My Dad bought me a Starbucks Chestnut Praline Latte and it was the most delicious thing I’ve drank in days (also my first major hit of caffine since Monday). Couldn’t really taste it at first (my nose is all stuffed up so I’ve lost my sense of taste) but when I could it was fantastic 😍
Y’all thirsting for Eridium Jack so here’s something to help 😉
Notes: rhack. Written on mobile.
“Hello, Rhys.” The words were a low purr, the r rolled across a venomous tongue like it was fine wine.
Rhys swallowed and refused to look up at the creature kneeling on the floor on the other side of the glass. An Eridium creature, slightly taller then most human man with warm purple skin, dark almost black hair and obsidian eyes, nicknamed ‘Handsome Jack’ loved to distract Rhys while he collected the days data at midnight.
“Are you really going to ignore me, Rhys?” the words were another purr and Rhys shivered.
He had no idea how Jack knew his name; everybody used their initials around him especially after the Nakayama incident a few years back. The incident was hushed up but from then on Jack had developed a fondness for wearing jeans and he was always given what he asked for.
Usually.
“Why don’t you come inside, Rhysie, and we’ll have some fun,” Jack smiled, revealing a rows of too sharp teeth.
“Can’t-Can’t do that, Jack.” Rhys ignored how his fingers trembled as he typed in the various code to collect the information of Jack’s environment. Temperature, climate, Jack’s movement patterns throughout the day, how long he took killing a bullymonger before eating it.
“Aww, what’s wrong, Rhys, do you think I’ll eat you up?” Jack teased.
Rhys shot his head up, his eyes wide. Jack stared at him, tilting his head slightly to the side, the vault scar that covered his face crinkled as Jack chuckled.
“Oh no, Rhysie, I’d never eat you.” Jack smiled, shifting closer to the glass, pressing a large hand against it as he looked Rhys’s form up and down. “No, I think we could do something much, much, more enjoyable then that. Don’t you think?”
Lashes fluttering and cheeks warming. Rhys tore his gaze away, wishing his erection would calm the fuck down already.
A sharp tap on the glass and Rhys swallowed before he looked up, uncertain.
“Tomorrow night, come into the back of my enclosure. You’ll like what I can do to you, Rhys.” Jack’s breathed ghosted across the glass, fanning out like a flame. “It’ll feel so much better then what you do after you dream of me.” the smile turned vicious and Rhys bolted for the door, Jack’s laughter following him.
Rhys had always known Jack. He knew Jack from when his mother first bought their house when he was eight. Jack lived in the attic, forgotten behind a stack of chrsitmas boxes. Rhys had found him nestled and sleeping wrapped in his thick black feathers and curved horns atop his head. He asked Jack if he was a raven and Jack smiled and said he was, but not to be scared, he only feasted on the wicked.
Rhys was never scared of him. Not even as he got older and went to Jack when he was in trouble at school or needed help at home. Jack always helped, taught him languages and math, told him stories about the world, both in plain sight and hidden.
Jack was the first person Rhys went to when he didn’t dare tell his mother about how he felt about his body, too scared of how she would react. Jack just held him and stroked his hair as he cried, whispering words of comfort and giving Rhys the strength he needed to tell his her.
It was those conversations that convinced Rhys he should become a priest. He wanted to help others. Jack wasn’t impressed, said it was a waste of a life, but who was he to stop Rhys?
The night before Rhys was preparing to leave for seminary school, Rhys’s nineteenth birthday, Jack left the attic and entered Rhys’s bedroom. A room Jack had never peeked into when he stalked the hallways at night, his heavy feet a comfort to Rhys when he would awaken from a nightmare.
Rhys had just gotten out of the shower, still dripping wet with a towel wrapped around his body as the door handle twisted and Jack stepped inside.
Jack smiled and Rhys trembled. A clawed hand teased away his towel and Jack swallowed the soft whimper that slipped past Rhys’s lips with a kiss.
Jack had him that night in everyway Rhys thought possible; his hips, ankles and wrists were left with bruises that bore testament to Jack’s grip. His body ached for days afterward, sore and tired, but oddly electrified. He made Rhys cum on his fingers, on his tongue and lips, and on his dick. Rhys shook and cried with each orgasm while Jack panted like a wild beast above him, his black wings fluttering and shuddering with each thrust.
