I swear I posted the finished (as it's gone be) Bucubus
That tails/wings/claws poll had me thinking of my Bucubus spiel and I went to read it, but instead I was smacked by some gob because I couldn't find it on here! It could be I'm not using the right tags because I wasn't consistent with tagging my writing yet.
Or maybe it's the search function is wonky. 🤷🏿♀️
Anywhos, here's the og link with the prompt and the revised bit and sexy addition are below the cut.
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"It is not cheating, my love. It is quite literally my required means of survival."
"So, what you're saying is I'm not enough for you, to keep you happy and fed?"
"No, I'm saying feeding from one source only is dangerous and can be fatal for them."
"A source, am I? You know–you sex demons are all alike."
"In that we need to feed from multiple sexual energies so as to not leave a trail of smiling bodies behind that will inevitably lead someone to kill us, then yes, we are all alike."
But Sol refused to hear the logic of his lover's words. He was much too upset said lover was busy being the sexual fantasy of an annoyance of an acquaintance twice removed. "I had to hear it through a game of telephone about his sexual awakening, never realizing his attraction to men until this pale skin, fanged, blue-eyed beauty crept into his dreams. And of all people, Jean?!" He crossed his arms, fuming.
Bucky did feel like shit about that. He had no idea this man was one in the same as the huffy occultist newbie that had bombarded Natanya's shop. Walken had shown up with silly questions and was not a fan of her deadpan delivery when explaining this world he wanted to be a part of was probably not a good idea. He'd left red-faced and bitter, bad-mouthing her to anyone who would listen.
Bucky had known of the incident, but not the offender. It was a random appearance in one of his frequent after hour haunts where the guy had taken an interest in him from his wallflower position. Bucky felt the nerves and felt sympathetic. He wished he could take it all back, but the dream was had and the energy exchanged. There was no going back.
He tried to approach Sol in an attempt to soothe his heart, but with a flourish of Sol's hands, he banished his once beloved Bucubus into a prison of metal and glass. On the bottom of its base he placed a label in Arabic – Do Not Rub.
Time passed and he traded hands and owners many times, how much and how many he did not know for sure. The Bucubus just knew whatever form he had been cursed in was an appealing must have for those leading very active sex lives. Lucky for him, for an unfed sex demon could parish. He stayed sated and alive, but never powerful enough to free himself. He was partly proud of the strength of his hurt love yet resentful at the longing he felt for connection beyond proximity.
Yet another transfer is made as he feels his holder travel again. The Bucubus cannot hear the outside world and it is a rare event when he gets light creeping into this hellhole, but every now and again the light from a candle brightens his bland 10x10 cell, walls naked, floor plan unfurnished. It was a miracle his Solomon had given him the chaise he lounged on. He had foolishly believed this small granting of comfort was a sign his Sol would not be mad at him for long. Bucky ached to be free so they could have the mind-blowing makeup sex and set boundaries of his work and Sam's insecurities. But alas, he remained. Besides being alone and lonely, both things a sex demon rarely ever is, not being able to make his Sol happy again was the most difficult hardship.
* * * * * * *
An excited, tiny, huffing man came barreling through the door after letting himself in. "Sam!" He shouted when he'd spotted Sam in the kitchen preparing his afternoon coffee on his lunch break.
Sam grunted in response, focused on his task as he was. He was a linguistic specialist, working as a copywriter for tech industries, translating manuals and instructions on groundbreaking work for engineers to help facilitate international breakthroughs in the ways of medical treatments. His work got to help people world wide understand the progress made so other brilliant minds could provide their input and insight. His work made the important work doctors and engineers alike accessible. It was very fulfilling. It was also mind-numbingly repetitive at times and he was in dire need of a caffeine shot before he returned to his Arabic to Spanish translations.
"You are not gonna believe the gift I got you at this estate sale! This kinda craftsmanship was a steal, man, and it felt too good to pass up. Plus, it looks like it could be a talisman of sorts and we all know you could use the help."
Sam studied Steve's giddy face over his hot mug of coffee. The raised brow of indifference doubled as a bullshit-o-meter and Sam was sensing it'd be to his hairline by the time his supposed best friend was done.
