The moonlight poured through the cracked wooden window, painting soft blue streaks across the cold stone floor. Deep inside the forgotten ruins of Ravenmoor, a lonely figure curled up on an old, torn velvet cushion — small, fragile, and shivering. His pale skin glowed like polished porcelain under the silver light. Tiny horns peeked out from his silky pink hair, twitching ever so slightly whenever the wind whispered through the broken walls.
His name was Lily — short for Lilithar, a cursed incubus.
But unlike others of his kind, there was no seductive smile on his lips. No dark charm, no sharp confidence. Only soft, nervous breathing... and the occasional, helpless little moan slipping from his throat, even when no one touched him.
"Nnh... aah..."
His delicate fingers gripped the edge of the cushion as another wave of strange heat crawled through his body. The curse — always active, always betraying him. His body wasn't just beautiful, it was designed for submission. Every inch of his smooth, petite frame screamed for attention, for domination.
For days, he'd been alone, hiding from the creatures that prowled the world beyond the ruins. But no matter how far he ran, the curse always attracted someone. His scent, his aura, his involuntary, sweet sounds — a beacon for every twisted desire.
The sound of heavy boots echoed through the dark corridor.
His heart froze.
A shadow moved at the doorway, tall and feminine, hips swaying with a confidence he could already sense — the type of presence that always ended the same way for him. The woman stepped into the light, her eyes sharp and lips curved into a knowing, hungry smile.
"Found you..."
Her voice was like silk wrapped around steel. Every syllable slithered deep into his chest, twisting his stomach with fear and excitement.
Lily tried to stand, but his legs trembled, barely able to hold his weight. His body already betraying him, cheeks burning, lips parting with soft whimpers — as if welcoming his fate.
"Such a pretty little demon... so helpless. Did you think you could hide from me?"
Her gloved hand reached down, fingers gently lifting his chin. His wide, tearful eyes met hers, and without thinking, a small, shameful moan escaped his lips.
"Ah... nnnh..."
She let out a soft, amused chuckle.
"Looks like the curse is working perfectly."
The air between them pulsed with unspoken tension, and Lily could feel it — this was only the beginning. The hunt was over. The game had just begun.
The scent of leather and perfume wrapped around him, thick and intoxicating.
Her hand slid from his chin, tracing slowly down the smooth curve of his throat — her gloved fingers barely applying pressure, yet enough to make his breath hitch.
"Mmh... aah..."
The soft, involuntary sound escaped again, his lips trembling, his delicate fangs barely visible between parted lips.
The woman circled around him like a predator admiring her prey. Her eyes feasted on every inch of his slender, cursed frame — the flawless, pale skin; the tiny, quivering horns; the faint glow of heat rising from his cheeks.
"So easy to break... so easy to tame."
She whispered, crouching down behind him, her lips brushing against the sensitive point of his ear.
Lily's body shivered violently, and his tail — thin, smooth, and delicate — curled instinctively around his thigh, trying to hide the obvious effect her words had on him.
Her gloved hand slid lower, fingers dancing along his bare shoulder, tracing the line of his spine — slow, patient, hungry.
Every touch sent ripples of heat through his body, his chest rising and falling with shaky breaths, his thighs pressing together as the growing pressure deep inside became unbearable.
"Poor little thing... your body is crying for it."
Her voice dripped with cruel affection, and her hand finally settled at the small of his back, holding him there, making him arch ever so slightly.
"You've been alone for so long, haven't you?"
Her question wasn't meant for an answer, and yet...
"Nnnh... y-yes..."
His voice cracked, soft and sweet, soaked with need he could no longer hide.
A wicked smile curved her lips as she leaned closer, her tongue flicking the tip of his horn — warm, wet, slow.
"Aah—!"
His moan was sharp this time, high-pitched and helpless. His entire body flinched, muscles tightening, but the woman's hands kept him still.
"Such a perfect reaction."
She whispered against his skin, her hands sliding further down, fingertips tracing the curve of his hips.
"You were born for this, weren't you?"
His throat tightened, unable to respond. The heat pooling between his legs, the throbbing ache, the curse — all working against him. He could only nod, cheeks flushed, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes.
The woman let out a soft chuckle and whispered close to his ear:
"And this... is only the beginning."
The ruins, the cold air, the night outside — all of it faded away.
There was only her, her touch, her voice, and the sweet torment that would soon consume him completely.
Lily's body trembled, his pale, cursed skin prickled under her touch.
Every inch of him felt like it was burning — not from pain, but from the unbearable, slow, dripping pleasure that the woman so expertly fed him, piece by piece.
Her gloved fingers traced slow circles against the inside of his thigh, so dangerously close to his most sensitive place — but never quite touching, only teasing the thin edge of his sanity.
"Mmmh... nghh..."
Soft, breathless moans spilled from his lips, involuntary and sweet, each one sharper than the last.
His delicate, slender legs couldn't hold him upright anymore. His knees weakened, wobbling, until the woman finally wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling him back against her chest.
Her leather-clad body pressed firmly into his soft, trembling form.
"So fragile... so obedient."
She whispered into his ear, her breath warm, her voice dripping with dark seduction.
His tail curled around her wrist, his back arching slightly, pushing his body further into her hold — a silent, desperate plea for more.
"You want it... don't you?"
He nodded slowly, biting his lip, his eyes fluttering half-closed from the rush of heat.
"Yes... please..."
His voice was barely a whisper — trembling, innocent, soaked in longing.
The woman slid her hand lower, her fingers finally wrapping around his sensitive length, the soft, cursed flesh pulsing in her grip.
"Aah—!!"
His cry pierced the silence, high-pitched and helpless, his hips jerking forward without control.
"Such a good little demon... Look at you, melting from the slightest touch."
She began moving her hand in slow, torturous strokes, dragging each motion out, savoring the way his whole body tensed and writhed against her.
The sound of wet, lewd squelches filled the cold air around them, mixing perfectly with his soft, broken moans:
"Nnh... aah... mmh... p-please... I can't... it feels too good...!"
His body buckled, his cursed energy rising like a flood, his hands clutching at her arms, fingernails sinking into her leather sleeves.
His voice cracked, high and weak, tears finally spilling from the corners of his glowing eyes.
"You can... and you will."
Her lips pressed against his neck, leaving soft, wet kisses that sent electric shivers racing down his spine.
And with one final, slow, tight stroke —
his entire body tensed, a sharp gasp breaking from his throat, and he finally let go.
His sweet release came in waves, hot and messy, coating her gloved hand, his body twitching uncontrollably in her arms as the last tremors of ecstasy left him breathless and limp.
She held him there, gently stroking his sweat-dampened hair, her voice low and honeyed:
"Good boy... this was only the first lesson."
Her tongue slid along his ear, slow and possessive.
"Tomorrow... we'll go even deeper."