went on and on, burst after burst striking the mouth of her womb. He shouted with every spasm, his entire body flexing like a bow. It went on so long that he was hoarse and quaking by the time the final tremors coursed through him.

Larsson went limp, his eyes half-open as he sucked in lungfuls of air. Elle's hands shook as she pulled the pillow from beneath him and fumbled with the cords knotted around his wrists and ankles. He didn't seem to notice when he was finally freed; she had to push his left arm and leg aside to flop down next to him.

“Ofattbar,”
he muttered. “Fucking
satans helvete.
That was…
häftigt
. Amazing. What did you say your name was?”

Reaching over to stroke his damp forehead, she whispered, “Take a little nap,
chéri.
Just for a few minutes.”

He closed his eyes and went slack, his mouth slightly open, breathing deep and regular.

Dragging her hair off her face, Elle closed her own eyes and whispered the words that would change her back into Elic. The “return ticket,” that was how she thought of it. From female to male…succubus to incubus.

It was much the same on the inbound trip as on the outbound: the queasiness, the pain…This time, though, her bones were expanding, her muscles solidifying, her skin stretching. The widening of her ribcage always made her want to vomit, but the feeling never lasted more than a few seconds.

The discomfort was all but gone when she felt a biting tightness on her right hand.
“Merde!”
The diamond ring, which she'd forgotten about, was digging into that finger as it grew. She sat up and tugged at the narrow band, growling in pain as she struggled to get it off before the finger finished enlarging. It wasn't easy; although the finger was coated with lube, so was the hand that was trying to remove it. She closed her teeth over the ring, took a deep breath, and yanked. It slid into her mouth, thank God. She tasted gold and blood; the finger was abraded up to the middle knuckle, but at least she—or rather, Elic—wouldn't have to end up getting Heather's engagement ring cut off. The questions would have been awkward.

She spat the ring onto the floor and slumped back down, swearing under her breath as the transformation ran its course. Her breast tissue shrank back into the pectorals; her genitals felt as if they were turning themselves inside out. It was only when he felt a penis and scrotum lying heavy between his legs that he truly felt like Elic again. He ran his hands over his face, his chest and arms, reassured by the firmness of the flesh, the unabashedly masculine contours. Diverting as it was to be Elle from time to time, it was always comforting to come back home into the body he'd been born with.

During The Change, Larsson's semen had become imbued with an incorporeal essence unique to Elic. It was a precious elixir, this
zeru,
as Lili called it, a merging of superb human genetic material with certain more ethereal qualities of the dusii race. The pressure of it, the lust it generated, made Elic's cock grow heavy, rising just a bit in anticipation of his next stop: the bathhouse.

Feeling a grating emptiness in his stomach—he was always famished after tapping seed—Elic sat up and grabbed one of Larsson's protein bars, a never-tasted novelty. He lounged back against the headboard to unwrap it, smiling when he found it to be coated in chocolate, a weakness that had rubbed off on him from Lili. He bit off a mouthful and chewed, only to gag in disgust at the shocking, nostril-flaring foulness of it. Spitting the grainy mush into his hand, he squinted in the semidarkness at the wrapper:
A heavenly combination of chocolate fudge and soy crisps guaranteed to delight your taste buds.

Lying goddamn humans.

He hurled the bar, pre- and post-masticated, into the wastebasket. Larrson stirred at the noise, blinking his eyes open as he looked around. “Heather?”

“Not exactly.”

The big Swede focused on Elic, his obvious bafflement giving way to recognition as he took in the hair. “Oh, you,” he said, clearly thinking he was looking at the woman he'd just bedded, only to gape in stupefaction when Elic turned to face him fully and he realized there was a man in his bed.
“Jösses!”
he exclaimed, sitting bolt upright. “
Vem
…Who the hell…
Elic
?”

“Let me ask you, do you actually
like
those things?” Elic asked, nodding toward the protein bars, “or do you just eat them for the—”

“What the fuck…?” Scrabbling back toward the edge of the bed, Larsson said, “What the hell are you doing here?”

Elic allowed himself a puzzled little smile. “You don't remember?”

Larsson stared at Elic, his eyes glowing like silver coins as he thought about what he'd just done with the woman who bore such an uncanny resemblance to the man now lounging in his bed—the buck-naked, half-erect man. He looked down at himself, at the oily sheen on his cock and balls, the little plastic bottle of warming lube; he'd feel it in his ass, too.
“Nej,”
he said, shaking his head in revulsion and disbelief as the possibilities crystallized.