Shift, Part X

[Xyggurat]

Here it is, part X. Previous parts listed below.

It's a sex chapter. It's a story chapter. It's a Biblical discussion chapter. My word, what am I doing with this story!?

-X-

Previous chapters:

Part I
Part II
Part III
Part IV
Part V
Part VI
Part VII
Part VIII
Part IX

[Xyggurat]

The stench of drink burned in my nostrils as I slithered over to Reagan's bed. An empty bottle of Jack glistened from his nightstand, shining an eerie red-black to my demonically enhanced eyes.

Awful. He doesn't even bother with a glass.

Shift chuckled in my thoughts. Hard liquor is the root of some of my favorite sins... but we demons stay away from wine.

I gazed down at the mass of unconscious jock, reveling in the mass of his shape beneath the covers. His body glowed with strength and virility despite his drunken binge. A glittering scarlet aura blazed from his skin, whispering sweet promises of my vengeance and the power that was mine for the taking. My cock strained at the zipper of my jeans as my eyes explored his glory.

I have all the time in the world, the demon prodded, but you are mortal. Go to it.

Unwilling to be rushed, I slowly pulled the bedsheets away from Reagan's body. He had fallen asleep in a t-shirt and basketball shorts. The latter did nothing to conceal the size of his manhood, which easily put mine to shame. His cock lurked, soft and heavy, underneath the sheer fabric. He obviously wore nothing underneath.

Too much clothing, I thought.

A solution sprang into my mind.

Feather-light, I positioned myself atop Reagan's abs. Their cobbled arcs were visible beneath his shirt, and they were unyielding beneath my weight. He stirred, moaning softly, and his dick twitched in his trousers. Mine pulsed in answer.

Heat rushed into my finger. I drew a line down the center of his t-shirt, and the fabric parted in a crackle of heat and smoke. The sight of his bare pecs and abs glistening through the smoldering gap obliterated any pretenses of civility left within me.

A second wave of heat did away with the jock's shorts, sending ash cascading over the surface of the bed. Reagan twitched with the momentary discomfort, and he tried to roll over, but I held him on his back with feverish strength. He moaned again, this time more coherent. I scrabbled back on his body, luxuriating in the sense of its iron hardness, separated from my own body only by skintight clothing.

His penis swelled into full, mind-blowing erection, excited by my movements. It was easily eight or nine inches in length, and too thick for me to get my hand around without difficulty. He was trimmed, and his balls were laden and heavy with anticipation.

I dove onto the member, swallowing it almost to the hilt. It bucked, nearly choking me, but somehow I did not gag. I tried hard to remember all that I had learned about giving head. Then, realization dawned: this was not for his enjoyment, but mine. I pulled myself off of his cock, a wicked smile splitting my face. A few droplets of pre-ejaculate beaded on the head of Reagan's dick, and I licked them up greedily.

My, but he is potent, whispered Shift. Can you feel it?

I most certainly could.

A hot tingle had begun building in my stomach. Even with those few meager drops of the jock's essence, changes had started in my body. It was as if every muscle, every limb, were suddenly awakening, stretching. I felt truly alive for the first time since--no, those thoughts would only spoil my revenge. I gave myself over into the warmth massing within me.

Emboldened by this new feeling, I summoned heat back into my hands. I reached up and scraped viciously over the surface of Reagan's mammoth pecs, leaving welted trails in the wake of my cruel fingers. The raised flesh healed in moments, but Reagan whimpered mindlessly, his brain trapped in the space between dreams and consciousness.

His pleasure was as evident as his pain. His chest heaved, and both sensuous nipples were hard to the touch. Gooseflesh set the hair on his arms standing straight. I wondered what his dreams held. I had wanted him to be awake for this first attempt, but his drunken stupor had made this unimaginably better.

I teased at his nipples with my tongue. I nipped at his neck and kissed the flesh at the hollow of his throat, but even as his cock grew improbably more turgid, I refused to grant him release until I was ready. When at last I had taken my fill of his body, I dove between his legs.

Precum glistened over his dick, and I lapped it up. The feeling in my stomach redoubled, and new strength roared through my limbs.

One of my hands wandered down to fondle his tortured balls as I moved in for the kill. Poor Reagan probably wouldn't be able to cum for a week after this, I told myself as I swallowed his cock again. Its flesh was scalding and salty.

My victim's groans grew in urgency, until his breathless pants broke them up into meaningless grunts. A meaty paw clamped down on my head, forcing me harder down onto his massive member. His hips bucked frantically.

