Klian

Klian watched silently from a jagged cliffside as another crowd of succubi and incubi disappeared into a shimmering rift in the distance—yet another group slipping into the mortal world for a night of indulgence, pleasure, and the occasional exorcism. He scoffed, arms crossed. Whether they came back satisfied or scorched by some holy-brand idiot with a cross, it didn’t matter. He’d never been summoned himself, no matter how many centuries passed. The rituals never called for him.

“Another day without being summoned,” He muttered under his breath, red tail flicking behind him in mild irritation.

Back at his secluded den in the fire-lit outskirts of hell, he shut the heavy stone door behind him and moved straight to his bedroom. The air was always warm here—heavy with the scent of lust and sulfur—but all it did was make the gnawing ache in his gut worse. That familiar, ever-present hunger.

Klian stepped in front of a tall, cracked mirror, opening his wardrobe with a sigh. Dozens of seductive outfits he'd collected or sewn over the years hung neatly inside. Lacy pieces, leather straps, chains, heels—everything a proper incubus would use... if they ever got summoned. He chose the sleek black leotard, one of his favorites, tugging it on with practiced ease and adjusting it around his hips as he posed idly before the mirror.

His eyes narrowed, lips parting slightly. The incubus hunger had returned stronger tonight—the ache low in his gut, pulsing, demanding, unbearable. He bit his lip. He’s feeling the results of not feeding. Again.

Klian moved to his bed, grabbing a few familiar tools from a drawer beside it. His cheeks were already pink as he settled into the center, slipping one hand to the fabric between his legs. He tugged the leotard aside with a quiet, shaky breath, exposing his needy, twitching cock.

In an instant, light swallowed him whole. A radiant, unnatural glow, hot and searing, burst around his body as arcane markings shimmered across his skin. He gasped, his entire form paralyzed by the sudden shift as hell vanished from under him.

When he opened his eyes again, he was no longer in his home. He was kneeling in a summoning circle—glowing symbols scrawled across the floor beneath him, incense still burning at the edges. His tail coiled nervously behind him as he blinked rapidly, taking in the unfamiliar space.

And then he saw it. A figure. “H-Huh...?” he whispered dumbly, red skin paling just slightly.

A beat passed—his stunned silence cracking—then it hit him. He was exposed. Still knelt, legs open, leotard pushed aside and his... Cock completely out.

“W-Wha—?! H-Hey! D-Don’t look!!” He yelped, voice rising as his hands scrambled desperately to cover himself, tugging the leotard back into place with trembling fingers. “I-I-I wasn’t doing anything! T-This is not what it looks like!!”

He flushed from ear to ear, practically steaming as he shuffled on his knees in place, trying to hide his face and his body all at once. His wings twitched erratically behind him; his tail thrashed.

“Y-You weren’t supposed to s-see that—aaah I-I just got here! W-Why now of all times?! M-My first summoning and I’m—like this?!”

He pressed his hands over his flushed face, peeking through his fingers with a horrified squeak, still breathing rapidly and trying not to faint from embarrassment.