Chapter 57: Tethered in Hunger
Aria woke in a haze of heat and damp sheets.
Not from the cold that clung to the ruined world outside—no, this warmth was internal, pulsing, coiling deep within her like a second heartbeat. Her thighs were slick, her panties soaked straight through. She didn't need to check to know it. The sharp pressure between her legs ached like it was stitched into her bones.
She sat up slowly, breath shallow, trembling fingers curling into the thin blanket tossed aside in the night. Her pulse was a thunderous drumbeat in her ears. Her dreams, vivid and cruel, still clung to her skin like sweat.
Selene.
Always her.
She had come to Aria again in the night—uninvited, untouchable, yet inescapable. And this time, she hadn't stayed distant. This time, Selene had bound Aria's wrists to the cot frame with nothing but her voice. Her mouth never touched her—but the phantom weight of her hips, the sharp, unbearable pressure of a toy grinding against Aria's swollen folds, had left her sobbing.
Her body knew where she was.
Who she was with.
And what it craved.
"You want me," Selene said, calmly, as if stating the weather.
Aira's knees buckled.
She dropped to them.
Not out of choice. Out of need.
Selene tilted her head. "Do you know what that means, little one?"
Aira looked up, lips parted, chest heaving.
Selene stood.
Slowly.
Each movement deliberate, like the stretch of an apex predator rising from a nap. Her robe fell open. Her form was breathtaking—perfectly sculpted, the muscles beneath her skin flexing with elegant, terrifying grace. At her hips, the strap returned. Thick. Obsidian. Gleaming with unnatural heat.
Aira couldn't look away.
She didn't want to.
"Your body is remembering what it is," Selene said, stepping closer. "Succubi don't choose with their minds. They choose with need."
Selene had stood between her legs, calm and devastating, watching Aria break herself apart under nothing more than suggestion. No permission. No softness.
Her thighs were already slick. Her inner walls clenched on instinct. Her nipples were peaked, her skin hypersensitive.
Just control.
"You're not allowed to come," that dream-Selene had whispered in her ear, voice colder than the wind rattling through the cracked cabin walls. "Not until I say so."
But Aria had. Violently. Shamefully. Her hips lifting, her legs trembling, her cries muffled by her own arm as she came without touching herself. It felt like surrender.
Selene paused before her.
Towered.
"You've been trying to resist it. Pretend you're still mortal. Still sane."
She crouched.
Her hand lifted Aira's chin.
"But you're not," she whispered. "Not anymore."
Her thumb brushed Aira's bottom lip, slow and dangerous. "And you know what the worst part is?"
Aira couldn't breathe.
"You love it."
The dream shifted. The throne behind Selene melted into fog. The floor warmed beneath Aira's knees. Shadows thickened like velvet ropes, curling around her wrists, her ankles, holding her open.
Selene stood behind her now.
The strap brushed against Aira's folds—teasing, pressing, but never entering. Her breath hitched. Her core pulsed.
"Say it," Selene whispered. "Tell me what you are."
Aira shook her head, but her body betrayed her—rocking back against the phantom pressure, moaning like a creature in heat.
"Say it," Selene repeated, voice darker now.
"I… I don't—"
"Say it."
Aira choked on a sob.
"I'm—yours," she gasped.
"No," Selene hissed, pressing harder, just shy of entering. "Say what you are."
Aira's voice broke. "Succubus."
"Not yet," Selene murmured. "But soon."
Then she moved.
The strap pushed into her—slowly, mercilessly, until Aira's mouth fell open in a silent scream. Her walls clenched hard, her body arching into the contact, thighs shaking violently.
She came—again.
Instantly.
And then again.
Her body never stopped.
And neither did Selene.
No words.
No mercy.
Just relentless possession.
She woke up screaming.
A choked, sob-wrecked sound.
Sweat drenched her body. Her panties were soaked through. Her thighs sticky. Her entire core spasming with aftershocks that left her writhing in the sheets, clutching the pillow to muffle her cries.
Aira couldn't breathe.
Couldn't think.
It had been too real.
The feel of it—the stretch, the weight, the surrender. Her legs twitched. Her body was overstimulated, pulsing with need that had no outlet.
She sat up on her elbows, chest heaving, tank top nearly transparent from sweat.
"I can't keep doing this," she whispered.
Her underwear clung to her like a reminder. She peeled them off, trembling, and threw them aside.
She didn't bother to check the sheets. She already knew they'd need changing. Again.
But it wasn't the climax that left her panicked.
It was the craving.
Her body ached for Selene now—not just in her sleep, but when she was awake. In the shower. In passing glances. Just one thought, one memory, and she was drenched again. Hollow. Starving.
Selene was right.
Something in her was changing.
Something more than just lust.
More than just dreams.
Now, awake, that hunger still strangled her.
She pushed back the thin curtain nailed to the window. The world outside was a wasteland. Trees broken by storms, the sky a bruised gray. Ash coated the ground like snow. The old solar panel on the shed crackled faintly. Somewhere in the distance, a flock of mutated crows screamed into the silence.
She didn't care.
The apocalypse had killed cities, families, and nations—but it hadn't killed this ache in her body. If anything, the hunger had bloomed sharper in the absence of everything else.
And it had a name.
Selene.
