Angel Spunk

The devil chuckled.

"Foolish mortal," Blaze said. "Only the spunk of the heavenly host can burn out the sin you so readily swallowed."

The demon stood up from the bed. Her coat, dropped to the floor, rose and swirled around her form, the belt cinched tight by unseen hands. She leaned close to Lois.

A card appeared in her hand. Dark black, with a design in darker ink still on it, only seen as a trick against the like.

"I will let you suffer for a little while," Blaze said. "Your thirst will gnaw at you. When you are willing to do anything to taste my cock between your lips again...come to the club, and show this to one of the staff. They will take you below, where you may be of service to me...in exchange for your fix...along with all the other lost souls!"

The demon's laughter echoed in Lois Lane's apartment for long minutes after the succubus had herself left. The reporter sagged against the wall. Her lips were dry, and a thirst that could not be quenched was already scratching against the back of her throat.

"How long...how long can I hold out?" She wondered.

Then a spark of resistance flared within her. Lois remembered Blaze's words, tossed off with such nonchalant pride. If the demon was telling the truth...then there was a cure to this terrible addiction. It only required her to find it. Not an easy task, but Lois Lane had a few more resources than other people.

With shaking fingers, she dug out her phone and dialed a number that she had hoped to never have to use. It rang...and rang...and when it finally picked up, she cut straight to the chase.

"This is Lois Lane. I need...I need angel spunk." The voice on the other end said nothing. "Cherubim cum. Seraphim semen."

Her stomach growled at her, guts knotting in unconventional hunger.

"And I need it tonight."