Zenith of Desire: The Hollywood Incubus

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But he didn’t stop thrusting—he couldn’t, not with his lust driving him, not with her pleasure feeding him, making him stronger, hungrier. He pounded through her orgasm, extending it, amplifying it with his magic until she was screaming continuously, a high, broken sound that didn’t stop—

”Mmmmm~~oh-oh-oh~~ OHHHH—fuck—fuck— AHHHH— don’t stop— AHHHH—”

And then—darkness.

She came back to consciousness slowly, floating upward from a sea of black velvet pleasure. She was on her back, she realized dimly. When had he flipped her? Her body felt distant, disconnected, every nerve ending singing with aftershocks. She blinked up at the ceiling, then down at him—her lover, her shorter, stockier god of pleasure, kneeling between her thighs with a look of fierce satisfaction and undiminished hunger.

”You passed out,” he said, his voice smug and tender all at once. ”For twelve seconds. You screamed my name and then you went limp. I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.”

She tried to speak, but her voice wouldn’t work. She swallowed, her throat raw from screaming, and tried again. ”More,” she croaked.

His eyebrows rose. ”More? You just lost consciousness, my love. You need to rest. You need—”

”I need you to fuck me harder,” she interrupted, her voice gaining strength, her eyes blazing with a hunger that matched his own. She reached for him, her fingers gripping his shoulders, pulling him down to her. ”I don’t care if I can’t walk tomorrow. I don’t care if I can’t walk for a week. I want you to destroy me, Marvin. I want you to use me until there’s nothing left. Fuck me like you mean it. Fuck me like bastard you are.”

Something in his expression shifted—something beyond and absolutely thrilled. ”As my queen commands,” he whispered, and then he unleashed himself.

He lifted her, and carried her to the wall. He pinned her there, her back against the cool plaster, her legs wrapped around his waist, her taller frame requiring him to lift her higher, to hold her with arms that never tired.

He entered her in one thrust. ”OH—FUCK—” she cried out at the angle—gravity pulling her down onto him, making him feel even deeper, even thicker. The sound of their joining filled the room—Schlop~ Schlop~ Schlop~—wet and filthy, suction-like as he moved inside her.

”Hold on,” he warned, his eyes glowing like molten gold. ”This is going to be rough.”

He began to thrust with speed and force, his hips becoming a blur, his cock pounding into her with a force that should have hurt a little anyone if it wasn’t Marvin doing it as she only felt like heaven. The wall shook with the force of it—*THUD-THUD-THUD*—her back hitting the plaster with every stroke, picture frames rattling.

The sound of flesh on flesh intensified—SMACK-SMACK-SMACK-SMACK—sharp, percussive, relentless.

She was screaming—she couldn’t stop screaming—”~~OH—OH—GOD—OH—AHHH—FUCK—AHHH~” her nails raking down his back, her teeth finding his shoulder and biting down hard enough to draw blood.

He didn’t flinch. He could heal much faster, and besides, he liked this pain mixed with pleasure. It made it real. It made it theirs.

”Harder!” she demanded, her voice ragged. ”M~~Marvin! Fuck me harder, Marvin! I want to feel you in my throat! I want to feel you everywhere!”

He growled, a sound that wasn’t human, and complied. He fucked her with abandon, with the hunger of year.

SLAPSLAPSLAPSLAP

The flesh meeting flesh in a desperate rhythm. The sounds of their joining echoed off the walls—wet slaps, heavy breathing, her broken moans—”~~oh-oh-oh~OHHHH~~”

He reached between them with one hand, his fingers finding her clit, and sent a pulse of pure pleasure through her—a orgasm that hit her like a lightning bolt. ”~OH GOD~OH FUCK~~AHHHHH—” She went rigid, screamed until her voice gave out ”~AHHHHHHHH” making her see stars and then darkness again.

She woke up on the floor, she didn’t know how much later, with Marvin kneeling over her, his cock in standing hard, stroking her ass softly, he watched her with those blue eyes.

