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He's an incubus, named Zaethyn. Over these past 11 years he's had me do many unmentionable things, many of which would make you question your own beliefs of good and evil. He was so sweet and enticing at first, but later showed me the morbidity of love, of nearly taking everything a person has to offer, bringing them to the brink of death before reigning back his restraint to keep me from dying, so he could torture me again another night. In seeing him night after night, hating the torture at first, it eventually grew on me, until I began to yearn for his scratches and bites, yearned to see my blood dripping off of his sweet lips and fingernails. I learned to do the same in real life, and kept taking lessons from dear Zaethyn night after night as I slept. With my first real flesh and blood lover, I hadn't yet learned the same restraint Zaethyn had, and as orgasms rushed through my body I sliced him too deep and killed him. I slept beside him that night wondering what to do. Zaethyn came to me again and grew so angry seeing a man in my bed that he instantly set flames to the bed, I awoke as my arm began burning, and I saw the fire was real, and realized that Zaethyn had protected me from being found out. The house burned bright and strong, and as the firefighters wrapped me in a blanket, I swear I could see Zaethyn's face in the flames, smiling at me, seeming to tell me that he would protect what was his. It dawned on me then that I was his forever, and could never let another man sleep in the same bed as me, for in my dreams Zaethyn would come and bring his jealous wrath. Even today I don't share a bed with my boyfriend, sure we have sex, but I never allow him to stay for fear of harm coming to him. I think Zaethyn knows, but I can't be sure since our time spent together is silent except for the sounds of screams he elicits from me. He makes sure to never leave any marks on me when I awaken though, and I guess for that I'm thankful.