But that regally arched brow also served as all the encouragement Steve needed before he shucked the bag, presenting Sam with what looked like a small candle lantern for a table top. He looked at how Steve was gripping it and the shape of it looked like a ... No! But the leery, cocky smile of Steve said yes, it was exactly what it looked like.
"You bought me a dick lamp because WHY?!"
"Why? What do you mean 'why'? Look at this thing, Sam, it's hilarious!"
"I mean, what on God's green Earth made you think of me when you saw this at a rummage sale?"
"Estate sale."
"Same diff. One's just got a fancier name to make you spend more, but the same principle applies – they're selling shit off they no longer want or to make a quick buck off of. More than likely both."
"Yeah, yeah! Still, this is a covered candle light with a giant boner stand and cum stains on the candle cover!"
"Ha. Ha."
Exasperated, Steve admonished, "You just can't see the decorating potential yet. I have got just the perfect place for this big boy."
"I've got a place you can put it, alright!"
"Sammy, don't be crass." He started off towards Sam's home office.
"Excuse you! Uh-uh, you are not putting that veiny, uncut monstrosity on my desk. Where. I. Work. Steven!"
For a tiny asthmatic, the pipsqueak could really haul ass when he wanted to. Sam trailed him into his office, thankful his laptop was closed so there was no camera to catch Sam about to have an argument about penises not belonging in the workspace. Steve stood there so proud of his brief stint in interior decorating, his arms opened in a Tada-fashion, spirit fingers waving towards his gift with a very stupid, very large opened mouth smile on his face. He looked toothless.
Damn Sam and his weak resolve, but he did laugh at his friend's antics, at the ridiculous placement of the lantern by his quill pen and ink. (Yes, he sometimes did calligraphy in his downtime because he was a wild, reckless man that way). They paired perfectly together and it was positioned away from the camera's line of sight. Sam would be able to look up beyond his screen and have a private laugh at the ridiculousness of his new office decor.
"Alright, alright, fine! It can stay, you weirdo!"
Steve pumped his fist in victory. "May it light your way to good dick in your hopefully very near future, my friend."
"Annnd you ruined my appreciation for you in less than 20 seconds. Impressive."
"You're welcome!" Steve threw both thumbs up before walking out of Sam's office, bumping shoulders with him on his way out. He quickly came rushing back into the room, "I forgot part two of your gift!" He handed Sam a bag of strawberry-lemonade scented tea candles. "What good's a candle lantern without candles? Also, those smell awesome. Enjoy, buddy!"
"You're too kind." Sam deadpanned to Steve's retreating form, a tuneless whistle trailing behind him at a sick job well done. Sam needed new friends.
After two jolts of coffee and one truce-bribing lunch of sandwiches and chips provided by Steve, Sam was back on the clock. He was currently grinding out pages of new work with promising results on nano-technology for repairing lung capacity from collapsed lungs. It also made mention of improving long term respiratory problems from the inside, entering the body through a specialized inhaler.
So engrossed in his work, he'd lost track of the time and didn't notice that the only light in his office emanated from his screen. Steve had vanished again after lunch, likely going to meet up with his not-beau, Natasha. Steve insisted they were really 'just friends', but Sam was not only an expert in spoken languages – he could also read body language very well. He'd bet big money that Steve was not alone in his supposrdly secret affections. They just needed to figure it out for themselves. The sooner they did, the sooner Steve would (hopefully) stop meddling in the lack of Sam's own love life.
It's not that Sam was a workaholic and intentionally throwing himself into being of service to avoid the pangs of loneliness, and by extension his horniness, by also keeping his hands busy with idle hobbies... Okay, it was exactly that, but Sam was very good at ignoring it when his mind and hands were otherwise occupied. It was when he closed his eyes and drifted to sleep that his unguarded mind would feel the ache, conjuring up memories of a once very active sex life. The flashes of such caused an embarrassing amount of nocturnal emissions for a man in his late thirties.
Sam's mind began wandering as he worked. When he wrote "with the emissions of" instead of "with the emergence of", he figured now was as good a time to call it a night as any. He shut down the laptop, closing the lid, surrounding himself in the darkness he was just learning had fallen. He dragged his hand down his face, the darkness settling into his bones, sleepiness creeping into him.
