Daniel's world was, for all intents and purposes, gone. All he had wanted, who he had been, it was dead to his mind and body in that moment. He wasn't thinking about anything but Dylan. All he was giving to Daniel, all that he had taken as well. He knew he'd know the man's scent on a tee shirt, remember the taste of his kiss, and the way his cock stretched both mouth and pussy. Even without horns and claws, he would think about the feel of a hand stroking his horn, and of skin splitting just so beneath his claws. There was no turning back. Even if he tried to stay away, he would still remember it all.
And he wouldn't know how much that would keep him on this edge. That each time he thought of Dylan and got hard, he would stroke himself and find there was no denying his desires. He would grow claws and horns and his body would do whatever it must to appeal to Dylan, wanting him.
Wanting what he'd just had, the push of cock inside of them as they moved, sliding over, pushing himself up on his knees and grinding down against Dylan. Those words came to him, and he smiled. It was slow and wicked, showing the hints of tiny fangs to heighten the appearance as a succubus.
"No," he whispered, shifting to lean down and over Dylan. It made him slide off Dylan slightly, body clenching around him as if hating the idea of even losing that connection to him. "Whatever you want," he whispered, staring into Dylan's eyes. For a minute the color was not that of the demon form but of Daniel himself. It was what drove him to that form, brought him to the sort that killed by sexual pleasure, wanting to offer that to Dylan.
"And trust me," he said, still smiling as he shifted back, sliding himself ever so slowly down onto Dylan once more. He braced his hands on the other man's chest as he gave a slow, playful circle of his hips. Almost as if he was dancing, rolling his hips, and using that to roll himself on Dylan's cock. "You want this."
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And he wouldn't know how much that would keep him on this edge. That each time he thought of Dylan and got hard, he would stroke himself and find there was no denying his desires. He would grow claws and horns and his body would do whatever it must to appeal to Dylan, wanting him.
Wanting what he'd just had, the push of cock inside of them as they moved, sliding over, pushing himself up on his knees and grinding down against Dylan. Those words came to him, and he smiled. It was slow and wicked, showing the hints of tiny fangs to heighten the appearance as a succubus.
"No," he whispered, shifting to lean down and over Dylan. It made him slide off Dylan slightly, body clenching around him as if hating the idea of even losing that connection to him. "Whatever you want," he whispered, staring into Dylan's eyes. For a minute the color was not that of the demon form but of Daniel himself. It was what drove him to that form, brought him to the sort that killed by sexual pleasure, wanting to offer that to Dylan.
"And trust me," he said, still smiling as he shifted back, sliding himself ever so slowly down onto Dylan once more. He braced his hands on the other man's chest as he gave a slow, playful circle of his hips. Almost as if he was dancing, rolling his hips, and using that to roll himself on Dylan's cock. "You want this."