Dream a Little Dream of Me
Title: Dream a Little Dream of Me
Rating: R
Summary: An incubus keeps visiting Ville.
Ville's hands were numb. It felt as if needles were trying to cuddle with him, or as if he had stuck his arms into a particularly sharp sweater. All day he'd been washing dishes in icy water, and now, when he wanted to let out the frustration that came with his lousy job he couldn't. His fingers couldn't rightly hold a pen, and when he tried to type his hands jerked awkwardly, as if they weren't a part of him. He sighed, shaking his hands, hoping to inspire some warmth in them. It didn't help that his apartment was cold too. The admin had neglected to start the automated heaters, even though the weather was well on its way into subzero temperatures.
As he collapsed onto his plush white sofa he groaned, but was happy at least that he'd had the foresight to buy extra bed covers. At his last place he'd had the same problem, and even after five winters there he'd never got around to preparing for the latent heat services.
Making himself comfortable on the sofa, toeing off his worn out doc martens, Ville closed his eyes, but didn't let himself nod off. Although the dish-washing job at the restaurant ate at his energy lately he'd been a little wary of sleep. Not that he wasn't enjoying it, but he never did wake up refreshed, and it was beginning to take its toll. Not sleeping wasn't doing him any favors either, but he found the less he let his dream take over at night the firmer his grip on reality felt.
Besides, there was a customer, a loyal one, paying him a visit in a few hours, and no matter that he was bone-tired (and likely to be more so afterward) Ville refused to take even a ten-minute nap. All he wanted was to doze lightly for a moment, just let his muscles go weak and listen to nothing but his breathing in his otherwise silent home.
Ville may have been a whore, but he enjoyed his work, and he got along well with his painstakingly selected circle of clients. He never longed for a way out, and after a while he realized he preferred this life to his old one, one of scrapping by with a one-hit-wonder band and a day-job. Ville easily could have quit the dish-washing, though he chose not to, since it had gave him some hard, yet simple work where he could daydream all he wanted and still manage. When th dish-washing machin broke last month, however, and the owner decided Ville could handle more than just hauling plates around and sticking them in, the work load has become increasingly difficult to balance with his creative flow. His muse was practically dead from lack of writing; never had Ville had so many ideas and not an ounce of energy to put them down.
Ville wondered what other job he could find that had the same pre-breakdown qualities his current one had. He supposed handing out fliers on the city streets might, but he figured there'd be thin pickings, what with winter in mid-swing.
The longer he lay still the harder he struggled to remain awake. With his lack of sleep and shoddy work Ville felt fatigue threatening to take him under. Usually he wold have let go, if another surprising occurrence hadn't begun interrupting his usually restful, er, rest.
Then as if on cue:
"Are you asleep?" The sudden voice, soft as it was, startled Ville out of his calm. Only years of practice at keeping his cool when his customers wanted to act out their more elaborate kinks kept him from screaming, or jumping off the couch. Ville merely opened his eyes and turned his head, gazing at the intruder lazily.
"I didn't think I was, but I guess I am."
"Are you sure? You're not supposed to be able to speak." The intruder frowned, scratching his chin.
"I'm sorry? I don't know, really. Shouldn't you be the expert on this?" Ville kept his voice low. Now that it appeared he had fallen into slumber, he wasn't going to complain. There was no escaping this particular dream until they were finished. He would just have to pick a simpler look to prepare for his customer tonight. In the meantime he wouldn't mind entertaining his dreamland intruder.
For this intruder, this man with sharp blue eyes and curly brown hair, a wry smile and clever tongue, and stronger than Ville could ever hope to be, was the reason Ville wasn't able to get a good night's sleep. The nameless stranger was the reason Ville's energy dwindled during the day, and that his writing (when he could) had taken on a new, passionate, exciting life of its own. Ville was fairly certain the stranger was the reason his dalliances with clients no longer satisfied him.
The stranger looked amused. He was crouched next to the sofa, but stood with such grace and speed Ville shuffled back a bit, believing he might get an accidental whack to the forehead.
"No, I don't think you're totally out." The stranger stood stock still, staring at Ville, who in turn stared back, more confused than anything.
"What was supposed to happen there?" he asked when the stranger huffed and shook his head.
"You were supposed to feel my hands all over you. It only works when you're fully asleep though, so I guess you're not."
Ville had never seen the man so perplexed. He wasn't sure what state of consciousness he was in, though there wasn't the hazy feeling he got when dozing, or the heaviness that weighed down his limbs when the stranger usually visited him. Ville sat up, his elbows on his lap, and he rested his face in the palms of his hands. Really, all he wanted in the world was rest complete, dark, mind-numbing rest.
"So, now what?" he mumbled into his palms. He was used to the stranger taking control, and if he wasn't going to have sex with him he might as well get up and get ready.
"I can't believe this actually happened! What shit is this..." the stranger trailed off, his words humming angrily. For a moment Ville's breath hitched and his stomach twisted in anticipation, but the familiar heat the stranger sparked in him was absent once more. He looked up, still resting his chin in his hands, as the man flipped through a heavy leather-bound tome. If Ville wasn't already used to the appearance of a nightly sex-crazed lover (for that was what Ville called him, not wanting to attach maniac onto his fantastically skilled visitor) the sudden book apparition might have scared him. More than anything he was curious where on his person the man had kept the book, since his outfit of the night consisted of little more than black briefs. The little more in this case being a riding crop attached to his wrist with a slender leather cord.
