Azelior
I studied my reflection in the mirror, the faint glow of satisfaction etched across my face. My skin looked sharper, brighter, fuller, ever since I began feeding on that human virgin. I had not yet truly devoured her, not in the way that would sate me completely. Or, if simply put, I haven't fucked her yet, but the taste of her innocence… it was intoxicating. Each stolen nibble of her fresh lust burned like fine wine down my throat, leaving me dizzy and drunk with desire.
There is nothing in existence quite like it, the raw, rustic sweetness of untouched lust. It is heady, overwhelming, more dangerous than any mortal could ever understand. Once, long ago, it was common among my kind. Ancient Incubi and Succubi gorged themselves on virgins, drunk on the purity of their hunger. Until one of us took it too far. He feasted and feasted until he drained not only the human's life but his own, consumed by the very fire he thought he controlled.
That was when the decree was made. Feeding on a virgin's lust was forbidden, not because it was impossible, but because it was far too tempting, too lethal, even for creatures born of temptation itself. And yet here I stood, savoring what should have been forbidden, my lips curving into a wicked smile.
I am Azelior. I have never been anything less than extreme. Rules were made for others to obey, never for me. They call me the strongest Incubus of the Velvet Abyss, the only one who endured five hundred years without feeding on a single human's lust and still lived to tell the tale. No other Incubus in history has starved that long without succumbing to death, but I did. I survived. I thrived.
And now, after centuries of hunger, I am walking willingly into the most dangerous temptation of all, feeding on a virgin's lust. The kind of lust that can set you ablaze from the inside, burn you alive until nothing is left. One taste too many, and I could die. But that is the very edge I crave. I like the kiss of death, but not death itself.
What is life if not lived on the precipice? To me, lust without danger is bland, passionless. Even sex, repeated over and over, becomes dull eventually. It needs fire, risk, something forbidden. That is why I am after her. That is why I chose the virgin. Her innocence is my spark. And I will devour it, not all at once, but slowly, painfully slow. Because the greater the hunger, the sweeter the feast.
"You look fresh today. Looks like the virgin's lust is finally working on you."
Astarte's voice sliced through the quiet as she walked into the library. I was seated in my usual place by the fireplace, staring into the crackling flames. For five hundred years, I had known only the cold that came with starvation, a chill that sank into the marrow. Lately, after slipping into the dreams of that human girl, there was a faint warmth stirring in me, but it was fragile and fleeting.
Astarte, well-fed as always, wrinkled her nose at the sight of the fire. "Brother, you need to feed more. This fireplace only burns because of you." She spoke with a kind of distaste, as though the flames themselves offended her. She drifted to the far corner couch, sitting as far from the hearth as she could.
I only chuckled, keeping my gaze fixed on the fire. Silence stretched between us until she finally sighed. "Father still doesn't know about your little… adventures."
My eyes drifted to her then, slow and deliberate. "And you won't be telling him."
She gave a soft shake of her head. "I'm not. But Azeilor, you need to hear me. It's dangerous. Feeding from a virgin isn't rebellion, it's suicide. You could be banished, or worse, you could die." Her tone softened, like she was begging me to listen.
I clenched my jaw, the same old lecture exhausting me before it even ended. I didn't bother to answer.
"Why are you doing this to yourself?" she asked after a long pause, her voice quiet now, almost fragile. She was watching me intently, as though she could peel back my thoughts and read the truth hiding there.
I turned my head, meeting her gaze with a sharp look. "What do you mean by that?"
"You know what I mean," she shrugged lightly, but her eyes held me. She wasn't wrong.
Then she pressed where she shouldn't. "You've been chasing this edge ever since we lost Mother… and Soryn..."
"Enough." My voice cut her off, sharp as steel. The air between us froze. Her words withered on her lips. She knew better than to dig at those wounds.
She exhaled, rolling her eyes as if to cover her retreat. "My point is, you can't keep living like this. Risking everything, just to feel something. One day you'll push too far, and not even your strength will save you."
I let out a low snicker. "Feel something?" The laugh that followed was cruel, hollow. "Sister, we are demons. Feelings don't exist in our world." My tone was bitter, venomous. Emotions belonged to humans, not to us. I despised the very idea of them.
Astarte didn't even flinch. Her gaze stayed locked on mine, unwavering. "Maybe not here," she said softly, "but they do exist in the humans you feed on."
Her words cut deeper than I liked. My jaw tightened, my eyes narrowing to slits.
She leaned back on the couch, calm and composed. "Don't twist my meaning, Azeilor. I know you're strong. Stronger than any of us. But even the weakest human carries the power to ensnare a demon's soul. That is why we feed quickly, take our fill, and move on. We don't linger. We don't savor. Because no matter how mighty you think you are, you are not invincible."
A slow fire burned in my chest. My voice dropped low, teeth gritted as I rose to my feet. "Do you really believe I am so weak?" I took a step closer, every word sharpened with anger. "Listen well, Astarte. I am not human. I do not feel. I do not want to feel. I am the most powerful Incubus to walk this abyss, and humans are nothing more than cattle to me. A meal. A fleeting indulgence. They will never be more than that." My voice broke into a growl. "I am not Soryn. I will never throw my worth away on those pitiful creatures."
Her eyes never wavered, though her expression was unreadable. After a long pause, she exhaled slowly. "Whatever you choose to do, Azeilor… be careful. You are my brother. I don't want to lose you. You can sneer at me all you like, but you are already breaking rules that no demon should touch." Her voice hardened, sharp as steel. "Don't make the mistake of thinking your strength will shield you if you cross the last line. You know as well as I do that we exist only in their dreams. Their world is forbidden to us."
A smile crept across my lips, mocking, defiant. I always did hate warnings.
Her eyes narrowed. "This isn't a challenge, Azeilor. It's a promise. If you ever set foot in their world, if you're reckless enough to go that far, I will kill you myself."
It is forbidden to walk into the human world.That is one of the oldest laws etched into the marrow of our existence: no matter the temptation, no matter the hunger, a demon must never step across that threshold. The punishment is merciless. If caught, one faces banishment to the Void, stripped of all power, or worse... execution, the final death.
And yet, the question lingers: why would any demon risk it? Why defy the law so absolute?
The answer is simple. Because nothing tastes sweeter, nothing burns hotter, than the hunger sated when we take a human in the flesh. When we fuck them raw. Dreams are a pale shadow of the real thing. When we claim them physically, when their lust pours into us with every shudder and cry, the satisfaction is unrivaled. One mortal body, one night of sin, and we can live on that fire for centuries.
I know because I have done it. I carry that memory like a brand under my skin. Five hundred years ago, I broke the law and fed until I was drunk on their ecstasy, drunk enough to survive five long centuries without hungering again.
A slow smirk tugged at my lips. If I survived it once, what makes anyone think I can't do it again?