Tales From The Void Contest

Rating: M - Sexy Moments.

Word Count: 4970

Pairing: Emmett and Isabella

Summary: A dark Incubus troubled by visions and reoccurring dreams, meets a beautiful but mysterious girl at a party, but all is not what it seems to be...They say be careful of what you dream and desire...

Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or any of its characters. No copyright infringement is intended. I only own my dreams and imagination...well most of the time.

As I drive towards my destination, my mind is drawn back to the recurring visions, or dreams as you humans would call them, that I have been suffering of late. Although the dreams vary in their locations and details, the one remaining constant is the girl. I only catch glimpses of her; sometimes the colour of her hair, the glint of her alabaster skin, the plumpness of her red lips and of what her intoxicating scent can do to me.

My last vision had been so realistic that I swear I can still feel her tongue licking and sucking on my skin, I can still feel the burning sensation of her teeth as it broke through the flesh on my shoulder. It has abruptly awakened me in a cold sheen of sweat from my resting place, to the point I checked myself for her mark. As always there is nothing there, but this has awakened the old darkness in me. It's a feeling that was pushed so far down in the depths of my mind that I never knew of its existence, not until these visions triggered my senses to the feeling that someone or something wanted or needed me or some part of me. But whatever that part is I am still at a loss to know, as the visions always end before I get that answer, so tonight I now find myself doing the one thing I thought I could avoid. I cannot put aside my desires and hungers anymore, so I try and concentrate my vision-troubled mind on the night ahead.

I park and begin my slow but thought invoking walk towards my night's entertainment; would tonight be any different from the previous 73,003 nights I have roamed this earth? If my dreams or visions are anything to go by, then I have to resign myself to the reality that my dreams and this mortal world were just not meant to be united. That's all they were, dreams, no matter how realistic they were, and I also have to keep reminding myself that women like her truly don't exist on this earth and just concentrate my thoughts on which morsel will be my lucky companion tonight.

When I reach the house, I stand across the street for a while from where the party is already in full force, after finally finding the correct address. I can already sense and feel in my bones, I am in for one hell of a great night. I can tell by the amount of cars and the excitement oozing off the people's bodies on the street that this is where all the action is going to be going down tonight. There are so many cars though, that I was forced to park my precious car two blocks away, not that the walk here was any concern for me, it actually helped me mentally prepare myself for the night's activities ahead.

Walking up to this upper middle-class home I can feel the music throbbing through the walls; this is clearly meant for the dancing hordes arriving and not to scare anyone away. My inner-self snarls, sneers and finally laughs at the thought of any of this scaring me; like so many other homes this Halloween night it is celebrating in the usual mundane human way. I hesitate at the door, wondering if anyone will hear me knock, then decide, no, it's too loud for a human to hear knocking over the loud music, so I just walk on in; I mean, a mere door is not going to present a problem for the likes of me.

The hallway is strangely empty of party-goers, but I can see clearly into the family room from here. Several couples are dancing, well groping their way through some awful sound that is apparently music in this century. My view of the living room occupants tells me that I will blend in very well here. Everyone is dressed up for Halloween; my own dark outfit is definitely in line with many others, like the Grim Reaper, Frankenstein, Witches and Fairies. The irony is not lost on me as I darkly chuckle that I don't need fake fangs like the guy chasing the girl into the kitchen shouting at her in a very bad Romanian accent, "I Vont to Drink Your Blood..." The girl screams in mock horror and drags him into the nearest empty room.

Very few of the living or non-living knows that, with me, they are getting the real thing. Not even after I am done with them do they ever know. Two centuries of practice has developed my skills to the point where I can pierce the skin of any victim and leave with hardly a trace to show I have been there. Through the needlepoint entries, I can suck out a few mouthfuls of their delicious life force, just enough to sustain me for a day or two, but not enough for my chosen morsel to have any ill effects at all. I have perfected this innate skill because moving around is becoming tiresome, and I quite like this little town, well for now I do.

My victims never remember me or my activities because, you see, I can make them simply forget it, forget they ever met me, forget who they are if I so choose, but I don't usually have to go that far, well not lately. No, I am not a psychic by any means, although that particular talent would come in very helpful at times, and I don't hypnotize or dazzle them either. I am just very, very good at persuading or convincing them that what just happened didn't really happen at all. It's a talent or gift that comes with being an Incubi.