When the stranger kept on searching his book for, well , whatever it was that had managed to tear his attention away from sex, Ville grunted and left the sofa. As far as he was concerned it was time to get ready for his customer. H knew e has awake, and he tried not to let the fact that his dream-lover was stealing into his waking life affect him. His nerves were already a little shot.
After three months of nightly visits, of mind-blowing sex, cuddling, and one or two pre-fuck feasts, Ville had grown attached to the stranger. He tried not to, but the man kept intruding on his mind during the day, and though he knew it was silly, he began to think of him as some sort of boyfriend. Granted, neither of them ever suggested anything even close to love; at least, not verbally. Ville was completely mute during his dreams (save for moaning and whimpering), but the man had started treating Ville ever more tenderly, as opposed to the rough way he used to handle Ville. A few nights ago, when Ville had inadvertently fallen asleep at the kitchen table, the stranger kissed his conquest "awake" gently, had let himself be led to the bedroom (when before he would have taken Ville bent over against the table), and even allowed Ville to set the pace. Afterward he seemed sated, even happy, and he held Ville close as the younger man, unable to truly sleep (since he already was), tried to tear at the bed in frustration. Eventually he'd calmed down, and the stranger pulled Ville flush against him, burying his nose in his short dark hair, and talking to himself.
As Ville finished washing his face, the terry cloth towel a little rough on his cheek, he looked into the mirror; he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. The stranger was standing behind him silently, his arms crossed, and his blue eyes taking in the sight of Ville half naked without even the slightest look of lust. That was the part that disturbed Ville the most. He gripped the edges of the sink and asked what the stranger wanted.
"We have to talk."
"Why?"
"These visits are going to stop-"
"Really, I don't give a shit. I am tired, I want to sleep, and I have a customer coming, so I need to get ready. You don't need to warn me, just fuck off, and let me get some rest tonight." Ville cut him off, shoving past the stranger and heading to the guest bedroom. It'd been converted into a closet in which Ville kept all his accouterments for his second job, and it had a lock on the door. It had to be installed after some torturous foreplay had proved too much for one client and he barged in, unable to stand Ville teasing him with details of his outfit through the door.
"If we don't get through this you'll never be able to sleep again." The stranger's steady whispered threat nearly made Ville cry. "Think on that, yeah? How fun does that sound? It's not fucking fun for me either. I'l never be able to have sex again and instead be forced to follow you around for eternity. It'll suck when you're dead, let me tell you. I don't want to be tethered to a fucking grave forever."
Ville threw his hands up in defeat. "Fine! Fine Fine!" he fumed, nearly hissing, and he stomped his way back to the kitchen. When he reached it the stranger was already sitting in the chair opposite his. Ville, too angry to even care, plopped down heavily into his chair. He glared at the stranger, not even knowing who or what was fueling his rage, but only wishing he could let it out. "Go on then, talk."
The stranger made a cigarette appear out of thin air, lit it, then offered another one to Ville. In a completely out-of-character move Ville refused the little death stick, which made the stranger uncomfortable, and unsure of where to begin. The silence stretched on, and on, and on. Ville sat stoically, occasionally looking at the clock on the wall above the sink.
"So, maybe we should start out with names."
"Why now? You've never bothered to ask me before."
"You couldn't speak, that's a rule." Noting that the stranger wasn't going to elaborate on that, or any other, rule, Ville snorted.
"I have hands, I can use them for other thing beside fingering. Like, you know writing."
The stranger shrugged, puffing away on his cig. "I guess I didn't really care for it." He raised his eyebrows, grinning. "You can tell me now though."
"Ville. Vill-EH."
"Bam. Pleasure to meet you."
"I'm sure the origin of that name is obvious." Bam hrugged again, and kept puffing, and then was drinking a glass of water (which had, like the cigarettes, appeared out of nowhere).
"Not so much as you'd like to think, but that's a story for another time. Now," he paused, letting the glass refill before sipping it again," is there anything you want to know?"
"A. Lot."
"Pick the first thing then."
"Are you human?" Bam shook his head. Ville mentally scrolled through his post-it note memory.
"Why me?"
"Do yo ow a mirror?" Ville laughed, a little harshly. Stepping into this world of, whatever it was, was making him nervous.
"I do. There's one above my bed, as you well know."
"I do. I'll have you know that's dangerous." Ville shrugged, tilting his head and eying Bam up. He noticed for the first time Bam had a tattoo on his chest that read "Sigillum Diaboli".
"What's that mean?" He pointed to the tattoo.
"Devil's Seal." Bam's answers were so short, Ville felt as though he were asking the wrong questions.
"You a demon?" Bam nodded. "What kind? Have you got a six six six on your ass too?" Bam shook his head.
"Yes. I'm an Incubus. No, I haven't. For your information it's si one ix." Ville realized he was leaning forward in his chair, his excitement rising. He wasn't sure whether that was good or bad.
"Are- wait, hat?"
"Which part do you want me to repeat?"
"You- you said you're an Incubus." Bam nodded slowly , as if Ville might not be able to keep up.
"I did..."
"No, no, I mean- don't Incubi get women pregnant when their husbands are gone, or something?"
Bam threw his head back, laughing. "Wow, you think they would update the mythology once in a while. To answer your question though, yes, Incubi used to run around impregnating people while their husbands were gone. That, however, was from lack of birth control, and not on purpose. Babies are just a by-product of sex, you know? The world owes a lot to the Seventies."
Ville's hand flew to his stomach. "So- so- does that mean-"
"No. Before you ask that asinine question, no. You are not, and cannot become, pregnant unless you are a true hermaphrodite. oesn't matter that I'm a demon, there are certain biological obstacles even my might can't overcome." Bam was now giving him a look that suggested he'd made a mistake. Ville narrowed his eyes, not totally believing him.
