The Lesson

The Lesson, Part 1
A Miracles fanfic story
by Laurel (Sailorhathor)

Rating: Adult 17+ for language and graphic sexual situations, including encounters between two men and in part 2, a threesome between two men and one woman.
Pairing: Alva/Paul. In Part 2, Alva/Paul/OFC
Timeline: Written in November-December 2003
Beta Thanks: Thanks to Brave Lass for the beta.
Author's Notes: This story came about because of a brainstorming session between my friend Brave Lass and myself. We were discussing various plot devices, and she mentioned that Paul could be possessed by a dying incubus. I thought it was a wonderful idea, to the point that I asked her if I could use it for this story. She granted her permission. This is how "The Lesson" was born.
The sexual content is all seductions aided by the supernatural. If sexual material bothers you, turn back now! Go! Shoo! If you're too young to be reading such stuff, please don't.
This story happens in a parallel Miracles universe different from any in which Paul and Alva could be related. It also is not meant to reflect on the actors who play these characters in any way; it only involves the fictional characters.
I did the best I could with the Sanskrit, but it might be slightly wrong.

        Alva raised his head from the book he was studying, listening intently to the sounds coming from the main office of SQ downstairs. He had heard an odd noise that sounded sort of like a person stumbling, and a door slamming. Evelyn was out of town on vacation, so that left... Paul. He had come into the office a little while ago, and climbed the stairs to tell Alva something, but he'd been too immersed in his book to really listen. Something about the psychomantium... Alva told Paul he would be down in a minute, but that had been at least twenty minutes ago.
        Only a week before, the two men had rolled up their sleeves and built the psychomantium chamber. It was an octagonal room, about the width of a love seat, with walls painted black. A mirror hung on each of its eight walls, including the back of the door. The purpose of the small chamber was for contacting spirits to divine replies to questions only they could answer. A useful device to those who were trying to prevent an Apocalypse, but, like Ouija boards, had its dangers when used improperly.
        As Alva started to stand up, he became aware of the strong smell wafting up the stairs. The odor... it smelled like sweat, and what could only be described as sex. Every smell one would associate with the act... it was all coming from the main office. Where Paul was.
        Alva opened his mouth to call Paul's name when his panicked voice came from downstairs. "Keel! I don't - I don't know what I did! KEEL!"
        Taking the steps two at a time, Alva sprinted at the urgency in Paul's voice. He spotted him backing toward the stairs, and then found his eyes drawn to the psychomantium chamber. The door was closed, which explained the sound of the door slamming, but what drew the eye was the black cloudy form floating in front of the chamber's entrance. Hovering and weaving, it seemed to be watching the two men as it audibly growled in their direction. The lascivious smells obviously came from this dark, undulating cloud.
        "Keel, what is it?!"
        Alva tried not to show any fear or panic; someone had to keep a level head. He walked a bit slower and more calmly down the remaining stairs. "Tell me what happened."
        "I told you when I came up there, I heard a voice coming from the psych... the..." Paul snapped his fingers a couple of times, trying to remember what the chamber was called.
        "Psychomantium chamber."
        "Yeah, that. It sounded like a child's voice; he said he was in trouble."
        "And needed your help?"
        "Yes," Paul replied, eyeing the black form.
        Alva refrained from rolling his eyes, but his voice was scolding as he said, "Paul, I told you, you have to be careful with the psychomantium. Some entities, evil ones, will use it as a gate into our plain. Did you invite it in here?" His grey-blue eyes darted from the entity to Paul, keeping watch over both.
        Sighing, Paul ran a hand nervously through his hair. "I told the child that he would be safer out here with me. I'm sorry, Keel, I guess I haven't learned as much as I thought."
        Alva glanced at Paul; it was hard to stay mad at him with his eyes so full of regret. "It's alright, we'll get rid of it. It's what we do. But don't use the psychomantium without me again, okay?"
        "Sure, but maybe we should discuss the rules of psychomania use later-" Paul began.
        "Psychomantium," interrupted Alva.
        Paul impatiently continued, "Psychomantium. Maybe we should discuss - Alva, it's moving!"
        Indeed the shapeless mass drifted closer to the two men.
        "What is it?"
        "Judging from the smell in here, and the fact that it seemed to be male when you spoke to it, I'd say it's an incubus," Alva surmised.
        Unable to hold it back, Paul let out a laugh, but stopped when he realized Alva was completely serious. "Keel, come on. Those are just stories that people created in the ancient past to explain sleep paralysis to themselves."
        "Oh? Then what's that?" He pointed at the slowly advancing entity.
        Paul was not going to argue with him now about it; there was something here... or a group hallucination. Either way, they had to get rid of it. "What do we do?"
        The creature seemed to be trying to take shape, like some sort of giant bat. Glowing green catlike eyes glared at them from within its depths. It growled again and mumbled, "Wait until dark." The voice rumbled, low and gravelly, like a man fighting pent-up sexual arousal.
        Wide-eyed, Paul's mouth worked like a dying fish as he looked from the incubus to Alva. He backed to the side of the stairs. "It's talking. We should..." What? Run? Just leave this thing in here?
        "Paul, listen to me. There isn't much it can do to us during the day. Incubi are creatures of the night. He cannot fully manifest until dark, not without possessing a human host," assured Alva.
        "I can make you pant and leave you begging for more," the incubus all but moaned.