It also comes in very useful when I take liberties beyond just that of their life force. Though my seed may be long dead or frozen in me, my production of said fluids is not, nor is my pleasure in sharing them. My curse, if that is what you choose to call it, is not only the thirst or need for their life force to ensure my existence, but also the insatiable lust and yearning for consummation with my victims. It strengthens my body with every joining. It actually helps to sustain me when I haven't found a victim to fit my needs; you see I am a very picky bastard when it comes to my victims. Though, there is rarely the time when I don't do both, fuck and feed. But I am always cautious about my feeding habits. I do not take too much and I avoid bad essences at all costs, like that from drug addicts or the insane. It doesn't sustain me or my kind well, like the purity of a clean, virginal human essence does.

This is the most precious that we covet, at all times, that of a pure and innocent human; it attracts us, like bees to the sweetest nectar. If we come across this particular essence, and as of yet I have not for over 170 years, our kind can almost be driven to the point of madness where we simply cannot control or stop ourselves, we are pushed by a force unknown deep inside ourselves, to simply keep taking and taking until we either let them die or make them like us. As I have said it is extremely rare to come across these essences, it's not just the purity of being untouched physically, but there is something in the depths of their souls which our kind can simply not walk away from once it has caught our attentions. The closest I can compare is that of a Siren's call, that is how it affects us Incubi.

You see, the likes of me and my kind, when it comes to sex, we don't have to worry about disease. I can't get sick and for that matter, no one can get sick from me. And since I can wipe their memories, my only risk is leaving too much physical evidence behind, leaving them too sore or too full of my dead seed that they question what may have happened to them. If they do remember anything at all, and some do as I'm not yet perfect at this memory wiping thing, hopefully most have thought it is their own vivid imagination, nocturnal emissions or even a waking dream.

Aside from the common desire for their life force, Incubi take on various talents and needs in their existences. Some have no desire for sex at all - still can't get my head around that one - and others of our kind have developed their need for sex into such a talent that they can control the body of their victim, much like that of a puppet master. Thinking about it, I guess that's not much different than what I have witnessed humans do to each other in their day to day mundane lives. Manipulating the other for their own self-gratification and gain.

I drag my scattered thoughts back to the matter at hand and scanning quickly over the party crowd, I spy a girl dressed as Little Red Riding Hood standing in the corner of the room; she is moulded against the shadows and I can only glimpse half of her face. She is focused on one particular couple who are rubbing and groping their way through a slow dance and, at first, she doesn't notice me staring at her; well actually staring at her gorgeous body. Her eyes are unusually dark, but that could be a result of the low lighting in here, her lips coloured red and her black as midnight long, straight hair is scraped from her face in a tight ponytail; I wonder if it is hair extensions as it goes all the way to her waist, perfectly straight. She stands about 5 and a half feet tall, slim yet well-shaped; my guess would be 34 x 22 x 30. Whoever this girl is, her costume is very convincing. I know I need her and not just for her delicious life force that is glowing around her pale skin, I can feel the lust building inside me and I waste no more time; I cannot wait till this one has reached a slumber, she is the one I want, and want now!

Walking directly over to her, I break her line of sight and focus on the couple she is intently watching. I lean my body towards her and whisper in her ear.

"So, is that what you dream about then?"

She breaks eye contact slowly from the couple and starting from my feet, she peruses me up and down for a long, long moment, then replies in a small husky voice, "What would you possibly know, about what I dream? I have many, many dreams and fantasies about people like them."

I consider her answer and challenge her further, "You could do so much better than them if you're thinking along the lines of fantasy or dreams?"

"And you think you're that one, the one who could be... ummm... be better than either of those two?" She raised her eyebrow and stared even deeper into my eyes.

"Who else could you share the horrific stories with about this banal excuse for a party tonight and expect them to... well... understand and fulfill all your needs?" I tease her, staring deeper into her darkening eyes and trying my best to bend her will to match my own dirty thoughts.