"I didn't know Incubi could make things appear out of thin air."
"I'm not, actually. I'm just summoning them. This glass is yours, isn't it?" Bam held up the empty glass, and Ville conceded that it was, indeed, his glass.
"Hey, are those my cigarettes too?"
"No, I'm not rude. I'd ask for permission for those." Bam summoned an ash tray, a vintage one that had aqua rubber along the sides, and Ville's personal favorite, and put out the cigarette he'd smoked past the filter. Ville crossed his arms, chewing is lip. He didn't quite know what else to ask him. Thankfully Bam filled in the lull.
"You're on the right track, though. Incubi aren't 'magical' creatures, per say. I did have to study a bit of magic, just stuff to make life easier. The summoning, for instance."
"Could I learn that?"
"Doubtful. It'd take more practice than you have the time for." Ville nodded, supposing Bam meant more along the lines of life-long study than just quitting his jobs.
"Well," Ville pulled his phone from his pocket, flipping it open and closed, "what do I have to do to get some rest? Why are we talking?"
"How much do you really know about Incubi? Any little thing, even if you're not certain, just tell me what you know." Bam shifted around so he could put his legs up on the chair next to him.
"Not much. I'm not big on mythology. Just what I already told you, and that they feed off of sex, and that they have to have a few different people to feed off at all times." He shrugged, not caring where this was going anymore.
"Okay, see, there are a few inaccuracies in there. I already corrected one. Now, we don't feed off sex, in that sense; more so it helps us stabilize our physical selves. We're still alive and running, or I guess, floating about causing mayhem, we're just not solid. At least, not in this world. Where I come from I'm tangible all the time. I don't know why that is, but, er, that's how it is." Bam stopped, letting Ville digest what he'd told him. It seemed he was keeping up, so he continued.
"Some of us choose to have many different partners, and for a time, so did I." On seeing Ville's expression he held up a hand to stop him. "No, we can't transmit STDs, not even HIV or AIDS. We're different than you in every way except that with which we reproduce, if we're i thi world. In ours it's different. Just so you know, though, you're the only person I've been sleeping with since we met, if that makes you feel better."
Ville rearranged himself so he could pull his knees up to his chest, then decided it was too tight a fit on his chair, and let one leg dangle down.
"I, yeah, I suppose. I mean, it wouldn't bother me, you being with other people, because I have been, but- I don't know, you must understand me."
At this Bam shook his head. "I don't understand you. I- er, in literal meaning yes, but what are you trying to say? Speak plainly, would it bother you or not?"
"It- it would, I think. I know I have no right to even care, but," he decided to just spit it out, "yes, I wouldn't want you to fuck other people. I'm not sure why, but there it is. I guess I've grown attached to you over the last three months, and, frankly, I'd like to have you to myself." Ville groaned inwardly, knowing he was being selfish, and that Bam knew perfectly well what he did on the side, and what was it to him if Bam wanted other people anyway. Suddenly he realized something, and he grew just a tad morose. "Is this affection because of some reaction humans have to Incubi? Am I just being weird because you've done something to me so I would love you?"
"Love?"
Ville nearly choked when he realized what he'd said 'Love'. ove, his ass! He'd misspoken, that was it. Bam was watching him through a small smoke cloud (having lit another cigarette without Ville's awareness), and a satisfied, slick smile played on his face.
"I didn't mean that."
"Are you sure?" Bam's was giving off the vibe of a cat who'd just eaten the canary.
Ville rubbed his leg, nodding.
"What if I told you I could make you tell me the truth, and that I was doing it just now? Would you think that was cruel?" Ville swallowed thickly as Bam's lips closed around the edge of the filter, his cheeks hollowing in as he sucked on it.
"I wouldn't believe you."
"I can make it all come out if I want to."
"Liar." Ville hated to be left naked emotionally. He wasn't going to let some demon-slut pull one over on him.
"Ville, you never let me finish, you know. I was going to tell you that I never had multiple partners with you mostly because you're the most attractive thing I'd ever seen- at first. I'll fix those other bits you just threw at me, though." he blew out smoke through his nose. "No, only humans that are mentally ill feel anything for us other than normal lust or love. They do go into a trance state where all they want is to be near us. Most of us are, fortunately, not sadists, and we leave those poor people alone. The ones that don't are... reprimanded." He glared at Ville, and while he knew Bam wasn't directing his stony gaze at him it still made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.
"I'm- I'm not crazy." whispered Ville 'Yeah okay, that's why you're just calmly going along with some hallucination you're convinced is a demon, because you're perfectly sane.' Ville waved the thought away, hoping it wasn't true.
"I never said you were. Even if I did I'd be lying. You're quite stable, save for a few depressive episodes every now and again." How Bam knew that Ville decided he didn't want to know. "Incubi are very capable of maintaining one good ol', boring-ass, humanized relationship. It's not what we typically do, not out of preference, but because there just aren't people out there committed enough to keep us solid all the time. Then people tend to think we're floating off and fucking someone else, and it turns into a mess. Therefore we prefer to remain unattached for the most part. Like I said though, " he paused to look Ville straight in the eyes, "we can, and do, fall in love. We're greedy when we are, and we want to keep our lovers all to ourselves."
For a moment Ville thought Bam might be admitting something for him, yet he knew if Bam were in love with him he would have put a stop to the whoring. A disappointment he didn't expect, or even know how to handle, settled in his chest.
