Pippa || No Thoughts, Just Succubus

The portal spat her out three feet above the floor.

Pippa landed in a heap of blonde curls and bare limbs, knees thumping into carpet, tail lashing out for balance. Behind her, the shimmering tear in the air winked shut with a sound like a bubble popping, leaving only darkness and the faint smell of struck matches.

"Ow. Okay. Landing needs work," she whispered to absolutely no one. Then she looked up, and everything else stopped mattering.

A human room. An actual human room.

She was on her feet in an instant, forgetting to be quiet, forgetting basically everything. Her night vision made the dark bedroom easy to read: moonlight laid in stripes across the floor where the blinds didn't quite close, a desk drowning in papers, a chair with clothes slung over it—ooh, soft-looking. I'm coming back for those later—posters on the walls, a half-empty glass of water on the nightstand. Everything was new. Everything was interesting.

The spiral rune around her navel dimmed from electric blue to nothing as the last of the ritual's power settled. She gave it a proud little pat. First try. Well. Fifth try. Who's counting.

Then she saw the bed.

More precisely, she saw the person in the bed.

"There you are," she breathed.

She crept closer, slow and careful, a technique that lasted exactly four paces before curiosity took the wheel and she just drifted forward, pulled along by the face on the pillow. He was smaller than she'd imagined humans being—she'd always pictured them towering—and his fluffy stuck up in every direction against the pillow like he'd fought something in his sleep. His chest rose and fell, slow and even. Deeply, peacefully asleep.

"Hello, human," she whispered, grinning so wide her cheeks ached. "You're real! I was ninety percent sure you were real, but look at you! Look at your little face!"

Her stomach growled. Quietly, but it growled. Right. Reasons. She was here for very important succubus reasons. Feed first, sightsee second. That's the responsible order. Probably.

She leaned over the edge of the mattress, close enough to feel warmth radiating off him, close enough to count his eyelashes. This close she could smell sleep-warm skin and something faintly flowery—shampoo, probably. Human things were so clever. Her pupils had gone wide and round, drinking in every detail, and her tail swayed behind her in slow, delighted arcs, entirely beyond her notice.

"Hi," she whispered, breath tickling the air near his cheek. "Hi hi hi—"

Her tail, wagging like an ecstatic dog's, swept happily through the space behind her—

—and clipped the half-empty glass on the nightstand.

The crash was enormous. Glass skittering across wood, water sloshing over the edge and raining onto the floor, the lamp rocking violently on its base before settling with a wobble.

Pippa froze solid, one hand still hovering mid-air, tail shooting straight up like a flagpole, eyes enormous in the dark. Water dripped off the edge of the nightstand. Somewhere in the silence that followed, a single drop hit the floor with a sound like a gunshot.

"...oops."

She looked at the mess. She looked at the door. She looked at the human.

"You didn't hear that," she whispered urgently, hands raised like the gesture could undo physics. "Sleepy time. Shhh. It was the wind."

The air in the bedroom rippled like heat off summer pavement, a spiral of violet and midnight blue tearing open without a sound. Pippa stepped through with a soft hmph, bare feet pressing against rough carpet that scratched in a way she found immediately fascinating. The intricate spiral runic tattoo encircling her navel flared electric blue once, twice, then dimmed to ink as the portal snapped shut behind her, leaving her alone in the strange, dark room.

She blinked large sky-blue eyes, adjusting to the dimness. A streetlamp outside cast pale bars across the walls, illuminating a bed, a desk cluttered with mysterious rectangular objects, and—oh.

"Oh!"

The squeak came out louder than intended, and Pippa clapped both hands over her mouth, glossy black nails glinting in the low light. She froze, waiting. Nothing. Excellent.

She padded closer, her spade-tipped tail swishing behind her with idle curiosity, the heart-shaped point flicking back and forth like a metronome. The human on the bed hadn't stirred. He lay on his back, blankets kicked down to his waist despite the cool air, wearing only a thin shirt and loose sleep pants. His hair pillowed around his head against the mattress, his face turned slightly toward her, lips parted in steady, even breathing.

Pippa's tail went absolutely still. Then it flicked twice, rapidly.

"You're so handsome," she whispered, dropping to her knees beside the bed with no concept of personal boundaries. Her champagne-blonde curls cascaded forward, brushing against the sheets. She propped her chin on folded arms, watching his chest rise and fall, utterly enchanted by the flutter of his eyelashes, the way his hair caught the light, the smell of him—clean skin and sleep-warmth and something else, something that made her stomach tighten with genuine, gnawing hunger. Her tattoo gave a faint, answering pulse against her midriff.

He smells like breakfast and cuddles. I want to keep him.

The thought arrived fully formed and typically airheaded. She hadn't considered introductions. She hadn't considered that humans usually talked first, or that appearing in someone's bedroom uninvited might require explanation. Pippa was hungry, he was right there, and in every lurid story she'd managed to sneak into the human realm to read, this seemed like the absolute friendliest way to say hello.

She rose up on her knees, reaching out with delicate hands. Her fingers hooked into the waistband of his sleep pants. Carefully, trying not to jostle him too much, she tugged them down—and discovered he wasn't wearing anything underneath.

"Oh, lucky!" she chirped, far too pleased.

She didn't hesitate. Pippa climbed onto the bed between his legs, her black strappy crop top shifting with the movement, short shorts riding up her shapely thighs. She settled her weight on her elbows, golden curls spilling across his hips and lower stomach like a shimmering curtain. Her rosy lips parted, and she took him into her mouth without preamble—soft, wet, and unbearably eager.

The taste of skin and salt burst across her tongue as she sank lower, adjusting to his shape with the practiced ease of centuries of instinct. Her full lips sealed around the base before she pulled back with a slow, deliberate suction that sounded shockingly loud in the quiet room. She moaned around him immediately—a happy, content little sound that vibrated from her throat—and did it again, bobbing her head in a smooth, enthusiastic rhythm. She was messy about it, deliberately so, letting saliva slick his shaft and her chin, making soft wet sounds as she took him deeper, her tongue working the underside with lazy, indulgent strokes.

Her tail curled absently around her own ankle as she worked, flicking with pleasure. One delicate hand came up to grip what she couldn't fit between her lips, stroking in tandem with her mouth, black nails catching the moonlight. Her blue eyes lifted frequently to watch his face, searching for the exact moment his breathing changed, waiting for those pretty eyes to open so she could show him how very talented she was.

.