Rebel Academy: Crush

Chapter Seventeen BASK

It was typical Damelza to even make our reward of free time sound like a chore. This afternoon, we Immortals would be sent on a deadly mission, so this morning we’d been treated to Compulsory Relaxation.

I was surprised that the bad bastard hadn’t included Compulsory Wanking. Away with you, it was a brilliant way to relieve stress, and it strengthened your sperm into wee Supermen…or Spermen.

Seriously, I was taught about that in the harem. Incubi Sex Education was thorough and practical.

I shuddered. Still, I didn’t need to be told to relax. Rule 29 of the Incubi Code stated: Relax, you’ve already done the hard work to look this good.

Wait, if it was a rule, then maybe I did need to be told…?

I snorted, running my fingers through my shiny hair.

Yep, I did look this good.

At least Compulsory Relaxation meant that Magenta had been allowed to lead us Immortals out of the castle and into the crisp air of the grounds. Fox was wrapped in Sleipnir’s spare woolen coat. There was no Juni around to insist that Fox freeze. Sleipnir’s expression softened, every time that Fox sniffed at the collar like Sleipnir’s scent made him feel safe.

Inside, it’d felt suffocating, just waiting for the mission to start. Outside, I’d looked up at the gray sky and the spires of non-magical Oxford. It was possible to remember that there was a free world outside the trials, rivalries, and missions.

I’d taken deep lungfuls of air, which smelled fresh and as untamed as the grounds. As I’d settled on my sexy arse beside the lake, and the snow had crunched beneath me like a blanket, the ancient magic from the Dead World pulsed. All of a sudden, I’d felt it twisting deep inside me that there was so much more at stake here than my own slinky self, the professors, or the princes (remarkable, snicker).

Magenta was the academy, nature, and death. If we broke the curse, then we’d save her, free all the Rebels forever, and close down the darkest academy in the supernatural world.

I’d bitten my lip to hide its tremble because I’d never be free. My place was as an obedient freak of a bonded at the Succubus Court. But here’s the thing, love was eternal to an incubus. It was this whole thing. So, I’d never stop loving Magenta, and if I died for her this afternoon, then at least the Duchess would never touch me again.

As long as all my Immortals were safe, I’d burn myself to death.

Come on now, what’s not romantic about that?

I peeked at Magenta, who lay with her head on Sleipnir’s lap. He stroked his fingers through her hair. His own hair was candy pink and longer than normal in soft waves, which must mean that this relax thing was working. Perhaps, I should order him around more to bring out this calm side: Compulsory Petting or Compulsory Cuddling.

Didn’t I already do that?

Fox shivered next to me, scooping snow up with his bare hands, which were slowly turning blue. I frowned. He needed gloves, a scarf, and proper boots. Whipping Boy Care was harder than it looked. His curls fell over his eyes, as he knelt up with intense concentration, building a snowman.

Wait, a snowcat.

Mist was curled sleepily on Magenta’s delicious tits (totally wasting sucking opportunities by nuzzling against them with the occasional satisfied snort), with a flamboyant pink tail and mane.

Magenta glowed with a matching pink aura like she couldn’t stop her magic overflowing. She’d been the same ever since she’d returned at dawn from sleeping in Willoughby’s bed.

Who was I kidding? From kissing, cuddling, and screwing the elf.

I scrunched up my nose, pouting.

Guilt had caused the nasty squirmy sensation in my guts after the Stop Game, and I’d been the incubus who’d insisted that she save Willoughby. It was hot to imagine the way that her mists had wrapped around his dick because she’d shared all the details, until Sleipnir had growled and dragged her down between us Immortals like we needed to claim her from the Princes again. Yet she’d refused to tell us anything else that she’d witnessed in the Princes’ Wing.

Even the best incubus could only feel so guilty, however, and Magenta hadn’t just been wham, bam, thank you prince.

She’d stayed with Willoughby, until he’d drifted to sleep in her arms. Jealousy was unattractive in an incubus, but I still shook with it because I was jealous of both of them.

I slid my hands down to my slim waist. Magenta had been insisting on more food for me over the last couple of days. I’d indulged without thought to my trimness.

Had I broken the cardinal Night Code and become less pettable?

I gasped, shooting Magenta another look. What if I dyed my hair sky-blue…?

I moistened my plush lips, preparing myself for a seduction. This was my talent. Time for a Bask Attack.

If we survived, Magenta would want me in her arms tonight.

I crawled towards Magenta with a deliberate swing to my hips. My ruby eyes glittered. I leaned over Magenta like I was going to kiss her, and her breath stuttered. At the last moment, however, I pulled back.