        A bit more overt with his feelings, Paul made a face that showed how clearly disgusted he was with the idea of this thing touching him. Alva, however, was unfazed on the outside. "Oh? But you're an incubus. You only attack women."
        "Now who has something to learn?" The incubus seemed to laugh deep within itself. "Book learning is quite different from actual practice. Perhaps you need a lesson. Would you like to learn, Alva Keel?"
        Alva replied calmly, "No, thank you."
        The incubus chuckled. "Soon you'll beg for my lessons. Once the sun goes down."
        Obviously repulsed by every word this thing said, Paul spat, "How do we get rid of it?"
        "In this form? It can only be killed with a weapon blessed by a holy man."
        Paul incredulously exclaimed, "Where are we going to get that?!"
        Alva, grabbing Paul's arm, inched toward the portion of SQ that formed his office. "If it comes for me, you distract it."
        The incubus nearly roared and charged for Alva as he took off running for his office. Like Alva had told him to, Paul jumped in the way and waved his arms. "Hey, hey! You called to me, right? I'm the one you wanted."
        Stopping before him, the incubus looked quickly from Alva to Paul several times. Alva fumbled through a box in a slight panic; the creature hovered only a foot from Paul's face, and he could not find the few blessed weapons he'd managed to collect. If Evelyn rearranged his file boxes one more time...
        The incubus made a sound like a growly purr, and stretched out a tendril of mist, running it through Paul's hair in a strong caress. Paul hid his feelings as best he could, but he almost whimpered out loud at the creepy touch. "I would very much like to possess your soul," it said fondly. "Shiny. Wearing you down will be a pleasure."
        Trying to play along, Paul retorted, "I might be more of a challenge than you think. But you're welcome to try."
        "Ah!" Alva pulled a ceremonial dagger from the box. "Paul, catch!"
        He barely had his fingers on the tossed dagger when the incubus yanked down hard on his hair. Grimacing, Paul stabbed at it, causing it to let him go; it flew across the room toward Alva instead, thinking he was unarmed. What it did not know is that he also had a sword in the file box, which he now brandished, crying, "Prabhaavah maamikaam shastra, rijuh cha adhikaarah!" Alva slashed the incubus down the front; the gash stood out as a long slit of light. It screamed and careened right into him, slamming Alva back into the stacks of heavy file boxes before plummeting to his left, knocking over a cabinet and spreading files everywhere.
        Alva, grunting in pain, grimaced as he sank to the floor.
        Paul ran to him and pushed aside some teetering boxes. "Alva, you okay?!"
        "Never mind me; finish it off." He held up the sword.
        The incubus wheezed loudly like a dying animal. It faded in and out of sight; Paul did not know if this was because it was dying or attempting to disappear, to escape. Taking the sword, he leapt over some scattered boxes and pounced on the entity. It unexpectedly disappeared from sight just a second before the sword came down. CLANG! The weapon struck the floor as its tip speared through a file by accident. Paul cringed, but breathed a sigh of relief. The smell of the incubus began to fade from the office.
        "I think we got it," Alva said, and tried to get up. "Ahhhh! Ohhhh..."
        "Hey..." Paul ran back to his side. "You're hurt, aren't you? Should we go to the hospital?"
        "It's just my back. It does this sometimes, especially when demons toss me around my office," he said dryly. Alva motioned for Paul to help him up. "I'll be alright, I just need to keep it immobile as possible for several hours. Or, um, days."
        "Days?!" Putting the sword down, Paul wrapped his arm around Alva's back and draped one of Alva's arms over his shoulders, hauling him to his feet. Alva gritted his teeth and hissed. "Are you sure you don't want to go to the hospital?"
        "I'm sure. I just threw my back out, Paul, it's not like I suffered a head injury. Get me upstairs to my bed."
        Paul did what Alva asked of him, helping him up the stairs slowly; each step seemed to hurt him more than the last. "You should at least see a doctor once your back feels better, if this keeps happening."
        "Yes, yes, yes..." Alva mumbled dismissively. He wasn't used to someone fussing over him. "Help me onto the bed."
        Once he had Alva all propped up with pillows, Paul removed the other man's shoes so he could be more comfortable, and brought him the phone. "I better stay here tonight, in case you need anything. Is there something else you want before I go pick us up some dinner?"
        Alva couldn't help but smile; he was getting used to being taken care of like this. It was kind of nice for a change, though he would never admit it. "Get me my book from the desk."
        Paul did, asking, "What were those words you said before you killed the incubus?"
        "Prabhaavah maamikaam shastra, rijuh cha adhikaarah. It means, 'Guide my weapon, straight and true.'" Settling in, he reopened his book contentedly, keeping his arms low so the activity would not cause him pain.
        "That Sanskrit?"
        "Yes. Very ancient language." Alva pretended to be immersed in his book, but it did his heart good to know that Paul was concerned with learning things from him, despite his skepticism.
        Heading for the stairs, Paul called over his shoulder, "I'll take the dinner money out of petty cash."
        "Uhm hm." After a beat of silence, Alva actually comprehended what Paul had said. "What? You cheapskate!"
        Paul snickered. Downstairs, just as he was about to exit the office, Paul smelled that odor again, the odor of the incubus, before a strong breeze passed through him and he shuddered. Unknown to him, his eyes glowed bright green for several seconds, then settled back into their normal brown. Paul shook it off, wondering why he suddenly felt a little overheated, and headed out to the restaurant.


