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Pogue waited until everyone was out of the common bathroom before he headed into a shower stall. All that time he stood under the lukewarm water, struggling in vain to get warm, he spoke to himself. Convinced himself that whether it was an incubus or just a nightmare about one, in either case it couldn’t possibly get him here in broad daylight. And it couldn’t get him again so long as he was awake.
And wasn’t that a grand epiphany if he ever had one.
All he had to do was stay awake until Cale figured it out! And that was exactly what he intended to do.
“Are you out of your mind?”
Caleb didn’t look too happy with Pogue’s brilliant idea. He’d laid it out that evening in the gym where Cale was bench pressing two hundred twenty and looking a little miffed at being distracted from his workout.
Pogue held his palms up in question and trudged on anyway. “Why not? I’m sure you’ll find the sonofabitch who’s doing this to me soon enough.”
“And what if I don’t? How long do you intend to go without sleep again?”
Okay so maybe Pogue hadn’t quite thought it through. He also realized how entirely dependent this plan was on Caleb’s efficiency. Now usually he wouldn’t doubt it one bit, but right now his best friend didn’t seem convinced he had a problem in the first place.
Caleb sat up on the bench and toweled himself dry. “Look. Maybe it was just a one-time thing. Maybe you’re making too big a deal out of this.”
Pogue didn’t blame Caleb for not understanding, after all how could he? Part of him wanted to tell Cale how much that damn thing had scared him, right out of his wits. How helpless he’d been rendered by a force that was clearly more powerful than him and hell-bent on abusing him. No, admitting that would be admitting weakness. And he sure as hell wasn’t about to do that. Besides, after what had transpired between them earlier that day, he still couldn’t exactly look Caleb in the eye. Caleb, on the other hand, didn’t look all that affected. And that for some reason was grating on his nerves even more.
And then something occurred to him and Pogue narrowed his eyes. How come Caleb was back so soon from his old colony house, that was where the Books were kept, right? Unless, he didn’t go at all?
“Have you even started looking into this yet?”
Caleb looked sheepish.
“Dude!! For the first time in your freakin’ life I ever asked you for a favor!”
Caleb snorted. “Yeah, right. I’m covering for you every second day, you ungrateful little ass.”
Aaargh. “Fine! Sorry I bothered you. I’ll take care of this myself.”
He stood up and started stalking out of the gym.
“Pogue. Hey, wait up!”
But he didn’t listen. Who needed the self-righteous fucking know-it-all anyway? It was his own problem, and Pogue could handle it on his own like he always did.
Secretly of course he hoped that Danvers was right and that it was just a one-time thing. But his witchy sixth sense kept nagging at him, telling him it couldn’t possibly be that easy. Nothing ever was, not with Pogue Parry.
He tracked Reid down at Nicky’s soon after. Just to be sure.
Reid never wasted any opportunity to hustle poor unsuspecting civilians out of their daddy’s old family money. It wasn’t that he needed any, the original Ipswich colony clans were never wanting for any material comforts of life. Reid just liked to live dangerously and get his occasional fix by using a little here and there, but not so much as to alert buzz-kill Danvers who’d then ride his ass for the next two weeks. After all, no one knew better than Caleb how addictive their powers could be. Reid, however, seemed to think he was invincible, that he’d be the one to beat the curse that had afflicted their families for generations.
Pogue parked his bike in the back and went in to find Reid at the pool table, ready to make his first kill of the day.
Reid looked up at him and broke out a big smile, apparently genuinely happy to see him. Pogue gestured with a tilt of his head and called the younger boy out. It took him a few minutes to grudgingly agree and walk out the door that Pogue was holding open for him. The moment they were outside and alone, Pogue dropped the friendly chivalrous act completely. He grabbed Reid by the collar and shoved him into a nearby wall, his head colliding against the rotting wood with a loud thud.
“What the fuck?”
“Why’d you do it?”
Reid frowned, getting angrier as he struggled in vain to shrug out of Pogue’s grip. “Do what?”
“You know what, you little sonofa….”
A sharp sting of electricity jolted into his hands and Pogue was forced to let go of Reid instantly. He yelped but didn’t back away, still crowding Reid’s personal space so the younger boy couldn’t escape.
“I’ve no idea what you’re on about, Parry! What exactly am I supposed to have done?”
Pogue looked into the boy’s eyes. Reid was always teasing him about being too butch, too macho for his own good, that he needed to get off that testosterone-high horse of his and loosen up a bit. Could he have taken the joke too far this time?
“Pogue? What’s going on man?”
