Chapter Text
“Long is the way and hard, that out of Hell leads up to light.” - John Milton, "Paradise Lost"
"Takami. Takami, you piss-poor excuse of an incubus, you're up!"
Keigo startles at the feeling of a hand slapping him up the backside of the head and he turns to see Enji peering down at him. "Woah, take it easy there," he raises his hands in surrender, trying to pacify the ever-angry man. "What's going on?"
"There's another summoning for an incubus. It's your turn. Go deal with it."
Keigo hates summonings. As much as he loves humanity and their vibrancy, the only reason that someone summons an incubus is, well...sex. He's had enough cold emotionless sex for one or ten human lifetimes, never mind the infinite lifespan of a demon. And yet, here he will go again, to drape himself across someone's bed and beckon them with warm arms, to take a little of their strength and offer nothing but pleasure in return. It’ll be nice for a little bit, a bit of touch that isn’t violence, and maybe he’ll be lucky enough to get a few extra moments of time curled around the summoner’s body.
But he’s never that lucky, so he just puts on his best service smile and makes his way to the summoning circle. He reaches out, clawed fingertips touching the magic, and tries to focus on the desire that saw fit to call him.
Loneliness. Company. Comfort.
Ah, another lonely soul looking for someone to make them feel good. Well, at least it isn’t going to be brutal kinky sex. He focuses with his own magic and lets it pull him forward.
He feels himself settle into the material plane, body taking shape, and he lands neatly on the floor. It’s cool wood, the boards smooth but not quite neatly fitted under his bare feet. He opens his eyes slowly, letting the dramatics of the moment take him, and he scans the area around him. It’s a small contained living space - an apartment, he thinks they’re called - and he stands somewhere between their parlour and cooking area. It is a stretch of wooden floor, the summoning circle drawn with chalk, and a mismatched selection of candles light the area around it. It smells nice, at least - like cinnamon and apples, all sorts of warm scents to balance out the billowing brimstone that radiates off of him. He shakes out his wings once, letting them flare open to their full red glory, and he finally tilts his head down to look at his summoner.
It’s a familiar expression on their face - surprise, awe, a touch of fear, and wonder as their eyes rake over his body. A first time summoner, he guesses, judging by the papers beside them outlining the ritual. He watches as they fall off of their knees and sit on the floor, staring at him with wide eyes, and he gives his service smile - seductive and warm.
“Well, look what we have here…”
Show me what you’ve got, Mortal.
He’s…beautiful.
You took an art history class once at school, and your teacher had a particular fascination for pictures of the divine. Her thesis had been on the evolution of the image of Lucifer, and she talked about how, after Paradise Lost was written, Lucifer had garnered the image of a tragic hero. She’d shown pictures of le genié du mal, the sculpture of Lucifer of Liege, the one that made him so beautiful that it had distracted people from their prayers and had to be removed from the church. The core of it, she’d said, was that Lucifer was shown to have persuaded people into sin. There are many ways to persuade people. In the olden days, it was in fear. Nowadays, it was charm, and beauty is its own charm.
No small wonder, then, that a demon would be beautiful. He looks in all parts the colour of fire. Warm skin, blonde hair, golden eyes, red tattoos, massive red wings that flare behind him. A loose robe hangs off his body, revealing picturesque collarbones and muscles. His eyes cast briefly about the room before settling on you, and the attention in that gaze is a palpable weight.
Your fingers twitch with the urge to grab a sketchbook and draw him. If you could bring yourself to move, of course.
“Well, look what we have here,” his voice is like silk across skin, honey on the tongue, molten chocolate in your hands. “Someone summons me, just like that.”
Every word that would come to your lips has died. You fall off your knees and sit on your floor, staring at him with wide eyes. It worked. Holy shit, it worked.
He watches you intently, and it takes you a moment to remember exactly how to speak.
“Oh my god it worked,” you say rather inarticulately, just staring at him.
His laugh is equally silky warm. “Yes, yes, it did. And here I stand before you. So, tell me, pretty little bird,” he croons, stepping to the edge of the pentagram that you have drawn on your floor. “What is it that you truly desire?”
It takes a moment for you to unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth. “Company,” you say gently. “I’ve been in quarantine for a while and it’s gotten lonely.”
That was the reason. The world had gone into lockdown a couple of months ago, with no sign of change, and at this point, you were so desperate for any kind of interpersonal contact that you dove into the internet. How that initial search for safe personal contact turned into the ritual to summon a demon was somehow still beyond you, but you are, with every candle in your apartment lit and a pentagram made of sewing chalk on your floor.
