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 Sixteen.
16th Night—Never Be Mine
Dhiar enjoyed parties, but all things considered, he was more of a homebody. Some Incubi and Succubi were social butterflies, always loving the party of the moment; Chana was like that. His sister thrived on parties, on mingling, and could make a rather fine existence off canapés and whatever champagne the host fancied. He could see her, in his mind, with best friend and lover Lilly, smoking cigarettes in those long holders with the flower design at the end.
How they loved that! Dhiar wondered if that was the kind of life he would end up getting used to, in time. He would have to ring her up sometime soon. Maybe that was a better idea than watching Noctemburg slowly roll to a halt.
It did seem like a train, in that. He knew it would only be a relatively short time before its wheels began to run again and the sound of thick smoke chuffing through the stack filled the air. It would once again be loud and busy and people everywhere.
Just like this party. The Incubus was actually surprised at how loud and busy it was, and how many people were in attendance. Perhaps, he thought, they had hoped to get the wheels turning again.
These were people who didn’t normally socialise. Some of them, anyway. Whoever the host of this party was, he or she had managed to work a few minor miracles to assemble the group. At least he remained in one of the more neutral categories. And not another Incubus in sight! So he figured, at least, he and the vampires would likely have their pick of partners for later.
“Let me guess,” a voice rang from behind Dhiar, “you’re looking around to pick out someone for a tumble.”
The Incubus turned, and his eyes settled onto a vision that made him catch his breath: tall, well-built, mid-length hair that went from black to a sort of pinkish white. Broad-necked blouse, a couple of bracelets, and if those trousers were any tighter, they’d be behind him. Behind him with his iridescent feathery wings, with golden tinges at the top.
“I…” For the first time in a long time, Dhiar fumbled with his words. Oh, how he wanted that! But there were considerations. Especially at a party of this type. “Actually,” he managed, “I was looking for the punch bowl. I haven’t had punch in ages, and I heard it was really tasty tonight.”
A slightly thick brow raised on the other man, and he raised his hand, uncurled a finger, and pointed in the direction of the refreshments. They took up a whole side of the room.
Not even missing a beat, Dhiar held out his hand in invitation. “Want to get some punch with me? I could use some pleasant company.”
“I’m surprised you haven’t already got plenty of that. Where are you hiding them?” The winged man slowly broke into a tentative grin. “I’m called Siros.”
“Dhiar!” The Incubus reached out and took the other man’s hand, weaving his fingers and smiling as he pulled him along to the punch bowl.
There was a certain consideration: he looked awfully like the stereotypical angel, and those types tended to be rather exclusive. They were always nice to look at—usually rather nice in bed too—but a whole load of issues he didn’t want to open up. Most of the ones in Noctemburg were “free angels”, which was to say they were currently unattached as messengers; no deity impressing things upon them, no real restrictions… but some of them still lived by the codes that they used to, and so often that led to friction.
That was to say nothing of the actual attached ones, who simply lived in the city out of preference.
“So do you always opt for punch when there’s wine, or is this just an exception?” Siros stood by as the two cups were filled.
“Just a craving! I’m a little picky with wines, but my sister can put anything away, I think. Drinks me under the table.” Dhiar passed the man one of the ornate frosted-glass cups, taking the other for himself and lifting it. “To wings!”
“To horns,” Siros answered, grinning broader and touching his cup to Dhiar’s, before he tipped it to his own lips. “Mm. That is very good punch. They must have used fresh fruit.”
“Undoubtedly! And speaking of which, I’ve been wondering if you’d like to take a walk in the gardens. I hear they’re exquisite.”
At first, Siros’s face showed some slight confusion. Then he supposed that, in fact, the gardens were the origin of the fruit. That made sense, as a segue. So he finished his little cup and set it back down, on the tray of the used cups, to be cleaned and returned. Dhiar did the same, keeping his hand in the angelic man’s.
They passed through the crowds largely disregarded; there were too many other interesting people around who were actively trying to engage others, instead of trying to get away from them. Soon, the two were surrounded in comparative quiet. The party seemed miles away, with the lushness of the gardens.
“Really stunning.” Absently, Dhiar leaned a bit against Siros and wondered what the gardens must look like during the day. He caught himself doing that so often, even though he had lived in Noctemburg for years now. “I love moonflowers.”
“Me too.” Siros’s voice had such depth to it, such sweetness on the edges, but the substance of it was a little rough, and quite deep. “You have to, to live here.”
Dhiar turned his head slightly. “I meant to ask, by the way… I hope you don’t mind me taking your hand…”
“Eh? No, of course not!” Siros started to laugh, spreading his wings out and curling one around Dhiar, the other around his own side. “I used to serve a love-god, actually…”
“Oh… oh really?” Dhiar squeezed the angel’s hand.
“Mm. I just needed some time to my own… and I had served him well, so he provided for me to come here for a time…”
The Incubus started grinning uncontrollably. They were surrounded by night-scented stock. It mixed in his mind with affection and turned the world upside-down. It was all upside-down. The chill of the endless night made the other man’s presence even warmer. His wings were so soft, so very soft and delightful. He wanted to pull them around him like a blanket…
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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!