Pogue swallowed and turned away. Reid Garwin was the kind of guy who loved to not just use but also flaunt it in the face of Danvers and himself. He would never deny it if he really had been the one to cast this spell.
“What is wrong, brother?”
Pogue sighed, but kept walking without bothering to respond. He didn’t look back at Reid again, just started his bike and skidded out of town and back to the Academy.
Night crept up on him faster than usual, at least that was how it felt to Pogue. The sun went down and like Murphy’s law gone rogue or a really twisted sort of self-fulfilling prophecy, he started to feel drowsy. The nightmare was probably why he didn’t get enough rest like he should have, and now he was tired again. To keep himself awake, he got out of his room and knocked on Caleb’s door. But then he remembered the older boy was planning to head back home after his date with Angela. Pogue bit his lip, feeling a mild sense of abandonment, which was ridiculous really.
He couldn’t expect Caleb to ditch everything just for him. Obviously. Pogue pulled back his lower lip jutting out stubbornly and knocked on Tyler’s door instead. Simms was a good kid, unlike Garwin who was least likely to be in his room at ten o’clock on a Monday night.
“Hey. Come on in.”
Pogue smiled and stepped into Tyler’s room. It was always the neatest of the four. Technically Tyler was one grade behind the other three boys. But he was also a frigging genius and in the Honors program at Spenser’s, so shared a few advanced classes with his friends too.
“What’s up, big brother? You look like shit.”
There was an innocence about Tyler that brought out the protective side in him. Which was why Pogue couldn’t bring himself to talk to Tyler about his… his fears.
“Nothing man. Just thought maybe you’d want to hang out? Let’s go grab a beer or something.”
Nothing as trivial as being underage ever stopped the witches from getting what they wanted. Nothing, that is, except Tyler’s conscience. Sure he indulged on occasion but mostly he just longed to be a normal kid. Normal and good.
“Sorry Pogue. I got this paper I have to write and…”
Pogue sighed. “Yeah, alright. No problem. Hey, can I…?”
Tyler smiled, relieved to see Pogue wasn’t upset (at least visibly) and waited. But Pogue couldn’t bring himself to finish the rest of his request.
Can I stay here while you do your thing? Maybe even sleep in your chair if you and your roommate don’t mind?
Stupid fucking wimp.
“What is it?”
He sighed. “Nothing. I’m gonna… uh, go.”
For the first time in his life, Pogue opened up his books and tried to get some homework done by himself, the old-fashioned way and not the magical way. He was surprised to find that he actually enjoyed calculus and that the American revolution didn’t entirely suck ass. But by the time the clock struck three, he couldn’t keep his eyes open any more. And before he knew it, Pogue was laying his head down on his table and dozing off to sleep.
A slow stream of consciousness ebbed into his senses and Pogue realized he was horizontal again, on a surface that was soft and familiar – like his own bunk bed. He frowned and slowly opened his eyes expecting to meet resistance like he did the night before, but that didn’t happen. His eyes opened wide to the pitch dark in his room with nothing but the dim ambient light of the hour peeking through a gap in his window curtain. He lay on his side, with his knees curled up into his chest and one hand pinned under his head. Something cold (and slimy) slowly crawled up his spine and suddenly he was wide freaking awake.
Something… someone… was draped around him, on his back.
Shit. Not again…
He tried to move, get out of bed but like the night before, he couldn’t. The entity had something like arms wrapped around his waist like iron vices that he couldn’t shirk out of. In his mind he started to scream for Caleb again.
The hissing was back. Pogue panicked and struggled harder but the thing wouldn’t let him move, wouldn’t let him leave no matter what. It was cold like ice and he could feel it throb behind him, around him.
“Please…” Pogue started to beg, and he wasn’t even sure if he was speaking the words out loud or just thinking them in his mind. “Please don’t…”
Suddenly he was pushed until he lay on his stomach, and his face was muzzled into his pillow. A set of fingers ran through his hair, combing them at leisure and Pogue trembled violently. Then another hand, and by this time Pogue was wondering how many hands the damn thing had, was tearing his t-shirt and pajamas off him, leaving him completely naked.
Caleb… where are you…
Ice cold wafts of air were breathed down the back of his neck, accompanied by short freezing licks that could only mean the thing was… kissing him, with an open mouth. Pogue wanted to retch but his limbs were paralyzed and there was nothing he could do. A cold palm landed on the small of his back and started to slide downwards, until it touched the starting curves of his butt. Pogue gasped, at least he thought he did. More cold touches slithered across his bare cheeks and he winced his eyes shut.