Afterwards, when Jack deemed himself done, he whispered that a part of Rhys would always belong to him.
When Rhys awoke the next morning, Jack was gone. He went to the attic but there was no sign of him, and as Rhys got into the taxi and gave the house one final look, he knew Jack had left for good.
Rhys didn’t see him for nine years. Not until he’d been sent to a small community to replace the old priest that had died. It was after the first sunday service when the last parishioner had left and Rhys was alone, his nerves finally getting the best of him that he sat on a pew, shaking slightly, when he heard the heavy sound of familiar feet on the floor.
Goosebumps flew up Rhys’s spine and arms as he jumped to his feet and looked to see Jack wearing a brown jack, boots and jeans, and smirking at Rhys.
“You look good, cupcake.” Jack purred.
Rhys’s eyelashes fluttered as Jack approached him, his heart echoing with each step until Jack was before him.
Jack cocked his head, his blue and green eyes running up and down Rhys’s body. “Did they take your tongue or have you taken a vow of silence?”
Rhys didn’t answer, instead he grabbed Jack by his hideous yellow sweater and dragged him into a clumsy kiss that Jack quickly took over, turning it from awkward and a crash of teeth to licks and something that made Rhys whimper and squeeze his thighs together.
Jack pulled back, licking his lips as his hands came to rest on Rhys’. “Take me to bed, Rhysie.”
–
The small apartment Rhys called home was still stuffed full of unopened moving boxes and his bed was in disarray, but if Jack noticed, he didn’t say. Although he did quirk a lip as Rhys kicked some underwear under the bed.
They pulled away, Jack shedding his clothing like a second skin as Rhys watched, his face burning red as Jack pulled his sweater off revealing his muscular and toned body, and the spattering of hair that spread across his chest and down his belly to his jeans.
Rhys bit his bottom lip, shying away as Jack reached for his collar. Jack tilted his head and Rhys cleared his throat. “Um, um, your wings? Where are they?”
“First words in nine years and you want to see my wings?” Jack mused.
Rhys nodded.
“Who am I to deny my favourite priest?” Jack cooed.
With bated breath, Rhys watched as Jack rolled his shoulders and revealed a pair of black leather wings. Rhys frowned as they surrounded them both. A hand curled around his jaw, drawing his attention to Jack.
“Rhys?”
“Your feathers are gone,” Rhys whispered. He shut his eyes as Jack drew him into a kiss that sent electricity up his spine.
“Hmm, molting.” Jack mumbled, his hands coming up to Rhys’ collar once more.
Rhys paused and leaned back, blinking slowly. “Molting?”
Jack snorted. “Christ. Almost ten years and we’re having this conversation first. Every few hundred years, my kind molt feathers for about two decades. We’re weaker then normal so usually we lay low and avoid religious fanatics.”
Rhys opened his mouth, his mind in a whirl. Jack pulled him to a kiss that left Rhys moaning, his arms curling around Jack’s neck. Rhys had forgotten how good it felt, how wonderful it was to be kissed and held, how sinful Jack’s hands felt on his body. He jerked his mouth away and stumbled to his closet. With shaking hands he pulled off his priests collar and placed it inside before he closed it and turned back to Jack.
Jack’s great black leather wings widened, his horns curling free atop his head. He smiled sweetly at Rhys and crooked a finger, beckoning him to come closer.
“Come little priest,” Jack husked, “and show me what they have taught you of sin.”
Without question, Rhys went to Jack and softly gasped as those black wings engulfed them both, hiding them from the world.
–
It was different with Jack then when Rhys had been nineteen. Rhys was bolder, braver, as he touched Jack’s body instead of just being touched. He ran his hands over Jack’s stomach and up his chest, his fingers spreading to cup Jack’s throat then moving up touch his curled horns, smiling as Jack moaned into his neck.