”Welcome back,” he said softly. ”You were gone for twenty seconds that time. Your heart stopped for a moment. I had to restart it with a kiss.”

She should have been afraid. She wasn’t. She felt reborn. ”Again,” she whispered.

He laughed, a rich, delighted sound. ”~My insatiable queen...” He lifted her again, carrying her to the desk, sweeping aside papers and hotel brochures and the phone, laying her across the polished wood. He spread her legs wide, looking down at her with a reverence that made her feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.

”You can’t walk tomorrow,” he told her, positioning himself at her entrance. ”You understand that? I’m going to fuck you until your legs stop working. Is that what you want?”

”Yes,” she sobbed, arching up toward him. ”Please, yes. Make me yours completely. Break me and remake me. Only you, Marvin. Only ever you.”

He entered her slowly this time, savoring every inch, watching her face as he filled her. ”~Ohhh—ohhh~~ god—ohhh—” she moaned, feeling every vein, every ridge. She was loose now, open from hours of use, but still tight around him, still gripping him like a fist. He settled deep, his hips flush against hers, and then he began to move—not with the wild abandon of before, but with deliberate, devastating precision.

Every thrust hit her G-spot.

~Slap~ ~Slap~ ~Slap~

Thighs meeting thighs, wet and rhythmic. Every withdrawal dragged against her sensitive walls.

Schlop~ Schlop~

Wet suction sounds filling the room. Every return pressed against her womb going through her cervix in a way that sent sparks of pleasure shooting through her abdomen. And he was using his aura now—she could feel the tendrils of sensation wrapping around her nerves, amplifying every touch, every pressure, every slide of skin on skin.

”Feel this,” he whispered, and sent a wave of warmth through her, starting at her core and radiating outward until her toes curled and her fingers spasmed. ”Feel what I can give you. Feel what only I can give you.”

She came again, and again, and again—”~OH~~AHHH~OH GOD~~AHHH~~FUCK~~AHHH—” orgasms rolling through her like waves, building on each other, overlapping until she couldn’t tell where one ended and the next began. The sounds of her pleasure filled the room.

Smack~ Smack~ Smack~

The sound of flesh, her ragged gasps—”ah-ah-ah-ah~~ can’t—breathe~~ ah-ah—”

She was crying, tears streaming down her face, her body convulsing with pleasure that bordered on pain, that crossed into pain and then back into pleasure.

”Marvin,” she gasped, her voice barely a whisper. ”I can’t—I can’t breathe—I can’t—”

”Let go,” he urged, his own voice strained, his control fraying. ”Let go completely. Trust me. I’ve got you. I’ll always have you.”

She let go. She surrendered completely, giving herself over to him, to the pleasure, to the darkness that edged her vision.

She felt him swell inside her, felt him lose control, felt him spill into her womb with a roar that shook the room ”~~UNNNHHHH—FUCK~~AHHHH~~” pulse after pulse of his release filling her, marking her, claiming her again.

And then she felt him harden again just in seconds, impossibly, and begin to move once more.

Slap-Slap-Slap

Slower now, but still relentless.

”One more,” he promised, his voice guttural, his eyes wild. ”One more, and then I’ll let you rest. One more, my love. Give me one more.”

He lifted her from the desk, carrying her to the window, pressing her against the glass. The city of LA spread out below them, lights twinkling, the world going about its business while she was being thoroughly, completely ravished by her lover.

”Let them see,” he growled, echoing his earlier words, his cock moving in slow, deep strokes—*thud-slap-thud-slap*—body hitting glass, then thrusting home. ”*Let them see what I do to you. Let them see how beautiful you are when you’re being fucked properly. When you’re being loved by someone who knows how to love women.”

”~~Mmm~~ ohh~ mmm~ ahhh~” she whimpered, unable to form words, her breath fogging the glass.

He reached around, his fingers finding her clit one last time, and sent a final surge of mana through her—a climax so intense it was almost spiritual. ”~~OH MY~~GOD—OH FUCK~~ AHHHHHHHH~~” Her body arched against the glass, her head thrown back, her mouth open in a scream ”~~AHHHHHHHHHH...” as every muscle in her body contracted at once.