Still he didn't push up and away from his desk, instead leaning forward to turn on his desk lamp. The sudden brightness blinded him a moment, but it also served to remind him of the newest addition to his office. Sam actually snorted while looking at it. "'A talisman', huh? Man's got jokes for days." Sam studied the design, reluctantly impressed with its detail. Whoever made it had a truly sick gift. The veins in the shaft were very lifelike and he wondered idly if he was holding a lantern created from a mold.
"What kinda weirdo makes, sells and buys this, besides Steve?" Sam asked aloud of the room. He gave in to the child-like urge to test the weight of it by balancing it on an outstretched finger. Sam rocked side to side in his seat to keep it upright, moving quickly to catch it when it tumbled off his extended digit. He'd caught it base up and noticed the inscription on the bottom. He brought it closer to his face and saw it was in Arabic, cackling as he translated it to the empty room, "Do Not Rub!"
Sam was both tickled and lightweight affronted. "Pfft, I don't take orders from decorations." Displaying his maturity yet again, he flipped the lantern upright, gripping the base in one hand and rubbing the bronzed shaft from base to as close to the tip he could get with the other. If it weren't for the resounding vibrating in his hands, Sam would completely believe he imagined the moan he heard.
Maybe it was a joke sensor gift, one of those responding to touch or movement. Sam examined it as best he could from its position on the floor where he'd promptly dropped it after it fucking moaned.
From this angle he didn't see a spot that looked like a hidden speaker. Braving to pick it up again, he brought it closer to his face, his tired eyes searching for anything that looked like a camera or something. Maybe Steve had made this himself. The jerk rarely did metal works, but perhaps Steve was branching out and Sam was the unwitting receiver of this new line of gag works.
Sam rose, walking around his office searching out a hidden anything. Steve wasn't alone long, but if he was determined enough, his crafty mind would find a way. He could've hidden a speaker near Sam's desk while they were sharing lunch. But finding nothing, he stopped in the center of the room, raising the still held booby trapped lamp from his side to again grip in both hands. Before he made himself crazy going over the room again, he wanted to make damn sure this detailed dick lamp didn't just moan at him. But just like before, the instant his tightened hand neared the lantern's head, it vibrated again, a long, deep moan emanating from it.
Only this time Sam didn't stop. Surely if it was triggered by rubbing, at some point, the moaning would stop and restart. Those sensor things didn't react continuously. However, this did. It also reacted differently to Sam's alternating grips and speeds. Steve not only bought and gifted Sam a cursed, horny lantern, Sam was actively stroking it, enticing the drawn out moans from it on purpose!
Sam's rubbing without pause, a full minute worth of him getting excited by the lantern's sounds – and if ever there was a winning argument for him to end his dry spell, this was certainly it. The candle cover was blocking him from rubbing over the tip and he has more than half a mind to remove it. However, the black smoke now seeping from it stopped Sam's further experimenting as he shrieked before dropping the lantern again.
This time it didn't go clattering to the floor; instead it hovered before him as smoke still poured forth, shocking silent his terrified yet still worked-up state. The plume of smoke begins taking form, human-shaped judging by the two legs that solidified, but likely not if the black tipped talons were anything to go by. Pale skin, claw-tipped fingers, a slick, shiney, thick black tail with the matching wings, and a set of asymmetrical horns formed in front of Sam's unbelieving eyes. There was a smattering of body hair on its chest, leading down to his also very impressive, non-bronzed length hardening as he and Sam both looked their fill.
Apparently Sam's adult educated mind was still on recess and his current brain supplied that rubbing a random object and an emerging being could only mean one thing. "Are you a genie?"
"Do I look like I grant wishes?"
"Looks can be deceiving and everyone knows something that pops out of a lamp--"
"Lantern."
"--synonym for a light source, is a genie," Sam finished as if he hadn't been interrupted, flipping his hand over at the end of presenting his case, as if the Aladdin-borne logic should be common knowledge.
"Bucky."
"What the hells a 'Bucky'?"
"A name."
"Oh. Okay. So you're not a genie?"
Bucky unfurled his wings, the great wingspan nearly reaching from one wall of his office to the other.
"Definitely not a genie then."
"Uh, no." Bucky rolled his eyes at Sam getting hung up on this sole part.
Sam didn't miss the attitude and matched energies, "Well, you're the one that came out of an object after a little rubbing. What was I supposed to think?!"
