Incubus MASTER: Scor’s story 2
by
Yamila Abraham
Cover Art by Archie the Red Cat
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* * * * *
Figaru fucks me the first two nights in a row. He didn’t need it again so fast the second time. He came to bring me books, and I guess I turned him on.
After that we’re having bouts every few days. It’s the only thing to break up my boredom. The books don’t have pictures. I won’t admit to him I can’t read.
By the fourth time I can take him easy. I twist my body so he hits my sweet spot with every thrust. I figure he’s as pleased with me now as he’s ever going to be, so afterwards I say my piece.
“What do I have to do to get out of this cell?”
Figaru stops moving right in the middle of putting on his loin cloth. The incubus doesn’t show much emotion. The little furrow in his brow tells me he likes what I said as much as a mouthful of dirt.
“What are you talking about?”
“How do I get like those other demons I saw out there?”
He meets my eyes. “My demon allies proved they were trustworthy long before they joined our cause.”
“So let me prove myself. I want to sign up.”
He shakes his head. “That’s not your purpose. I brought you here to serve me.”
“I’m serving, ain’t I?”
“Your tribe raped mortals and ate them.”
That doesn’t sting at all. It’s the truth. “I never did that. I didn’t like seeing it either.”
“You never had the opportunity. If a mortal came into your grasp, you would have raped him.”
“I didn’t know any different then. Now I do.”
He rushed to put on his loincloth and get out of the cage. “Get these thoughts out of your head.”
“Figaru!”
That stops him. He glares back at me. It’s enough to make me check myself.
“Master.” Damn, I hated being under his thumb. “I’ll follow your rules just as good out there as in here. Give me a shot.”
He doesn’t answer. He just leaves.
“Fuck!” I throw my cot against the bars. Then kick the pile of books. “Fucking self-righteous prick!”
I cooperated. I didn’t make that fucker rape me. I gave in to everything he wanted. I’d do just as good as any of those demons out there. Better. I want it more.
There’s nothing else in the cage, so I kick the books again. It makes me feel stupid. I close my eyes and try to talk myself down from the anger. I asked too soon, that’s all. Reevers’ got a bad rep. Of course I’m not going to get his trust in just a few weeks.
Patience, Scor. Bide your time.
Motion catches my eye. It’s from the hallway. Figaru left the door cracked open. I see a brown eye peeking in and a ribbon of blonde hair.
It’s that sweet-looking mortal from downstairs. I swallow back my anger.
“Hi,” I say.
He pushes the door open and sticks half his body in. After wetting his lips nervously with a pretty pink tongue he says, “He gets me angry, too.”
My brow rose. “That so?”
“Rowan?”
This is Figaru from downstairs. The boy flinches and then zips out the door. He closes it quiet as a mouse.
My heart’s racing. Rowan, huh? So my angel has a name.
This minor event keeps my blood-pumping all afternoon. That sweet kid. He wasn’t scared a bit of me. He commiserated with me. That was a thing of beauty. I wasn’t even fixed on fucking him. Let’s just talk. Let me find out everything about him. Why does Figaru piss him off? Looks like his majesty ain’t so perfect after all. And how come Rowan lives here? He ain’t Figaru’s lover. What then?
I paced the next day until light from my one window darkened. Someone knocks. I stand frozen and have to steady my excitement before I can call out.
“Come on in,” I say. “I won’t hurt yah.”
He slithers through the door without opening it all the way. I like what I see. My little amber-skinned angel is wearing a night shirt that ends right above his knees. He peeks his eyes up at me while tipping his head down and fidgeting his hands together.
“Figaru’s gone for the next couple of days. Out on a mission.”
“Lucky us,” I say. I notice he keeps far enough from the cage to keep me from grabbing him through the bars.
“I’m Rowan.”