"Oh I would expect to share more than just the stories, with you," she counters, poking the tip of her pink tongue out and moistening her lower red lip, but never breaking our eye contact.

"Then I have found just the right... ummm fantasy for tonight. I am Emmett," I tell her as I reach down and take hold of her cold small hand, hmmm... cold that's odd my mind flits over this information as my level of lust increases. "So, follow me then, that is if you are not too afraid," I warn, even knowing full well she will do exactly what I say regardless.

She does not hesitate and melts into my side wrapping her small arm around my waist and lets me pull her away from the relative safety of the other party goers.

I lead her quietly and swiftly down a hallway to the farthest room I can find from the party; I close the door, leaving the lights out. I mean I can see perfectly well either way, but this just adds to the mystery and excitement of our encounter. I don't need them at night as I can see as well at night as a human can during the day. There is pale moonlight streaming through the window and it makes the room an eerie bluesy grey colour.

As I look around, I realise we are in a little girl's room. She must be off with her family trick or treating or staying at a friend's house, as the room is empty with the exception of the two of us. This girl is at that transition age, going from daddy's little girl to a young teenager, caught in between both worlds, struggling to grow up and not wanting to leave the children's world she so enjoys behind.

I don't want to waste any more time with charades and just as I am about to begin commanding the girl too start stripping, my mind starts to flood with her thoughts. This is a recently new thing for me; usually when my prey reach their height of arousal, I can feel and almost imagine their thoughts, but this woman's words are screaming through my mind, burning into my brain like she is trying to brand this moment into my memories, forever.

'Hmmm this one makes me want to grab and touch myself, my body shudders in agony because it hurts that he's not inside me yet. I want to turn my back to him, lift my skirt and bend over, slack-mouthed and expectant. Watch him in the mirror as he impales his thick hard cock into me... His loose-hipped gait is a suggestion, a maddening demonstration of what he can and will do too me tonight. I can imagine him thrusting forward; chest first, cutting the air between us cleanly as the prow of a boat. I want him to push into me, hard and fast whilst twisting my nipples between his cold fingers. Everything about him is thick – his dark blond tousled hair, his limbs, his neck, his shoulders and… ohhh, his cock. His whole presence settles on my shoulders, heavy as a blanket and feels just as hot. He's tall and solid like a bear, his build… mmm so broad and muscled everywhere. I want, no I need to climb up him, feel my arms and legs creeping around his torso like thorny vines so that it digs eagerly into his smooth pale flesh. I want to suck out all his sweetness and make it my own, and then share my sweetness with him until I make him dizzy with my own scent upon his tongue. This lust I feel coursing through my veins is cruel; not because I can't have him, but because I can and choose not to yet, this is his game, his rules and his fantasy.'

I shudder as the power of her thoughts pulse through my body, "Turn and face the dresser, lean forward onto your arms and spread your feet apart." After hearing those thoughts I need to take my pleasure now and feed later... ohhh, much later, damn this girl is like a siren in the making.

She follows all of my commands perfectly, without faltering once, and I smirk my best lopsided smile at her reflection in the dresser mirror, because I knew she would obey, they always obey. All women want to obey me, want me to touch them, to defile them, to give them an experience unlike any they have ever had, or are ever likely to have in their feeble human lives. So who am I to deny the female race this one small thing; this one extraordinary pleasure.

Stepping up behind her I reach down and grab her skirt. Pulling it up over her waist I expose her bright blood red panties covering the most perfectly shaped ass I have ever seen. Her skin is a creamy white, her legs are long and slender, her waist just the right size for my hands to fit perfectly around, she is to die for, and I know that I have to take her right away.

This is where I make my first mistake. I'm usually so careful, but in my sudden rush of excitement at such perfection before me, I don't stop to think how this human could be so perfect for me. I simply rip her panties off one side, letting them slide down her other leg to the floor, watching the goosebumps pebble on her creamy skin. By the time they touch the floor, I have ripped open my own pants. I am already rock hard and my dead semen is dripping from the end of my cock, all ten thick long inches of me.

I position myself at her opening; my eyes are locked onto hers in the mirror. She stares straight back at me and a the corner of her lips start to curl in a small smirk, she wants this as much as I do, surprised but pleased to feel her pussy is already sopping wet, I grasp her by the hips and thrust myself into her deep and hard.

