My hips jerked one last time, shoving the man I was fucking against the rough brick of the wall. He gave a high-pitched moan of ecstasy, his body shuddering with release. I held myself still, pressing into him and drinking deeply of his sexual energy at the peak of his orgasm. His aura started to fade to the point of no return far before I was ready to stop. I sighed and reluctantly ended my feeding, nowhere near satisfied. The last thing I needed or wanted in my hunting grounds was a corpse reeking of unexplained cause of death.
I slipped from my meal, straightened both our clothes, and was about to back away from him when I felt the hard press of something between my shoulder blades. My mind thought gun barrel until a cold burn from the metal worked its way through my clothes and told me something made of wrought iron was being ground into my back. A gun I could have brushed off without a thought. Wrought iron was a whole new ball game.
"Release your victim," said a soft voice from behind me, and I received another sharp jab to my back.
I muttered under my breath at my carelessness. I hadn't sensed anyone around when I'd impulsively seduced my current meal outside the club. Just the fact that I'd let my hunger get the better of me and risked a feeding in a semi-public area made me want to kick myself. I was getting stupid, sloppy, and complacent in my old age.
I was jabbed in the back again and clenched my teeth against the cold burn being pressed into me. I'd literally been caught with my pants down and assaulted with a wrought iron weapon. I hadn't been surprised like this in centuries. That the person behind me happened to be holding something made of one of the few things on the planet that could actually hurt me, couldn't be a coincidence.
"Release. Your. Victim," the man behind me said with growing impatience in his voice. He ground the whatever it was against my back to emphasize his point.
I took my hands off my latest meal and held them up in the universal sign of "no weapons." The man I'd fed from crumpled to his knees without my support, and I knew a satisfied smile would be stamped on his face. You couldn't enjoy an incubus feeding and go away unhappy and unsatisfied.
If you survived the feeding.