Incubus Tales: Chapter 17

Welcome to Incubus Tales: A Thousand Words by Hushicho. In Noctemberg, it is always night. Dhiar, proprietor and gay incubus, welcomes you to Phantasies, a very special shop. Sensuality is more than just Dhiar’s stock in trade, it is his raison d’être. NSFW.

A new chapter appears every Thursdays. This week is Chapter Seventeen.

17th Night—Under the Ivy

Dhiar swore he could see fireworks as his eyes opened again. He inhaled rose-scented air, the blooms all around him. The white roses were open, smiling out at the world, and his lips were on Siros’s, so soft and pink and delicate.

The angel looked so much like a marble statue, a magnificently enthralling combination of delicate and masculine. Dhiar could feel his body, so close, a mixture too: at the same time soft and accommodating, and sturdy and muscular. He couldn’t resist, couldn’t stop himself, and he found himself embracing Siros, arms curled tightly about his chest.

He could feel the warmth of his heart… or was that hearts? No-one was ever sure with him, and he was never entirely sure with anyone else in the city. He supposed it didn’t actually matter.

They wandered about the place, kissing, touching, feeling each other. Their bodies touched, crashing waves upon each other’s shore, and then drew back. It was the undercurrent that pulled, the powerful vortex drawing them deeper.

Dhiar had almost become drunk on Siros, and his own scent mingled with lady of the night. The slender little blossoms beckoned from halfway across the garden. He had grown to love them. It made the whole thing seem more like a lovely, beautiful dream. So many marvellous flowers, thriving in this deep shade. The path was marked by primrose. How appropriate, he thought.

But they veered off the path and found themselves lying tangled in each other, under a wall covered in ivy. It may have even been made entirely of ivy; it was impossible to tell anything else that made it up. Dhiar marvelled at the feelings washing over his body.

“You weren’t kidding when you said you worked for a love-god,” he murmured, reaching out to run his fingers along the delicately-curled ends of Siros’s locks.

“No, it was… rewarding. Often, anyway.”


“Love is simple and kind. And cruel, at times. It always conquers, it always prevails… but sometimes it doesn’t do that in the happiest ways. There are many kinds of love… and sometimes, even when you’d like one kind of love, you get another. So close, and so far away, all at the same time…”

The words hit him, and Dhiar leaned in for another kiss. He preferred them this way, really. He liked the sweet kisses, just the lips. There was so much to do with lips, massaging and pulling, suckling and nibbling… a cornucopia of possibilities. He caught his breath again.

“Sorry,” Siros pulled back, licking his lips. “Maybe I’m forcing this. I’ve been lonely, I’m sorry. This isn’t fair to you…”

Dhiar’s lips remained apart. “Eh? No, no. I mean, you’re the most beautiful man here, why shouldn’t I enjoy your company?”

“Appearances aren’t everything.”

“I’m not talking,” Dhiar purred, “about how you look on the outside.” He ran his fingertips down the side of the man’s neck. “Although that’s lovely too. Beautiful… well, it’s different than pretty, it’s different because you have a certain quality that comes through in your voice and the way you carry yourself. I can tell you’re kind and loving. If you were just pretty but arrogant, or pretty and cruel, like plenty of the angels living in this place, well… I wouldn’t have anything to do with you. Wouldn’t give you time of day.”

Dhiar chuckled as Siros raised an eyebrow. The Incubus moved his hand along the loose material of the perfect white blouse, feeling the pectoral curve beneath his palm. “So to speak.”

The Incubus swore he could hear thunder. He took a deep breath and lifted a leg, rubbing the inside of his knee along the outside of Siros’s hip. Leaning in, he gave another sweet kiss, then another… the angel’s lips tasted so sweet. So soft, they beckoned like a pillow for his head.

“Is it going to storm?” Siros spoke up, tone unconcerned.


The lightning was new. The thunder was new. Originally, Noctemburg had neither, just condensation collecting and centuries of magic rolling into cloud cover. Lately, however, with the rains had come the actual storm. It was the part Dhiar loved the most. Thunder always felt so right. It moved his body, down to the core of it, down to the root. He could feel it, vibrating him, shaking everything, virile and manly and beautiful.

It made the soft surface of the garden feel even more intoxicatingly like drifting on air. He couldn’t tell whether it was grasses or mosses; few lights illuminated their walk. The luminous mushrooms only just marked the way to walk.

“Would you like to come to my place?” Siros let his fingers wander over Dhiar’s cheek. “Unless of course you’d like to stay at the party and organise an orgy. I’m sure you’d be very good at that…”

“I’ll leave that to my sister and her parties.” Dhiar touched the tip of his nose against Siros’s, then captured his mouth again, for only an instant. “Is it far? We might want to wait out the rain…”

Before he could finish, the sheets of water fell. Suddenly, everything went to the wayside, and Dhiar found himself on his back, the full weight of Siros atop him. It wasn’t more than he could handle. Those wings practically covered the both of them.

The angel was shielding him from the rain. He smiled from above. Dhiar almost wept, so touched by the gesture. He leaned up and kissed him, good and hard. The Incubus let the very tips of his fingernails trace through the fabric of the angel’s shirt, over his chest, over his aroused nipples, down his sides, over his navel…

“I guess this means I won’t be able to fly you there,” Siros murmured, out of breath. He leaned down and returned the kiss anyway, barely teasing with his tongue, lips parted just so.

Dhiar kept losing himself in the kisses. The very part that was Dhiar, the very thing that made up his essence, now seemed adrift in a sea of storms and angels. He could scarcely centre himself. He didn’t want to centre himself.

“I think we’ve already flown,” he whispered.

* * *

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About the author: From an early age, Hushicho held a special passion for storytelling. Throughout his life, he has worked in numerous media and various places in the world. He is the author of the long-running Incubus Tales webcomic, upon which this serial is based.

Incubus Tales
by Hushicho

Welcome to the intriguing city of dreams, Noctemberg, where it is always night, and to Phantasies, a very special shop run by Dhiar, proprietor and gay incubus. Sensuality is more than just Dhiar's stock in trade, it is his raison d'etre. In Incubus Tales: A Thousand Words, Dhiar meets new loves, rekindles relationships, and bring his special brand of sexual healing to lovers and readers alike.
Also available in paperback!

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