“Prick tease,” Sleipnir muttered, fondly.

Away with you, I didn’t imagine the fondly.

“But I don’t have a prick to tease…” Magenta’s brow furrowed.

I peeked at her from underneath my eyelashes, then slinked down, until my lips were closer to an even more tempting part of her. “If it pleases you, I can improvize.”

I pressed my mouth along her thigh and then inward, as she quivered. Sleipnir wasn’t the only one with a talented tongue.

Suddenly, Magenta squawked, sitting up. Her magic sparked, prickling my nose. I fell backward onto my arse.

Fox chuckled.

She’d repelled a Bask Attack…? I must’ve become less pettable. Did she still even want me? Did I not please her anymore?

I whined, as my own biology punished me even at the thought. Well, that was a boot to the balls.

“Stop panicking,” Magenta’s voice was quiet but commanding. It shot tingles right through me. I liked that. I also loved the way that her magic now stroked over me in apology. “You’ll forever please me. Forgive my magic, you simply startled me. Your hand went straight through Flair, and his insult was rather colorful.”

My eyes widened, and I straightened myself with a toss of my head.

That she was pleased with me, sparkled like champagne bubbles, feeding me with pleasure.

“Your familiars are here…?” Sleipnir blinked. “When did Tweedle Dee and Tweele Dum arrive?”

Magenta grimaced. “They were scouting for me to find out about the mission, but Flair has just informed me that if you refer to him as a character from Alice in Wonderland again, then he’ll stick his beak right up your rabbit hole.”

“He needs his beak washing out with soap,” Sleipnir muttered.

I bounced onto my knees. “Go on, call them the Cheshire Crows!”

Magenta fixed me with a stern glare. “Flair says that your rabbit hole isn’t safe either.”

I squeaked but then narrowed my eyes. “You’re making it up.”

Magenta waved an airy hand. “My familiars flapped across the lake and joined us about half an hour ago. They’re snuggling on my lap right now. Flair is creatively universal in his insults.”

I arched my brow.

I wouldn’t be intimidated by a witch and her invisible familiars. Then my shoulders slumped. Magenta had nothing to fear from me but multiple orgasms, and she knew it.

Magenta’s expression gentled. “Echo is too busy to join in the threats because he’s been singing his elf victory song. He has a charmingly unique voice.” Then she sang so off-key that my ears ached, “Screw the elf, save the world. Screw the elf, save the world. Screw the el—”

I winced. “How about screw the incubus and save our ears?”

Sleipnir raised his hand. “You have my vote.”

I still had it.

Fox glanced up from the snowcat that he was building. He’d used a fallen branch as its tail, pushed a pebble onto its head to be its nose, and drawn on whiskers. Now, he was molding its ears as lovingly as if he expected it to spring to life.

“Seconded. These screwing to save the world dilemmas are tough on us superheroes. Just last week, I was faced with screwing Harley Quinn.” He smirked at the possessive way Sleipnir’s hair bristled to red. That was a fine bit of alpha posturing, when we all knew that last week, the most our whipping boy had been doing with his dick was wanking with it. “It’s okay, I didn’t go through with it. Batman was just bouncing up and down to do the honors. You should’ve seen his excited little face. I mean, I couldn’t actually see his face behind the mask, but he was up for it.” Fox smiled at us innocently. “So, what did the familiars find out about the mission?”

Magenta sighed. “Do you know the ruins? Almost five hundred years ago, the first Blessedly Charmed witch was born. I’m the only other one born after her, and it rather appears that I’ve corrupted the magic. To be kept pure, they built a small house in the grounds for a nanny and her alone.” When her hands bunched in her lap, I wondered if she was crushing one of her familiars or if they’d already flapped somewhere else. I wished that she was holding me, even if she crushed me. “Wasn’t I lucky to be kept only in the Bird Turret?”

“As lucky as me only to be locked in the attic, rather than thrown to the wolves like my brother,” Fox muttered.

“Flair says that there’s powerful magic in the ruins that doesn’t belong there.” Magenta’s eyes narrowed. “The House of Crows have stolen it from the angels: A Gateway.”

Fox froze. “I read the word Gateway with my power from Damelza on my first night. She was one pissed off witch.”

Sleipnir sprawled on the snow, cradling his head on his hands. “How’d you think we travel from the academy to other realms? The Gateway is both a powerful weapon and a way to walk between worlds. They shouldn’t exist outside Angel World, but I’d take a guess that our fae patron is asshole enough to steal one. Then he’s using the academy students like his personal mercenaries.”

“Expendable mercenaries,” I added.

