Streets of Hope

What do succubi and incubi think of asexual/demisexual people? Are they perceived as a challenge? Or an enigma?

"Ah, but aces and demis have been going at it since the dawn of History, love. They're a curveball if you're only just starting out as a newborn incubus or succubus; but if you've been at it for as long as Tom has - or especially, as I have - you realize some desires are just expressed differently in certain people. An asexual can still enjoy companionship or affection, or yearn for love and acceptance. They just won't feel the need to make things progress further. Demisexuals can feel quirky at first, but then you realize all they need is some warm fuzzies, some safety, a dash of genuine understanding - and voilà, you've lit the fuse.

I'll admit, I'm a bit partial to demisexuals, myself. The young ones are taught to feed, Asmodeus grew uninterested in me fast enough that I had to learn to savor my meals. There's a certain fun in whispering Veils over a Damned soul's eyes, turning their brasier-and-tapestry-covered luxury prison into the illusion of their mortal life - and slipping into it like a knife through butter. Wear the right face, say the right words, dance to the right steps - and their love pours into you, charged with so much more than simple libido. It's like battery acid for the younger ones - but for me?

For me, the taste of love is like the purest fix would be for an addict. Salome's entirely right - I can't feel love the way Tom can - but I've had thousands upon thousands of years to taste it, to roll it around on my tongue, to close my eyes and curl myself around it. I sense love in ways that are more potent, in some ways, than most others of Asmodeus' ilk. I can see all of its colors, taste all of its nuances, hear its music and even sing its song if I have to - but in the end, devotion simply isn't in my cards. That's exactly why the others leave me the problem cases, the self-doubters or the terminally shallow, the nymphomaniacs and flesh addicts on the exact cusp of understanding the root behind their coping mechanisms; and each and every one of them has to receive all of my attention.

So an ace - really? Hardly a challenge - just someone you have to pick apart using different tools, and ideally with clothes on. Now, the fun question is how, pray tell, could an asexual end up in Lust... I'll answer by saying you can lust for a lot of things, in life. Your partner's flesh is the most boring of all answers, really. Maybe yours is safety, or understanding - or maybe all you need to get your rocks off is a reasonably good-lookin' John actin' all sensitive, wordly, understanding and kind. Maybe you're a sapiosexual, in which case I'll rock my best Argyle vest, blind you with Oxford cobblestones and stained glass and tweak your bits with a three-hour-long lecture on early Bronze Age fletching techniques..."

He chuckles.

"The ol' Ivy League Dean fantasy - the reluctant silver-haired patriarch's succession of chance meetings with the Honor Roll student whose intellect is to die for... It's a shame the porn industry debases these concepts to their crudest expressions, all because storage formats have their limits. In my lair, sweet thing, I can take all the time I need..."