Incubus Succubus
folder
G through L › Hot Fuzz
Rating:
Adult
Chapters:
1
Views:
2,048
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
G through L › Hot Fuzz
Rating:
Adult
Chapters:
1
Views:
2,048
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Hot Fuzz, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Incubus Succubus
Incubus Succubus
Angsty, creepy, dark with a trace of smut. I own nothing.
It’s comfortable to begin; the slow drowsiness, the warm weight of his sheets, the mattress dipping as someone joins him.
As Nick joins him.
Danny slides down slightly in anticipation; he’s had this dream before.
He doesn’t open his eyes, no need. He knows the ebb and flow of the scenario exactly. The way Nick will stalk up the mattress, will straddle him; the way he’ll touch his face, stroke ghost fingers over his wrists, murmur unintelligible promises to him...
Danny shivers even as the mood shifts.
"Look at me Danny."
Nicks voice is wrong; distant, some vital necessary energy missing. He can feel the change, the room chilling around him, and with the logic of all dreams Danny knows that the last thing he wants to do is look.
Bedclothes are pushed back, but instead of human warmth, it feels like he’s being sat on by a statue; that cold, that hard. The iciness leeching into his thighs until it’s painful.
Danny can feel Nick’s hands on him; one grasping at his hip, the other exploring places in a way that is both terrifying and arousing. Doesn't Nick know he can't look at him? He’ll turn to stone if he does. Danny bites a sound back into his throat, and isn’t sure whether it would have been a yell or a moan.
"Danny? Look at me!"
Nicks voice is still cold, harsher than he can recall it ever being and that one roaming hand has moved up; tracing over his throat, his jaw, and slowly, higher. He tries to twist away, to break free, tries to move his hands to Nicks but he can't, can't move at all not even to yell. And Nicks hands are on him, trapping his face, thumbs forcing Danny's eyes wide.
"You bastard, you killed me."
Nick covered in black blood that looks nothing like ketchup; Nick burnt and unrecognisable; Nick pale and bloated as the Aston kid when they pulled him out of the pond two summers back.
Nick, necrotic and crumbling, with dry wisps of blonde hair and nothing where his eyes should be.
"No, no, I saved you Nicky!" He's blubbering now, the spell of paralysis broken, eyes and voice full of tears and hands scrabbling desperately at his bedclothes for anything that might take him away from this horror. "I saved you man."
“That depends entirely on your definition of 'saved' though, doesn’t it?”
He reaches one grey misshape of a hand behind Danny’s neck and pulls him forward too easily, too close to his face.
“I’m going to bring Hell back here with me.”
Nicks breath is warm in a way that disgusts Danny. It reeks of death and lillies and he gags. For one horrific moment he is sure Nick is going to kiss him, but instead, he pulls back, inspecting the man.
“You’re a fucking disgrace to your uniform officer.”
Danny wakes, soaking wet and shaken, to his alarm and a voice message from his dad; …don’t bother coming to work this morning, you’ve had a long night and by the way son, you made your old dad proud...
Digital numbers count up relentlessly as the clock sits silent in what feels like accusation and Danny works out that he has four hours before he needs to be in work. Four hours before he has to be normal. Four hours before replenishing chunky monkey supplies, doodling over his paperwork, before sitting in ignorance in a panda car, absently consuming Cornettos.
He will never know how exactly he got home, where he pulled the strength to move himself from. He knows he walked, but every step of the journey from the town limits to his front door has been wiped from his mind. Instead all he can find is a pain living in him that makes him wonder if the blade he should have ended Nick with has been buried in some secret vital place inside him.
He buries his face in his pillow and tries to let it all out.
Angsty, creepy, dark with a trace of smut. I own nothing.
It’s comfortable to begin; the slow drowsiness, the warm weight of his sheets, the mattress dipping as someone joins him.
As Nick joins him.
Danny slides down slightly in anticipation; he’s had this dream before.
He doesn’t open his eyes, no need. He knows the ebb and flow of the scenario exactly. The way Nick will stalk up the mattress, will straddle him; the way he’ll touch his face, stroke ghost fingers over his wrists, murmur unintelligible promises to him...
Danny shivers even as the mood shifts.
"Look at me Danny."
Nicks voice is wrong; distant, some vital necessary energy missing. He can feel the change, the room chilling around him, and with the logic of all dreams Danny knows that the last thing he wants to do is look.
Bedclothes are pushed back, but instead of human warmth, it feels like he’s being sat on by a statue; that cold, that hard. The iciness leeching into his thighs until it’s painful.
Danny can feel Nick’s hands on him; one grasping at his hip, the other exploring places in a way that is both terrifying and arousing. Doesn't Nick know he can't look at him? He’ll turn to stone if he does. Danny bites a sound back into his throat, and isn’t sure whether it would have been a yell or a moan.
"Danny? Look at me!"
Nicks voice is still cold, harsher than he can recall it ever being and that one roaming hand has moved up; tracing over his throat, his jaw, and slowly, higher. He tries to twist away, to break free, tries to move his hands to Nicks but he can't, can't move at all not even to yell. And Nicks hands are on him, trapping his face, thumbs forcing Danny's eyes wide.
"You bastard, you killed me."
Nick covered in black blood that looks nothing like ketchup; Nick burnt and unrecognisable; Nick pale and bloated as the Aston kid when they pulled him out of the pond two summers back.
Nick, necrotic and crumbling, with dry wisps of blonde hair and nothing where his eyes should be.
"No, no, I saved you Nicky!" He's blubbering now, the spell of paralysis broken, eyes and voice full of tears and hands scrabbling desperately at his bedclothes for anything that might take him away from this horror. "I saved you man."
“That depends entirely on your definition of 'saved' though, doesn’t it?”
He reaches one grey misshape of a hand behind Danny’s neck and pulls him forward too easily, too close to his face.
“I’m going to bring Hell back here with me.”
Nicks breath is warm in a way that disgusts Danny. It reeks of death and lillies and he gags. For one horrific moment he is sure Nick is going to kiss him, but instead, he pulls back, inspecting the man.
“You’re a fucking disgrace to your uniform officer.”
Danny wakes, soaking wet and shaken, to his alarm and a voice message from his dad; …don’t bother coming to work this morning, you’ve had a long night and by the way son, you made your old dad proud...
Digital numbers count up relentlessly as the clock sits silent in what feels like accusation and Danny works out that he has four hours before he needs to be in work. Four hours before he has to be normal. Four hours before replenishing chunky monkey supplies, doodling over his paperwork, before sitting in ignorance in a panda car, absently consuming Cornettos.
He will never know how exactly he got home, where he pulled the strength to move himself from. He knows he walked, but every step of the journey from the town limits to his front door has been wiped from his mind. Instead all he can find is a pain living in him that makes him wonder if the blade he should have ended Nick with has been buried in some secret vital place inside him.
He buries his face in his pillow and tries to let it all out.