Succubi Chapter 58. Ten Out of Ten
I just stood there for a second, still very much recovering from a blowjob, soda in one hand, pants finally back on, and a succubus's saliva still drying on my—cock.
I closed my eyes and exhaled hard.
Then turned slowly back into the kitchen.
Lilith was sipping her soda like she didn't just suck me dry. Gladia was already digging back into her popcorn. Rivy was halfway through her drink and leaning against the fridge like this was normal.
I rubbed my face, trying to process the last five minutes.
"So… I just got blown like royalty… and had two succubi rating my performance like Olympic judges… while Evelyn had a stealth panic attack and escaped?"
"Yup," Gladia said brightly. "Also, ten out of ten. Would watch again."
Lilith tilted her head against the cabinet and smirked up at me. "You are dessert."
I cracked open my soda and took a long drink. Cold, sharp, grounding.
Then I exhaled. Straightened my shoulders.
"Well," I said. "If I'm the dessert…"
I smirked. "Better hope you're still hungry tomorrow."
Gladia choked on her soda.
Rivy grinned.
Lilith licked her lips.
I leaned down, grabbed my discarded shirt from the floor—still faintly warm, still technically soaked in sin—and pulled it back over my head.
It stuck a little near the back. Lilith's fault. Her nails had left faint red lines down my spine, and every brush of fabric over them made me wince.
Not that I was complaining.
I grabbed my phone from the counter, tucking it under one arm while sipping the last of the soda Rivy had tossed me.
Then I turned and walked out of the kitchen, barefoot, shirt ruffled, pants just barely buckled, hair a tousled mess.
Behind me, Gladia called out, "Next time, warn us before the main course!"
Lilith's voice followed—smug, lazy, purring. "No promises."
I didn't answer. Just raised a hand and flipped them both off as I left.
My room was quiet.
Still warm from earlier. The light in the corner were still softly glowing with ambient wardlight.
I collapsed onto the edge of my bed, exhaled hard, and finally unlocked my phone.
Three missed calls.
All video.
All from Queenie.
Of course.
I stared at the screen.
"3 Missed Video Calls."
"Queenie."
My phone had been on vibrate mode, tucked off to the side during dish duty—before Lilith had ruined that entire sentence forever. The screen still had the faint heat of battery drain from her efforts.
"She must've called during the whole kitchen act."
Unfortunately, I had done more vibrating than the phone itself.
"Shit," I muttered.
I opened the messages expecting the usual dramatics. Maybe some "you're dead to me" overreaction or a fake crying selfie paired with glittery stickers that made no sense.
But no.
It was just one text.
Queenie: Liar. That kitchen is a lie. I bet it's a storage room with painted countertops. I knew you edited that photo.
Queenie: Call me back, traitor.
I stared at the message for a long moment.
Then I just… laughed.
Loud. Deep. Chest-shaking.
Not because it was funny—but because it was so Queenie.
Accusing me of crimes against interior design instead of wondering why I missed three calls in a row.
Did I feel guilty?
Hell no.
Was I gonna let her win?
Also no.
I stretched out on the bed, let the comforter bunch beneath me, and typed a reply with all the petty elegance I could muster.
Evan: Sorry can't hear you over the sound of hanging out with actual friends.Super fun. So loud. So busy. No time to answer, my bad.
Evan: See ya later, goblin.
Sent.
No regrets.
I tossed my phone onto the bed, rolled onto my back, and stared up at the ceiling.
The air was still tinged with the faint scent of Lilith's perfume.
And me?
I was sticky, smug, exhausted… and happy.
I let my body sink deeper into the bed, muscles slowly unclenching, that warm post-chaos haze wrapping around me like a blanket. For once, my thoughts weren't racing.
Just… stillness.
And then?
Darkness.
I drifted.
The dream started in static.
At first, just whispers. Hazy. Distant. Muffled by something thick and old, like ancient memory or magic-saturated air.
Then— A man's voice, sharp and urgent.
"You need to bring our son to the mortal world! Now!"
There was power in it. Authority. Panic sharpened into command.
Another voice followed—softer, but trembling.
"What about you? He managed to get that forbidden demon with him! And three of our dukes… they're betraying you!"
My heart thudded in the dream, pounding like a drumbeat behind my ribs.
"I'll hold him off," the man said. "Go! I'll make sure he doesn't follow. The palace is already surrounded. There's no time!"
"But—"
"GO!"
"LUNARA!"
The echo of her name shattered everything.
And then—
Silence.
Like a door had slammed shut behind a thousand years.
I jolted awake, chest heaving, breath shallow.
The room was still.
My shirt clung to my skin—sweat soaking into the fabric. My heart was racing. Faster than it should've been.
I muttered to myself, voice barely a whisper, "Who…?"
My mouth felt dry. My fingers trembled as I ran them through my hair.
I glanced toward the clock on the bedside table.
5:58 AM.
Almost morning.
Golden light was just beginning to seep through the window blinds.
I groaned softly, rubbing my temples. The dream was fading fast, but those voices… they felt real.
'Our son.'
'Forbidden demon.'
'Lunara.'
I didn't recognize the names. Didn't know the voices.
But my whole body felt like it had lived that moment.
I pushed off the blanket, preparing to sit up— And that's when I realized.
I couldn't move.
Not easily, anyway.
Something… was weighing me down.
I turned my head.
And yeah.
Of course.
Sera.
Wrapped around me like a sleepy little vice grip. Arms across my chest. Face buried in my side. One leg draped across mine. Breathing slow and even.
I stared at her.
Then at the ceiling.
"…Why?"
She mumbled something in her sleep, snuggling closer.
I sighed, voice low.
"Not even surprised anymore."
But as I lay there, her warmth pressed against me and that strange dream still echoing in the back of my skull, a thought wormed its way into my mind.
What if that wasn't just a dream?
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