Rhys sought out his mouth, his legs widening and spreading as Jack’s hands stroked the soft inside of his thighs, his knuckles rubbing against the lips of his cunt. Rhys jerked at the touch, but Jack was persistent, and soon Rhys humped against the hand stroking his clit and sliding strong fingers in to stroke the velvet soft walls.
Jack licked his lips as he sat back on his heels between Rhys’s spread thighs. “You still carry my scent.”
Rhys swallowed, his body flushed as he ran a hand through his short hair. “I’ve bathed lots–”
Jack chuckled. He reached down and slowly stroked his engorged cock, licking his lips again as he watched Rhys’ eyes darken at the sight. “Silly little Rhysie, you smell like me, and there is no demon that would dare touch you because of that.”
Rhys tore his gaze from Jack’s cock, swallowing thickly as he caught Jack’s eyes. “I could never find you, no matter what I studied. I never understood what you are.”
Jack practicality purred at that piece of information. He leaned forward, framing Rhys’ head with his arms as he lazily rocked his hips against Rhys’s heat, his cock rubbing against slick curls.
“You studied me? You miss me that much?”
Rhys wound his arms around Jack’s neck, raising his hips as Jack ground above him. He gasped when Jack growled at the touch. He pressed his lips to Jack’s ear.
“You touched me and left me bruised. You made me cum again and again. I missed your hands on my body, I missed how you growled and rutted above me like some wild animal. You gave me a taste of something divine and then left me to my fingers. To rub myself silly during the long nights as I chased after your memory. You left Jack, without telling me what you are.”
Jack was taunt above him, like a bow string about to snap, his gaze hidden as Rhys pressed small kisses to Jack’s ear and temple.
He didn’t hold back the cry as Jack forced him onto his belly, only to yank him back onto his hands and knees. Rhys scrambled amongst the sheets, his heart pounding as Jack rubbed the fat head of his cock against his pussy before snapping his hips forward and burying himself in one thrust.
It hurt, his body not accustomed to the stretch or the slight burn of Jack’s cock. He bowed his head instead, biting a pillow to hold back his cries as Jack fucked him like he hadn’t seen him in nearly a decade and was trying to make up for it with each and every thrust. The bed hit the wall with each trust and Rhys was grateful that he had no neighbours or visitors.
Rhys fumbled, reaching down to rub his own clit as Jack fucked him. He found his first orgasm, gasping as pleasure spiked along his body, his back arching while Jack laughed behind him. Greedy, Rhys quickly chased his second before his arm gave out and he panted, shaking and moaning, even as Jack’s hand slipped between his thighs and rubbed him to this third climax that left him almost unable to move. Instead Rhys collapsed onto the bed panting as the world spun around him.
But Jack wasn’t done with him.
Not until the morning light spilled past the curtains did Jack finally come, holding bruised hips in his hands as he pumped Rhys full of cum until he was dripping.
Jack collapsed next to Rhys, an arm thrown across his own eyes as one wing lazily flapped, trying to cool them both.
When he caught his breath he spoke, his voice rough. “Incubus, Rhysie. I’m an incubus.”
When he got no respinse he shot Rhys a glance and grinned.
Rhys was passed out, mouth slack, his body cocered with bruises and sweat. Jack rolled closer to Rhys and snuggled next to him, throwing an arm around Rhys’ waist.
Okay, here we go. Incubus Jack and Priest Rhys. Not how I planned but it’s pretty good! (I hope).
Notes: VERY NSFW. Menstrual blood. Blood. Demons. Incubus Jack. Trans Rhys. Mentions of breeding. Written on mobile (my poor thumbs!).
Rhys sighed and ran his hands through his hair as the last parishioner left the church for the night. The church had held a fundraiser for a children’s wing in hospital and the community had come out armed with donations, auctions, and some pretty amazing volunteered food. But it was almost one in the morning and Rhys was exhausted.
Not to mention…
He shook his head and walked towards the churches main doors. He peeked his head outside and saw the empty parking lot. Not a soul in sight. He went to close the door and lock it for the night when a finely crafted mens leather shoe stopped the door from shutting.
Rhys stared at the shoe before he felt a slight push against the door, and against the sinking feeling in his gut, he hesitantly opened it.