"Okay, Bam, you're not a monster." He ran his hand through his hair, vaguely wondering if he should dye it black for a while. "What's the meaning of this little chat anyway? You say there are rules these relationships go by, and I shouldn't be able to talk to you, yet here I am, awake, and speaking, and as confused as I ever was." He lifted his hands palms up, more than a little irritated with the incubus.
"This, what we're doing right now, happens rarely. Only when both the incubus and whoever they happen to be with at the time reciprocate the same feeling for each other. It can be hate or love, or any number of strong emotions, as long as it's the same."
"So what is it you feel for me, Bam?"
"What do you think?"
"Speak plainly." Bam chuckled at getting his words thrown back at him. Leave it to his favorite human to be a sarcastic little shit.
"Love, I love you Ville. I wish you'd only be with me, but I understand there are certain things you want in life, like a plush apartment, and expensive clothes, and I don't want you to be unhappy. The music wouldn't give it to you, and dish-washing never will, so you do what you can. I won't condemn anyone for making the life they want for themselves."
Ville let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.
"I love you too. It's stupid- I- you're not stupid, just, the way this has come about. Though I'm not blaming you for being an incubus, that's not it. I- I..." he trailed off, not knowing how to say what he desperately knew he should. That he would give up his job if he could, that if Bam were there then he didn't really need his swanky digs, that he wished with all his might that his band had worked out. He ran his hands through his hair then dropped his head onto the table with a thud.
"Now what?"
"I really don't know."
Ville's dark laugh was muffled by his position. "Do we date? Do I even- oh, oh shit. How am I going to sleep?"
Bam frowned, wishing his book had outlined the procedure a little better. Ancient texts were so vague...
"I think, what we do is similar, though I can't be sure. As far as I can guess all we needed to do was admit what we were thinking..." he trailed off. He didn't have a clue what to do, and he didn't want to lead Ville into something if their footing wasn't going to hold. Bam didn't need Ville blaming him for anything else besides insomnia.
"Will you disappear now?"
"I haven't a clue." Bam shrugged. "Maybe you should cancel this appointment, you know, and try and get some rest. Test out what happens."
"Ugh. For all this crap I really don't want you to leave." Ville sat up straight, pulling at a little hole in his jeans. "I get that I shouldn't do this anymore-" He looked pleadingly at Bam. "I just don't know where I go from here. I can't really anything."
"Yes you can. It's a matter of the right-"
"No, stop. I gave that up, I don't need to relive it." Ville got up, having decided to reschedule his meeting. The phone was in his bedroom, and though he was used to Bam reaching places before him he heard the man following behind. When Bam's hand gripped his shoulder and pushed him against the wall he gasped, blocking most of the impact with his arms.
"Bam?" The man bit into his neck, so hard that Ville was sure he was ripping him to shreds for dinner. He screamed, trying to tear away. Bam held him tightly, and though Ville thrashed wildly he kept him still. He lapped at the blood, and as he did the wound began closing. It healed rapidly, a long lightning-shaped scar, pink against Ville's white skin, the only marker left of the savage bite. Ville moaned, pain and pleasure both achingly sharp. His cheek was pressed against the wall, and he could feel a cut in his mouth where his teeth had clacked shut on impact. Ville breathed shallowly, his chest tight, and he was too shocked to protest when Bam scooped him up and carried him to the bed.
"You're okay, you're okay." whispered Bam as he laid his lover down. Ville's breathing worried him, but he knew it wouldn't lapse into an asthma attack. He gently took off the man's jeans, folding them and leaving them at the foot of the bed. Ville watched him, collecting himself, hoping he wasn't about to be raped. There'd be no fighting the demon if he wanted to take Ville without consent.
"Bam?" came the weak question.
"Yeah, Ville?" The demon sidled up next to Ville, his head resting on Ville's chest.
"What was that?"
"Something I had to do." Ville closed his eyes. There was a warmth seeping under his skin from where Bam had mangled him. He reached up and ran his finger along the scar; it was smoother than he expected.
"Am I going-"
"No, you're still human. I was just marking my territory."
"What if I'm not enough?" Bam pressed a kiss to his neck.
"Doubtful. You just worry about what you have to do next. I'll take care of the rest."
Ville fell asleep, thankful to finally be allowed a moment's peace.
In the morning the sun woke him, since he had forgotten to draw his blinds. He was nestled under the covers, the extras layered on top providing extra insulation from the morning chill. Ville was a little sad that his dream had ended. Though it'd been the strangest alternate life he could ever imagine, the thought of an Incubus named Bam,and the wealth of passion he'd felt for the demon, still made his heart ache when he woke. It'd been a continuous dream, and though Ville loved what he had now he couldn't help but wish he could pull Bam out of the dream with him. He sighed, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his palm.
No matter now. It was time to get up and start packing his bags. Seppo had told him the band's flight to Australia wasn't leaving until 18:00, but he didn't want to forget anything vital.
Ville took a long hot shower. His calves were sore, why he didn't know, but standing still under the water made them less so. He turned the water off, reaching for a towel. He hated to dry off outside of the steam of the bathtub and curtain. As he rubbed at his hair Ville stood in front of the mirror. There was something off about his reflection, but he couldn't put his finger on it. He paid it no heed, believing it was a left over feeling from the dream.
He packed in a bit of a daze, forgot to eat, and changed his departure outfit twice. He didn't know what had him so discombobulated lately. Ville buttoned up the black shirt, sighing. As he reached the top button he realized what had bothered him about his reflection.