Her wetness defies her readiness. She is so tight I only make it partway in, I pull back to where just the head of my cock is still inside her pussy and I thrust in again, harder than before. This time I manage to get most of my shaft into her. She has the sweetest and tightest pussy I have ever fucked. I can feel her walls squeezing me and coaxing me to thrust more and more, and I begin to wonder how long I can possibly last with her doing this to me. Normally, that is never a problem, but this woman is somehow different than all the others that have come before her. I begin to ponder, a bit more deeply, who is really in control of this situation.

Pulling out again I grasp her hips tighter and drive in with all my Incubi strength. This time I make it all the way in, but what surprises me is how she growls at me with a low guttural sound, a very familiar sound to my own snarl. But I'm too far gone, in my own pleasure, to care; I am in fucking heaven as I begin pounding her over and over. With each stroke I ram into her harder and deeper than before, and although on one hand it seems easier as she gets wetter, she also seems to be squeezing my cock ever tighter.

Several more minutes of this is about all my hard cock can take. But my little temptress is turning out to be a much wilder woman than I had originally anticipated, and she starts thrusting back as hard as I am with each stroke of my own. I feel my body approaching that wonderful point of no return. The tension throughout my body is building so fast, never have I gotten to this point so quickly.

But suddenly I am there, that familiar moment of ecstasy when you know you can't hold back any longer and you just let the rush flow over your whole body. One last deep thrust and I hold myself inside of her as surge after surge of my dead cum fills up her bewitching pussy. Her grip on my cock is exquisite; it's like nothing I have ever experienced before in my centuries of being an Incubus. She milks my cock dry with her wall muscles, but then the most terrifying thing happens… she starts to come, and it is during this moment that I realise I am in serious trouble.

It feels like she could squeeze and snap my cock off, her pussy's grip is so tight. I try to pull back, except I find I am unable to move. I'm staring at her reflection in the mirror as she throws her head back and looks up to the ceiling; it looks like she is about to start howling like a wolf. Then she turns her head back to the mirror and looks me dead in the eyes. Her eyes are no longer the darkness of before, but appear fire red and her teeth... oh my God... she is really a Succubus; how could I have not known she was like me, an Incubi? Holy fuck; what a revelation!

As the reality of what she is hits me, and I wonder how I did not realise this beforehand, she unexpectedly releases my cock from her tight grip, her pussy walls relax and I stagger backwards towards the floor. Before I even have time to think about what has just happened, she turns around and lunges for me. When I land flat on my back she is already on top of me, grabbing my wrists and forcing my hands above my head; holding them there with a strength to challenge my own.

She is on her knees, straddling my hips. With perfect precision she lowers herself onto me, and then somehow has my semi-rigid shaft, which is wrapped by the hot walls of her pussy, swelling again and becoming harder. It looks strange, her skirt completely hiding what is happening beneath. She reaches out with her spare hand and rips off her red cape and top in one swift movement. Her alabaster skin is glowing, it is brighter than the moonlight flooding the room, and I drag my eyes from hers and make my way down her body, slowly storing and committing each and every inch of her to my memory. I notice a small faint mark on her right shoulder, but it's the only blemish I can see on her perfect skin, and then I lock onto her breasts as they swell and sway in front of my face, hypnotising me into the rhythm of her body.

But her body is violently shaking and moaning as she rides my thickening shaft up and down, forward and back, like a woman possessed. Within minutes I am as rock hard as when I first took her. A couple of minutes later I am feeding her my intimate fluids once again. How this is happening, I honestly don't know. But still she doesn't stop. It's as if my climax is a life force boost for her own body, and I am suddenly feeling like the hunted not the hunter anymore.

I can't believe it, but a few minutes later she has me cumming again, but still she continues to thrash and writhe against my cock. She is relentless in her sexual escapade on me, and in some mystical way she controls my body, forcing my Incubi system to keep producing the fluids she so obviously and desperately craves.

It is the most frightful and yet wonderful experience I have ever felt in my existence. The feeling is sublime; I find myself suddenly fantasizing about her taking all my body can give her and more, oh so much more. My climaxes are approaching the point where there is virtually no pause between them. It is a relentless stream of my fluids emptying into her eager pussy.

