Zenith of Desire: The Hollywood Incubus

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****

”Paris,” Marvin said, allowing himself to be led, his voice dropping an octave as the soul within him recognized the feast being offered. ”We should discuss—”

”Discuss?” She laughed, a brittle sound like breaking glass wrapped in velvet, echoing off the pink walls. ”Marvin, baby, I didn’t lure you here to discuss Transformers.” She stopped at the entrance to the bedroom, her hand sliding down his chest, past his abs he was creating, to rest against the growing hardness in his trousers. She could feel him already, thick and heavy against the fabric, impossibly large for his thirteen-year-old frame. ”Though I do have something... transforming... that I’d like to show you.”

Her touch was electric, desperate, her fingers trembling as they worked his belt. Marvin could feel the vibration in her hands, the way her pulse raced beneath her skin like a rabbit in a snare. Through his passive soul-scan, he saw the unspooling trauma—the transport company dragging her from her bed at three AM, the concrete cell at Provo Canyon, the strip searches that had taught her that her body was not her own, the forced medication, the solitary confinement.

’The audacity of this creature,’ Marvin thought, though his vessel’s teenage heart hammered against his ribs in staccato appreciation.

”Where are these toys you mentioned?” he asked, maintaining his mask of polite confusion even as his cock strained against her grip And pretending to be an innocent child in the absence of internet age.

Paris stepped back, her hands moving to the thin straps of her slip dress. The fabric was silk, expensive, probably cost more than most people’s monthly rent, and she slid the straps off her shoulders with deliberate slowness, the material pooling at her feet like spilled Pepto-Bismol. Beneath it, she wore the white string bikini—the same one from their first meeting at the auction, or perhaps its twin in a drawer full of identical garments—and the ghost of her former innocence.

”Wrong kind of toys,” she whispered, pulling the string at her hip with a practiced flick. The bikini bottom fell away, revealing a pink pussy that had never known a man, waxed bare in preparation for this moment, glistening slightly with the arousal she couldn’t hide despite her nervousness. ”I told you—I have something even pinker to show you..”

Marvin’s breath caught—not from surprise, but from the raw, jagged desperation radiating from her like heat waves. She was offering him her virginity like a shield, bartering innocence for security, and the darkness in him recognized the purity of that transaction.

”Paris,” he said, his voice dropping into the register that made her knees weak, the soul stirring beneath his skin. ”You don’t have to—”

”I want to,” she interrupted, stepping out of the fallen fabric completely naked now, glorious in her vulnerability and gorgeouness. She was five inches taller than him, making her look like some pagan deity of excess and damaged glamour, her breasts high and perfect with nipples the color of bubblegum, already peaking in the air-conditioned chill of the suite. ”I want you inside me, Marvin. I want you to be my first. My protector. My master.”

The word hung between them, loaded with meaning from the second scene she had imagined a thousand times in the facility. She moved toward him with the predatory grace of a broken thing reassembling itself as a weapon.

Her fingers found his belt, tugging it open with practiced efficiency that belied her virginity—she had clearly studied for this moment and had some practice, prepared for it like a final exam.

”You’re shaking,” Marvin observed, his hands remaining at his sides as she unzipped his trousers, letting them fall.

”So are you,” she countered, though it wasn’t true. He was perfectly still, a statue of restraint containing an inferno.

When she pulled his underwear down, his cock sprang free—thick and heavy for his thirteen-year-old frame, a manifestation of his true lustful nature and control over his body, veins pulsing along its length, the tip already leaking precum. Paris gasped, her eyes widening, her hand wrapping around his shaft with tentative reverence.

”Oh my god,” she breathed, her voice barely a whisper. ”You’re so... big. So much bigger than I thought. So thick...”

”Surprise,” Marvin said dryly, though his hips betrayed him, thrusting slightly into her grip, seeking more contact.

”Mmmm!”

Paris giggled, that high-pitched Hilton giggle that had launched a thousand tabloids and a million magazine covers, but it quickly morphed into a lower, raspier sound as she began to stroke him. Her palm was soft, her grip uncertain but eager, sliding from base to tip with a twisting motion that made him groan despite himself.

”I’ve wanted this,” she whispered, dropping to her knees on the pink carpet, the fibers soft against her skin. She was eye-level with his cock now, and she studied it with the intensity of a scholar, her tongue darting out to lick her lips in preparation. ”Ever since I saw you at that live Oscar performance. Ever since I realized you were the only one who looked at me and saw... me. Not the brand. Not the hotel heiress. Just Paris.”

She took him into her mouth without further preamble, her lips stretching around his girth, the wet heat of her inexperienced mouth enveloping him. She gagged immediately as she tried to take him deeper, her throat constricting around his tip, her eyes watering.

”Mmmph... gmmph... mmm...” she moaned around his length, the vibrations traveling up his spine, her long blonde hair falling forward to create a curtain of gold around her face.

Marvin’s hands moved of their own accord, threading through her hair, not guiding but anchoring, feeling the silk of it between his fingers. ”Paris... ah... careful, you’re teeth...”

She pulled back with a wet pop, saliva connecting her lips to his cock in a glistening string. ”Did I do it wrong? I’m sorry, I’ve never... I only read and heard from friends about it...”

”No,” he assured her, his voice rougher now, the soul peeking through his controlled facade. ”But I want to taste you first. Fair is fair. I want to know how my little bitch tastes.”

The crude word made her shiver, her pupils dilating with arousal. He pulled her up, his strength—lifting her easily despite her height and weight advantage. He carried her to the bed, tossing her onto the satin sheets where she bounced, her developing breasts jiggling, her legs falling open instinctively, revealing her virgin core.

”Marvin!” she squealed, but there was delight in it, not fear, her voice echoing off the pink walls.