Blue and green eyes on a tanned face with ink black hair greeted Rhys. His lashes fluttered as a slow grin crawled across the handsome features.
“Hello, Cupcake.”
It took Rhys a few seconds before he remembered how to speak and when he did, his voice was a small whisper.
“Jack.”
Jack stared at Rhys and Rhys returned the stare until Jack sighed, his grin turning to one of amusement.
“Well, are you going to let me in or are you going to ruin this fine Italian leather of a shoe?” Jack gestured to his foot.
Rhys looked to the shoe in question before he stepped back and opened the door wide enough for Jack to enter. Jack slipped inside, humming as he walked around the remains of the fundraiser, while Rhys shut and locked the door.
Jack walked along some of the auctioned items still left on the tables that would be delivered the next day. He leaned close to an egg cooker, then to a small heater still in the box. He ran his fingers along the auction lists of names and phone numbers, tracing the curves of people who had bid on a carving of a duck and a home made quilt. The bids weren’t great, not nearly enough to build the wing.
“How’d the auction go, Rhysie?” Jack peered at a collection of porcelain dolls from the 1930s.
Rhys collected several folding chairs and stacked them in the corner. He’d put them away in the morning and give the wooden floor a good mopping, let it dry the days heat. He paused at Jack’s words before sighing.
“It went better then expected, to be honest. Several people not connected to the church came out and wanted to help and show their support which was really nice.”
“I bet,” Jack wandered over to a table of left over pies and sweets. His eyes ran among a French pie and he pursed his lips as he straightened. “You eat yet?”
Rhys paused again before he shot Jack a tired smile. “Not yet, no. I wanted to tidy up before I eat anything.” Rhys said before he gasped, his hand flying to his waist as he doubled over. He clutched the edge of a chair and squeezed his eyes shut, breathing thorough clenched teeth.
A warm hand settled on his back, rubbing soothing circles. Rhys drew in a shaky breath and stood up, casting Jack a nervous smile.
“Sorry, I just, it’s been such a long day–”
Jack held up the French meat pie.
Rhys blinked at the pie before he snorted and rolled his eyes. He took it from Jack’s hand and wordlessly led the way to his private apartment at the back of the church.
Rhys switched on several lights, letting Jack enter before he shut his apartment door and headed for the small kitchen. He popped the pie into the microwave while he fished in the fridge for some leftover mashed potatoes.
Without a word, Jack set the table, plates and cutlery, two glasses for wine. He reached for the wine bottle on top of the fridge and pulled it down. He poured two full glasses before he took a seat and set the almost empty bottle on the table.
When the pie was done, Rhys pulled it from the microwave and placed it on the table. Jack leaned close and took a deep whiff of it. Rhys smiled as Jack groaned.
“I haven’t smelled this in a long time.” Jack mused as he poked at the pie with his fork.
Rhys shot him a tired smile. “How long is long?”
Jack hummed to himself, thinking, as the potatoes heated. “I think a Voyagers wife made me one as thanks.”
Rhys blinked at Jack blankly until Jack waved his fork at him. “Let’s just say a long time ago.”
The microwaved pinged in completion and Rhys carefully took the reheated potatoes from it and placed it on the table. He sat down and joined Jack, crossing himself before giving thanks for the meal he was about to eat.
Jack rolled the fork in his hand, his elbow propped on the table as he rested his chin on his palm, waiting patiently for Rhys to finish. When he did, he took a sip of wine as Rhys cut into the pie and mashed potatoes. He gave Jack a slice of pie and together they ate.
Jack’s gaze was fixed on Rhys, watching as Rhys would occasionally pause or softly gasp, noting the way he squirmed on his chair. Jack licked his lips as Rhys finally finished both his food and wine.
“Better, Rhysie?” Jack cooed.
Rhys nodded wordlessly, his eyes starting to droop. “I’m tired though.”
“Then let’s go to bed.”
–
Rhys’s collar was hidden away in his closet, along with his picture of Christ and crosses. Those symbols always brought him spiritual and emotional support, but now he wanted them tucked away, as if he could hide the sins he was committing from Gods very gaze.