The demon lets out a sigh. “Ah, that is always what it is, isn’t it?” He says, voice almost mournful if not for how sinful it is, and with a slight shift of his body, his robe falls to the floor.
You catch a hint of even more warm skin and those tattoos trailing down to his hips before it clicks that he is wearing absolutely nothing under his robes. Nothing. At all. With a squeak, you slap a hand over your eyes with enough force that your head rings a little bit. Not concussion worthy, but at the very least, there will be a big red mark in the shape of your hand on your face. “NOT WHAT I MEANT!”
There is silence on the other side of your hand, and there is a slow chuckle. If you stretch your imagination, it’s…disbelieving? “And what did you mean, pretty bird?”
“Are you still naked?” You ask instead of answering.
There is a sound of rustling fabric. “Not anymore.”
You lower your hand from your eyes to see that yes, he has wrapped his robes around his body again, and those blonde eyebrows are arched at you in an expression of disbelief. You open your mouth to speak when your lungs decide to quit, and you spend a few seconds coughing into the crook of your elbow. When it clears, you speak. “I meant just…company. I’m supposed to stay home for gods know how long to make sure I’m not a new pandemic casualty. And I’m lonely.”
“And this,” he gestures to his body, “is not what you desire?”
“Are you asking for your ego or because you don’t understand?”
He smirks. “Can’t it be both?”
“Well, you are, in fact, stupidly pretty, so don’t worry about your ego but…but I’m asexual?” you respond, turning it almost into a question.
There is silence in response, and you watch the demon cock his head to the side slightly, confusion evident on his face. “I don’t know that word.”
Things you have never done in your short life – explain the sexuality spectrum to a demon. While coming out to them.
“I don’t like sex. Never have. And before you say I haven’t done it with the right person and I haven’t had good sex, I will beat you a lamp,” there is a snort of laughter, even as the confusion becomes more and more evident, “I mean the idea of it makes me gag. Especially if it involves me.”
Of all the new experiences you were going to have, you didn’t expect to have stunned him. It looks like the facial equivalent of the blue screen of death. “You do know what you summoned, right?”
“No?”
He laughs, the sound almost bitter. “I’m an incubus. Sex is my job.”
Oh FUCK. You grab the paper with the directions, scanning through them, and sure enough, there’s a word that probably means incubus in there. “Is that what ‘Veni ad me, incubos, et epulaberis in unum’ means?”
“‘Come to me, incubus, and we shall feast together’,” the incubus translates. “You didn’t look it up?”
“I thought if I did, I’d talk myself out of it,” you say sheepishly. “I found these online as directions to ‘summon a companion from beyond’. I think they’re trying to fuck with people.”
“That would explain some of our most recent summonings,” the incubus croons, resting his chin in his hand. “Not that people have complained.”
You sigh and close it. “Yup. So you…have sex with people when they summon you.”
“Yes.”
A horrifying thought occurs to you. “You’re not gonna force me, are you?”
The demon’s expression goes from incredulous to disgusted. “What? No!”
- How dare he be so pretty when he looks disgusted?
- Thank the GODS.
“No, I’m not that kind of man, kid. Incubi aren't all bad. It depends on how we use our power and the quality of our character," he looks particularly insistent on that. “But no. I’m better than that, I think.”
You sigh with relief. “Okay. That…was the immediate concern. Then we’re good. Um…maybe you can consider this a freebie and go home early?”
He frowns at you. “I can’t leave until I’ve done something for you. You summoned me with a desire in your heart, and I cannot leave until that desire is fulfilled. Whether it is sexual or otherwise, it was strong enough to work with the spell, otherwise I wouldn’t be here.”
That brings up so many questions about demon summoning, but you have a very strong feeling, given the expression on his face, that now is most definitely not the time for that. “Is loneliness that strong of a desire?” You ask instead, frowning. “I just didn’t want to be alone. No one wants to talk to me when they think I’m sick.”
“It certainly is,” he replies. If you let your imagination wander just a little, doesn’t his voice sound a little bit sad? “Then you truly just want company.”
“Yes.” You reach over to a table, pick up your TV remote, and wiggle it. “I found this great movie but if I watch another movie alone, I am going to scream.”
He shrugs. “I’ve never seen a movie, but company you shall have.”
“Never seen a movie?”
