ART & OZZ

Deep in the magic Everwood Forest, far away from the eyes of civilization, the demon was on the hunt. He kept to the shadows of the trees, never making a sound as he stalked his prey, and and when she finally paused her trek he scrambled up an old oak to plan. The demon Ozzumyn would never admit it, but he was not exactly powerful–he was practically still a child, not even one hundred years old yet–and being an incubus besides meant that a direct conflict was out of the question. But when he saw this pretty young maiden heading out of town, the demon just knew he had a chance to drink deep from her soul.

The only reason he had not yet made his move was the added complication that his prey was actually a paladin. Hunting such a devout peon would normally be suicide, but she seemed to be from the order of Selûne; the squire of a lesser Moon goddess on some pilgrimage without her master would be an easy conquest. Besides, he was the dreaded incubus Ozzumyn the Insatiable! No soul was safe from him, and after corrupting a paladin he would have bragging rights for an age!

The dreaded incubus hunkered down in his hiding spot and licked his lips, giddy with anticipation. The squire had stopped her hike at a glade with a river and was undressing for a bath. This was going to be too easy! He watched the armor come off, long brown hair cascading over bare shoulders, and she never once looked back in his direction. Once the squire was neck-deep and started humming to herself, Ozzumyn made his move and slinked out of the tree.

Demonic instinct took over as Ozzumyn walked, subtly changing his person to be more appealing. Pheromones kicked into overdrive, his gait became more confident, chest broadened, muscles and jawline hardened, wrapped up with some magical glamour, everything to make him irresistible to any woman. “My my, what a little snack we have here,” Ozzumyn drawled in a rolling baritone, cutting off the girl’s humming mid-song.

Bright blue eyes slowly turned to look upon the demon in all his unholy glory: just over six feet tall, skin red as embers and hair black as the abyss, goat horns curled down towards a tight body that you could drink wine off of. Ozzumyn was nude save for a pair of dark leather pants, and a combo set of demonic wings and spaded tail flared slightly to make him look even larger. Any woman would either run screaming or fall to her knees at such a sight, and for a long moment the squire stared up at him without moving a muscle.

“Oh, hello. How are you doing today?”

Ozzumyn’s mental train came to a screeching halt. Of all the responses, a completely cordial greeting paired with an innocent smile was absolutely the last one he expected. He tried to rally, though it took a few false starts. “Oh, uh, I’m doing alright, tha–I mean, I was wondering if I could, uh, warm you up a bit after that cold swim.”

“Why thank you, yes! If you could just hand me that towel next to you.” The request was so straightforward that the demon had already complied before he realized what he was doing, and the squire stepped out of the water to dry off. She was pale and slim with bright features, a soft face, and…

“Wait, you’re a guy?” All confidence had fully evicted the premises of the incubus, leaving Ozzumyn feeling and looking very silly as the squire stretched and dried without a modicum of shame.

“Hmm? Oh yeah, the hair does sometimes fool people. I know I should get it cut, but this just feels more natural, you know?” The young man carried on as if he were talking to an old acquaintance while he dressed, and not a fearsome demon actively chasing after his soul.

Said fearsome demon was desperately trying to get his brain back on track. The gender of the prey doesn’t actually matter to a sex demon–a soul is a soul, after all–but the usual approaches are vastly different. As soon as he realized his mistake, Ozzumyn’s demon physiology began to automatically correct and alter his body. He shrunk by several inches, pheromones changed gears, his voice went up an octave, muscles softened to a runner’s build, everything to make him seem less intimidating and more inviting. He can still do this, he had to do this! Everyone can be corrupted, it was just too bad he wasn’t more powerful or he could just turn into a woman and make everything easier.

“…So this is my first pilgrimage! It’s scary to be out of the coven for the first time, but Master deNarcel said it would be good for me. Just another month or two until I reach the town of Oxheim, and once I build a church to Selûne I can go home! I’m Arthur, by the way. Arthur Dawnstride.” The young squire stuck out a hand. “What’s yours?”

The demon had recoiled slightly, ready to spring back from the other’s incoming attack, but he limply took the hand when Arthur’s actual intent finally hammered its way through his skull. “Uh, I’m Ozzumyn.” Talking again helped shake his mental blocks back into place, and the incubus continued, “So, Arthur, that sounds like quite the adventure you’ve been on. Maybe I can do something to help you relax a bit…?”

“I was actually just about to sit down for lunch, why don’t you join me!” Arthur had turned around and was rummaging in his pouch, leaving his back totally exposed to the demon.

“Mmm, that does sound nice,” Ozzumyn purred. “There is a nice, hot meal I have that I would just love to feed you.” His clawed hand reached out and brushed against the squire’s hip, but the only reaction that elicited was Arthur freezing for just a heartbeat.

Arthur finished digging, stood holding a small notebook and sack, and looked at the demon with dancing eyes. “Now Ozzumyn, I’m not going to have sex with you. I’m saving myself for marriage, I know it’s old-fashioned but it feels like the right choice for me.” Then he opened the notebook, flipping through dog-eared pages with the speed of familiarity. “Let’s see, judging by the size and shape of the horns, name syntax, the fact that you haven’t attacked me… I’m going to say you’re a 10th circle incubus, maybe… between 80 and 100 years old, right?”

