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 Thursday. This week is Chapter Forty-Four.
44th Night—Wild Rum
“I’m only doing my job, you understand,” Adoric slowly drew in the tobacco smoke into his mouth and throat, and then it filtered out his nose, curling in on itself as he breathed out.
Dhiar held up a hand when offered one of the man’s cigarettes, from a silver case engraved with sirens all over it. “Oh no, I couldn’t. You’re going to need all of them you can get. So,” he rolled onto his side. “Your job involves rolls in the hay, as it were, with passengers?”
The first mate rolled to face Dhiar, stroking his cheek with rough fingertips. A man’s fingertips who had done so much work with his hands. “Only special ones.”
“Such as myself.”
“Such as yourself,” he echoed, laughing deeply and setting his cigarette down in the ashtray. “Really, I feel a bit like a boy sailor. I am entirely sure I’ve never jumped into bed with someone so quickly since I said farewell to my teenage years!”
And they lay in bed, facing each other, both naked except for the covers strewn haphazardly around. It looked like the aftermath of a drunken and highly abortive toga party of the inexperienced in Roman fashion of any kind.
Dhiar reached over to the nightstand and took up the man’s cap, setting it on the first mate’s head and adjusting it to rest at a jaunty angle. “Rakish,” he commented, bouncing his brows once.
“I’m told I have a certain rogue appeal.” Adoric reached up to right it, eyes shining as he laughed again. “What do you think?” He turned his head from side to side, to present his profile to the Incubus.
Dhiar could only laugh, nodding a couple of times. “Yes, definitely. Not so roguish, in my experience. Just a handsome man of the sea. Sophisticated. Well-read. And may I say, could probably outdrink any living human in the known world. I’ve never met a human who can drink as much as you can without passing out in his own vomit.”
The candor immediately sent Adoric into a fit of giggles, a bit strange-sounding to come from a man with such a deep and full voice. They all danced on the air like little pixies, high-pitched and brightening the air between them.
“No, it’s true!” Dhiar immediately added, reaching over to pat the other man’s soft-furred chest. “I’ve never seen anyone who didn’t have some sort of supernatural gift put it away like that!”
“Well, I’m a sailor.” Adoric at last collected himself enough to say, settling down in the pillows and sheets. “A considerable part of our lives is drinking. And carousing. Except the teetotallers, which I suppose are good for any ship to have.”
“I suppose.” Dhiar settled down too, resting his head on the fluffy pillow. “Still…”
“You say ‘human’ as if…”
“As if I’m not one? Well, I’m not.” Dhiar pointed to his head, and in specific the small horns in his dark locks. “Incubus. You know. Pleasure demon.”
“Oh, I see!” Adoric grinned wider, caressing Dhiar’s neck, along his collar, over the centreline of his chest. “That explains a lot. Did you enchant me with some magic spell? Or was it just gravitation?”
“Gravitation cannot be blamed for people falling in love,” Dhiar quipped in response, laughing again, in his throat. “Actually, don’t quote me on that one.” He cleared his throat, a more serious expression coming over his face for only an instant. “I mean, don’t quote me on that.”
The first mate shook his head and ran his fingers through the hematite curls tumbled over the shoulders of the man before him. “You’re so erudite and sophisticated. And so amusing. It’s like you’ve come from another time… you’re like nothing and no-one I’ve ever seen. Anywhere. Ever.”
“Thank you!” Dhiar beamed, chest pushing out in pride. “I take great care to keep my distinctiveness! My people are… well, perhaps unfairly judged, and they’ve been given especially atrocious reputations, but really we’re quite decent.”
“I should say so!” Adoric leaned in for a soft kiss, lingering lips upon lips. “So are you going to suck my soul out now?”
“Pff,” Dhiar took another kiss after that, nosing the man’s cheek. “I’ve no use for anyone’s soul. They’re not exactly anything you can trade as a commodity. No, I subsist off pleasure… so it’s in my best interests to help others to spread it. To stoke the fire…”
“Fan the flames…”
“Spit alcohol into them when necessary,” Dhiar finished, laughing in time with Adoric.
The two let their hands slowly wander, across hair and hairless regions, in the depths and at the surface, in each and every crevasse and out of it, the sides of the valleys and the rolling incline of the peaks. Their bodies responded to every touch; Dhiar’s closeness made it all seem so much more urgent and frantic than it otherwise would. There was so much depth in every move, every slightest thing that they shared.
Adoric rolled atop Dhiar and the two began to grind, each growing firmer between the legs easily and quickly. The Incubus closed his legs and moved carefully, flexible like a gymnast, taking the first mate’s hardness between his thighs. It had been so long—so long!—since Adoric had even so much as proposed such an intercourse with anyone. But he had wanted it, and now he had it; the last time he remembered between the thighs was with a French prostitute, or a prostitute who spoke some French and had some French affectations. She was nice. He would have to pay her a call next time he came to her port.
But all thoughts of Paris Mary fled from his mind after that instant. He could feel he was dripping, leaking sticky and slick between the firmly-pressed thighs, matting hair and pushing it down and up and every direction.
“It’s all right, let it go.” Dhiar looked up into his eyes, and in that instant Adoric felt his whole body wash over with ecstasy and bliss. It was like nothing else. It reminded him of being pulled down by the undercurrent. He could see no surface in reach.
And then he let go.
* * *
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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.
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!