Looking down, barely in his line of vision, was a pink lightning-bolt scar.
Rating: R
Summary: An incubus keeps visiting Ville.
Ville's hands were numb. It felt as if needles were trying to cuddle with him, or as if he had stuck his arms into a particularly sharp sweater. All day he'd been washing dishes in icy water, and now, when he wanted to let out the frustration that came with his lousy job he couldn't. His fingers couldn't rightly hold a pen, and when he tried to type his hands jerked awkwardly, as if they weren't a part of him. He sighed, shaking his hands, hoping to inspire some warmth in them. It didn't help that his apartment was cold too. The admin had neglected to start the automated heaters, even though the weather was well on its way into subzero temperatures.
As he collapsed onto his plush white sofa he groaned, but was happy at least that he'd had the foresight to buy extra bed covers. At his last place he'd had the same problem, and even after five winters there he'd never got around to preparing for the latent heat services.
Making himself comfortable on the sofa, toeing off his worn out doc martens, Ville closed his eyes, but didn't let himself nod off. Although the dish-washing job at the restaurant ate at his energy lately he'd been a little wary of sleep. Not that he wasn't enjoying it, but he never did wake up refreshed, and it was beginning to take its toll. Not sleeping wasn't doing him any favors either, but he found the less he let his dream take over at night the firmer his grip on reality felt.
Besides, there was a customer, a loyal one, paying him a visit in a few hours, and no matter that he was bone-tired (and likely to be more so afterward) Ville refused to take even a ten-minute nap. All he wanted was to doze lightly for a moment, just let his muscles go weak and listen to nothing but his breathing in his otherwise silent home.
Ville may have been a whore, but he enjoyed his work, and he got along well with his painstakingly selected circle of clients. He never longed for a way out, and after a while he realized he preferred this life to his old one, one of scrapping by with a one-hit-wonder band and a day-job. Ville easily could have quit the dish-washing, though he chose not to, since it had gave him some hard, yet simple work where he could daydream all he wanted and still manage. When th dish-washing machin broke last month, however, and the owner decided Ville could handle more than just hauling plates around and sticking them in, the work load has become increasingly difficult to balance with his creative flow. His muse was practically dead from lack of writing; never had Ville had so many ideas and not an ounce of energy to put them down.
Ville wondered what other job he could find that had the same pre-breakdown qualities his current one had. He supposed handing out fliers on the city streets might, but he figured there'd be thin pickings, what with winter in mid-swing.
The longer he lay still the harder he struggled to remain awake. With his lack of sleep and shoddy work Ville felt fatigue threatening to take him under. Usually he wold have let go, if another surprising occurrence hadn't begun interrupting his usually restful, er, rest.
Then as if on cue:
"Are you asleep?" The sudden voice, soft as it was, startled Ville out of his calm. Only years of practice at keeping his cool when his customers wanted to act out their more elaborate kinks kept him from screaming, or jumping off the couch. Ville merely opened his eyes and turned his head, gazing at the intruder lazily.
"I didn't think I was, but I guess I am."
"Are you sure? You're not supposed to be able to speak." The intruder frowned, scratching his chin.
"I'm sorry? I don't know, really. Shouldn't you be the expert on this?" Ville kept his voice low. Now that it appeared he had fallen into slumber, he wasn't going to complain. There was no escaping this particular dream until they were finished. He would just have to pick a simpler look to prepare for his customer tonight. In the meantime he wouldn't mind entertaining his dreamland intruder.
For this intruder, this man with sharp blue eyes and curly brown hair, a wry smile and clever tongue, and stronger than Ville could ever hope to be, was the reason Ville wasn't able to get a good night's sleep. The nameless stranger was the reason Ville's energy dwindled during the day, and that his writing (when he could) had taken on a new, passionate, exciting life of its own. Ville was fairly certain the stranger was the reason his dalliances with clients no longer satisfied him.
The stranger looked amused. He was crouched next to the sofa, but stood with such grace and speed Ville shuffled back a bit, believing he might get an accidental whack to the forehead.
"No, I don't think you're totally out." The stranger stood stock still, staring at Ville, who in turn stared back, more confused than anything.
"What was supposed to happen there?" he asked when the stranger huffed and shook his head.
"You were supposed to feel my hands all over you. It only works when you're fully asleep though, so I guess you're not."
Ville had never seen the man so perplexed. He wasn't sure what state of consciousness he was in, though there wasn't the hazy feeling he got when dozing, or the heaviness that weighed down his limbs when the stranger usually visited him. Ville sat up, his elbows on his lap, and he rested his face in the palms of his hands. Really, all he wanted in the world was rest complete, dark, mind-numbing rest.
"So, now what?" he mumbled into his palms. He was used to the stranger taking control, and if he wasn't going to have sex with him he might as well get up and get ready.
"I can't believe this actually happened! What shit is this..." the stranger trailed off, his words humming angrily. For a moment Ville's breath hitched and his stomach twisted in anticipation, but the familiar heat the stranger sparked in him was absent once more. He looked up, still resting his chin in his hands, as the man flipped through a heavy leather-bound tome. If Ville wasn't already used to the appearance of a nightly sex-crazed lover (for that was what Ville called him, not wanting to attach maniac onto his fantastically skilled visitor) the sudden book apparition might have scared him. More than anything he was curious where on his person the man had kept the book, since his outfit of the night consisted of little more than black briefs. The little more in this case being a riding crop attached to his wrist with a slender leather cord.
