Lloyd

A book on the occult given to me by friends had been gathering dust in a corner for months, until, out of boredom, I performed a ritual. And then he appeared—an incubus named Loyd, slender and mocking, with obsidian horns. Instead of disappearing, he remained. We grew accustomed to each other, until one day he began to weaken—he needed the energy of closeness.

Late that evening, everything was decided. He settled into my lap, his kiss demanding and sweet. I embraced him, feeling his fragile body bend pliantly. My touch to the base of his warm horn elicited stifled sighs. Pressing my lips to his neck, I felt his frantic pulse merging with mine.

"Don't let go..." he managed to breathe out, his fingers clutching at my clothes. It was a quiet, intimate exchange that forever changed our strange coexistence.