The incubus was actually caressing his ass. Teasing him, making him used to the cold touch of it’s ghostly hands almost as if in foreplay. He wanted to tell the thing he was straight, that no matter what it did, Pogue was not about to consent or participate in his own sordid, supernatural rape, damn it.
His legs were spread apart again, and the cold licks headed downwards from the top of his quivering spine to the last vertebrae in the small of his back. The entity grasped his sac between his legs from behind and squeezed it, not so gently, but it didn’t hurt either. Pogue blinked his eyes open at that and continued to struggle as much as he could.
“I don’t want this, please…”
All he got was a furious hiss in response and the incubus kept stroking and fondling and licking and stimulating every vulnerable inch of his body until Pogue couldn’t think straight.
He was shocked and more than that, plain outright horrified when Pogue realized that his own cock was starting to get hard.
Something tickled the sensitive skin at the back of his knees, the open soles of his feet and he gasped that almost came out like a laughing sob, or a sobbing laugh, who the fuck knew. His toes curled up and so did his fingers, and then Pogue realized he was arching his back – almost as if he were pushing his butt into the incubus’ waiting hands.
Oh God… what’s happening to me…
He heard, or maybe imagined a deep baritone chuckle behind him and his face went red with mortification. Pogue started to pray like he’d never prayed before, hoping that the name of the Lord would chase the demon away.
“You do want this…” It hissed instead and Pogue violently shook his head.
Suddenly his butt cheeks were peeled open again, like Caleb had done earlier and Pogue knew what was coming. He winced his eyes shut and prayed, gasping and struggling to ignore the twitch in his cock as a cold finger circled his virginal opening.
“I scared you last night…”
“That was not my intent.”
Oh sure, like Pogue could believe that. Something else he couldn’t believe was the gall this thing had for thinking it could just chat with him and make it better!?
The finger continued to tease, brushing the tip softly back and forth and around and around his orifice until Pogue was undulating himself. One moment he was wishing for it to go away while in the other, wondering what it might feel like to be penetrated, and hating himself for it. It wasn’t that Pogue was a homophobe, fact far from it. But never in a million, zillion years had he thought he’d ever be curious about being on the receiving end of an actual ass-fucking.
The incubus had infinitely more patience than Pogue did. It’s thick finger kept flicking the rim of his anus repeatedly, and the too-much-but-not-enough of it was getting to be too much to fucking bear. Something had to give, anything, damn it, he couldn’t take the eternal teasing anymore.
The demon chuckled again, and instead of pulling away, the digit was pressed into Pogue’s anus. Pogue found himself not screaming for mercy like he’d expected himself to. Instead, he just watched himself, in utter disbelief, actually push up into the intimate intrusion.
Tears of despair and confusion and insane arousal leaked out the corners of his eyes. Pogue wanted Caleb so bad right now, he couldn’t stand it. He needed Caleb to come and save him, save him from this dilemma, this torturous experience of rape that his body should have been protesting with every last ounce of his blood. But instead it was craving it, welcoming this very perverse attention, betraying him in the worst way possible.
The deeper the endless finger went, the more Pogue wanted it, and the more he wanted the more miserable he felt. His legs were spread apart wider and his gasps had turned into frantic sobs but he kept moving like a wave, rising and falling and wordlessly coaxing the demon to fuck him deeper, and longer, and harder. And yet another part, the sensible one maybe, still kept up a meek resistance, and calling for the one who should have been his savior.
Caleb… oh God please… Caleb…
Pogue felt the pressure of bright sunlight on his eyelids and grimaced. Guess he was late for class again, he mused as he stretched in his bed and turned over on his back. A moment later, the events of the night before rushed back at him like a freight train and with a loud gasp, he sat up straight in his bed.
He might have squeaked, he couldn’t be sure. Pogue nearly gave himself whiplash as he twisted to look at the other boy sitting beside the bed.
Caleb was smirking as he gestured with a raised eyebrow at something between Pogue’s legs. He followed the other boy’s gaze down to find a wet spot on his sheets and his face went red as beetroot. His throat felt hoarse and sleep-stuffed, and wouldn’t allow any words to come out by way of explanation. He couldn’t even look up to meet Caleb’s eyes again.
“Thought I’d check up on you, sport. I take it the incubus didn’t come back again? Or was it a succubus this time?”