        It was nearly eleven when Alva, full of Chinese food (that Paul had insisted on feeding him) and pain killers, tossed his book across the bed and stretched. He groaned; not even the medicine could keep his back from hurting on that one. "I've got to remember - too soon to stretch."
        "You ready to get undressed for bed?" Paul asked. He'd been sitting at Alva's desk, playing with one of the brain-teasing toys the man collected.
        "Uh..." That was going to hurt. "Maybe I should just sleep in my clothes."
        "Nonsense. I've taken care of enough invalids to know how to do this without hurting you too much." Paul started rolling up his sleeves.
        "Invalid?! I am far from-"
        "You know I didn't mean it that way." He stopped, looking Alva over. "Do you want to shower before bed?"
        "Oh, no, that would hurt too much. Too soon."
        "Then it's a sponge bath for you." Paul headed into the bathroom.
        Fidgeting uncomfortably, Alva tried to think of an excuse to get himself out of this. A bath would feel awfully nice, but it was embarrassing to have anyone wash him, especially Paul. "I don't need one tonight. It's alright, Paul. I'll probably be in less pain and can take one tomorrow."
        "Keel, it's no trouble." Paul came back into the bedroom with a scrubby sponge and a lovely wash bowl with flower patterns on it filled with soapy water. "I didn't know you had one of these."
        "It's an antique. It was my mother's." He watched Paul put the items down on the bedside table. "Really, Paul, you don't - "
        "Hush," Paul replied in a commanding, but good-natured, tone. "If I'm going to stay here with you for several hours-um-er-days, I am not going to let you get gamey. All we need are some towels..."
        Shaking his head, Alva finally gave in. "You're in a good mood tonight."
        A small, feral smile came to Paul's face. Alva had no current idea what lie behind that smile. "Lift your arms up. Off with your shirt."
        Alva wore one of his V-neck shirts that was soft, like a sweater. Slowly Paul pulled it off over his head, not just to keep from hurting him, but so he could savor the act, though he was not totally aware of this desire himself. "Your shirt... I can see why you wear this one so much. It's soft."
        Cringing a little in pain as he lowered his arms, Alva murmured, "Uhm hm. You can just throw it in the hamper."
        He did not notice Paul lingering over the shirt, running it through his fingers. After checking to make sure Alva wasn't watching, Paul sniffed the shirt before lobbing it into the hamper. His smirky smile widened, and he turned to face the other man.
        Watching Paul inch onto the bed, Alva chuckled at him with furrowed brow. "What are you smiling at me like that for? Did you take a nip before you came in here? You found the Scotch I hid behind the toilet paper!"
        Paul, snickering himself, motioned for Alva to hand him the washing supplies. "Maybe. We just don't get the chance to do anything non-paranormal together very often." He wet and soaped up the scrubby sponge.
        "And this is what we do," laughed Alva. He moved his head where Paul indicated he should, this way and that, so he could scrub his ears and neck, every little crevice. Alva found himself actually relieved that Paul had suggested this and that he did not seem to mind; it always felt better to be clean. As Paul sponged the soap off his neck, Alva commented, "I'm quite surprised that you're so willing to do this for me."
        Paul, looking at him, asked, "Why?" as he dried off the wet spots.
        "Well..." Alva searched for the right words. "Sometimes I think you don't like me."
        Putting the sponge against Alva's shoulder, Paul squeezed it and watched the trickles of water run down his bare chest. It somehow did not even occur to him how strange it was to be so fascinated with such a thing concerning the other man. Paul was not quite himself. "Why would you think that?"
        Alva, happily oblivious to the thoughts running through Paul's head, gave a small shrug, the most he could muster without pain. "Let's face it, Paul, I can be a bit hard sometimes. It's no secret, I know. A bit... distant. You're always calling me 'Keel' instead of Alva... though you have been softening up on that lately." He said that as if he'd just realized it. "In fact, I think you've called me by my first name several times tonight." Alva grinned.
        Absently, Paul started to wash his chest. "I never hated you." That was a boldface lie, but Paul felt like bending the truth tonight. "I was mad at you some of the time, but we didn't know each other well." Squeezing out the sponge, he was overtly aware of the sounds the water made; splish, drip drip drip. All of Paul's senses felt wide awake. "Everyone acts a bit hard now and then."
        He slowly became aware that everything he took in with his senses, from touch to smell to sight, revolved around Alva, and how nice it was to do this for him. The Paul part of his mind could not make sense of this, didn't try, but a part of him that he was yet unaware of understood it completely. This part, the incubus part that did not belong there, tapped at portions of Paul's brain to stimulate them, or seize control of them. Pleasure centers, memory repressors, impulse control mechanisms... all in hopes it would be able to take full power over his body before the night ended.
        Alva lightly shrugged. "I guess. But, ah, thank you for helping out tonight. This would all be nearly impossible for me if you weren't here."
        "You wouldn't be hurt if I hadn't messed up." Paul laughed a little. "Besides, think of all the times you've put up with me, getting conked on the noggin."
        Smiling, Alva looked down at Paul's hand on his chest, absently making circles in the same place. "I think you've taken care of that spot by now."