I remembered the way that Hector had fought the demons in the Eternal Forest because we’d messed up the stealthy plan and been discovered. I was haunted by the look of fear in his eyes, as he’d been snatched away from me. I’d battled to his side, but I wasn’t a warrior, and I hadn’t been fast enough. I hadn’t even seen what’d pulled him up into the air like he’d been wrapped in shadows, but then, he’d been ripped apart. His blood had wept across my face. It’d baptized my cheeks, nose, and lips.

Red, red, red.

I scrubbed my hand across my cheeks frantically. They were wet. But incubi didn’t cry.

Please don’t let it be blood…

I bit back a horrified gasp, and my breath became ragged.

Fox shot me a concerned glance. Then I noticed the snowflakes resting on his eyelashes. He was beautiful, and he was alive. My breath steadied.

It was snow, resting as gently as petals across my face.

There was no blood. But my slinky self would be going through that Gateway again tomorrow. What if it was the mage’s blood coating my face then?

After all, I’d failed to protect Hector.

I squared my shoulders. I was an incubi of the Night Lineage. I’d promised to protect and love Fox and I would. I wouldn’t let him be drawn into the darkness away from me. An incubus never let go of any of his lovers. Magenta, Fox, and Sleipnir were mine just like my pillows. There was no higher love than Pillow Love. Seriously, check the love poems on it. There must be loads.

Magenta shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself. “Surely, they can’t be expecting us to carry out their dirty work…?”

Sleipnir shoved himself to his feet, stalking to the edge of the lake. “Valhalla! We’re assassins who kill. We’re not scouts, selling cookies.”

Magenta elegantly rose up, floating after him. “Why would an army scout attempt to sell baked goods?”

Sleipnir pulled her to him by her waist and kissed her forehead. “I’m not even attempting to explain boy scouts and cookies.”

I grinned. “I often get those two mixed up anyway, which is messy.”

Fox drew a smile onto his snowcat with his little finger, then twisted back to us with a smile that was as wide as his creation’s. “Ta da! Let me introduce you to the Leader of the Abominable Snowcats. Once, there was a whole tribe of them but a couple of years ago, they wouldn’t listen and insisted that they swim the river Thames for charity.” He bit his trembling lip, and I dived across the snow to curl my hand comfortingly around his neck. Wait, had he just conned a snuggle out of me for the fictional deaths of the Snowcats? He rubbed against my cheek, before winking slyly. “It’s okay, it’s all water under the bridge now.”

I batted him away from me, and he laughed.

Should I curse him to have slime fall out of everything that he opened or to have slime fall onto him every time that he opened anything…?

Delicious decisions.

“Hey, is that Willoughby?” Sleipnir asked in a hushed voice that vibrated with awe.

Surprised, I shuffled to the edge of the lake, as Fox crawled behind me.

Then I gave a shocked intake of breath.

In the center of the frozen lake, Willoughby skated with a beauty and magic that shook me. His power was controlled but it still arched out of him in waves. The skates themselves were glittering ice, the same as the points of his blue hair. He looked like an ice sculpture come to life. Flares of branching patterns sparked out in lightning strikes across the lake on each jump and spin.

In the academy, he appeared stilted and formal, as if he was lost. Lysander dragged him from class to class or shoved him into his seat. But here, he was in charge with a grace and ease that any incubi would envy. My eyes widened, as he jumped dramatically, spinning in the air, round and round…

My heart pounded. No one could jump and spin at that speed. He was going to fall.

But he landed and he didn’t fall.

Yep, my dick did a jump of is own at that.

Ten points to both Willoughby and my dick.

“The ice will crack,” Sleipnir’s voice was low; his shoulders were stiff. “Float out there and save his crazy ass.”

Magenta stared at Willoughby, transfixed. “Such grace and power.” Then she smiled at Sleipnir. “Does he look like he needs our heroic rescue?”

“He looks like he’s standing on ice that cracked the moment I stood on it. How long would even an Ice Prince survive in that freezing water?”

Magenta’s mists curled around Sleipnir. “I sense that we’ve stumbled on one of Willoughby’s princely Rewards. Juni must hold being allowed this time on the ice over him as motivation for good behavior. The ice isn’t cracking because…”

“Ice prefers elves, everybody knows that,” Fox said, then spluttered, as Sleipnir booted snow into his face. “Or the magic of the academy does.”

Before Sleipnir could raise his boot to kick more snow onto Fox (I’d get my own snowfox), Magenta wound closer around the disgruntled god.

“You resurrected me: all three of you.” She stroked Sleipnir’s cheek. “There’s no greater connection than that between life and death. Yet there’s also a coldness in my magic, which recognizes the ice in Willoughby’s. Yours is hot. I adore how it warms me.”