When the stranger kept on searching his book for, well , whatever it was that had managed to tear his attention away from sex, Ville grunted and left the sofa. As far as he was concerned it was time to get ready for his customer. H knew e has awake, and he tried not to let the fact that his dream-lover was stealing into his waking life affect him. His nerves were already a little shot.
After three months of nightly visits, of mind-blowing sex, cuddling, and one or two pre-fuck feasts, Ville had grown attached to the stranger. He tried not to, but the man kept intruding on his mind during the day, and though he knew it was silly, he began to think of him as some sort of boyfriend. Granted, neither of them ever suggested anything even close to love; at least, not verbally. Ville was completely mute during his dreams (save for moaning and whimpering), but the man had started treating Ville ever more tenderly, as opposed to the rough way he used to handle Ville. A few nights ago, when Ville had inadvertently fallen asleep at the kitchen table, the stranger kissed his conquest "awake" gently, had let himself be led to the bedroom (when before he would have taken Ville bent over against the table), and even allowed Ville to set the pace. Afterward he seemed sated, even happy, and he held Ville close as the younger man, unable to truly sleep (since he already was), tried to tear at the bed in frustration. Eventually he'd calmed down, and the stranger pulled Ville flush against him, burying his nose in his short dark hair, and talking to himself.
As Ville finished washing his face, the terry cloth towel a little rough on his cheek, he looked into the mirror; he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. The stranger was standing behind him silently, his arms crossed, and his blue eyes taking in the sight of Ville half naked without even the slightest look of lust. That was the part that disturbed Ville the most. He gripped the edges of the sink and asked what the stranger wanted.
"We have to talk."
"Why?"
"These visits are going to stop-"
"Really, I don't give a shit. I am tired, I want to sleep, and I have a customer coming, so I need to get ready. You don't need to warn me, just fuck off, and let me get some rest tonight." Ville cut him off, shoving past the stranger and heading to the guest bedroom. It'd been converted into a closet in which Ville kept all his accouterments for his second job, and it had a lock on the door. It had to be installed after some torturous foreplay had proved too much for one client and he barged in, unable to stand Ville teasing him with details of his outfit through the door.
"If we don't get through this you'll never be able to sleep again." The stranger's steady whispered threat nearly made Ville cry. "Think on that, yeah? How fun does that sound? It's not fucking fun for me either. I'l never be able to have sex again and instead be forced to follow you around for eternity. It'll suck when you're dead, let me tell you. I don't want to be tethered to a fucking grave forever."
Ville threw his hands up in defeat. "Fine! Fine Fine!" he fumed, nearly hissing, and he stomped his way back to the kitchen. When he reached it the stranger was already sitting in the chair opposite his. Ville, too angry to even care, plopped down heavily into his chair. He glared at the stranger, not even knowing who or what was fueling his rage, but only wishing he could let it out. "Go on then, talk."
The stranger made a cigarette appear out of thin air, lit it, then offered another one to Ville. In a completely out-of-character move Ville refused the little death stick, which made the stranger uncomfortable, and unsure of where to begin. The silence stretched on, and on, and on. Ville sat stoically, occasionally looking at the clock on the wall above the sink.
"So, maybe we should start out with names."
"Why now? You've never bothered to ask me before."
"You couldn't speak, that's a rule." Noting that the stranger wasn't going to elaborate on that, or any other, rule, Ville snorted.
"I have hands, I can use them for other thing beside fingering. Like, you know writing."
The stranger shrugged, puffing away on his cig. "I guess I didn't really care for it." He raised his eyebrows, grinning. "You can tell me now though."
"Ville. Vill-EH."
"Bam. Pleasure to meet you."
"I'm sure the origin of that name is obvious." Bam hrugged again, and kept puffing, and then was drinking a glass of water (which had, like the cigarettes, appeared out of nowhere).
"Not so much as you'd like to think, but that's a story for another time. Now," he paused, letting the glass refill before sipping it again," is there anything you want to know?"
"A. Lot."
"Pick the first thing then."
"Are you human?" Bam shook his head. Ville mentally scrolled through his post-it note memory.
"Why me?"
"Do yo ow a mirror?" Ville laughed, a little harshly. Stepping into this world of, whatever it was, was making him nervous.
"I do. There's one above my bed, as you well know."
"I do. I'll have you know that's dangerous." Ville shrugged, tilting his head and eying Bam up. He noticed for the first time Bam had a tattoo on his chest that read "Sigillum Diaboli".
"What's that mean?" He pointed to the tattoo.
"Devil's Seal." Bam's answers were so short, Ville felt as though he were asking the wrong questions.
"You a demon?" Bam nodded. "What kind? Have you got a six six six on your ass too?" Bam shook his head.
"Yes. I'm an Incubus. No, I haven't. For your information it's si one ix." Ville realized he was leaning forward in his chair, his excitement rising. He wasn't sure whether that was good or bad.
"Are- wait, hat?"
"Which part do you want me to repeat?"
"You- you said you're an Incubus." Bam nodded slowly , as if Ville might not be able to keep up.
"I did..."
"No, no, I mean- don't Incubi get women pregnant when their husbands are gone, or something?"
Bam threw his head back, laughing. "Wow, you think they would update the mythology once in a while. To answer your question though, yes, Incubi used to run around impregnating people while their husbands were gone. That, however, was from lack of birth control, and not on purpose. Babies are just a by-product of sex, you know? The world owes a lot to the Seventies."
Ville's hand flew to his stomach. "So- so- does that mean-"
"No. Before you ask that asinine question, no. You are not, and cannot become, pregnant unless you are a true hermaphrodite. oesn't matter that I'm a demon, there are certain biological obstacles even my might can't overcome." Bam was now giving him a look that suggested he'd made a mistake. Ville narrowed his eyes, not totally believing him.