The winged creature before him smirked, a fang peeking out from the quirked corner of his lip. This human stood before one very much naked and clearly not human and still had the nerve to snark. Granted, Bucky had nothing but gratitude for the one to finally free him, but he couldn't help being more than a little intrigued by the first being he's laid eyes on freshly released from his lanterned-jail. It also didn't help that the man bore a striking resemblance to his assumed long gone son of a witch.
But for whatever reason, looking at this descendant or reincarnation of his jealous warlock lover didn't fill him with a vengeful scorn. It did, however, fill his dick with interest and the feeling was mutual if the tented britches of his freer were any indication. Bucky leaned forward, impressed when the man gave no ground. "And who do I have to thank for stroking until my release?"
"Sam." Sam squeaked out, alarmed at how very much he enjoyed the hungry gaze traveling over his body, the leaning in this Bucky was doing, nostrils flared as he smelled whatever Sam was apparently seeping.
"Saaaam," he drew out as he scented the air saturated with Sam's obvious arousal. Sam smelled so damn good and it had been so long since he'd fed directly. The energy he'd survived on had only been through proximity to the ones who unknowingly owned his decorative prison. His senses flooded with Sam's arousal. The need to feed directly from one so shapely and willing despite the oddity of the situation increased the longer he stayed in Sam's orbit. "I do not grant wishes, Samuel."
Sam gulped, Bucky tracking the exaggerated motion of his bobbing throat. Sam cleared his throat loudly before stuttering out, "What – what do you grant?"
Bucky stepped fully into Sam's space, wings closing around them, a dizzying heat enveloping Sam. Sam closed his eyes, thrilling in it, wanting to fall apart from just the closeness of Bucky's intensity.
Hot breath puffed against Sam's neck, soft lips pressing against his pulse, the bare hint of what felt like a forked tongue slinking out for a taste before Bucky hissed in his ear, "Do you want me to show you what I can give to you, Samuel?"
Sam whimpered in reply, eyes scrunched tight as he nodded vigorously almost before the question had finished being asked. "Yessss," Sam huffed out, just shy of begging but uncaring as the hunger he felt from Bucky matched his own. He appreciated the restraint being shown but it was also driving him mad. Sam opened his lust-blown eyes to meet Bucky's own glowing ones, driving his point of permission home with an unwavering stare, "Show me what you can give to me, Bucky. Please."
Holding his gaze, Bucky lifted a claw, onyx-tinted and curled an inch of two from the tip of his finger to the center of Sam's t-shirt collar. They both watched as Bucky dragged it down, effortlessly slicing through the thin fabric, the tip of his sharp claw grazing Sam's skin, leaving a fiery trail of goosebumps in its wake. Cutting through the hem, Bucky continued his drag downwards, slicing carefully through Sam's sweatpants and the boxer briefs beneath until a pile of shredded clothing pooled at their feet.
Bucky's wings towered above him when they were stretched open, making him seem larger than life, but tucked around Sam, even as Bucky hefted Sam until his thighs wrapped around his waist, Bucky still loomed over him with the promise of power and pleasure to come.
"I, Samuel, will give you your deepest desires." The shiver that ran through Sam had nothing to do with his exposure to the cool air from his opened office window and everything to do with the naked want Bucky looked at him with.
His wingspan shrank as Bucky brought the tips down. “Grip my wings," Bucky commanded, Sam instantly complying, gripping onto the warm, throbbing membrane of Bucky's impressive wings. Slowly, Bucky lifted his wings, moving Sam's form up and away from his own body, high enough until his long fingers could wrap around Sam's ankles. Sam was suspended in air, head lined up with the top of the tallest horn protruding from Bucky's head, a good 6-inches high before it began curling backwards. Sam sat high, spread wide for Bucky's hungry gaze, feeling Bucky's low growl vibrating across his skin.
Sam watched the forked tongue he'd felt just moments ago against his neck slither out, glancing against the fangs before elongating. It quickly unfurled from his smiling, hungry mouth, licking a stripe up Sam's stomach and reversing before it circled Sam's painfully hard dick, its split tip tickling behind Sam's balls. Sam watched slack jawed as that extended tongue began stroking him.
At the same time, Sam felt something else sliding up the inside of his thigh, pushing between his ass cheeks and probing at his hole. It was warm and insistent and Sam didn't have the capacity, or care, to puzzle out what it was when Bucky's hands and tongue were otherwise engaged. But still he was relaxed, sensation lighting him on fire from the inside out.
