I crawled into the middle of the circle, sitting cross-legged. I'd meditated this way with my ma, and it made me feel closer to a time when I'd been safe.
Stop. Stop. Stop.
Willoughby would listen to me if I said it, right?
Willoughby's brow furrowed. "This game is meant to tease and give pleasure, I believe?"
"As you wish."
His forehead touched mine. "It's as you wish. Only then shall I play."
I shuddered. I was meant to be in charge here. When had I lost control?
"As I wish," I replied.
The words were heavy on my tongue. Had I ever said them before...?
How was Willoughby cracking me open...?
Willoughby's smile was soft, as he moved back. "Then let us play."
"One minute," Fox called.
Sixty seconds. This was easy. I'd stayed silent and still, while I'd burned myself. What could an elf do to me?
When Willoughby caged me in with his arms, I almost eeped. How had I thought anything about him had been soft? He was lithe, coiled, and dangerous. His scent was like being lost in wintry grasses, just as I was lost in the frozen blue of his eyes.
I remembered the feel of his hard thighs and I regretted the no touching rule.
Then he started to hum, and it vibrated through me like my nerves were on fire. Willoughby remained as still as me. We were ice sculptures, trapped in a staring contest (and I'd been the harem champion at those).
But Willoughby was better. He didn't even blink.
My skin heated, and my balls ached and tightened. Willoughby's humming grew in volume, vibrating through my dick. I panted and gasped.
Dick...don't listen to the naughty Pied Piper of Cumlin...he's trying to drown you...in your own cum.
But my dick was only interested in the pretty tune and its own forced orgasmic destruction.
Dicks are idiots.
"Say stop, and I shall," Willoughby murmured. "Do you want this?" Then he turned to Magenta, concerned. "Is he allowed to nod?"
"Of course, " she replied.
I nodded, frantically.
"Ten seconds," Fox warned.
I gritted my teeth. Don't you dare stop, elfie...not now...
"Five, four, three..." Fox glanced at me. I struggled not to arch and lose at the last moment. I'd win against the Orgasm Whisperer. "...Two, one..."
Willoughby leaned closer to my ear, humming a long sweet note that pushed me over the edge.
I hollered, before slumping forward. My dick pulsed and came with such intensity that white sparks blurred my vision. When I could see again, I met Willoughby's amused gaze.
He'd just out-sexed an incubus: he'd earned a moment of smugness.
But then, Lysander yanked Willoughby back by the arm, and he winced.
Sleipnir growled, and Mist galloped across the room to butt his head into Lysander's balls.
Lysander groaned. "Call off your monster. One happens to be Prefect of my Wing, and how I discipline my Princes is my affair."
"If I see you disciplining him again," Magenta's voice was as frosty as her magic that now snowed around us in pink snowflakes, "then I shall take back the non-touching rule just for you."
Lysander blanched, then his gaze became steely. He shook Willoughby. "Amusing how you turned a game of torment into one of pleasure. You saw how the incubus humiliated me."
I frowned. "Harsh. If we're talking torment, then I'd at least have chosen Crazy Frog’s brilliant novelty song."
"Don't even think about it," Fox warned like I was about to launch into the most annoying song in creation after “Baby Shark”.
Ah, it was sweet how well he knew me already.
Lysander pulled Willoughby even closer. "Have you no loyalty, even after what I've suffered to keep you safe from your brother?"
To my surprise, Willoughby's expression softened, and he patted Lysander's shoulder. "Can't I be both Prince and wish not to harm Immortals?"
I drew in a sharp breath, darting a glance to Magenta. This was it: The plan to break the Membership by bringing over the Princes to our side.
Who wouldn't choose Magenta? But if Willoughby was too shy to come to Magenta, then Magenta would have to go to Willoughby.
Magenta’s lips curled into a smile, as she nodded at me. I edged to the wall.
"I choose Willoughby." Magenta pointed at him.
The tips of Willoughby's cute pointy ears reddened, and he clutched Lysander like he'd save him.
Instead, Lysander's eyes glittered, and he shoved Willoughby tumbling into the center of the circle. "Enjoy this so-called game, when she's humiliating you."
Willoughby's expression shuttered, and he sat with his back military straight.
Sleipnir pulled Fox onto his lap, carding his fingers through his curls, as they both intently watched.
"One minute," Fox called.
Magenta's magic slipped from the walls in a fine mist, settling around Willoughby like pink clouds. He panted, and the tips of his hair iced.
"Can you feel the connection of our magic?" Magenta whispered. "Nothing divides us. Feel it...and awake..."
"Stop," Willoughby choked out.
Magenta froze. Her magic blasted away from him like it'd been stung. Her eyes gleamed with rejected tears, the same as his.
Shocked, I glanced between them. What’d gone wrong?
"Fifty-four seconds," Fox muttered. "Wow, I've won Silver Award Mindfuck, but Magenta must be at Platinum."
"The Immortals have won, which means that we’re also kicking off the polo," Sleipnir pointed out.
"One has many talents," Lysander snarled, "but caring about your petty game right now is not one of them." I gaped at him. The perfect prince wasn’t bothered about losing a competition…? Instead, he scrambled to Willoughby, sliding his hand across the prince’s arms and legs as if Magenta had broken him. Except, she had. "Look what you've done."
Although he glared at us, Lysander still appeared bewildered.
Yet it was clear to my slinky self that we'd wrecked Willoughby. The glimpse of her true self and magic...everything that he'd yearned for in his diary...had been wrong.
I was a bad incubus.
Something squirmed inside, and I didn't like the sensation. Willoughby’s feelings for Magenta wasn't a crush; it was true love. He'd join us, but we couldn't play with him anymore.
It had to be real.
"Next time you wish to make someone feel," Lysander said, coldly, "how about feeling yourself?"
I was certain Lysander hadn’t meant that to sound so kinky.
Lysander turned, pulling Willoughby after him. Willoughby's head was ducked, and his shoulders shook. It was Magenta's cheeks, however, which were streaked with tears.
Where had the game gone so wrong? My currently sticky pants were evidence that this had been a fun evening...until it hadn't.
That squirming feeling was back. Incubi didn't do guilt; it made your hair limp. But the squirming feeling had to be because the game had been my idea.
"Follow Willoughby in your sexy Voyeur ghost form," I urged Magenta, fiercely. "Please, I can't go on the mission tomorrow, leaving behind someone who loves you...us...and who's in pain." My temples throbbed. Hector had never truly believed that I'd loved him because he'd been told too many times by bad bastards that he was unlovable. I dived forward, catching Magenta's hands between mine. Her magic sparked. "Love Willoughby. Save him."