"I didn't know Incubi could make things appear out of thin air."
"I'm not, actually. I'm just summoning them. This glass is yours, isn't it?" Bam held up the empty glass, and Ville conceded that it was, indeed, his glass.
"Hey, are those my cigarettes too?"
"No, I'm not rude. I'd ask for permission for those." Bam summoned an ash tray, a vintage one that had aqua rubber along the sides, and Ville's personal favorite, and put out the cigarette he'd smoked past the filter. Ville crossed his arms, chewing is lip. He didn't quite know what else to ask him. Thankfully Bam filled in the lull.
"You're on the right track, though. Incubi aren't 'magical' creatures, per say. I did have to study a bit of magic, just stuff to make life easier. The summoning, for instance."
"Could I learn that?"
"Doubtful. It'd take more practice than you have the time for." Ville nodded, supposing Bam meant more along the lines of life-long study than just quitting his jobs.
"Well," Ville pulled his phone from his pocket, flipping it open and closed, "what do I have to do to get some rest? Why are we talking?"
"How much do you really know about Incubi? Any little thing, even if you're not certain, just tell me what you know." Bam shifted around so he could put his legs up on the chair next to him.
"Not much. I'm not big on mythology. Just what I already told you, and that they feed off of sex, and that they have to have a few different people to feed off at all times." He shrugged, not caring where this was going anymore.
"Okay, see, there are a few inaccuracies in there. I already corrected one. Now, we don't feed off sex, in that sense; more so it helps us stabilize our physical selves. We're still alive and running, or I guess, floating about causing mayhem, we're just not solid. At least, not in this world. Where I come from I'm tangible all the time. I don't know why that is, but, er, that's how it is." Bam stopped, letting Ville digest what he'd told him. It seemed he was keeping up, so he continued.
"Some of us choose to have many different partners, and for a time, so did I." On seeing Ville's expression he held up a hand to stop him. "No, we can't transmit STDs, not even HIV or AIDS. We're different than you in every way except that with which we reproduce, if we're i thi world. In ours it's different. Just so you know, though, you're the only person I've been sleeping with since we met, if that makes you feel better."
Ville rearranged himself so he could pull his knees up to his chest, then decided it was too tight a fit on his chair, and let one leg dangle down.
"I, yeah, I suppose. I mean, it wouldn't bother me, you being with other people, because I have been, but- I don't know, you must understand me."
At this Bam shook his head. "I don't understand you. I- er, in literal meaning yes, but what are you trying to say? Speak plainly, would it bother you or not?"
"It- it would, I think. I know I have no right to even care, but," he decided to just spit it out, "yes, I wouldn't want you to fuck other people. I'm not sure why, but there it is. I guess I've grown attached to you over the last three months, and, frankly, I'd like to have you to myself." Ville groaned inwardly, knowing he was being selfish, and that Bam knew perfectly well what he did on the side, and what was it to him if Bam wanted other people anyway. Suddenly he realized something, and he grew just a tad morose. "Is this affection because of some reaction humans have to Incubi? Am I just being weird because you've done something to me so I would love you?"
"Love?"
Ville nearly choked when he realized what he'd said 'Love'. ove, his ass! He'd misspoken, that was it. Bam was watching him through a small smoke cloud (having lit another cigarette without Ville's awareness), and a satisfied, slick smile played on his face.
"I didn't mean that."
"Are you sure?" Bam's was giving off the vibe of a cat who'd just eaten the canary.
Ville rubbed his leg, nodding.
"What if I told you I could make you tell me the truth, and that I was doing it just now? Would you think that was cruel?" Ville swallowed thickly as Bam's lips closed around the edge of the filter, his cheeks hollowing in as he sucked on it.
"I wouldn't believe you."
"I can make it all come out if I want to."
"Liar." Ville hated to be left naked emotionally. He wasn't going to let some demon-slut pull one over on him.
"Ville, you never let me finish, you know. I was going to tell you that I never had multiple partners with you mostly because you're the most attractive thing I'd ever seen- at first. I'll fix those other bits you just threw at me, though." he blew out smoke through his nose. "No, only humans that are mentally ill feel anything for us other than normal lust or love. They do go into a trance state where all they want is to be near us. Most of us are, fortunately, not sadists, and we leave those poor people alone. The ones that don't are... reprimanded." He glared at Ville, and while he knew Bam wasn't directing his stony gaze at him it still made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.
"I'm- I'm not crazy." whispered Ville 'Yeah okay, that's why you're just calmly going along with some hallucination you're convinced is a demon, because you're perfectly sane.' Ville waved the thought away, hoping it wasn't true.
"I never said you were. Even if I did I'd be lying. You're quite stable, save for a few depressive episodes every now and again." How Bam knew that Ville decided he didn't want to know. "Incubi are very capable of maintaining one good ol', boring-ass, humanized relationship. It's not what we typically do, not out of preference, but because there just aren't people out there committed enough to keep us solid all the time. Then people tend to think we're floating off and fucking someone else, and it turns into a mess. Therefore we prefer to remain unattached for the most part. Like I said though, " he paused to look Ville straight in the eyes, "we can, and do, fall in love. We're greedy when we are, and we want to keep our lovers all to ourselves."
For a moment Ville thought Bam might be admitting something for him, yet he knew if Bam were in love with him he would have put a stop to the whoring. A disappointment he didn't expect, or even know how to handle, settled in his chest.