Aria stumbled to the wash basin and splashed her face with cold water. It didn't help. Her reflection in the broken shard of mirror looked barely human—cheeks flushed, eyes wide, lips red from where she'd bitten them raw in her sleep. Her shirt stuck to her body, soaked through, her nipples hard against the fabric.
The door creaked.
Aria froze.
Selene stood there.
Boots dusty from the perimeter sweep. Sleeveless vest unzipped. Her lean form framed by the rising red of dawn behind her. Her silver blonde hair caught the light like the edge of a blade.
Her eyes found Aria.
Paused.
Lowered.
Aria's breath caught.
"Rough night?" Selene asked, voice casual, as she stepped into the room.
Selene didn't look up.
But her voice—low, amused—drifted like a trap.
"You screamed".
Aira flushed scarlet.
"I didn't mean to."
Selene looked at her then. Eyes cool. Knowing.
"You begged."
Aira flinched.
"I…" she tried. But nothing came.
Selene stepped closer. Not fast. Just enough to make Aira step back instinctively. But she didn't stop until she was close enough to touch. Their bodies not quite touching—but nearly. Intentionally.
"You're changing," Selene said softly.
Aira swallowed.
"I don't want to be," she whispered.
Selene raised an eyebrow. "Liar."
Silence.
Aira looked away. But Selene's fingers caught her chin, tilting it back.
Her breath brushed Aira's lips. "You're mine," she whispered.
Selene's eyes narrowed slightly—just enough to say she noticed. She always noticed. The red of Aria's throat. The tension in her thighs. The way her hands trembled as she clutched the edge of the basin.
Selene didn't comment. She never did. She simply moved past her, collected her blade from the wall hook, and checked the edge with a thumb.
"You were louder last night," Selene murmured, not looking up. "Moaning."
Aria felt the world tilt. "I… I didn't mean to."
"Didn't mean to enjoy yourself?" Selene said dryly. "Or didn't mean to say my name?"
Heat crawled up Aria's spine like poison. Her lips parted, but no sound came.
Selene sheathed the blade slowly.
Then she turned, eyes unreadable.
"Your dreams are getting stronger," she said quietly. "You're responding faster. More intensely."
Aria blinked. "What… what do you mean?"
Selene walked toward her, each step echoing in the silence. When she stopped, there were only inches between them.
"I mean," Selene said, voice dropping, "your body's not just reacting to the dreams. It's adapting. Evolving."
Aria shook her head. "I'm not—Selene, I don't know what's wrong with me."
"Nothing's wrong," Selene murmured. "This is the truth of what you are."
"No—"
Selene lifted a hand.
Not to touch. Never that.
But she raised it to Aria's jaw, hovering a breath away.
"I told you before," she said softly. "If your succubi bloodline is awakening, then your hunger isn't unnatural. It's necessary."
Aria's breath hitched.
"I don't want this," she whispered.
Selene smiled faintly.
"But you do," she said.
Aria squeezed her eyes shut. "I'm falling apart."
"No," Selene said. "You're finally becoming real."
Then she turned.
Just like that.
She walked out, boots thudding softly across the floorboards.
Leaving Aria trembling.
Tethered to a need that wouldn't let her breathe.
⸻
The day passed in silence.
They moved through their routines—the gathering of filtered rainwater, the foraging of roots from the outskirts, the reinforcement of the watch barriers. But Aria was fraying at the edges.
Every time Selene walked near her, she felt it.
The air changed.
Her blood roared.
Even the shadows clung differently to the walls when Selene entered a room.
By nightfall, Aria couldn't take it.
She lay on her bed, breathing hard, her shirt discarded, her skin flushed. She ached. No—she throbbed. Her core pulsed so violently it hurt. Her fingers were wet just from pressing her thighs together. She hadn't even touched herself yet.
But her body was begging.
She didn't want to.
But she needed to.
She reached down, gasping as her hand brushed against her panties—soaked through again. Slickness clung to her fingers, her clit so swollen it twitched at the lightest graze.
Selene's voice whispered through her memory.
"You don't get pleasure just because you want it."
Aria sobbed.
She touched herself harder, hips bucking off the bed, back arching.
She wasn't chasing release. She was chasing surrender.
She wanted to be restrained. Controlled. Denied.
She wanted Selene to take her apart, to feed the hunger that kept blooming in her marrow, to give her pain or pleasure—but never peace.
"Please," she moaned into the darkness.
No one answered.
But in her mind, Selene loomed.
Cold. Beautiful. Unrelenting.
The orgasm shattered through her like a storm, leaving her panting, sweating, crying. Her legs spasmed. Her hands trembled. She curled inward, twitching, raw.
It still wasn't enough.
She came again fifteen minutes later.
Then again.
Each time more desperate. More hollow.
By the time dawn touched the sky, Aria lay in a mess of twisted sheets and damp thighs, her breath shallow, her throat sore. Her eyes burned from tears she didn't remember crying.
She stared at the ceiling.
Empty.
Starving.
If Selene didn't touch her soon—if she didn't claim her—Aria wasn't sure she'd survive.
And maybe… she didn't want to.
Because this wasn't living.
This was tethered hunger.
And she was bound so tightly in it, she couldn't tell where her body ended and Selene's imagined hands began.