you want it darker | michael langdon

chapter five; inkubus sukkubus

"Give yourself over to absolute pleasure
Swim the warm waters of sins of the flesh
Erotic nightmares beyond any measure
And sensual daydreams to treasure forever."

-The Rocky Horror Picture Show.

-

"You're... you're him." She shakily exhaled.

"Did Ms. Mead not forewarn you of my arrival?"

"She told me you were coming, but she neglected to say when." Primrose nervously tied the cord of her robe around her waist tighter. "I do apologize, I wasn't exactly expecting company."

"Not at all, I apologize for intruding. I can always come back another time...?"

"No!" She exclaimed, a little too eagerly. "It's fine. Come in."

Entering the room, his black velvet cloak encircled his lithe yet imposing form gracefully, his flaxen hair stopped just below his shoulders and framed his face in a near-angelic manner. Primrose could feel herself going weak at the knees; this man, this stranger, looked every bit as beautiful as the men she'd only ever read about in books before.

She motioned to the chair at her writing desk. "Please sit, Mr...?"

"You may address me as 'sir'." He spoke cooly as he sat upon the desk chair.

"Sir." She corrected herself.

"Ms. Mead tells me you've been experiencing some, shall we say... indefinable phenomena."

Primrose nodded. "I'm not really sure how to explain it."

"She told me that you can manipulate fire with your mind."

"You think I'm crazy?"

He smiled at her, an indecipherable sly smile that she wasn't sure how to interpret. Not even glancing over his shoulder to look at what he was doing, the stone cold grate of the fireplace in the corner immediately erupted into flames with a mere flick of his wrist.

"I think you're just as sane as I am."

Primrose took a step back from him, cautiously.

"I'm not here to debate the thematics of what is and isn't considered normal, Prim. Because I think we both know that we aren't normal; we're special. We are beyond scientific understanding. We do not adhere to the laws of nature, we create our own."

He paused briefly, a contemplative look appearing on his face only briefly before continuing.

"What I would like to know is what prompted this... awakening. What motivated you to stoke that fire?"

Primrose tilted her head to the side, inquisitively. "What do you mean?"

"Was it anger, lust...?"

"Fear."

"Fear?"

"I was frightened." She quietly admitted.

He leaned in closer. "What are you scared of, Prim?"

"The things I see in dreams."

He looked as though he was going to reach out and touch her, but he seemingly stopped himself at the last minute. "What do you see?"

"People dying."

"People you love?"

"Huh?"

"Who's dying? Which people, Prim?" He pressed her for an answer.