Demoncember writing prompt — Demon who got summoned by a vampire hoping for an easy meal. But the demon blood is not going to agree with them
“Oh,” the succubus says, and then again, horrifyingly pitying, “oh. You’re not — mm.” Human, Tess fills in. “Not one of our usual sort of client.”
“I still summoned you,” Tess says stubbornly, resisting the urge to gesture defensively at the candles and sigils. She grips the athame hard enough for her finger-bones to creak, hoping it’ll stop her hand from visibly shaking.
“Yeah,” the succubus says gently. “Let’s sit down, okay? Let’s talk about that.”
“You have to—” Tess says, panic rising like bile in her throat. “You have to do what I want.”
“Very rarely strictly true,” the succubus says, sounding apologetic. “We’ll sit and talk about this, okay? You’re not the first vampire to think of this, and it…doesn’t work out the way you want.”
Of course not. Tess can feel herself physically slumping, despair crumpling her body before she’s even really feeling it. Of course it doesn’t; why would anything get her out of this? Why would a universe that can do this to her have any get out of monstrosity free card?
“Aw,” the succubus says quietly, in a way that doesn’t sound entirely intended for Tess’s ears, and steps straight out of the summoning circle to gingerly pat her shoulder. “I’m sorry, okay? But everything’s got rules, and yours say you’re a people-eater, and I’m — well, I’m not people. You can drink off me, and it’ll feel great, but it won’t nourish you — you won’t get less hungry. Lots of arcane juice, no calories. You’ll get — I’m basically party drugs for vampires, and if you feel bad now, I don’t think you wanna get fucked up and disinhibited and still fucking hungry, am I right? Because you don’t want to come back down in the wreckage of what you might do like that.”
Tess lets out an exhausted hiccup of a sob.
“Shhhh,” the demon says soothingly, rubbing her back. “It’ll be okay. It’ll be fine! I know some people who know some people, okay, let me borrow your phone—” and slithers it neatly out of the pocket of Tess’s jeans without waiting for a response.
Tess only half wants to protest anyway, and then the succubus trails the hand up her back until it gently cradles the back of her head, and tugs Tess down until it her face is bowed and resting in the crook of the demon’s neck. She smells like warm girl and fireworks and blood, and Tess swallows mouthful after mouthful of running saliva, unable to focus on any of the quiet things she says into Tess’s phone.
Tess doesn’t know how long she stands, pliable and shaky, with her head on the demon’s shoulder. She only swims back toward clarity when there’s a knock at her apartment door; the succubus gently coaxes her head up, and steps away, leaving her shivering in the sudden loss of warmth.
“It’s okay,” the succubus croons. “Soon,” and goes to the door; comes back with someone else.
The smell of human, blood-filled human, hits Tess like a slap to the face, blunt and umami. She’s too far gone to get a coherent picture of the newcomer even while staring right at her, only sideways-glimpsed impressions she has to painstakingly fumble together, like completing a jigsaw with cold-numbed fingers: messy hair, old bruises on a long throat, eyes too sharp, forearms bared by rolled-up sleeves. Tattoos — symbols that hurt to look at. The vampire is a deathly thing, and instinctively knows to fear the masters of that domain; the word necromancer shivers coldly up Tess’s spine, tailbone to skull, and back down.
The necromancer has a battered gym bag dangling from one hand; from the other, a muzzle.
Her eyes are far too interested.
“Good specimen,” she says to the succubus, right past Tess as though she’s not there. Irrelevent. Tess whines.
She really needs to clear her head.
The succubus tangles her hand back into Tess’s hair, instead. “Told you,” she says smugly. “You don’t mind if I—?”
“Knock yourself out.”
The demon rubs Tess’s face against her neck. “Gonna take care of you,” she coos. “But let’s both have a little taste of fun, first—” and rolls her hips against Tess as the vampire — slipping, moaning, mindless — opens her mouth to the taste of skin.
