I woke up. The first thing I realized was that I had clearly, until recently, not been awake, which came as something of a shock. The last thing I’d remembered was teeth on my neck and fingers entwining with someone who seemed desperate to be close to me. I remembered her skin being warm to the touch, and impossibly soft, softer even than the little whimpers she’d elicit from me by running her nails over my sensitive skin. 

The next thing I realized was that my head was in her lap, and that she was softly humming to herself -- or was she humming to me? -- while she stroked my hair. I figured that, all things considered, opening my eyes would yield desirable results. I looked up at her. Her eyes were closed and she was smiling to herself, apparently swept up in the almost trance-like combing of her slender fingers through my hair. Fuck, she was beautiful. Things started coming back to me. None of this had been a dream. That meant that I was beautiful. It also meant that I had horns, wings and a tail now, but those were matters for later. I wanted to say something, let her know that I was awake, but I didn’t want her to stop. If someone had told me even two days prior that I’d want to have someone hum to me and pet me I would’ve scoffed. That wouldn’t have been right. Now it was the most perfect thing in the world to me.

“Hey,” I finally whispered. She opened her eyes lazily and I couldn’t get over how easily I drowned in those black pools. “What --” I said, and yawned. She smiled as I did. Fine, that had probably looked cute. Point to her. “What happened?” I asked. “Did I black out? Did -- did we…” I let the question hang, but her smile was all reassurance.

“You fell asleep after less than five minutes of me teasing you as lightly as I could. You were clearly overwhelmed,” she said. I felt myself blushing furiously and wanted to cover up my face. I noticed, when I did, that I was wearing pajamas. 

“I’m sorry,” I squeaked, still mentally trying to make sense of my change in attire. “Did you dress me?” She giggled at that and resumed softly stroking my hair. Occasionally her fingers would graze against one of my horns, but after a moment I realized that they weren’t as overwhelmingly sensitive anymore. Maybe it was because I was more relaxed.

“I’ll be honest, dear, I brought some things from my place after seeing the… state you were in, last night. I figured you wouldn’t have any clothes that fit.” She smiled and stole a quick glance at the rest of me. Even covered up, I blushed again. 

“Thank you,” I mumbled. She did that little giggle again, the one that made me feel like she’d just seen a kitten do something cute. Was I really cute now? It was hard to imagine that just kind of happening, but apparently I was cute. And I loved it. But I wasn’t going to tell her that. I propped myself up clumsily and our faces drifted close to each other. My breath caught in my throat at the proximity and I froze. This, too, I’m sure, was cute. She giggled.

“You don’t need my permission every time, darling. I’m sure we’re past that. Here,” and before I realized what she was doing, her hand was behind my head, her fingers running through my hair and she pulled me in for a soft kiss. “Second best way to say good morning,” she said as she pulled away. Her lips were so soft and I could only hope mine even remotely approached that level of pillowy nonsense. 

“What’s the best way?” I asked as I sat upright and leaned against the wall next to her.  Tentatively, to see where we stood, I put my arm in hers, our hands next to each other, fingertips almost touching. She responded by, ever so softly, touching my wrist with her index finger. It was a touch of such gentle affection it took me by surprise. I wasn’t used to this; I didn’t know it was possible to be this gentle, that affection happened like this. When I looked at her, she had that playful smirk on again, that slight upturn on the corners of her mouth that made her look like she was smiling at a private joke. Although this time I felt like I was in on it. 

Our fingers interlaced and she squeezed my hand. “The best way to wake up,” she said softly, almost dreamily, “is a gentle pounding.” I nearly choked on my own tongue. She went on as if she hadn’t noticed me just lose my shit. “The second is a morning kiss.” She leaned over and kissed me again, and I made a little ‘eep’ sound as she got closer. Not that I pulled away, I didn’t want to stop her in a million years. “The third way comes next.”

“O-oh?” I said, trying not to stammer. She had the upper hand and I didn’t mind in the least, but that didn’t stop me being at least somewhat anxious about what she had planned next. Madeline was terrifyingly attractive to me that way. Or attractively terrifying. “What’s that?”

She grinned a wolfish grin, the kind of smile a diver might see after they’ve felt something brush up against her leg, and there was a glint in her beautiful, dark eyes. Then, with a voice that was at the same time silky smooth and sharp as whetted silver and all erotic tension, she leaned forward and whispered. “Breakfast,” she said.

---

“I thought you meant it as like, a sex thing,” I said as I looked across the booth at Madeline, who looked at the pancakes in front of her the way she had at me earlier. Even the waitress who’d given her the plate had pulled away her hand quickly, Madeline was giving off such powerful CHOMP-energy. I ran my hand over my head again. I already missed my horns. She looked at me as she scarfed down the first pancake with as much ceremony and grace as if it were a tic tac. It was there one second, and gone the next. She swallowed and then, daintily, as if she hadn’t just inhaled an entire pancake, wiped the syrup off her chin with a napkin. 

