Chased by My Mimic Lover
I pressed my spine against the weeping stone, lungs burning as the echo of bare feet slapped through the pitch-black corridors behind me. My fingers dug into the mortar, nails breaking as I scrambled for purchase in the dark. My mind relentlessly replayed every stolen night I’d shared with Sylvara—right up until the moment this imposter had peeled off the darkness and stolen her face. The thing chasing me knew exactly how she moved. It possessed the exact, predatory sway of her hips. But the eyes were a dead giveaway. They didn’t hold Sylvara’s warmth; they glowed with a pale, abyssal hunger.
“You can’t keep running from what you want, little bird,” the voice called out from the gloom. It was soft, lilting, a flawless imitation of the woman I loved. It sent a jagged shiver straight down my spine, a chill that instantly turned to liquid heat and pooled low in my belly. I clamped my eyes shut, hating the treacherous, involuntary clench of my thighs at the sound.
I bolted again, my heavy boots skidding over slick moss and wet flagstones. The creature’s laughter chased me, light and musical at first, until it warped into a vibrating, sub-harmonic growl that rattled my teeth in my skull. My pulse hammered violently between my legs. The terror of being hunted and the desperate, humiliating ache of arousal were twisting together so tightly I couldn’t tell them apart. A cold bead of sweat trickled down the valley of my breasts beneath my torn linen shirt.
A sudden, inescapable grip closed around my wrist, violently yanking me into a darkened alcove. I slammed into the wall, immediately pinned by a body that felt soft in all the places I remembered, yet possessed a crushing, inhuman strength. Sylvara’s stolen face hovered mere inches from mine. Her lips parted, exhaling a breath that was impossibly hot against my trembling mouth. Only the faint, iridescent shimmer shifting just beneath the flesh betrayed the monstrous lie.
I couldn’t look away. My trembling thumb reached up to trace that unnatural shimmer along her jaw, feeling a chaotic, thrumming pulse that didn’t belong to any living woman. The sensation lingered under my touch—it felt like touching a live wire encased in ice. I should have shoved the monster away, screamed, fought. But the hesitation stretched into a suffocating eternity, thick with paralyzing dread and a deep, ruinous desire.
“Let me taste you again,” it whispered. The voice dropped into a dark, reverberating register that made my nipples tighten painfully against my shirt. My breath hitched in my throat. I knew it was a monster. I knew she was gone. But instead of striking it, my free hand rose of its own accord, cupping the entity’s cheek, my thumb blindly brushing the too-perfect curve of its stolen bone.
Its mouth claimed mine with devouring hunger, a slick tongue plunging deep while the metallic tang of ancient rot flooded my senses. Shame coiled hot in my gut as I kissed back, mourning the real Sylvara even as my body arched into the lie. The creature’s claws raked downward, shredding what remained of my linen shirt until cool, damp air from the weeping stone kissed my bare breasts, followed at once by the blistering heat of its mouth latching onto one nipple. It suckled hard, teeth grazing with deliberate menace, and I whimpered at the cruel contrast between the catacomb’s chill and that unnatural furnace.
Strong hands worked lower, peeling my soaked pants down my trembling thighs with torturous patience. Every inch of exposed skin prickled under the frigid draft until the entity’s scalding palms cupped my ass and spread me open. A long, ridged tongue dragged through my folds, lapping at the shameful slickness already coating me, its vibrations rumbling like distant thunder while I fought the urge to grind against that grotesque, probing heat. My mind screamed betrayal—Sylvara’s face, her laugh, her death—yet my hips rocked helplessly, chasing the filthy friction that made my thighs quake.
Only when I was panting and dripping did the creature rise, pressing its grotesque, pulsating length against my entrance. The thick, veined shaft nudged inside with relentless pressure, stretching me around ridges that pulsed like living things. I sobbed at the invasion, grief and lust knotting together as it sank deeper, filling me until my walls fluttered around the alien girth. Its claws bit into my hips, anchoring me to the slick wall while it began a brutal rhythm, each thrust dragging wet, obscene sounds from my soaked cunt.
Every snap of its hips drove fresh waves of ecstasy through me, the monster’s guttural snarls mixing with my broken moans. I hated how my body surrendered, clenching greedily around the thing wearing my lover’s skin, yet the shame only sharpened the pleasure until it crested again, harder, leaving me convulsing and slick with its seed as it spilled in hot, pulsing jets.
We remained joined in the narrow alcove, its form gradually softening against my back while ragged breaths slowed. The entity eased free with surprising care, thick warmth trickling down my inner thighs as it guided me down to the cool flagstones. Its hand, now smooth and cool, brushed sweat-damp hair from my forehead, the touch lingering with eerie tenderness. I leaned into the steady weight of its palm on my thigh, heartbeat gradually easing in the hush of the catacombs, content to rest in the fading glow while the stone wept quietly around us.