“Like mountain pebbles in the sun. I’m amazed that you didn’t melt straight through the lake and turn into an iced god, which is a type of popsicle.” Fox ducked pre-emptively, but Sleipnir only raised his eyebrow.

I bounced onto my knees. “I’d lick one of those.”

Magenta nodded. “If you’re referring to his dick, hot or cold, it is indeed tasty.”

Sleipnir blushed. Now that was a fine sight.

Willoughby took long strides across the ice closer to us. He was humming the swooning melody of Disney’s Someday My Prince Will Come.

As Magenta told it, he already had last night.

With the way that Willoughby spun in arcing circles to the romantic jazzy song, I ached with desire for the same dream as him.

He was talented, beautiful, and kind. Yet his kingdom only thought he was a killer.

I wanted my elf now.

I cupped my hands over my mouth, before I hollered, “Hey, pointy ears, petting opportunities over here. Come and get them! Do you want to build a snowcat with us or…” How could I tempt him? This was what I’d been trained in. I knew how to turn up the incubi charm. You just had to know the right seduction. What had he fancied about me again…? “My arse is at your service for stroking or spanking, as I hear that’s what you desire.”

Willoughby stared wildly over his shoulder, lost his balance, and landed hard on his own arse.

Result.

I threw myself back happily, making a snow incubus with my arms in the snow. Then I pushed myself up, glancing at Willoughby, who was skating towards us with a frightening purpose.

I eeped.

“Spanking Service?” Fox smirked.

Willoughby bended his knees and skated to a stop, shearing off a flurry of snow from the ice. When he prowled off the lake, his skates magically melted. His power thrummed under his skin; it was electric.

“Impressive display and control,” Magenta murmured.

Willoughby inclined his head, glancing between us. “The skating helps...”

I assessed him. He could’ve forgotten about my offer. But no one forgot an incubus, right?

“You know that I want you.” Magenta rested her hand lightly on Willoughby’s chest. “I believe that there’s an incubus, attempting to escape over there, who wants you as well.”

Oh, naughty…gorgeous…perfect…Magenta.

Willoughby’s lips twitched, before his expression became shuttered and he dropped to his knees, crawling towards me like a predatory hungry blue panther.

When he smartly sat back and patted his lap like it was a cozy invitation, I swallowed.

I knew that one day my mouth would write a check that my arse couldn’t pay.

Although, my arse would be the one who was paying. But then, when had I ever turned down a petting opportunity? It’d be breaking the most fundamental of Incubi Codes like spitting on my forebears’ dicks.

Away with you, that was how they’d feel about it.

I threw myself over Willoughby’s lap, not even trying to hide my enthusiasm, and he chuckled. His thighs were all hard muscle, and his strong arms banded around my waist pulling me closer against him. I sighed at his scent of herbal tea like a wintry breeze across wild grasses.

Was it weird to feel that this was where I belonged? I was safer over an elf’s lap than I’d ever been in a succubus’ harem.

Anyway, an arse demanded what an arse demanded. There was no talking to it.

I wriggled around, and it wasn’t only to rub my hardening dick along Willoughby’s lean thighs (promise, snicker).

“Pet me,” I commanded.

When Willoughby rested his hand lightly on the hollow of my lower back, pushing up my blazer, I shivered. “Are you always pushy in this position? I did warn you once that calling a prince pointy ears was a serious crime.”

His smack landed with such crispness that I jumped, but I bit my lip to stop the cry.

An incubus must take punishment in silence and not affront others with ugly wailing.

Magenta clapped. “I knew that my Rebels would take their thrashings well.”

Fox coughed. “You know that you scare me sometimes…?”

I tingled with warmth from where Willoughby had slapped me. It was the delicious type of pain that radiated all the way to my dick and made my mind hazy with desire. I was starting to float. My limbs felt loose, and I let myself relax.

Again…

Instead, Willoughby stroked my arse like it was made of glass and he didn’t know how he’d ever dared to smack it.

That was right: treat the incubus with the respect he deserves.

Willoughby continued to massage my arse with tender strokes, rubbing lower onto my thighs. I stretched out in his lap like I was the cat, widening my legs to tempt him to dip his hand between them to my aching balls.

Come on…

“Now you have me for what you desire,” I panted, “you don’t need to go looking for clone love.”

The Rebel Café could produce clones. I had one of Lysander called Andro, who was submissive. I could summon Andro whenever I had the urge be in charge. I loved him, and in his own way, he loved me. It’d devastated me when Lysander had discovered about him.

Okay, it’d been a wee bit devastating for Lysander as well.

Now I was intimate petting buddies with Willoughby I understood because Willoughby had conjured a clone of me.