        "Oh, yeah..." Paul actually blushed, putting the sponge back in the water to rinse it.
        A slight frown came to Alva's lips. Paul seemed preoccupied, far off, at times tonight. Like he had something on his mind. "Paul, don't feel guilty about your little mishap with the psychomantium today, alright? We all make mistakes when dealing with the supernatural. Evelyn and I made some doozies our first few months out."
        Just nodding in response, he washed Alva's stomach in reflective silence, which made him squirm. "You ticklish?"
        "There, yes, a little." Alva stifled a giggle.
        Paul, grinning with amusement, rinsed him off and toweled his chest and tummy a bit. "Okay, lift up," he instructed, tapping Alva's arm.
        Alva lifted his arm, but scowled; the action did take some use of his back. Carefully Paul scrubbed his underarm, yielding more squirms and minor wiggles.
        "Ticklish there too?"
        "Yes," Alva smiled.
        "Lots of people are. Shouldn't take long."
        Once he'd finished Alva's arms, Paul moved to wash his face, because he had missed it before. "You're going to put that sponge on my face after it's been under my arms?"
        Paul quietly chuckled. "Sponges are self-cleaning. It gets washed as I'm washing you. Now quit your complaining long enough for me to scrub this face or you'll get a mouth full of soap." This handsome, expressive face with the haunting eyes...
        Strangely, these thoughts did not disturb him, though they normally would, being that conscious of Alva's looks. Paul had no idea how much of his actions were being controlled from within by the dying invader that had no intention of letting go of its last chance to stay alive.
        Toweling off Alva's face, Paul sighed. "It's not really possible to do your hair in bed; too wet. We'll have to wait until you can get in the shower." He ran a hand through Alva's brown, wavy hair, happy for an excuse to do it. "It's not greasy, so it can wait. Did you hit your head when the demon knocked you into those boxes? I don't feel any bumps." Why was he making up excuses to continue to touch the man's hair, and caress at his head and the back of his neck, pretending to check for lumps? Paul wanted to be alarmed at his behavior from deep within himself, but that feeling quickly passed.
        Alva simply shook his head, leaning into Paul's hand a little. His touch was soothing, as Alva was growing very tired. "Thank you," he remarked, closing his eyes for a few moments and yawning. "You take good care of me."
        This got the biggest grin out of Paul that night; damn, that was cute. He was touched at the way Alva almost cuddled into his hand, like he enjoyed it. Alva, though, saw nothing of this smile because it was gone by the time he opened his eyes. Taking his hand from the soft tresses where his fingers would have liked to have stayed almost produced a whimper from him, but Paul held it back. "Well, let me get some fresh water, and when I come back, we can do your lower half."
        Paul had gotten off the bed with the bowl in his hand before Alva's sleepy mind comprehended what had just been said, and his eyes popped open. "What? Did you say lower half?" That possibility was far more embarrassing! "Paul, that's really not necessary."
        "Oh come now, lower parts get just as dirty as upper parts."
        Alva wrinkled his nose; for some reason, that sounded very naughty. "But... ah... I'm really very tired now."
        "I can go fast."
        Now didn't that sound innuendous! "Um... I... I'm not sure it's such a good idea."
        Paul emerged from the bathroom with the wash bowl. "What's the matter?"
        "Well... it's sort of embarrassing to have someone else wash your..." His eyes gestured downward, toward his crotch. ""
        Shrugging, Paul got back on the bed. "You and I have the same 'parts,' Keel," he reminded Alva, before unbuttoning his pants.
        Oh Alva was awake now! His face flushed. "Why don't you let me do it?"
        Scoffing, Paul retorted, "You can't even move your arms around without pain; you're going to lean over and wash your feet? Quit being such a baby. I've seen it all before."
        Realizing he could not squirm his way out of this, Alva sighed, and relaxed. Perhaps he could have yelled at Paul and gotten him to leave him alone, but was it really worth alienating the only person he had to look after him while his back was out just to save a little discomfort? He cleared his throat as Paul unzipped and removed his pants and underwear. Hey, at least that gave him something new to concentrate on, because no matter how gentle Paul was, it still hurt. Pain! It was amazing how much one used the back for something as simple as taking off one's pants.
        Paul cringed with him; he could see the pain on Alva's face and in his eyes. "Ooh, I'm sorry, I'm being as gentle as possible. All off."
        "I know... I know you are." Now naked and pain subsiding, Alva had the time to let the embarrassment wash over him. It was weird, the first time you were naked in front of a friend. Awkward. Especially in a near-helpless state. He tried to keep his eyes from meeting Paul's as he soaped up the sponge.
        "So, are we going to have more squirming when I do your feet?"
        Alva snickered, glad for the release in tension.
        "Lots of people have ticklish feet, you know." Reaching down, Paul grabbed one of Alva's bare big toes and shook it playfully. "Even Scotsmen."
        "Hehheh, leggo," Alva laughed, instinctively jerking his foot away. That was followed by a brief scowl in reaction to the twinge in his back. "Knock off the merriment and get me washed. I want to go to sleep."
        "Yes, master," chuckled Paul. Starting on Alva's feet, he did as he was told, with a smirk. But the 'merriment' certainly wasn't over.