“Not exactly a priority in hell.” He shrugs. “That does not mean that I am not...curious.”
“Excellent!”
“Just let me out of the pentagram.”
“Right, right.” You reach forward and drag your fingers through the chalk, smudging the edges. The air around you seems to ripple and as you climb to your feet, the incubus stands in front of you. You step to the side, holding out an arm. “After you, sir.”
He laughs as he walks out. “Please don’t call me sir, unless somehow you’re into that.”
“As stated previously, I’m not. What do I call you then?”
He pauses for a moment. “I go by Hawks up here. What about you, pretty bird?”
You give him a nickname - you know better than to give a demon your real name - and settle back on the sofa. Then you pause and look at the space on the sofa. “Important question. I would…kind of like to cuddle. Is that a problem?”
Surprise creeps across his face but he shakes his head. “Incubi share their abilities through touch, particularly skin to skin. If I lose my control, I could hurt you.”
That is somehow more detail than you expected him to share, but you nod. “Hurt me?”
He nods and doesn’t elaborate. After a moment, you go into the basket by the couch and dig out a blanket. It’s the thinnest one you have and you offer it to him. “I could put this between us, if it won’t overheat you.”
He takes the blanket and turns it over in his hands. He drapes it over his arm and lays a hand on top of it. There’s a few moments of thinking, but finally, he nods. “It will do. We can...cuddle.”
“YES!” You grin.
He looks a bit unnerved to just...sit on the couch, but he settles into it with ease. It takes a moment for him to make room for his wings, but once he finds a comfortable position, he lifts up his arm to make space. For all of his confidence, he looks incredibly uncomfortable. Perhaps it’s the unconventional nature of your request, perhaps it’s something else, but you lay the blanket against him, making sure all of his bare skin there is covered, and settle into position against his side. You even pull the blanket around your shoulders so he can comfortably wrap his arm around you. As you nestle close, you realize something very, very quickly. Even through the blanket, you can feel the warmth radiating from his skin. If he doesn’t sweat, you’re certainly going to, but while Mama raised a fool, she didn’t raise a quitter. “Ready?”
He shrugs. “Ready, although I am unsure for what.”
Then you start the movie, letting the opening credits spool out on the TV screen.
“You know what a play is, right?” You ask quickly.
“Yes, I know what a play is,” Hawks chuckles.
You do your best to describe the concept of filming a play and putting it on a screen for viewing later. He is slightly baffled at the concept, but he is far more baffled when the sound of a storm fills the room and the air is filled with singing and movement. His golden eyes go wide at the sight and he leans forward a little bit, attention riveted by the sight. As much as you want to focus on the movie, it is equally interesting to watch his reactions to it.
He certainly talks throughout the whole movie, constantly asking you questions.
“That man’s voice is out of key.”
“Believe me, I am very aware, Hawks.”
…
“Theft of that kind is not sin.”
“You tell the justice system that.”
…
“...are those two gay?”
“Only in the minds of the fans.”
“What do you think?”
“I think that if they were to be gay for each other, there would be a lot of hate sex involved.”
…
“They’re just kids, why did they have to die?”
“That is, quite frankly, the point of the movie.”
…
“Heaven does not look like a barricade.”
“You tell the director that.”
Overall, it seems like he’s enjoying the movie. His posture even softens, so he’s putting a little bit more weight against your shoulder. It feels good, a more tangible sign of companionship. It certainly starts to fill that gaping void inside you from the isolation. You sigh at one point and lean in just a bit more. The screen just happens to go dark at that moment in a transition between shots, and in the reflection of the TV screen, you can see that Hawks looks...confused. Incredibly confused.
When the movie finally comes to an end, the end credits playing, he makes a strange little sound. If anything, it sounds a bit like the word ‘aw’. “It’s over?” He asks.
“Yeah,” you reply quietly. “What did you think for your first movie?”
“Surprisingly good. I’m going to be humming that for a long time. Thank you.” He shifts position so he can look at you better, making sure the blanket stays between the two of you. “And what about you? I can feel your desire easing a little.”
You nod. “I haven’t been able to touch another human in...three months? This feels good.” It’s not quite the same but, then again, he’s not human. Unable to stop yourself, you burrow just a bit closer, just to feel the pressure, if not the actual skin contact.
Hawks looks at you for a long moment, golden eyes raking you from top to bottom, and he lets out a sigh. “Shit, kid, fine. Get up and wrap yourself in the blanket.”
