I collapsed onto my bed the moment I stumbled into my room, every muscle in my body trembling with exhaustion and something far more dangerous than fatigue.
Never again. I am never, EVER being alone in a room with that woman.
The declaration felt hollow even as I thought it, because my body was still singing from her touch, still craving the feeling of being completely, utterly owned by someone who knew exactly what they were doing.
She didn't just dominate me. She worshipped me while destroying me.
The memory hit me like a physical blow. The way she had looked at me like I was something divine, something precious beyond measure, even as she systematically dismantled every defense I had.
"Such a beautiful boy," she had whispered, her hands tracing my skin like she was memorizing sacred geometry. "Mama's perfect little treasure."
Every touch had been reverent, worshipful, like she was handling something holy that might break if she wasn't careful enough. But underneath that tenderness had been absolute, unshakeable control.
I thought I understood power. I thought I knew what it meant to dominate someone.
I was a child playing with toys.
She had stripped me bare—not just my clothes, but every pretense, every wall I'd built around myself. And then she had proceeded to worship every inch of my exposed skin like it was the most precious thing in existence.
The way she had kissed my chest, my stomach, trailing her lips across my ribs like she was reading poetry written in flesh...
I groaned and pressed my face into the pillow, trying to block out the memory of her mouth on me. The way she had taken my cock between her lips with such infinite care, such devastating skill, such complete and utter devotion.
Like I was her god, and she was the most devoted worshipper who ever lived.
But that had been the trap, hadn't it? She had made me feel divine while reducing me to nothing more than her beautiful, willing boy. Every gasp she drew from me, every helpless sound of pleasure, had been another chain in my beautiful prison.
"Let mama take care of everything," she had murmured against my skin. "Just feel. Just surrender to mama's touch."
And I had. God help me, I had surrendered so completely that I couldn't even remember my own name by the time she was finished with me.
She made me yearn. Made me desperate. Made me beg.
The most powerful male in recorded history of awakening and classification, reduced to whimpering pleas for release, for mercy, for more of whatever she was doing to me. She had turned my endless stamina into a weapon against me, keeping me on the edge until I was sobbing with need.
And she had smiled the entire time. That maternal, loving smile that said she was taking such good care of her precious baby.
The contradiction should have been maddening. The way she treated me like something sacred while proving that I belonged to her absolutely. Worshipping my body while owning my soul.
Like a succubus with her favorite boy. Except I was supposed to be the one with supernatural sexual abilities.
But she had made my incubus powers seem like party tricks compared to what she could do with nothing but centuries of experience and that devastating combination of love and dominance.
Every time I tried to assert any control, she would look at me with those ancient violet eyes and say, "Shh, baby. Let mama handle this." And I would melt.
I rolled onto my back, staring at the ceiling, my body still hypersensitive from her attention. Every nerve ending felt raw, exposed, like she had rewired my entire nervous system to respond only to her touch.
She called me her "little monster." Said I was going to reshape the world.
But in that room, I wasn't a monster. I was her beloved little monster, desperate for touch, for love, for affection, for the privilege of being owned by something so far beyond my understanding.
The worst part? I had loved every second of it.
The way she had held me afterward, stroking my hair while I shook with aftershocks. Whispering about how proud she was, how perfect I had been for her.
"Mama's beautiful boy did so well," she had murmured, pressing soft kisses to my temple. "Such a good boy for mama."
And I had felt proud. Accomplished. Like I had achieved something meaningful by surrendering so completely to her will.
What the hell is wrong with me?
But even as I tried to work up proper indignation, my body was already missing her touch. Already craving the feeling of being completely taken care of, completely owned, completely worshipped.
She's the final boss. The ultimate predator in a world of predators. And I walked right into her web.
And I want to do it again.
[Mission Generated: Conquer and dominate, ????h.
Level: Unknown
Rewards: Unkown!]
The realization hit me like a physical blow. She was something else, and with the way i knew how things like this in novels, she was more than the front she was putting on for everyone to see, yet...
Despite my knowing how dangerous she might be, my swearing, despite my protests, despite knowing exactly how dangerous she was to my current naivety, part of me was already planning ways to end up alone with her again.
Because for all my power, all my abilities, all my grand plans for conquest...
She made me feel like I was home.
Like I was exactly where I belonged.
In the hands of someone who knew how to handle monsters.
I closed my eyes and tried to forget the feeling of her lips on my skin, her hands guiding me through sensations I hadn't known were possible, her voice telling me I was perfect, precious, hers.
Few days until the academy. Few days to figure out how to function around her without completely losing my mind.
Few days to pretend I wasn't already planning my next surrender.
God help me.
__
A/N: Not in control now, are we?