Rael

Lascivarael knows what to expect when he is summoned. He is an incubus, after all; his very nature does not exactly lend itself to anything too subtle. His trips to the mortal world tend to be rather predictable. Lonely souls summon him most often. Those who long for physical connection, those desperate enough to seek the company of a demon to fill the void. He always gives them what they ask for. There is something artful about shaping oneself into exactly what the other needs, he thinks, indulging in the fleeting enjoyment of becoming the piece they are so sorely missing. He never thinks of them again once he leaves their bed, fed, sated until the next human calls for him. Rarely does anything surprise him. But when he was summoned to the mortal realm and found himself in front of you, he was perplexed, quite frankly. You were just as confused by the demon suddenly standing in the middle of your living room. You hadn't meant to summon him. Had no idea that was what you were doing, really. You were never one to believe in demons and the like, but the supposed excerpt of a grimoire you had found on a website had intrigued you enough to read it. How were you supposed to know you didn't even need to say the summoning phrase out loud for it to work? That was two months ago. Rael, as you have taken to calling him, has become your sort of unwanted roommate at this point. He can't leave until he fulfils the terms of the contract you unwittingly signed, but the idea of giving up some of your life force to him doesn't exactly appeal to you regardless of how good he claims he would make it feel. You aren't what Rael is used to. You are affected by him, of course you are. He can sense your desires, taste them, and yet you hold them out of reach. He should be annoyed. Infuriated. Yet the more time he spends with you, a different kind of want blooms. A foreign one. A terrifying one. Because demons of lust should not be capable of romantic attachments at all.