        Maybe this was not as bad as Alva first thought it would be. He kept a towel handy for Paul while he scrubbed in-between Alva's toes and up his legs, finally leaving nothing left to cleanse but his crotch. When Paul began bathing the crease of his thigh, Alva cleared his throat and looked about, the awkwardness creeping back in. Best to just wait it out, not speaking.
        Paul buffed a towel up under Alva's crotch before continuing. The first touch of his soapy fingers on Alva's balls almost made him inhale sharply, but he kept control of himself. He hoped Paul would do this quickly before it got too weird... but why did it seem like he was bathing this area far too carefully? Alva could feel at least two of Paul's fingers tracing over every wrinkle, scrubbing slowly over each ball and at the space in-between them, until it started to feel pleasurable.
        Alva, clearing his throat again, found himself unsure if he wanted Paul to just hurry up and get finished or continue on the way he was going. For some reason, these thoughts did not disturb Alva the way they normally would have, but he was not fully aware of the smell entering the room. The smell of sex. Apparently, this odor not only signified the presence of the incubus, but also had an effect on the prey... a relaxing, compliant, but sexually arousing effect.
        Silently, Paul wrapped those slender, long fingers around the shaft of Alva's cock and worked it into a lather, up and down, back and forth. Alva briefly closed his eyes as he felt himself beginning to respond. Mmm... that felt good... my God, Paul was lingering there, wasn't he? Not just washing him, but deliberately stroking him, trying to turn him on. Paul used his entire hand to massage the area, fingers and palm rubbing down Alva's crotch and through his pubic hair.
        Something from within Alva told him he had to stop this, no matter how relaxed he was and how good it felt. Something just was not right here. His eyes slowly opened, and he spoke as nonchalantly as he could. "Paul... I think you've... taken care of that spot by now."
        Alva realized Paul was staring right at him, and probably had been the whole time. The expression on his face could only be described as mischievous and amused. What the hell was happening between them? Why was Paul so fascinated with his reaction... and why had Alva reacted?
        "Whatever you say," Paul all but breathed quietly. Removing his hand from that spot, he rinsed out the sponge, the smile lingering on his face.
        Alva, sighing, smiled a little too; he was glad to have this nearly done. Perhaps in the morning, he could figure out what this was all about. Maybe a dead incubus left behind a residue that caused such reactions. Yes, that made a lot of sense. Alva would read up on it.
        Holding the wet sponge above Alva's crotch, Paul squeezed the water out and chuckled darkly. But after that, he seemed to grow more serious and purposeful, finishing up the rinsing and toweling off of Alva's body.
        Heading for the bathroom, Paul called over his shoulder, "What pajamas do you want to wear?"
        "Oh, I suppose the black silk ones." Getting redressed would probably hurt, but he certainly had no intention of staying naked around Paul while he had that look on his face. Paul crossed to the dresser and got out the pajamas, unfolding them. It suddenly occurred to Alva that maybe Paul was not warming up to him as a friend at all. Maybe this whole scene was all a byproduct of the incubus. That possibility made him frown. It hurt.
        No, it really did seem like Paul was warming up to him in a friendly way before this night... unless he'd just been acting for the sake of SQ.
        "You okay?" Paul queried in a gentle voice.
        Putting on a forced smile, Alva replied, "Hm? Yes, I'm fine."
        "Okay." Paul's tone was thoughtful, like he suspected something had disturbed his friend. Sleep would do them both good. "Put your feet in here."
        Getting the pants on proved not to be easy. "Alva, hold on around my neck and pull up. I'll get these on as quickly as I can."
        Alva did as he suggested, and Paul pulled the pants up to his waist. Those stubborn feelings of attraction reared their head again; this was as close as they had come to an embrace all night. Paul didn't want it to end, but Alva let go and settled into the bed with an aching grunt.
        As much as he wanted to, Paul couldn't use the excuse of putting on the top for more contact--it would be too painful for Alva. "I think that's good enough. I didn't bring any pajamas; can I borrow some of yours?"
        "Sure." Letting out a slow sigh, Alva cuddled into the pillows propping him up and closed his eyes.
        Paul chose some striped bottoms to wear with his dark green undershirt. They were a little big for him, as Alva was a size larger, but he could deal with that. By the time he'd finished changing, Alva was breathing deeply, asleep.
        "Worn out, hm?" Paul commented to himself quietly, moving to the side of the bed to turn off the light. His hand stole out to smooth down an errant tuft of Alva's bangs, which he lingered over for several seconds before turning out the lamp, and backing slowly away from the bed.


        The room was dark, too dark to see anything, and his mouth felt dry. Alva tried to sit up, but his back let out a scream, so he settled down. Some more pain killers would be really nice; at least he could move his arms without pain now. So the resting had helped.
        "Paul?" he called. Alva could see the couch through the open bedroom door, and the moon was still out, providing light through a window. The couch was obviously empty. Where could Paul be in the middle of the night? "Paul?" How long had he been asleep?
        Looking to the bathroom, Alva caught sight of something green, glowing in the dark. Almost like a couple of small lights hovering over the bed. He slowly reached for the lamp cord so he could turn the dial and switch on the light. It seemed like forever before he found it... was that breathing he heard in the dark? Click.
        Alva let out a cry of shock when he saw Paul sitting on the bed, just staring at him. How long had he been there?! Even more of a shock were his eyes. No longer brown, they glowed green, and the irises and pupils had narrowed into slits, much like a cat's eyes. Like the eyes of the incubus. Oh no... Alva had not expected this! The demon was still alive, and had apparently possessed Paul!