Just imagine those few seconds of ultimate bliss you feel with a normal climax, and then continue that with no end in sight. Yet I wonder at what price to me when she is all done. I am actually feeling a little weaker, a little faint, like I do when I haven't had enough pure life force in a while. This is so unusual for me to feel this way, as I normally grow stronger with each joining. Fear is starting to creep into my mind as I realise that she might just not stop, and I no longer have the strength to fight her off and stop this assault; I have not feared anything in over 200 years of my Incubi existence; that is until a few moments ago.

On and on she fucks and grinds my body. I am now in one continuous climax, steadily feeding her my own life force in fluids. The thing is that it feels so incredible, so wondrous and erotic, and I don't want it to ever stop, no matter how my body and mind warn me otherwise. Her body must have been absorbing my fluids as fast as I am giving them to her, which is probably why I haven't been able to draw any strength from our joining. My strength comes from my partner's climax, not from mine.

Suddenly she arches backwards and this time lets out a low guttural roar. Her pussy walls grip my shaft so tight it's almost to the point of making me scream with pain, but I realise I couldn't pull out even if I wanted to, and I certainly don't want too. She is finally reaching her climax, the next moment she is at my lips. I feel the coldness of her tongue forcing its way into my closed mouth, her sucking my tongue in a way that makes my eyes roll back.

She is taking too much.

I have to stop her.

But all I can do at that moment is pass out.

I wake up on the floor, groggy but surprisingly not feeling as weak as I had been. It must have been her final climax that countered the weakness in my own life force.

My pants are still at my ankles, but next to me are the remains of the ripped red panties. I reach out and pick them up bringing them slowly to my face and inhaling deeply; they blissfully reek of her scent and arousal.

I sit on the floor of the bedroom for several minutes, absorbing what just happened. Finally, looking at myself and shaking my head, I slowly rise and ram her panties into the pocket of my jeans. I stand and straighten my clothes and run my long fingers through my hair; yeah who ever named it sex hair was totally right on that one, no amount of taming is going to brush away the freshly fucked look I am proudly sporting tonight.

Getting dressed as best I can, I look into the dresser mirror and examine my reflection; I smirk as there written in the same red lipstick is simply the name 'Isabella xx'. The name rolls off my tongue and sends shivers through me as I re-examine myself and see she has oddly marked my shoulder; she was not as careful as I would have been, but then I surmise that maybe she wants others to see what an encounter with Miss Little Red Riding Hood looks like.

The sex was fucking incredible; the most mind blowing experience of my lonely 200 years, but it was her final orgasm that actually supplied me with enough energy for me to not have to worry about finding another morsel tonight.

I look around the room, the door is still locked from the inside, the window is closed and for a moment I wonder if she is still here in this room with me. I check the area quickly, including the en-suite, but see nothing of her. I return to the bedroom and stare at where she used and abused me, for her own pleasure, on the floor. All that remains now, as evidence of our elicit encounter, is her red cloak, and as I lift it from the floor, what I find underneath are the rest of her clothes. What in the world could have happened to her when I blacked out? And then it hit me... I realise that she is of the spirit women Succubus' who prey on Incubi men, men like me.

I sit on the edge of the bed looking out at the moon and slowly my mind starts to fit all the pieces together that had been swimming around in my subconscious since my visions started a few months back. I recall my maker telling me that although the humans see us as demons, that is not entirely true. Incubi and Succubi are made of the same demon, able to switch forms. First they assume the form of a woman, and afterwards a man; just so they can take the seeds of other things for other than generating purposes. There are many tales that claim that we Incubus are bisexual; well, one does, what one can, with what is available... I chuckle as I hear those words of my maker in my mind.

As I prepare to leave the room and return to my car, I realise that I have seen this women before, I knew of her before this night, she was the mysterious woman in my dreams, but now I know they were not dreams, they were real encounters with my very own Succubus.

I shake my head and laugh out loud; I guess in this little tale I am the morsel, my first awake encounter, but hopefully not my last, with that hot female spirited Succubus.

Isabella!