Reagan's gargantuan cock expanded yet more in my mouth. His balls churned in the hungry silence before orgasm. A shift in his aura drew my eyes upward. All of the glistening motes that surrounded his majestic physique rushed toward a single point, that towering peak engulfed by my waiting mouth.

Explosion. The light seared into my eyes as Reagan came. Shift shrieked his demonic joy in my mind, and my body lit up with a blinding orgasm of its own. Everything felt too bright, too hot, as if my brain had suddenly given birth to a new sun. I ached to free myself from my own skin, to somehow escape from the force of the pleasure smoldering like acid in my veins.

Other thoughts bled into my own. I saw a bearded man, tall and dark, many golden rings gracing his fingers. He stood over me and the look on his face was murderous and terrible. I felt wings and cool light give way to the agony of countless burning years. The flashes were brief and held only vague details, but I knew they were not my own memories.

Both of us lay there as the initial force of the orgasm receded. Reagan's breathing told me the explosion had sent him hurtling back into unconsciousness. It was fortunate for me, because even with the demon's strength within me, my arms and legs were jelly.

As the force of our twin orgasms left me, I became aware again of the burning in my stomach. It pulsed larger as the seconds passed, as more and more of Reagan's essence filtered in to me. I could feel my limbs stretching for certain now: not entirely painful, yet neither was it pleasant. My muscles felt tight, as if I had been working out at the gym for hours.

Skin rasped against cloth, dragging my attention back to my sleeping victim. Perhaps it was my imagination, but as I watched, he seemed to slump a bit in to himself. The aura I had come to associate with his vitality was burning low, like an oil lamp come to the end of its fuel.

We should get back. Dawn is nearing.

I looked down at Reagan's nude form once again. I didn't know how he would explain his burnt clothing to his roommate, or the sour stench of sweat and sex that pervaded the room. I really didn't care.

I took an uncertain step toward the window. My shoes felt tight, and I could not quite balance myself.

Ahem, rasped the demon.

My head swung about, seemingly of its own volition, and my gaze fixed on the door.

"Oh," I whispered. "So, no Spider-Man?"

Shift was silent. Maybe he didn't get it.

*****

Shift parted from me after we left Reagan's dormitory. His presence vanished with a snap, and he materialized beside me. His clothes were a mirror of mine, but they looked better on him, no question. He had opted for a more impressive build than the previous times he had taken human form, but the rest was the same: chiseled jaw, flawless skin, patrician nose, and empty black eyes. It was haunting to me that he could so easily inspire lust and fear within me.

His good mood was obvious. He draped an unnaturally warm arm about my shoulder and smiled. I told myself that it wasn't just his beauty that controlled me. The realist in me said that his mouth could have had me killing my own parents if it smiled the right way, and said the right words.

"Your first time."

"I don't feel that much different." I frowned. "A little bigger, maybe," I admitted, cupping a flexed arm.

Shift gave a languid shrug. "Give the essence a while to commingle with your own."

"Can't chide me for being impatient," I said. "After all, I'm only mortal."

"I try to forget."

Rosy threads wove themselves through the darkness of the horizon as we walked. San Cristobal was a beautiful campus, and the pre-dawn was idyllic. The preternatural warmth inside of me staved off the chill of the dying night. Birds chattered their wakeup calls to one another. Not another person could be seen or heard. Shift and I had the whole campus to ourselves.

I sighed. "It seems too good, all this."

Shift quirked an eloquent eyebrow at me.

"I just did something unspeakable to someone. Reagan's no innocent, but... now, neither am I. I don't feel satisfied, like I took some sort of righteous revenge on him. But I also don't feel terrible about all this. And that bothers me."

"You humans," the demon chuckled. "Cain's sons pretending at Able's blood."

"What do you mean?"

My unholy companion rolled his eyes. "People were simpler then, back when He tried a bit harder to get everyone's attention. But you've never gotten over those simple monkey drives that had you climbing trees and rutting in the field. You reach for dignity, but the base instincts fetter you to the ground."

"Monkeys." I blinked. "So, the Bible: true or false?"

"Never read it. Again: demon."

"Oh, come on. You know how it goes. The world getting created in seven days, Adam and Eve, no evolution..."

Shift looked at me as if I were an imbecile. "What are days without a sun?"

I bit my lip. "Okay, I guess that makes sense. What about that stuff about Cain and Able and the blood?"

"A joke. You're not one of the wandering ones," Shift said. "No mark. I'd be able to smell it on you."

"Oh," I answered. Weary of the Shift's tone and crypticism, I stopped asking questions and tried to enjoy the walk.

We marched in silence back to my room.

*****

The demon was back in his box before dawn came. We had made good time back to my room, and dawn was just filtering in through the windows as I prepared to start my day. I tugged off my shoes, struggling to get them off of my feet. They felt a size too small. That was something I hadn't considered before going after Reagan.