“What?”
When you look back up at Hawks, he’s grinning, if a little tightly. “I think I know something that can help.”
A bit confused, you stand up and take the blanket, wrapping yourself in it like a burrito. In the meantime, Hawks shifts on the couch, letting his wings fall to the floor as he lays on the arm, legs along the couch. He pats his chest on top of the robes before beckoning you with a finger. “Come lay down. Let’s do this cuddle thing properly.”
You don’t have to tell me twice! You immediately shuffle over and carefully lay down on top of the man, trying not to crush him. He may not be human, but you are, in fact, a solid human being. When you nestle in place, he wraps his arms around you and hugs you tight. They are warm solid things, and when they press just a bit into your back, you feel yourself melting into the embrace. It feels so good.
“There we go, isn’t that nice?” Hawks murmurs, rubbing your back through the blanket. “I can feel the desire practically dripping off of you, aching for touch. Not the kind of begging I’m used to, but hey, I won’t complain.”
This close, you can feel his words vibrate in his chest, the faint thump of his heart under the skin, the warmth radiating from every point of contact. When had a hug ever felt so good?
“Easy, easy, let it out,” Hawks murmurs softly.
Huh. When did you start to cry? You aren’t sure, but here you are, trembling and weeping on his chest. He tucks you closer, rubbing your side, humming one of the songs from the movie as you shake apart in his arms. It feels so good. Maybe it’s because he’s an incubus, maybe it’s because hunger is the best seasoning and touch deprivation is just a different kind of hunger, but this is the best hug you’ve ever had. It feels like it’s warming your very soul, filling cracks you didn’t know existed until now. You just soak up the moment, even as your tears stop falling.
“You sure you’re not an angel?” You mutter into his chest.
He chuckles, the vibration rattling against your ear. “Definitely not. Angels can’t kill you with a touch.”
Your brain skids to a halt, but you don’t move. “Can you?”
Hawks pauses in his stroking, his hand resting on your blanketed forearm. There is a moment of silence before he exhales slowly and says quietly, “Not quite. I have to want to kill someone, to pull so much pleasure from them that it saps them of their strength. But...I can get caught up in the moment and want more and more. So...I don’t enjoy touching people. I worry.”
Oh. “It’s like how you can feel my desires?”
He nods. “Incubi are empaths. We feed off of what our summoners feel. If you had wanted sex, my arousal would go up, which is...pretty much every summoning. If someone wants more and more from me, then...I take it, unless I can control myself.”
“Sounds rough,” you reply after a moment. “Then...thank you. For the exception.”
He barks out a little laugh. “I think I almost had to stay. An asexual person summoning an incubus. It’s a rare find.”
You chuckle. “I know, right?" Although now you have an interesting thought. "What do you feel now? From me, I mean?"
His fingers tap in an insistent rhythm against your shoulder through the cloth, the kind that reminds you of a bouncing leg or tapping foot. "Your desire is sated for now. You're...at peace. It's rather pleasant, honestly."
Maybe that's why he hasn't thrown me off. "I'm glad."
He nods. "Does mean I have to leave soon, though. I have fulfilled your desire, if a bit...out of the ordinary. Another couple minutes, kid, and then I gotta go."
"Aw." Then a thought occurs to you and you have to ask. “So…the ritual I used. It would summon any incubus?”
“Anyone available to answer the call,” Hawks replies easily.
“What if I wanted to summon you?”
Hawks flinches under your touch and bodily turns you around to look at him, resting your chin on his chest. “What?” He asks, voice a bit tight.
“Like, does it have to be ‘come incubus hawks’ or something more specific?” You barrel on, pulling your arms out of the blanket and bracketing his body so you can properly look him in the eye. He flinches when your hands brush too close to his skin and you offer a little bit of space. "I don't speak Latin."
“No, no, I get what you’re asking, kid, but...why would you want to? ”
You feel like there is something that you’re missing here. Whether it’s about summoning an incubus again for something other than sex, or...perhaps something about specifically summoning him. Either way, Keigo is looking at you like you just proposed the moon is made of styrofoam in a children’s mobile. Up close like this, you can see the flecks of red in his eyes and the heat behind his irises. You swallow, trying to get your words right, and you say simply, “Besides the fact that you give good hugs and I’m going to want this often now?”
He laughs weakly. “You could get that from any incubus.”