For the first time in almost ever, Pogue wanted to let his tears go. But he didn’t. Maybe he should tell Caleb that it wasn’t a one night deal after all, that there really was something wrong with him. But how was he supposed to explain the wet patch on his sheets? Pogue wasn’t sure he understood it himself. He just felt abused, humiliated, let down by his own body and he didn’t want to have to live it all over again by talking about it. He just wanted to forget it ever happened. He wanted to curl up under a rock somewhere and just… die.
Not like Caleb believed him anyway.
“Get out of here, Danvers.”
He didn’t stop for Caleb to respond. Didn’t pause to wonder what it meant that his clothes from last night were still intact. Just grabbed a towel and his toothbrush and rushed out of the room and into the common bathroom. This time he magically locked it behind him so no one could come in while he was there. Just like the night before, he found no signs or bruises anywhere. He stood with his back towards a full-length mirror, naked, and with head craned backwards and trembling hands, he checked himself for soreness or forced entry.
Nothing. Absolutely nothing. He’d never had wet dreams before. Could Pogue really have come (pretty generously at that) on nothing but an unbelievably real hallucination?
Pogue avoided all his friends for the rest of the day. He didn’t go to class and he skipped lunch. Just grabbed his motorbike and went for a long drive in the mountains. With only the cold and wet depressing weather for company, he drove on, never wanting to return. But he knew he couldn’t run forever. By evening he turned back to the Academy and the first stop he made was at the computer lab.
He tried googling first which was a phenomenal waste of time. Wikipedia offered up a useless rationalization, something about sleep paralysis and hypnagogic hallucinations that was utterly laughable. If science were to be believed, everything could be explained away as nothing but a probabilistic series of coincidences. How the hell then would it explain the existence of witchcraft and the Ipswich Covenant?
Reid walked in on him and stopped short. “Parry in school? I can’t believe my fucking eyes.”
Pogue rolled his eyes and got up. “Not now, Garwin.”
Okay so Reid could be an obnoxious brat at times, but he did care for his brothers a lot. Pogue did not suspect him of playing this ugly prank on him anymore – Reid would never let happen what the entity did to Pogue last night.
“Why do you keep running out on me, man? Everything alright with you?”
He almost stopped, almost broke down right there in the middle of the lab because carrying this giant weight of rage and frustration on his chest alone was really hard. But like with Tyler, Pogue thought of himself as the older brother and so… no, it just wouldn’t be right to dump his troubles on Reid.
“Just peachy. I’ll see you around.”
“Hey, wait.” Reid ran up to him and put a hand on his shoulder. “Whatever it is, let me know if I can help, okay?”
Pogue sighed but didn’t acknowledge that, and left the school premises in a huff of exhaust smoke from his motorbike.
Pogue hadn’t been home in months, not that it mattered to anyone whether he did or not. His father was nowhere to be seen as always. His butler, Edward, seemed glad but surprised to see him, and asked if the ‘little master’ would like something to eat. Pogue politely declined, looked around the ancient living room for a while, then went straight up to the library without any further ado. He didn’t even stop to look at the ten years old photographs of his dead mother on the mantel.
Unfortunately, the Books in his father’s library had nothing new to offer. The only ways to get rid of a curse (any curse – he still wasn’t completely convinced it wasn’t an incubus) were if the original caster of the spell either counteracted it themselves, or if they died. Pogue was more than happy to do some killing of his own if he ever found out who this sick creep was.
But that was just it – Pogue didn’t have any enemies. Well, the bikers he kept screwing over would hardly have the magical capabilities to so thoroughly take down a Son of Ipswich. So then who could be doing this? He didn’t even know of any witch or warlock outside the four families of the Ipswich Covenant. Did that mean – someone on the inside was fucking with him? Literally?
Pogue went swimming that night again. His mind was restless with doubts and suspicions and a lot more fear than he’d ever admit to. And it wasn’t just the fear of what was being done to him physically, he was also terrified of how deeply this curse was messing with his head and his entire sense of self. The only way he could get rid of his fears was by pumping up the adrenaline in his blood instead. So he swam.
That night, Pogue didn’t let himself get drowsy again. Coffee and homework and more research and a conjured up PS3 (since he didn’t actually own one) kept him awake till the early hours of dawn. At some point he contemplated going to Caleb’s room and waking him up, maybe make the older boy talk to him until the sun came up. Maybe then Pogue could catch some sleep for a couple of hours. But what assurance did he have that the demon or nightmare or whatever it was, wouldn’t return the moment he fell asleep?
No, he was not going to be taking any chances, not this time.
He also decided against disturbing Danvers. This was his personal problem, and he ought to work it out by himself.
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A/N: Pls let me know what you think?