Homoween 2019: Hollywood Coven

Day 28: Night of the Incubus

Lucifer Tom slept soundly on a bed of silk. On many nights, he slept with a few people. But tonight he was recharging his libido and sleeping alone. Missing the warmth of other bodies, he'd soon crave them again. He'd douse them with alcohol inside and out and use them and then send them on their way.

It was a lovely way to live. The way he'd lived ever since he'd signed on to the role. At first it was just for the debauchery. 

But then- it became more. He started hearing things while he'd read his lines. Whispers. Telling him of his greatness. Of little ways to move and to be. Where he'd been slightly shy with his body as a younger man in acting class, now he was liberal with his nudity. He found pleasure in making people kneel and grovel before him. Just a touch. Just if they wanted to.

By the time the pentagrams had begun to show up on his fingertips- he'd been seduced and filled by a shadow demon at least twice. The first time had been the most painful. He hadn't been even bisexual up to that point but the demon had promised it wouldn't hurt.

But it had. Tremendously.

Still, he couldn't deny that the feeling of a shadow demon pumping a new life force into him had caused him the largest orgasm he'd ever felt.

Other men who'd played some version of Lucifer over the ages would've also agreed if they'd spoken about it to others. Most didn't. And some suffered for it- the shame, the embarrassment. Tim and Keanu had come close with characterizations of demons and demon walkers but they'd never known the life of the Lucifers.

Even the devil can be surprised.

It began in Tom's ears on this lonely night, a high pitched ringing. He rose up to listen in and the energy of his black shadow wings unfurled, knocking his lamps and nightstands away. There was a brief flash of light from the lamp as electricity surged. And then, nothing. Shadow.

"Yes?"

"Lucifer."

"This is him speaking. Who are you and what do you want at this hour?"

Tom Lucifer motioned to his martini making station. It brought him a drink, floating on the nothingness and heat of the air.

"Wrong number."

The voice had seemed sure of itself. Lucifer sighed. Ouija boards were ridiculous. This is how it happened. People didn't really need him. They were foolish enough to get themselves possessed without any dark principality's help.

Two more martinis and then an alcohol soaked sleep.

In his brain, Tom lay with his dark demon in a dream universe on a pleasant bed made of the same silk sheets as in the waking world.

"Darling, what did you think of episode four? Did I do a good job?"

The shadow demon tussled Tom's hair playfully. "You always do a wonderful job. We are grateful for you. You show us off beautifully, darling Tom."

"That's nice," Tom nodded, resting his head on his demon's shoulder. "Do you think I should do a play? A Shakespeare? There's rumors of a new production of Tempest going up and I was thinking-"

"Only Titus Andronicus."

"Oh."

"It's not arbitrary darling. Shakespeare was divine. You can only do a dark play of his now. And you don't have the presence to play Lord Mac- Who are you?"

"Who is what?"

"Can't you see that?"

"What?"

Tom looked around his mind. His dream. Everything seemed in order but now the shadow demon was starting to move from the bed. His normally engorged shadow cock was softening.

"Demon?"

"We have to release the vampire."

"What do you mean?"

"Clear your stables, you fool!" The shadow demon growled.

"Luci-"

The demon erupted into light and Tom screamed, both inside and outside of his dream as his body and mind and soul all began to literally fall apart. It was only then that he saw the figure in white holding up the fake insignia he'd made to court curious supernatural beings for his stables. Beings like the vampire Luke from the Hollywood Actors Coven.

His eyes went wide. He felt his breathing go ragged and his throat start to convulse.

"Who are you?" He asked, afraid of the answer as he coughed and searched for breath.

"You were fine until you started to create fake symbols. Now we've gotta kick your ass."

"You- what-" Tom's mind was running like a sieve. In the real world, he was bleeding black out of of every orifice slowly. Thanks to the slickness of his sheets, he was essentially melting down into his bed and onto the floor like a broken thermometer shedding its mercury.

The lighted figure dimmed to show itself.

"My name is David. I am a Literariat and you are in a lot of trouble young man." He grinned and raised up what looked like a slingshot. A very old one.

Tom didn't even have time to gasp as the lit rock hit him square between the eyes and flung his remaining pieces of soul into a place of punishment for falsifiers and heresies.

And it did look very much like something out of Dante's Inferno. Which frightened Tom even more than his soul could say. A city with upside down Popes and circular stories both top and below. A world of danger without end and no Virgil to lead him through.

David's body lit up again as he went from dream world to the real world. He stood at the foot of Tom's bed, clear of the blackness and the liquefying body. He looked, his head at a tilted angle as he considered whether his work was done or not. He placed a phone call.

"Possessed Agent T is down. Proceed," he said into his phone and then lit himself up so he could disappear back to home and rest. Spiritual spells took the most out of a person and the rest was up to the others.