“But I like you, from what I’ve gathered of you,” you reply simply. “And we haven’t touched skin to skin so you can’t blame it on that. But you’re funny and you’re nice, and you reacted better to me coming out than half of the humans I know, and...I’d like to get to know you better.”
You can’t explain the emotion in his face. Hawks stares at you intently, his expression still baffled, but something in it changes to wonder. Slowly, painstakingly, he nods. “I’ll believe it when I see it, kid, but...you’ll have to put my name in the circle and the incantation.”
The impact of that kind of information tightens your throat. “I won’t tell anyone,” you say firmly. “I can even tell you mine.”
He shakes his head. “If you really summon me, you can tell me then.” His eyes shut tight, blonde lashes pressed against warm skin, and his chest heaves with a heavy breath, as though he is accepting a great weight. “I’ll write out the runes for you. But it’s...Keigo. Keigo Takami.”
That is not the name you would have expected a demon to have, but you do not say that. “Keigo Takami,” you say slowly, making sure you say it right. His eyes watch you as you do, expression blank, and you ask, “Would you prefer I call you Hawks?”
He shrugs with feigned nonchalance. “Whichever. I’m used to Hawks.”
“Okay, Hawks,” you reply gently. “Until we know each other better.”
Something flashes across his face like relief, just for a second, but he nods. It takes a great effort to climb off and abandon the furnace that is Hawks’s chest, but when he makes a waving gesture with his hand, you manage to do so. It takes effort not to just grab onto him for support, but when your bare hand just about lands on his knee, the flinch that shakes his body makes your skin crawl. Maybe it's about not wanting to use his power, maybe it's out of concern for you, but there is something about that gesture, that reflex, that is too pronounced to be natural.
What has happened to you in the time that you've been an incubus?
You keep that thought to yourself as you get to your feet. As you fold up the blanket, Hawks gets up and walks over to the circle. The chalk looks small in his clawed fingertips, but you watch from a distance as he corrects the runes in the circle. His work is careful, even as his expression looks like he’s walking into a firing squad, and he does the same to the paper directions with a nearby pen. “Here.”
You walk over and crouch down beside him to look at the paper. “‘Veni ad me, Takami Keigo, et epulaberis in unum’,” you repeat carefully.
“That’s right.” When you look up, those golden eyes are staring deep into you, as if he can read your very heart. Maybe he can. “Strange. You actually want to do it. What a weird human you are.”
You can't help your smile. "Never said that I was normal?"
His mouth twitches in a smile, although the expression still doesn't change. "I guess not." He rises to his feet and steps into the center of the pentagram, his wings open and stiff. He stands like a statue, expression back to pleasant seduction, hand outstretched. "Then I bid you farewell, kid. Thanks for the vacation."
"Thank you," you reply gently. "You did more for me than you know."
Carefully, you sweep your chalk over the gap to close it and there is a hum in the air that makes your teeth ache. Light and smoke swirl in the centre of the pentagram like fire, and you watch as long as you can until your eyes start to ache. When you finally turn away, the light fills the room in a golden glow, the air filling with the sound of swirling wind. Your hair tosses in it and you feel the sting of sparks against your skin. It takes forever, it seems, but after a few seconds, the light disappears. Your apartment settles, papers landing back in place, your ceiling lamp no longer swaying. When you touch your skin, it feels warm, but where you felt sparks, there is no pain. You take a moment to breathe in the smell of smoke and brimstone before you finally turn around to look.
And, of course...he's gone. There is no sign in the room that Hawks - Keigo - was ever there, other than the faint whisper of warmth against your skin.
Keigo reappears in the centre of the summoning circle in a rush of magic. His blonde hair flutters for just a moment before settling in its natural tousle and he shakes out his wings to get the tension out. Slowly, he makes his way down the stairs, one foot in front of the other as he returns to his usual perch. The hot air brings with it the sounds of screams and laughter, the crackling of flames and cracking of stone, and all the other familiar sounds of home. He barely focuses on them. He just wants to get back to his nest, to sit and think about what on earth just happened to him. He doesn't want to talk, he doesn't want to think, he just wants to get back to-
"Takami, there you are!"
Shit.
Keigo winces for a split second at the clap of a hand on his shoulder before he schools his face back into its usual nonchalance. "Woah, woah, Enji, not so rough now. Gonna break me one day."
Enji barks out a laugh. "You wish. Now, how did the summoning go?"