He was naked and on his back on top of the sheets, his legs spread wide, his thighs held far apart by the strong, tanned, broad shoulders that rubbed his belly and stroked the softness of his inner thighs.
Rhys hummed, his eyes shut as he dreamily rolled his thighs onto the hungry mouth licking and sucking his cunt. He was wet, practically dripping, but as a cramp squeezed his insides he almost rolled onto his side, whimpering with pain then flushing hotly as he felt blood seep out, only to be caught by Jack’s talented tongue.
He risked a glance down and groaned as he caught Jack’s gaze and the blood smeared on Jack’s nose and lips. He squeezed his eyes shut as another cramp washed over him and he tried to ignore the way Jack chuckled.
“Hmmm, you taste delicious, cupcake.” Jack gently eased back the hood protecting Rhys’s clit before he placed a tender kiss on it. Rhys entire body twitched at the touch and Jack smiled, giving the bud a long lick that left Rhys shaking and trying to push Jack off.
“I-I always thought blood was bad,” Rhys whispered. He desperately fought the trembling as Jack tongued his clit.
“Mmm, no. Menstrual blood is a damn treat to us,” Jack ran a hand along Rhys’s pelvis, “it screams: “fertile, breed me, fill me up with life, I ache being empty.”
Rhys huffed, opening his eyes to glare down at Jack. “No it doesn’t.”
Jack smiled before he lifted his body and slipped between Rhys’s thighs, his arms framing Rhys’s head as he rolled his hard cock against Rhys’ inner thigh.
“No? Want to prove me wrong?” Jack husked. He nosed Rhys’ cheek, smearing blood against the pale skin before Rhys turned his head and reluctantly offered his mouth to Jack. He spread his legs and wrapped them around Jack’s hips, whimpering as he felt the hard cock rub against his blood and slick wet cunt. He pulled away when Jack pushed in and cried out when he thrust into him roughly.
Rhys wrapped his arms around Jack’s shoulders, pulling him to his body as Jack fucked him, the hair on Jack’s chest teasing Rhys’ sensitive nipples. He clung on, even as the slim leather wings slipped free from Jack’s back and surrounded them. He held on, his cries rising as Jack pressed their foreheads together and for a split second Rhys saw the scar on Jack’s face. He held on even as he pressed kisses to the scar, loving the way Jack’s hips stilted and stuttered with each touch.
Rhys held on as Jack slipped a finger down and rubbed his clit to orgasm, Rhys’ mouth falling open in a silent scream as he came and Jack followed soon after.
When he opened his eyes next, the scar and wings were gone and they were underneath the blankets, nuzzling. Rhys squirmed, flushing as he felt cum and blood threatening to drip free.
“I need to get up or the sheets will ruined.” Rhys murmured.
“Hmm… You know you’ll never get enough funds for that stupid hospital thing, right?” Jack stretched amongst the cotton sheets.
Rhys sighed. “Something will happen. I have faith.”
Jack kissed his forehead and gently pushed him towards the bathroom. “Go do your human things. I’ll be right here. It’s a waste of good blood if you ask me.”
Rhys rolled his eyes.
–
The next morning Rhys awoke to an empty bed but a roll of cash and a note from Jack.
‘Don’t ever let anybody say Incubus Jack never dotted on his favourite human. Build that stupid human thing. And get more pie.’
Rhys smiled, pressing his face against the sheets as he held the money close.
It had been several months and Rhys was still surprised he’d gotten
away with his party crashing at Handsome Jack’s ball. And even if he’d
gotten caught, he highly doubted Handsome Jack would have punished him.
Or if he did, it would have been pleasurable.
It still brought a
flushed smile to his face knowing that they’d had sex in front of
everybody. Rhys hadn’t been sure at first about the dress, but it had
been handy to keep them a little covered. And his escape had been
successful. Too successful. Jack did not recognize him in the least at
work, which made Rhys bittersweet. He was gitty that he had a secret
with Handsome Jack only he knew about, but that also meant Jack treated
him like any other employee.
Meetings were the same scary hours,
even if Rhys would get shy and bashful, Jack only took it for fear. It
was starting to get boring.
Vengence is Key 