The half Fey helped Maria to stand as her clothes shifted to a sheer dress that left nothing to the imagination. Every breath shifted the soft cloth against her skin. She found herself leaning against him shaking, almost feverish with a longing she couldn't handle.

Maria just remembered that the one who did this to her said this one would work, was safe to desire. She reached up to pull his face towards her.

His smirk was toothy: sharp, pointy, predatory, inhuman.

Adrenaline cut through the haze and she fought against shrieking hysterically as she backed herself up against the now closed door. Maria couldn't get a breath in her. Her chest heaved for air for a bit before she began to calm down and realized how exposed she was. She crossed her arms over her breasts, not liking how barely touching them turned her on even more. It made her angry—everything made her angry. "Change it back, now."

The man deliberately sat down as slow as he could, tossed his feet up on the table—large crow's feet that slowly shifted to a more manly shape. His lack of humanity kept shaking her out of her complacency. "Why should I? You burned me, you have a debt to pay for that. I told you if you came back to me I wouldn't let you off lightly, and as you can't stay in that scared state for long, all I have to do is wait and you will do everything I want before I can even think to tell you."

"You're a creep!" Maria grumbled while trying to keep her anger up because she knew he was telling the truth.

"No, I'm starving, and you damaged me. Lugh demands that I protect you at all cost, and I'm weaker because of your bloodline and actions." If anything, his stare was cold, not lust-laden. "I am not doing this because I want you—not yet, at least. This is a necessity for both of us."

They stayed in that silence, giving Maria some time to think. "He always called you Préachán."

"It's not a name, it's a description. It means crow—I'm half Incubus and a half Fey crow. I can make you remember past encounters as if they were new. I can pleasure you and take that memory from you so you need me all over again. Your standing there is by my patience—creep, ha! You are food that gave your your consent away for a ride. Now come kneel at my side."

Compulsion—she had forgotten what that felt like. Fear, excitement, wanting to rush where commanded like a small child playing hide and seek. That Fey attribute was pure joy, and if it wasn't for her terror she would have bounded over like a Labrador. It couldn't be resisted—not this close, not with the memory of how great it felt to obey this urge rekindled in her mind. But he didn't look into it enough to keep the sane corner of her mind engaged.

Who was forcing who? Maria's stride was deliberate, and she towered over him in his relaxed state. There was an urge to make him touch her, let him feel the pressure she was under.

"Lower your arms, honey."

This time Maria's obedience was more from curiosity, in spite of the giddiness. He took her hands in his and looked every inch of her over, as if he was memorizing how she looked. "You are the most stunning Throne I've ever seen."

"...what?"

"An angel, Maria, a very bizarre one. That grandmother of yours should have taught you more about your people and their goal to end this world. Ah-ah, don't!" She had stared to pull away from him, wanting more answers for the things he brought up. "I'm not in the mood to lie, but you need to focus on what is important, like giving in to me. I will not starve myself just so you can pull away. Now, kneel."

Maria didn't know what to think as her body sang in relief at kneeling beside him. His feet were still up on the table—he made no move to expose himself. She didn't know what he wanted—and what she wanted was too covered to make her happy.

The Préachán laid his hand on the crown of Maria's head, gently brushing her hair back.

Memories tumbled out.

Not being able to remove her eyes from Lugh's loincloth, running her hands across his marbled chest, watching his breath hitch at the slightest touch, as if he was nearly as innocent as she was. She could see herself untying that loincloth with shaky hands, waiting for that curtain to fall and show her just what she'd been hiding from for all these years. It caught on how hard he was—Maria had to pull it free.

It was beautiful, the skin was soft, like velvet over steel. She could remember tasting him, being wet with need. The unbridled joy of the Fey thrummed through her as she had licked him. Flashes of memories—Lugh settling over her for their first time, her taking him into her mouth. She had never done both at the same time, but she was remembering them as if they were new, together. Lugh had been careful to slowly push into her, in either case. Being filled for the first time made her feel like she was thrumming with power. She could remember rising to meet each slow stroke, letting his hand guide her mouth, until she couldn't keep control of her legs as they shook and her throat became surer in taking more then a mouthful of him in. Her memory built towards fulfillment. Maria could feel her real legs shaking much like her remembered ones—her forehead dropped to the crow's thigh. She could feel how wet she was—longed to touch herself, to push these memories along faster toward their conclusion. Maria started to stir under the crow's hand.

"Don't touch yourself. Endure, sweet morsel."

The Préachán's command jarred her off Lugh for a second, but then she was right back in it, building towards the tight pressure she felt when she first came. Her mind couldn't get past that edge, riding the high of nearly having it.

She could remember her lips becoming numb while her tongue was stroked against—she could feel her toes curling from cradling against his shaft, like a tongue could long for a climax as well. Lugh became tense, harder even, brushing against the back of her throat, stroking hard and fast against her core.

He came in her mouth and she tasted chocolate? That was the crow messing with her memories. She'd swallow this memory, which twisted her first time in her mind.

The act of swallowing so deeply made her topple over the edge faster than she expected. She shattered harder than she did her first time, body clenching tightly over a shaft that was not really there—but the memory was. She whimpered in frustration and bit into the Préachán's jeans as she rode out the longest climax of her life, swirling around not just her first memory, but a long chain of many Lugh gave her as well as some she'd given herself over the years. She could recall where each and every one happened, in that moment. Her fists had knotted themselves in denim. Her teeth had to let go and she dropped her forehead back down to that damp spot, panting for dear life.

Eventually her mind stilled. She had thought the anger and fear filed moments were clarity. No, this was a sharp exhausted peace in spite of her mind and body still being at war. Yes, she just climaxed from her mind alone, but the body was pissed to miss out on the same act.

Maria lifted her head to look up at the Préachán. His facial expression was of complete boredom, but he showed off his teeth—flat, even, human teeth. "This is what a fed Incubus looks like."

He reached down and uncurled Maria's fingers, to place her hand on his other pant's leg on the obvious outline in his jeans. She could feel him twitch under her hand. "This is what an unfed Fey feels like."

Maria didn't move her hand off him for quite some time, tempted to fulfill them both. A revelation—compulsion may loosen it's grip on her, but lust was it's own feeling. She wanted more of it—of him—only to have interest drop off when she realized she still didn't know his name. Fulfilling attraction alone felt too sudden, in spite of what he'd already done to her.

Only as her hand left him did the crow look disappointed. "This should last through your classes on Monday, no further. We will lie together in a proper bed, next time, understood? "

Maria licked her lips earning a slight glare from the man. "Ah...I still don't have a name for you."

"My human name is Mark Breacher." He waved his hand at her, and her clothes returned to normal. "That ring I exchanged on your necklace will allow you to contact me. Don't take it off."

With that, the Préachán disappeared, leaving her on her knees, clenching the bitten pants' leg that no longer existed.