It was the weirdest and somehow best summoning I've ever had, he does not say. Instead, he shrugs. "Nothing to it. Did you know there's a pandemic going on up there? And someone's apparently sending out directions on how to summon an incubus, pretending it's a 'companion from beyond'."
Enji snorts. "No wonder we've had so much traffic. May have to pull some extra shifts."
"Yeah. Some touch-starved people up there." Keigo tries to naturally slide out from under Enji's arm. "Gotta go rest up. That was fun."
However, Enji's hand stays firm, and the man pauses to look more closely at him. "Did you take anything?"
Shit. "Yes, of course," Keigo lies, keeping his smile easy. "I'd say that I left them quite satisfied. Might even summon an incubus again."
Suspicion is written plain across Enji's face, his fiery eyes scanning Keigo from top to bottom. Finally, he lifts his hand off of Keigo's shoulder. "I don't know what you're playing at, but if you want to keep what magic you have, you need to feed on the mortals that summon you. You know the rules."
"Yeah, yeah, I know," Keigo waves him off and dances out of Enji's space, wings nearly clipping the man. "Well, I've got some resting to do. I'll catch you later, Enji."
Enji growls, but does nothing to stop Keigo taking off and flying towards his nest. It isn't the prettiest of things - an isolated hollow in a stone wall, deep enough for a little privacy, layered with feathers and fabric to make something even a little bit soft. Not comfortable - what would be comfortable in hell - but enough for him. He lands carefully on the little outcropping and makes his way inside, the smile dropping off of his face the moment he passes into shadow. With a wave of his hand, his robes burn away in faint golden fire. The fire slowly travels up his body, and when it passes overhead, his hair returns to its natural floppy state, his skin a little less shiny, the markings around his eyes less dramatic. Finally free of the trappings of his work, he settles into his nest and starts combing out his wings.
"I just...didn't want to be alone. Nobody wants to talk to me when they think I'm sick."
The hell kind of human summoned him? He knew that humans the world round were recognizing the broad spectrum of desire that existed, putting words to things so that they could understand them, as all humans did. But a human absent of sexual desire shouldn't have even been able to summon him, let alone connect with him so strongly. Keigo ran his fingers through his pinion feathers, putting them to rights, his brow furrowed as he thought about it. He didn't really have a type when it came to summonings. Many incubi did - Touya liked sass to keep up with him, Enji liked delicate people who submitted quickly under him, and Shouto preferred people who were gentle with him - but not Keigo. But this sweet beautiful human, wide eyed in awe to look at him, who looked at him without desire, but with hope...
"Is loneliness that strong of a desire?"
Keigo just about ripped out a feather with his flinch.
That had been the best summoning he'd ever had. He followed the duty of the summon and he did leave a little sated from just being close to a pleased human, but he didn't need to recover. There were no bruises or bites to nurse, no cramped muscles, no salves or tonics, and no empty hollow feeling inside of him that came from doing the same shit over and over and over. No, instead he'd been offered a slightly uncomfortable couch (still miles better than stone), entertainment, gentle conversation, and...respect. That was the strangest thing. This human had requested respect of their boundaries and promptly respected his in return.
The cuddling had pushed it, but Keigo had wanted to do something kind. The feeling of his summoner just melting into the embrace, the pressure through fabric, letting their emotions leak out of them like water over a cliff - that had just been wondrous. It had felt good for him too - contact that he could control, pressure to ground and anchor him, true happiness radiating into him and stripping away the cold inside his chest. It was just as well that the human had barely looked at him. It had made it easier to drop the mask and just take it all in.
And then...
"What if I wanted to summon you?"
That was completely unprecedented. Usually because incubi made their summoners weaker, sometimes to the point of killing them, but no one went out of their way to summon a specific incubus. Not ever. And especially not him. And yet, here this human was, looking at him so earnestly, asking for his name, asking how to summon him so that they could see him again. He would have pinched himself if it would not have looked so obvious. It was so completely against the rules, completely against any logical sense, and yet...he gave it. He gave the human his name. Not that he'd put any stock in the hope that this human would request him, but it was a request that he couldn't refuse, because what if it happened. What if they summoned him and offered their smile and happiness and time just for him. The yearning for it almost made him feel sick.
Finally finished with his feathers, Keigo turned to face away from the roaring flames and lay down against the warm stone. His feathers fluttered in the warm breeze and while he did not sleep, he let himself rest in the memory of the encounter.
You really think you're gonna summon me again? Well...show me what you've got, mortal.