He crawled up her body, his clothes still half-on, his cock dragging against her inner thigh leaving a trail of precum as he moved. He paused at her breasts, taking one pink nipple into his mouth and sucking hard, drawing the flesh deep, his tongue flicking the hardened peak.

”Ahhh! Oh god! Yes!” Paris arched her back, her hands flying to his hair, gripping tightly, pulling almost painfully herself. ”Yes... yes... like that...”

He switched to the other breast, biting down gently, then harder, leaving a mark that would bruise beautifully against her pale skin—a claim stamped in purple and red. Then he continued his journey south, kissing her navel, dipping his tongue into the shallow well of her belly button, feeling her muscles contract beneath him.

”Ooooh... Marvin...” she whimpered, her hips bucking upward, seeking friction, seeking him.

When he reached her pussy, he paused to admire it—pink and glistening, already soaked with her arousal, the hymen visible and intact, a thin membrane guarding her innocence. The scent of her was intoxicating, vanilla and musk and something uniquely Paris, something broken and rebuilt and desperate.

”Beautiful,” he murmured, his breath hot against her folds. ”My little Paris. My little bitch. So wet for your master already.”

”Yes,” she gasped, her hands covering her face in embarrassment. ”Yes, I’m wet... I’ve been wet since I saw you... since I pulled you into the room...”

He dove in, his tongue parting her folds with a long, slow lick from bottom to top, finding her clit with unerring accuracy. He flicked it, hard and fast, then slowed to long, languid strokes that made her toes curl.

”Oh! Oh my god! Marvin!” Paris cried out, her legs wrapping around his head, her heels drumming against his back. ”Yes... right there... oh... oh! Ahnnn!”

He inserted one finger, curling it upward, searching for that spongy patch of nerves while his tongue continued its assault on her clit, circling it, sucking it into his mouth like a tiny lollipop. The sounds filling the room were obscene—wet, slurping sounds of his tongue against her flesh mixed with Paris’s high-pitched moans and the rustle of satin sheets as she thrashed.

”Ahhhnnn... I’m... I’m gonna... oh!” She came suddenly, her body convulsing, her pussy clamping down on his finger as she squirted—a clear, hot gush that coated his chin, his neck, and the pink sheets beneath her in a fountain of release.

”Oh my god, I’m sorry!” she gasped, her face burning red, mortified. ”I didn’t mean to... I couldn’t help it...”

”It’s perfect,” Marvin interrupted, rising up to kiss her, letting her taste herself on his lips, the salt-sweet flavor of her orgasm mixing between their tongues. ”You’re perfect. My little squirter. Do you masturbate when you’re alone, Paris? Do you think of me?”

”Yes,” she admitted, tears in her eyes from the intensity. ”Sometimes... when I think of you... I touch myself... I’m a pervert...”

”Indeed you are,” he growled, positioning himself between her legs, his cock resting against her entrance. The heat radiating from her was intense, promising, begging. ”And you’re mine.”

With those words Marvin caught her face in his hands, bringing his mouth to hers. Their lips met, and simultaneously, the salty taste of her dinner filled his mouth.

He kissed her softly, his hands beginning to move around her body, feeling her figure. He hugged her tightly—awkwardly, given their height difference, her chin resting atop his head—and pressed her body against his. She was warm, trembling, already damp with anticipation against his thigh.

”Ahmnnn~~~~?” Paris sighed dreamily and twisted her body inside his arms, her hips grinding instinctively against his dick.

Marvin continued pressing his lips firmly against hers, then moved his tongue and slowly inserted it into her mouth. Paris made an expression of surprise, but her expression turned soft immediately after. She then moved her tongue excitedly and entwined it with his, her taller frame bending down to accommodate him, making her seem both dominant and vulnerable simultaneously.

The temperature inside the room increased slowly. Sweat began to appear on her skin due to the heat brought by their intertwined bodies, but neither stopped their kiss. The scent of her perfume—something sweet and expensive, vanilla and amber—mixed with the natural musk of her arousal.

After kissing for one minute, Paris began to feel out of breath. She tried to move her mouth away, but Marvin pressed forward and sucked fiercely at her saliva. Paris’s face turned red, and she tried to struggle more fiercely, but the pleasure brought by the kiss was so great that her body had turned soft, her knees buckling.

”Mmnnn—Marvin, wait—” she whimpered, her voice breaking.

He continued sucking her lips, moving his tongue slowly inside her mouth, their saliva mixing completely, her breath passing directly into him. He wanted her. He wanted to taste her entire body and make her his. When he finally felt that she was about to fall unconscious from the intensity, he ended the kiss.

”Pant... pant...”

Paris panted fiercely once their mouths separated, looking at him with tears in her eyes and a blushing expression that spread down to her chest. Her long blonde hair—casually styled in that iconic early-2000s look—framed her face like a halo.

”Marvin~~~~?”

She stared at him seductively before lowering her head in embarrassment, her height making her seem to curl in on herself to make herself smaller. Seeing that expression, Marvin felt his blood burning inside him.

Unable to endure the desire, he immediately sealed her lips with another kiss. Paris opened her eyes wide when she felt his mouth again, her long legs dangling off the edge of the bed.

She then closed her eyes and hugged his waist softly, pulling him between her thighs. Marvin began to move his hands through her body, beginning with her breasts—still in development phase—then her waist, and finally her ass, gripping the flesh hard enough to leave faint marks.

He could feel the elasticity of her breasts and ass, her ass deforming each time he moved his hands, changing to different forms each second, the silk bunching and riding up.

”Anhmnnnnnn~~~~~?” Paris moaned softly and twitched below his body.

She was getting wetter and wetter—He moved his hand towards her pussy.

****

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