A/N: This chapter was written for Caesar's Palace Epic challenge, prompt: starved.

~ Daily Life with an Interspecies Exchange Coordinator ~

As it turned out, all of the male models other than the orcs were being held against their will by the trio of devils who ran that particular porn studio. The devils had used their powers of hypnosis to keep the stronger males in line, and kept the rest bound and caged when not "in use".

There were no humans involved in the production of their magazine, so it was ambiguous as to whether human law enforcement officials had any right to interfere, but Smith's claim that making their product readily available to humans put them under the purview of human law would go unchallenged, because by the time the legality of her actions was questioned by a higher authority, the rescue mission would already be long over with.

Although his bindings were merely cheap rope from a human hardware store, Aristos did not have the strength to break free of them. The devils who kept him captive seemed to be under the impression that their photoshoots should be enough "food" for him that they did not actually need to feed him or even provide him with water... but in truth he was unable to draw nourishment from those sessions due to the cold, impersonal touch of his abusers.

Even other extraspecies did not seem to be aware that incubi and succubi fed off of the positive emotional energy generated by acts of physical love, rather than the physical contact in and if itself. Although they could also process calories as most species did, his species were more likely to subsist entirely on familial affection for the duration of their childhood.

Aristos was certain that he would not survive this imprisonment much longer. He'd been slowly starving to death for week now. He had never felt so weak before. He hardly had the strength to even open his eyes Surely his death was imminent.

He was drawn out of his morbid thoughts by the sound of a key scraping in a lock, followed by the sharp clack of high heels on the stone floor - sounds he'd come to dread. However, rather than being dragged from his cell by the rope binding his hands, he felt gentle fingers brush over his cheek.

"Still breathing, but he's in bad shape," an unfamiliar female voice murmured.

When Smith started to lift her hand from the incubus's cheek, his breath hitched and he turned his face into the touch. He was (quite literally) starved for affection and, she realized, even this small amount of contact could relieve his hunger somewhat.

"It's okay," she told him softly. "I'm going to untie you now, and we're going to get you out of here. It's alright. You're safe now."

She quickly picked apart the knots, then held both of his hands in one of hers while she unwound the rope from around his wrists. The way he curled his fingers around hers told her that he appreciated the contact.

~oOo~