"Okay, Bam, you're not a monster." He ran his hand through his hair, vaguely wondering if he should dye it black for a while. "What's the meaning of this little chat anyway? You say there are rules these relationships go by, and I shouldn't be able to talk to you, yet here I am, awake, and speaking, and as confused as I ever was." He lifted his hands palms up, more than a little irritated with the incubus.
"This, what we're doing right now, happens rarely. Only when both the incubus and whoever they happen to be with at the time reciprocate the same feeling for each other. It can be hate or love, or any number of strong emotions, as long as it's the same."
"So what is it you feel for me, Bam?"
"What do you think?"
"Speak plainly." Bam chuckled at getting his words thrown back at him. Leave it to his favorite human to be a sarcastic little shit.
"Love, I love you Ville. I wish you'd only be with me, but I understand there are certain things you want in life, like a plush apartment, and expensive clothes, and I don't want you to be unhappy. The music wouldn't give it to you, and dish-washing never will, so you do what you can. I won't condemn anyone for making the life they want for themselves."
Ville let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.
"I love you too. It's stupid- I- you're not stupid, just, the way this has come about. Though I'm not blaming you for being an incubus, that's not it. I- I..." he trailed off, not knowing how to say what he desperately knew he should. That he would give up his job if he could, that if Bam were there then he didn't really need his swanky digs, that he wished with all his might that his band had worked out. He ran his hands through his hair then dropped his head onto the table with a thud.
"Now what?"
"I really don't know."
Ville's dark laugh was muffled by his position. "Do we date? Do I even- oh, oh shit. How am I going to sleep?"
Bam frowned, wishing his book had outlined the procedure a little better. Ancient texts were so vague...
"I think, what we do is similar, though I can't be sure. As far as I can guess all we needed to do was admit what we were thinking..." he trailed off. He didn't have a clue what to do, and he didn't want to lead Ville into something if their footing wasn't going to hold. Bam didn't need Ville blaming him for anything else besides insomnia.
"Will you disappear now?"
"I haven't a clue." Bam shrugged. "Maybe you should cancel this appointment, you know, and try and get some rest. Test out what happens."
"Ugh. For all this crap I really don't want you to leave." Ville sat up straight, pulling at a little hole in his jeans. "I get that I shouldn't do this anymore-" He looked pleadingly at Bam. "I just don't know where I go from here. I can't really anything."
"Yes you can. It's a matter of the right-"
"No, stop. I gave that up, I don't need to relive it." Ville got up, having decided to reschedule his meeting. The phone was in his bedroom, and though he was used to Bam reaching places before him he heard the man following behind. When Bam's hand gripped his shoulder and pushed him against the wall he gasped, blocking most of the impact with his arms.
"Bam?" The man bit into his neck, so hard that Ville was sure he was ripping him to shreds for dinner. He screamed, trying to tear away. Bam held him tightly, and though Ville thrashed wildly he kept him still. He lapped at the blood, and as he did the wound began closing. It healed rapidly, a long lightning-shaped scar, pink against Ville's white skin, the only marker left of the savage bite. Ville moaned, pain and pleasure both achingly sharp. His cheek was pressed against the wall, and he could feel a cut in his mouth where his teeth had clacked shut on impact. Ville breathed shallowly, his chest tight, and he was too shocked to protest when Bam scooped him up and carried him to the bed.
"You're okay, you're okay." whispered Bam as he laid his lover down. Ville's breathing worried him, but he knew it wouldn't lapse into an asthma attack. He gently took off the man's jeans, folding them and leaving them at the foot of the bed. Ville watched him, collecting himself, hoping he wasn't about to be raped. There'd be no fighting the demon if he wanted to take Ville without consent.
"Bam?" came the weak question.
"Yeah, Ville?" The demon sidled up next to Ville, his head resting on Ville's chest.
"What was that?"
"Something I had to do." Ville closed his eyes. There was a warmth seeping under his skin from where Bam had mangled him. He reached up and ran his finger along the scar; it was smoother than he expected.
"Am I going-"
"No, you're still human. I was just marking my territory."
"What if I'm not enough?" Bam pressed a kiss to his neck.
"Doubtful. You just worry about what you have to do next. I'll take care of the rest."
Ville fell asleep, thankful to finally be allowed a moment's peace.
In the morning the sun woke him, since he had forgotten to draw his blinds. He was nestled under the covers, the extras layered on top providing extra insulation from the morning chill. Ville was a little sad that his dream had ended. Though it'd been the strangest alternate life he could ever imagine, the thought of an Incubus named Bam,and the wealth of passion he'd felt for the demon, still made his heart ache when he woke. It'd been a continuous dream, and though Ville loved what he had now he couldn't help but wish he could pull Bam out of the dream with him. He sighed, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his palm.
No matter now. It was time to get up and start packing his bags. Seppo had told him the band's flight to Australia wasn't leaving until 18:00, but he didn't want to forget anything vital.
Ville took a long hot shower. His calves were sore, why he didn't know, but standing still under the water made them less so. He turned the water off, reaching for a towel. He hated to dry off outside of the steam of the bathtub and curtain. As he rubbed at his hair Ville stood in front of the mirror. There was something off about his reflection, but he couldn't put his finger on it. He paid it no heed, believing it was a left over feeling from the dream.
He packed in a bit of a daze, forgot to eat, and changed his departure outfit twice. He didn't know what had him so discombobulated lately. Ville buttoned up the black shirt, sighing. As he reached the top button he realized what had bothered him about his reflection.
Looking down, barely in his line of vision, was a pink lightning-bolt scar.