        His head leaning a bit to the side, Paul looked at Alva and began to speak. "I can feel myself dying, Alva Keel." His voice sounded low and growly, as if he did his impression of the incubus. "Slipping awaaaaaay... you stabbed me."
        "Uh... apparently I did." Alva, swallowing hard, asked, "What's your name?"
        "I'm not falling for that. To know my real name is to have power over me." Paul tilted his head the other way. "They call me Inky."
        "Inky? Inky the incubus?!" Alva stifled a laugh. "Why do all the demons they send to take us out have such weird nicknames? First Mr. Friendly, now Inky."
        "I'll treat you nicer than Friendly did. Just help me." He motioned to his body. "Paul is fighting me. I need the body to survive. I'm dying, I can feel it. I'll find a way to take Paul with me."
        Almost laughing, Alva shook his head. "You don't have that kind of power. Don't threaten what you can't deliver."
        "When he sleeps, I take full control. When he's awake, I can still direct Paul's actions. Have you forgotten the feel of his hand already?"
        Alva closed his eyes and took a deep breath on those words, a little disturbed at the memory. "I remember. But I won't help you take over Paul's body."
        "You don't want to like it, I understand. You're not accustomed to feeling this way toward Paul, or any man." The room began to fill with that scent again, the scent of sex that intoxicated everyone who smelled it. "But I can make it easier for you."
        "No." Alva tried to get off the bed, but flopped back onto his pillows with a hand to his back. "Uhh, oh Christ..."
        "Soon, you'll enjoy my lessons, Alva. I told you you would." Paul crawled across the bed, closer and closer.
        "I know what you do. You wear people down until they're too exhausted to fight, then you get them to pledge their soul to you. I won't do it, and I won't let Paul do it either." With a grimace, he leaned forward to take hold of Paul's shoulders, and shake him. "Paul, I know you're in there. Keep fighting. Don't give in."
        "Paul hasn't been very happy lately, Alva. All of these strange things, so many people in pain, and no way to do any good here either. It's all so hopeless."
        "No! No it's not!" Taking hold of Paul's face with both hands, Alva stressed, "I know you want to do good in this world, Paul. You want to help. We'll do whatever good we can, I promise you, alright? But you can't give up on us yet. We can't always control the other side."
        "Don't give up on SQ?" Paul suddenly spoke in his own voice again. "Or don't give up on you?"
        Alva watched Paul's eyes transform back to normal, then glow green again, then back to brown, but still cat slivers. "Both," he answered softly.
        "You want me to trust you. It's very important to you," Paul whispered matter-of-factly, as if speaking low would keep 'Inky' from hearing. "I'm learning to. Do you know how to get us out of this?"
        Nodding, Alva explained, "I can figure it out, but I need my files. Go downstairs - "
        Suddenly the green seeped into Paul's eyes again. "You don't seem to understand how this works, Alva." The gravelly voice. "You need to cooperate." He leaned in close.
        At that distance, Alva could smell Paul's aftershave, and some sort of cream rinse in his hair. And that ever-present smell of sex. He smelled good. Paul's mouth hovered near Alva's; he could feel the other man's breath on his lips. "What are you trying to accomplish here, 'Inky'?" he asked in a low voice.
        "A lesson. You think you're so strong, Mr. SQ, but I don't think you can handle this." A smile came to Paul's lips, and their eyes met. "I think you'll crumble. You'll take Paul down with you."
        It was an obvious challenge, but it still made Alva mad. "You don't know me." He took a deep, shaky breath as his body began to respond to the various scents, the warmth of Paul's body hovering over his... Alva knew the incubus had much of the sexual control here, but that was the point, right? To get back the control? To react to this creature's aphrodisiacs and still come out with your will in tact? It could be the only way to drive the demon out of Paul. "I accept your challenge. But not with you. Let Paul out."
        The incubus laughed from within him. "Fine. But you do realize that doing it that way is more dangerous for you, don't you? The soft brown eyes, the moans in Paul's own voice, the scent of him... you might like it too much. Inky disgusts you. Paul doesn't. You want to keep him from harm."
        "Maybe that's my place in all this." The smells in the room were becoming stronger; they drove Alva crazy. He relaxed and gave in to that, knowing it was necessary. "Are you afraid it will give me an edge over you?"
        Paul scowled; Inky obviously did not like that comment. His eyes instantly returned to normal - brown, and round. "Alva..." Suddenly Paul sounded scared, speaking in his own voice. "I'm having trouble holding on. I can feel myself slipping away."
        "I'm not going to let you disappear, alright? It's okay." Alva tenderly stroked the side of Paul's head. "When we get out of this, we've got to work on your susceptibility," he chuckled.
        "I don't understand what's happening to us. It wants my body so it can go on living, but it wants your soul, too."
        "Paul, having an incubus around is like taking the world's most effective aphrodisiac, especially when they 'turn it on.' Their power is almost impossible to resist." Alva laughed to himself. "Why would it want my soul? It can't be nearly as 'shiny' as yours."
        Paul hung close to Alva's neck, breathing warmly against it. "It's still a prize. All those layers... grey corners... hidden... chambers..." Pressing his lips to Alva's neck, he dropped several small kisses up to his ear.