She felt him join her, felt him spill inside her one last time.

”UNNNHHHH~ FUCK~ AHHHH~~” his release hot and endless, marking her as his, binding them together in a way that transcended the physical.

And then the darkness took her, gentle and warm, and she welcomed it.

---

The morning light of Los Angeles filtered softly through the blackout curtains of the Beverly Hills Hotel luxury suite, casting a warm, golden hue across the chaotic wreckage of the California king-sized bed. Tangled silk sheets lay completely ruined, discarded across the floor alongside the rest of the room’s casualties.

The suite looked less like a luxury hotel room and more like the aftermath of a small hurricane. Cushions from the sofa had been knocked onto the carpet. One of the decorative chairs sat crooked near the floor-to-ceiling windows, having been pushed several feet from its original position. The polished coffee table bore fresh scratches and a half-empty room service tray abandoned sometime during the night.

A crystal vase that had once decorated a side table now shattered, its pieces lying on the carpet, while scattered rose petals and discarded clothing formed an untidy trail stretching from the bedroom to the living area.

Even the blackout curtains hung unevenly, one side partially pulled loose during the night’s excitement. Beyond the glass, the Beverly Hills skyline basked in the early California sunshine, blissfully unaware of the chaos hidden inside the expensive suite.

Every overturned cushion, every displaced piece of furniture, and every trace of disorder served as silent evidence that the occupants had made full use of every corner of the luxurious room.

Beyoncé slowly fluttered her eyes open. The very first thing she registered was the safe weight of an arm draped across her bare waist.

She turned her head slightly, wincing at the immediate ache in her neck, and looked at the flawless, peaceful face of Marvin sleeping beside her.

Waking up from the heavy fog of exhaustion, a deep, satisfied smile curved her lips. She was completely naked, her back pressed flush against his warm chest. Her entire body felt heavy, battered, and thoroughly, exquisitely drained. A deep, radiating soreness pulsed through her lower back and thighs, and the intimate friction between her legs was a constant, throbbing reminder of the madness that had consumed them over the last ten hours.

Touching her own hip, she felt the faint bruises and the distinct indentations of his fingers in several places, and a hot flush of color crept up her neck.

’Lord have mercy... who would have thought this boy could turn into that kind of monster in the dark?’ she thought, shivering at the memory.

Remembering the filthy, desperate, beautiful things she had screamed into his ears last night, Beyoncé couldn’t help but feel a flicker of bashfulness. As a young woman meticulously trained to project grace and Christian purity to the media, it was staggering to realize the sheer, animalistic depths of pleasure he was capable of giving. She had completely lost her mind. She had begged him to ruin her. And he had delivered.

She raised a trembling hand and gently brushed a stray lock of hair from Marvin’s forehead. It was genuinely difficult to reconcile the terrifying, dominant, beast who had relentlessly claimed her all night with the serene, beautifully boyish figure currently breathing softly against her neck.

Yet, looking at him, she didn’t regret a single second of it.

Lying in the quiet luxury of the suite, her mind began to slowly drift back through the dark, agonizing labyrinth of her past. She thought about the very first time she was pushed onto a stage, the suffocating pressure of a microphone in her hand. She remembered the relentless, grueling hours in the sweltering Houston dance studios, running routines until she collapsed, entirely at the mercy of a father who viewed her vocal cords as his personal stock options.

To the industry, she was a commodity. To her father, Mathew, she was a brilliant, lucrative piece on a chessboard, destined to elevate the family name. She had spent her entire adolescence trapped in a beautiful, glass display case—admired by millions, but functionally owned by men in suits.

It was only when Marvin had stepped into her life, tearing the doors off that glass case with his terrifying charms, that she had finally drawn a real breath.

But even as they grew closer, she had harbored a deep, bleeding terror. The music industry was a wasteland of betrayals, broken contracts, and conditional affection.

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