As I straightened, a sudden sharp pain nagged at me. I scratched at my shoulder, then blinked blearily at the full-length mirror on my door. The straps of my black shirt were digging into my skin. In fact, the entire shirt had gone beyond skin-tight to the point that it felt as if it were painted on. With an angry *ping*, one of the straps gave way, baring half of my chest.

And what a chest it was. I turned slightly and gave it a flex, and the muscle jumped at my command. I was by no means a bodybuilder, but Reagan's essence had pushed me out of being merely toned into true athleticism.

Abruptly eager, I stripped out of my ruined shirt. The jeans gave me a hard time as I tried to pull them over my butt and thighs, both of which looked comparitively spectacular as well. It was amazing how much difference a little muscle made, I noted, running an appreciative hand over the solid mass of my thigh.

My pectorals were no longer flat. Instead, they formed a slight overhang that met with my abs. I still didn't have a true six-pack, but there was definition enough to qualify as a four-pack by now. And my arms, well--I brought my biceps up into a double flex, grinning at the goose eggs of muscle that popped from my arms. I bet I could handle the 25s now for curls. Hell, maybe even the 30s.

As I considered it, another effect of my work on Reagan presented itself. My boxer briefs began to tent. I peeled the waistband away from my lower abs and took a peek inside.

I sucked in a delighted breath. "Babe, you've grown," I mused.

Minutes later, I made my way down the hall into the communal bathrooms. I felt like showering in public. Most people wouldn't find me terribly impressive, I knew, but things were definitely looking up.

To my dismay, there was no one in the bathroom when I arrived, shirtless and wearing only my towel and a winning smile. Crestfallen, I stopped to brush my teeth. I gave them a good scrubbing, hoping to get the taste of Reagan out of my mouth. I bent, spat, and rinsed.

As I stood up, my eyes caught sight of someone in the mirror. My eyes widened, and my heart leapt in my chest.

It couldn't be, I thought. There was just no way.

I spun on the intruder, and my eyes confirmed what my mind could not process.

"Danny?" I breathed.

[Xyggurat]

For Rowan's information, this definitely doesn't mean he can stop writing the wonderful new "Want Me."

-X-

[Rowan]

Originally Posted by Xyggurat

For Rowan's information, this definitely doesn't mean he can stop writing the wonderful new "Want Me."

-X-

Heh. Can I slow down, maybe? This whole 'book in a week' thing I'd originally had planned is killing me. lol.

I loved this installment. Evil, sexy, a little Cain and Abel speak (which is always fun), and a cliff hanger.

rock on.

-- Rowan

[theseventhwave]

Originally Posted by Xyggurat

"Never read it. Again: demon."

[COLOR="Red"]Brilliant. .....Oh yeah, and HAWT too! MmmMmmMmm!

Thanks Xyggurat! [/COLOR]

[omelissokomos]

I do so love reading about sleeping men being sucked off. Thanks for this, Xyggurat.

[Xyggurat]

You guys have no idea how much comments help motivate a person to write. (By the same token, lack thereof can tear inspiration right out from under someone, especially when the glitzy allure of finishing a full-length fantasy novel that might be worth some cash winks at you from over the horizon.)

It may be needless to say, but I'll put it in text anyway: when I write fantasy, I'm writing for me. When I write erotica, it's for you readers alone.

I think Rowan (whose own mad plot to write a book in a week shook me out of retirement) would agree with me when I say this: if you read it, post. If you didn't like it, let us know why; if you did, do the same.

It's the best way we learn, and the greatest encouragement to keep us churning out page after page.

-X-

[skumbum]

I loved the part where you posted the new chapter. I think that was my favorite. I love reading your stories.

[skumbum]

bump !

[skumbum]

Oh yeah, and it looks like Danny's role is about to get a lot more interesting... Good hinting in previous chapters, who knew you'd have planned the whole thing from the start. I didn't pick up on it until now...

[Xyggurat]

Heh, yeah... Danny has always been in the picture for a reason. When I first started this story, it came together as a much darker tale than The Roommate.

Demons as characters usually make that happen all on their own. Perhaps influences like Christopher Moore's Practical Demonkeeping and my overwhelming love for dark comedy intruded into this tale, but Shift started off sardonic and--if I'm allowed to flatter myself a bit--fairly witty. It changed everything.

Initially, Danny was just the driving force that made Johnny take his first steps down the path to damnation. By chapter 2, I knew that he was the last, best hope of Johnny's salvation.

I'm glad that you're enjoying the story.

-X-