“They’re not gone, darling,” she said. She’d taught me earlier, before we’d left, how I could retract my horns, make my skin appear more, well, human, and hide my wings and tail. It was easier, she’d explained to me, when I was more relaxed, and I hadn’t just undergone the whole transformation. She’d explained to me to take deep breaths, center myself, and see the version of myself that I desired to be in that moment. It had been remarkably easy to lose focus and just turn into a cute succubus again, but after a few tries I managed to look like a normal girl in her mid-to-late twenties. My black hair looked good even in a ponytail and the hoodie and sweatpants she’d brought with her fit me well, though I was a bit more heavyset than she was. They made those things to stretch for a reason. “You can be as,” she paused and took a sip of her coffee, possibly, no, probably for dramatic effect, “horny as you want to be.”

“You’re a nerd,” I said, matter-of-factly. “The succubus librarian who turned me into a cute girl is a nerd. Thank you.” That last part had been to the waitress who gave me my own breakfast -- I hadn’t realized just how famished I was until the plate was right in front of me -- and a perplexed stare to match. She must’ve overheard us. I smiled sheepishly, mouth already full of breakfast, but Madeline was a step ahead. 

“She’s helping me with my next book,” she said, smiling sweetly, her teeth a little too white and sharp to be entirely comforting. If I hadn’t experienced their bite first-hand they would have been more disconcerting and less… I squeezed my legs together again, and tried to think of sand and maybe the occasional leaf, the unsexy stuff, but I was too late. She smirked at me again. When the waitress had left, shaking her head but clearly satisfied with the answer, Madeline leaned forward. “Dear, we are in public. Such impropriety.” She emphasized the word with glee and then chomped down on another pancake. “I’ll teach you how to keep that from happening if you want, by the way,” she said, chewing. I cocked my head and looked at her quizzically as I ate my wonderfully fluffy pancakes. “Two succubi can barely function around each other,” she said, waving her fork in the air as if she was conducting an invisible orchestra, “if they can’t stop broadcasting what they’re thinking about each other.”

“Waff,” I said, swallowed, and then tried again. “Wait, does that mean you’ve been thinking about me this whole time?” I blushed a little. And then, like a fourteen-wheel truck barreling through the wall of the diner, I was hit with an explicit fantasy of all the things Madeline could be doing under the table if she was in mood for dessert after her pancakes, the noises she imagined I’d be making with both of my legs propped up on the table, everyone watching while I was panting, crying out, biting my lip. And then the vision was gone.

“No,” she said sweetly. “Why do you ask?”

“Aaa,” I said.

“Anyway,” she continued. Damn her. “I’ll teach you how to shield them from me, so you can think dirty thoughts to your heart’s desire.” It was a reassuring thought. I was scared I’d spend every waking second around her blushing without the possibility of turning it off.

“Question,” I said, blowing on my own coffee and adding one lump of sugar too many. “Why are we eating?” I was expecting a witty comeback, but she seemed to take the question seriously, holding up her fork to let me know she had to chew and swallow first. 

“Okay, so, we fed last night.” I nodded. After our… exploration I had felt distinctly sated. “But like, you know how people need food and drink, right?” She cut a pancake in three pieces. “In theory they can live off only nutritious liquids, but having solid food is, y’know, preferable. Feeding is, like, our version of that. In theory”, she pointed at the three pieces, “we can live off feeding only.” She speared one of the pieces. “Just like humans can, in theory, live off drink alone,” she said, and skewered the second. “But it makes you really want to put something in your belly after a while. And,” pause for dramatic effect, waving the fork, “it tastes real good.” She speared the third and shoved the entire skewer in her mouth. Her smile was one of extreme syrupy satisfaction and she closed her eyes to savour the moment, proving her point. That had made sense. 

“What happens if we don’t feed?” I asked. 

She grimaced and swallowed. “You grow old and die. It’s not recommended, honestly. I see people do it all the time and I just think it isn’t for me.” I nodded and ate the last of my pancakes. I realized my stack had been only a third of hers, and she’d still finished it faster than I had. She clearly had an appetite. “So, the plan for today: Teaching you how to control your thoughts first. Then, I think, maybe shopping.” I frowned. I had clothes at home, after all, a thought that seemed to be a good argument to me for all of a second, and then realization dawned on me. “Yeah,” she said, as she read my thoughts and emotions off my face like I was an open book. She didn’t even need to read my mind. “Your old jeans aren’t going to fit, dear.” I grinned sheepishly. “And maybe we can think about a name for you, hmm?” 

She cleaned off her plate with a digit and licked the syrup off it, slowly and entirely aware of the effect it was having on me, her lips wrapped around her finger, slowly sucking it clean. She smacked her lips theatrically and smiled with a look of sated satisfaction. “Now, let’s go to my place and teach you how to shield your mind, because that was most definitely not proper, dear. Not even a little bit. But it’s good to know you’ve got a sweet tooth too.” She winked, and I squeaked again.

Elamimax

I've always had a soft spot for diner scenes tbh.

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