Do you want this, Samuel? Will you let me inside you?
Sam felt the question wash over him, fighting to push his lips together to form a wrecked, "Please!" Seconds later, Sam's on his back in his bed, legs held high and wide in Bucky's gentle grip, claws just shy of digging into the flesh of his meaty thighs. He didn't know when or how they were on his bed, Bucky still looming over his very naked body. He remembered the tattered clothes at his feet, he remembered being lifted as if he was made of pure fluff and he remembered a gentle prodding at his entrance that couldn't be contributed to any of Bucky's visible extremities.
He still felt that insistent prodding, the still yet unknown part circling gently around his rim, smooth as glass as it finally pushed in slowly.
Sam found his voice again, a surprised groan falling from his mouth as his body accepted the invasion, muscle fluttering around it greedily. Already, Sam's hole was contracting around it, pulling Bucky deeper. He watched as Bucky's eyes closed, felt a tether force between them as he felt Bucky feeding from their shared pleasure. When they opened again, their glowing black sclera did nothing to sway Sam's lust. The intensity of Bucky's desire only further ratcheted up his own.
He wanted to touch Bucky, find out what those horns felt like, tasted like, wanted to feel that forked tongue drag across his skin again, wanted to know just what part of Bucky was currently pressing directly against his prostate, dragging another deep groan from him as he pushed down against it.
Sam wanted more, wanted to drive Bucky just as crazy as he was making him. “Trust me, Samuel. You are. You are.”
Sam was watching Bucky's face intensely, seeing that his mouth didn't move even though Sam knows he heard him as clearly as he had when Bucky had promised to deliver unto him a pleasure he'd not known. The smirk that greeted Sam as his eyes tracked Bucky's black tongue moisten his lips fueled him. He surged up to meet that haughty mouth, speed even shocking the sex demon before him who clung to Sam's form, raising him off the bed by his thighs alone, holding him in midair as he fed Sam's own pleasure back to him through their connection.
Sam's greedy hands moved swiftly across Bucky's shoulders up his neck, running the blunt nails of his fingers through satiny hair and against his scalp. Finally, he'd reached his intended target, stroking along Bucky's horns. He ran the length of first the right, following its curve as he licked repeatedly in between the slackened black tongue’s split. He used a gentler touch when fondling the jagged break of the left horn, still just as smooth, stroking its thickness the way he longed to do to the thickness sitting between Bucky's legs.
The soft touches Sam afforded him set something in Bucky aflame as he was ripped from his mouth and laid back against the bed. Pinned again under that gaze in addition to the appendages on the tips of Bucky's wings, Sam could only watch through his lustful haze as what he finally learned was Bucky's tail filling him again and again, expanding and twisting so deliciously inside him. He could see the same rapture on Bucky's face as he watched Sam's hole clench around it.
If Bucky didn't hurry and take him, he wasn't sure how much longer he would last. On one deep thrust, Bucky's tail curled upward, gliding over Sam's balls, the flexible thing that it was wrapping around and squeezing them as his tail's rapid strokes pushed him further to the edge. Sam's eyes rolled up into the back of his head as he thrashed it wildly against the pillow. He just barely willed himself from coming, breath huffing hotly from his opened mouth.
Part of him still couldn't believe rubbing a magic penis lamp had led to this but if this was some insane sex dream driven by too many lonely, caffeine fueled nights, he at least wanted to see as much of it as possible unfold to better retain it for those lonely nights in the future.
“As long as you grant me access to your bed, Samuel, I would never allow you to be lonely.”
He felt the truth of Bucky's statement across their connection, the honesty of it while he wrung Sam dry was almost enough to make him come after just barely constraining himself. It’d been so long since someone had held such devotion for Sam. Tears threatened to spill down the sides of his face as he was emotionally, physically and sexually overwhelmed. But he wasn't ready for the dream to be over.
He tore his eyes open again, looking up at the appendages on Bucky's wings currently pinning his wrists above his head on the bed. They almost resembled the thumbs found on tips of bat's wings. And dammit, Sam couldn't hold it in, pleasure be damned. Strangled laughter rang out of him, muscles clenching in pleasure forcing him over the edge, Did I just get fucked by Bat Man?