Could I help it if I was jealous of my own clone?

When Willoughby stopped touching me, I forced myself to halt my desperate humping. It was only polite.

“You know about Bas?” He asked with an iciness that made me wonder if this sexy spanking might turn into the type of thrashing that’d end up with Magenta disappointed in my bravery.

At the thought of her displeasure, my dick wilted.

“Lay off, I’m the one over your lap. You’re one of us now, and we don’t keep secrets.” I huffed.

When Willoughby’s fingers carded through my hair, I startled. “I beg your forgiveness. I’m truly grateful for your welcome and petting opportunity.” I rubbed my head against his hand to show that his apology had been accepted. “But Bas is… I love him, and it matters not that he’s a clone. He’s not less worthy for it. Andro isn’t the same as Lysander to you, surely?”

I snorted. “Would Lysander kneel and suck my dick?”

Magenta laughed. “Only in my wicked dreams.”

Willoughby’s fingers tightened in my hair. “I know that Bas isn’t you.” His voice suddenly became anguished, “Please don’t think that I want you only because of him or do you wish to make me choose between you?”

I wrenched my hair away from him (ouch), and sat up, straddling him. I placed my hands on his cool cheeks, and stared into his eyes.

Wow, they were so blue.

“Listen here, pointy ears, there’s no choosing because here’s the thing, love isn’t like punishment and reward points that get shared from one side of the board to the other. It doesn’t work in the way that the bad bastards in this academy want you to believe, where you need to pick one side and then that’s all you can have: Princes or Immortals, clones or non-clones, Rebels or Magenta…” When I glanced at her, she floated her mists towards Willoughby and me, catching us in their embrace. We clutched onto each other, as she held us, and I shuddered. Now this was where I could live forever. “We’ll never ask you to choose. You already have us, if you desire?”

Willoughby’s gaze caught Magenta’s, and his smile was soft. “I desire.”

Yet I knew that this couldn’t be forever. I belonged to the Duchess. But first, I’d make sure that this Prince escaped with the Immortals.

He was ours now, just as much as our whipping boy.

All of a sudden, Fox let out a wail and dived towards his snowcat, which had fallen over to the side. Its mouth had blurred into a frown, its ears had melted, and its nose had dropped off.

Fox patted it sadly on the shoulder. “Farewell Leader of the Abominable Snowcat and last of your kind. You were once a good mate but soon, you’ll be nothing but a puddle and then, I’ll enjoy jumping in you.”

Sleipnir straightened from his slouch. “Nothing melts here.”

Magenta’s eyes widened, before she glanced at the way her mists curled around Willoughby and me.

Willoughby’s love must be breaking the Membership and the academy’s curse.

Would it be enough…?

Yet the rest of the grounds were still deep in snow, and the snowflakes still drifted from the clouds.

“I would say a few words to mourn your friend’s passing,” Willoughby said (I kissed the tip of his nose just because I loved to hear the easy way that he now bantered without Lysander guarding him), “but we’re all meant to be gathering in the Rebel Café.”

Magenta cocked her head. “All as in Princes as well as Immortals…?”

“That doesn’t sound good,” Sleipnir growled.

Willoughby clasped his arms around my middle. “Juni ordered us to join you in a final hour of Compulsory Relaxation before your mission. I was meant to find you and tell you after my skating.”

“Why do I feel that relaxation is a euphemism for torment,” Fox said, wiping his damp hands down his coat.

“Oh no, we’ve already had Torment Thursday,” Magenta said merrily. “I’d imagine that this will be more like a terrifying chore with some angst mixed in. After all, Lysander shall be there.”

“Midnight as well,” Fox added.

There was one Prince and his whipping boy to tempt to our side, and I’d already proven that my arse was tempting.

“Giants and dwarves, a whole hour trapped in that crazy café,” Sleipnir gritted out, “with the prince who’d win a contest for the Least Relaxed Asshole ever, and I mean that both ways.” I snickered. “Honestly, I’m stressed enough about the mission that we’ll end up killing each other way before the hour’s over.”

“Surely we can use the time to learn more about each other.” Magenta exchanged a glance with Sleipnir, and his eyes glittered with understanding. Did she mean to discover ways to wreck them or to love them? It wouldn’t hurt to treat ourselves to a wee bit of both…? “In case I haven’t been clear: we’re all surviving.”

Yet why did the witches want to lock us together for an hour? My incubi senses prickled that there was something more dangerous planned than hot baths, dancing, or sucked dicks.

When I rested my head against Willoughby’s chest, I could hear his heart thudding a beat that was as rapid as mine.

What secrets would the next hour reveal and would we survive?