        Alva, breathing heavier, sunk a hand into Paul's hair and let out a deep, aroused sigh. How could one man have such soft lips and fluffy hair? Running his fingers through it reminded him of petting his childhood puppy... except it had never felt this good when the puppy licked his neck. Paul's tongue traced the fold of Alva's throat until his lips brushed the tip of his earlobe. That brought a delicious shiver from Alva. "Uhhh... Paul..."
        Gingerly he sucked Alva's earlobe into his mouth and nibbled on it, enjoying how it made Alva catch his breath and let it back out shakily, how he was starting to pant. Paul rolled it between his teeth and breathed out into Alva's ear. "You smell incredible. It turns me on," he whispered.
        Alva had to chuckle deeply at that one. "Well, you should know what scent of soap you washed me with." He massaged the back of Paul's neck, toying with the hair there. "So do you."
        Continuing up the ridge of his ear, Paul used his hand while he used his tongue. He stroked at the front of those black silk pajama bottoms, caressing the hardening cock through them.
        "Mmmmrrrruhhh... Paul, you're a lot more aggressive than I ever expected."
        "Do you like it?" he murmured.
        "You can't tell?!"
        Snickering, Paul rubbed at the lump with his long, slim fingers. "You feel good." He leaned back so their eyes met. "I've always thought your eyes were the most haunting shade of crystalline blue I've ever seen. They're sort of green... grey... blue. Ever since the day I met you I wondered what sort of secrets hid behind them. They are such perfect eyes for concealing things."
        Alva, taken aback, searched the other man's face. "It isn't safe to tell people everything. Not in this world. I'm a... very private man."
        Paul's lips brushed lightly at his, tentatively; he started to pant just at the anticipation of this first kiss. "You should let me in more. I can handle more than you think." He pressed his mouth to Alva's, who kissed back. The first kiss was gentle, and very tender. But inside, Alva did wonder how much Paul could handle. When this was all over, would it cause him great distress to know that they had been intimate? Would Paul leave SQ? Alva desperately did not want this incident to make Paul leave, or possibly cause him mental problems. This definitely needed to be kept in the right perspective. Maybe he could help that along, if Paul would let him.
        His thoughts were soundly interrupted when Paul slid his hand inside the pajama bottoms, took hold of his cock, and started to stroke it down. Alva actually growled as he grabbed the back of Paul's head and pressed his lips to his; they shared several hard, passionate kisses. Paul moaned into Alva's mouth. Turns out Inky was right - hearing Paul moan in his own voice did make it tougher for him to control himself.
        "Mmm, Alva!"
        More difficult by the second! "Oh, God..."
        "You feel so good!" Wrapping his free arm around him, Paul began to pet his hair, running his fingers through it. He was careful not to aggravate Alva's back, but he wanted to get as close as he could, to feel their bodies pressed together. They shared more intense kisses and caresses - hands and fingers moving over heated skin - until Alva worked at Paul's T-shirt, yanking and pulling it up clumsily but desperately, and grunting at a couple minor twinges of back pain. Paul noticed, and so leaned up, stripping off the shirt. They both sighed as Paul laid against him again, skin on skin. His hand going back to work between the other man's legs. "Alva... mmm..."
        "Oh, lord, that's good. That's so good," Alva moaned in return.
        One more deep kiss, and Paul pulled slightly away. "I think you'll find this better." He smirked as he kissed at each of Alva's lips, sucking lightly, and then made his way down his chest.
        A smile spread slowly across Alva's face. "Do you know where you're going, Paul?"
        Between kisses on each of his nipples, Paul replied, "I do."
        If the intimacy they had already shared had the potential to torment Paul, how would this act look in the light of day? "Are you sure you know what you're doing?"
        "Why don't you be the judge of that?" Paul's head dipped down.
        "No, that's not what I - " Alva harshly sucked in a breath as the first throbs of pleasure moved up his body from between his legs. "Ahhhh, Paul! Ohhhhhh..."
        Treating Alva's cock like a Popsicle, Paul eased it up into his mouth as he swirled his tongue around the head of it. Just doing the things that had felt good to him with girlfriends of the past. The technique seemed to be working well by the look of ecstasy on Alva's face, and the way his breathing continued to quicken. Paul brought his head back up, drawing the cock out of his mouth to give the head of it an appreciative, sucking kiss, before going down anew.
        Alva, panting, sunk one hand into the younger man's dark hair again, and ran the other down his side. The way this felt, and the sounds! He thought he might lose his mind! Alva let out a heavy, heated sigh when he noticed how loosely the striped pajama bottoms hung on Paul's hips, so that the trail of hair leading down from his bellybutton plainly showed. Alva traced that trickle of hair with one finger.
        Letting out a surprised noise, Paul looked up at him hungrily and mimicked that act by following a pulsating vein in Alva's cock with the tip of his tongue.
        "Uhhhrrrr!" Alva growled. He yanked the pajama bottoms down and gripped Paul's cock in his hand, pumping it slowly at first.
        "Mmmmgod, Alva..." Paul nibbled at his bottom lip, sucked on it, and sighed heavily. "Mmm... uhhhh... don't stop..." He put his mouth back to work, still moaning.
        "Oh, I'm not going to stop," Alva all but snarled passionately. With an impish expression, he sped up the rhythm of his hand stroking down Paul. Paul, in reaction, bobbed his head up and down quicker, sucking and licking and taking it in as far as he could while his hand massaged Alva's balls.
        They went on like that, Paul's tongue caressing Alva and Alva's fingers fondling Paul in return, for several minutes. Alva's index finger followed the rim of Paul's cock head longingly, and his face flushed; he watched the other man's cock near spasms. They were both on the edge of cumming.
        "P... Paul... I'm... I'm so close," he panted. "Are you sure... you might not... want to..."
        Paul's free hand crept up Alva's chest, where he rubbed softly over his nipples, fairly clearly indicating to him that he knew exactly what he was doing. Getting the green light, Alva surrendered to it and rode out the waves of mind-numbing pleasure.
        "Oh Paul... yes... yeeeessss... uhhhhggrrrr... uhhh... Paul... God, oh God, oh PAUL!!"
        At first he seemed surprised when Alva came in his mouth, or rather just unprepared for how intense it would be, what pressure would come shooting down his throat. Paul made a small, surprised noise, took hold of the shaft, and carefully swallowed down all of Alva's cum. As he licked off the head, he suddenly moaned out loud.
        Alva felt the pre-orgasmic tremors in Paul's cock in his hand, not that he couldn't plainly see the other man's body shaking in anticipation. He aimed for a nearby pillow, just to keep the bed as clean as possible. There was no telling what condition the two of them would be in when the incubus was done with them for the night.
        "Ahhhh, ahhhh, Ahhhhlva... Al... va... don't stop. Don't stop! Ahhh! I'm gonna... ohhh Al... AlvvvAAAA!!"
        He continued stroking off Paul as he came, for the most part, on the pillow, easing him down until he'd spent himself. Paul made the most delicious little noises, like breathy moans, while he finished climaxing. Still panting himself, Alva had to smile at their almost mutual gratification.
        Paul exhaustedly laid his head on Alva's thigh and worked to catch his breath. "That was... that was... intense isn't an... intense enough word."
        Chuckling, he brushed Paul's hair out of his eyes. "How do you feel? Still slipping away?"
        He thought about that for a second. "Not sure. I'm still not alone in here, but I feel more in control than I did before." Paul pulled up his pajamas. "These don't fit so well, but they're all I could... find..." He suddenly flopped back on the bed, losing consciousness.
        "Paul?!" Leaning forward, Alva shook Paul's shoulder, ignoring the pain in his back. He had not thought about the pain for a while, almost like he forgot about it, but he had been distracted, hadn't he? Paul did not respond.
        Alva redressed himself, pulling up his own pajama bottoms, and started to get up so he could get the smelling salts. Just as quickly as he had passed out, Paul's eyes fluttered open. "Keel?"
        Grimacing, Alva eased himself back onto the bed. "Are you alright?"
        Paul seemed absolutely bewildered. "What... are you okay? You're sweating."
        Frowning, Alva pointed out, "So are you."
        Paul looked down at himself. "When did I take my shirt off?"
        The realization washed over Alva, who closed his eyes for a moment in an attempt to stave off the panic. "You have a memory lapse?"
        "Yeah." Picking the shirt up, he asked, "What happened?"
        Alva discreetly turned the wet pillow over, while Paul had his shirt over his head. He didn't remember their encounter! At least not currently. Was that the work of the incubus or Paul's own mind? Would it last? "I'm not totally sure, Paul. I woke up in the middle of the night with back pain, called you in here to get me some pills, and... I guess I have a memory lapse too."
        "What could've caused it?"
        "I think it has something to do with the incubus. We'll research it in the morning."
        "Okay. I'm really tired." Paul stopped speaking for several moments while he surveyed the room, furrowed eyebrows showing his confusion. "Did I get you the pills?"
        "Okay, I'll get them now. With some water." He paused. "I need a drink of water, too." Paul put a couple of fingers to his lips and smacked them, rolling his tongue around in his mouth. "That's an unfamiliar taste." With a shrug, he went into the bathroom.
        Alva squeezed his eyes shut for a moment on those words, pushing down the alarm that threatened to force its way to the surface. Paul didn't remember any of it, and he did! Was this a good thing? Where did they go from here? He was not even sure how he felt about all this; was it even possible to just file this away as part of a case and go on working together? The things they'd just done!
        Get it together, Keel. First thing's first. The incubus had to die. But although he was handling things so far... had handled the "lesson"... maybe he couldn't finish this alone. Alva had to get his back straightened out or he'd be no good to Paul or himself.
        Coming back with the water and medicine, Paul handed both to Alva, sipping at his own cup. "I'm gonna turn in. Night." He headed for the living room, but stopped and turned back. "Alva Keel."
        Alva looked up, not that surprised to see that Paul's eyes had turned green. "Yes, Inky?"
        "You learn your lessons well." He smirked. "But I'm still here, and I still have no intention of giving up this body. Right now, I must recuperate, but there will be more lessons. And you... you'll be the first to drop."
        Clearing his throat, Alva almost hissed, "We'll see."
        Paul, snickering, put his fingers to his lips again, as if reconsidering that taste. "Pleasant dreams."

On to Part 2

The Lesson Part 1 (c) 2003 Demented Stuff/The Pleasure of the People
Miracles is (c) 2003 Spyglass Entertainment & Touchstone Television

Comment on this chapter by e-mail

Back to Miracles Stories