Ozzumyn was suddenly feeling very naked, and not in a fun way. “I-I-I’m 9th circle, damn it!” he stammered, drawing himself up to a haughty height. “10th circle are little more than imps and hellions!”

The squire held both hands palm out in a conceding gesture. “Okay, okay, my apologies, 9th circle. Still, I get the feeling that… this is your first time too, isn’t it?” The demon turned an odd dusty pink as the blood drained from his face, and Arthur’s eyes lit up with mirth. “Ha, it is! Oh, don’t be ashamed, Ozzumyn, I’m glad this happened! Selûne must have brought us together for a reason. Look, tell you what, you want my soul and I want to save yours, so why don’t we travel together?”

“You… what?”

“I mean, let’s see who wins first without resorting to a fight right here. Make a bet out of it. By gosh, you could even call it a contract.”

That caught Ozzumyn’s attention, any demon worth their brimstone would jump on the chance to cheat their way into a contract. “You serious, kid? You want to enter into a contract with me, just like that, to see whose soul gives in first?”

“Yep! Stipulations are simple, let’s say you win if you seduce me, no rape or physical stuff, and I win if you denounce your demonic ways. We can’t use violence against each other, you can’t take anyone else’s soul, and I won’t exorcise any other demons until the contract is settled. Or, y’know, if one of us dies. Sound good?”

The cogs in Ozzumyn’s head were spinning furiously, examining the contract from every angle for loopholes. It was nice and vague, plenty of room to work his own brand of seduction, but no soul sucking was going to be torture… “Can I still have sex, at least?”

“Oh, you can do whatever you want, just so long as you don’t touch their soul in any way. The only soul you get is mine, and only if you seduce it out of me.”

It was almost too tempting, but if the kid was so willing to serve himself up on a platter who was he to pass up an easy meal? Many a naïve young hero has thought that they could save a poor demon with the power of love or whatever, but after a week of pheromone bombardment they always wind up begging to join the legions of the damned. “Alright kid, you’re on. Just need a pick of your blood, and–”

“I’m 18, by the way,” Arthur cut him off. “Master says I’m a late bloomer, haven’t hit my growth spurt yet. And we don’t need anything so flashy for the contract, you know that.” The squire reached into the sack he had grabbed, pulling out a lone cookie and breaking it clean in half. “We just have to break bread, so to speak. Here, cheers to a new friendship.”

Ozzumyn took the cookie, consciously aware of what mortals (and gluttony demons) did with food but unfamiliar with the actual experience. “And cheers to a good recruitment,” he concluded, biting into the baked good.

Hells, it was delicious.

End of Day 1

xxxxx

Ozzumyn let out a melodramatic groan, the vibrato rising and falling in time to his gentle but relentless attempts to knock down a tree via headbutting. Once the contract had been formed his body underwent further changes to bring them closer together, losing his roguish goatee and a few more inches of height for a more boyish charm. That was fine, he could deal with that, he was still taller and stronger than Arthur by a smidge. What he couldn’t deal with was the last time they passed through a town and he had grabbed an easy bar wench, expecting some needed stress relief. Apparently, taking a bite out of someone’s soul when you bed them is all but impossible to avoid, and the pain the contract gave him was the worst he had ever felt. It was only a nibble! Now he was so starved that gorging on mortal food sounded like a solid idea.

“Come and eat, Ozz! Stew’s ready!” Arthur shouted from his seat, and Ozzumyn sat down in front of the fire with a huff. And then there was this goodie-two-shoes, sitting all smug in front of his bubbling homemade rabbit and potato stew. Ozzumyn had been bombarding his every waking moment with pheromones, and every night was filled with invasive dreams of orgies and debauchery, and the little squire had not shown any hint of cracking. What was it going to take!? “I know you’re feeling a bit… malnourished, but this stew will perk you right up.” When Ozzumyn just glared at the steaming pot, Arthur continued, “You’ll have to start eating eventually, you know. At least until you learn how to sleep with people without hurting them.”

“Hrm. Speaking of, how’d you sleep last night?”

“Oh, lovely, thank you,” he answered, ladling two bowls of stew. “You’re getting quite inventive with the dreams, do you have personal experience with that tentacle monster or was that all your imagination?”

“Heh, sounds like someone is interested in the wonders I have to offer, maybe you aren’t such a tight-ass after all.”

“I’d like to think I’m open-minded to things, I’ve always thought that whatever adults consent to is their business. Just, y’know, after I get married.” The two fell momentarily silent, only the sounds of birdsong and Arthur slurping stew to keep them company. “You better start eating before it gets cold.”

Instead, Ozzumyn just groaned and curled into a ball. “I feel like I’m going to explode and implode at the same time. I haven’t gone more than two days without cumming since I was spawned! And that was as a punishment!” Through a mouthful of rabbit, the ever-helpful Arthur suggested that he just try masturbation instead. “Yeah, sure, and you might as well drink a glass of water and call it a four-course meal. But if you really want to watch I could show you how–”

“Mmm-mm,” Arthur hummed, shaking his spoon at Ozzumyn. “I don’t consent to that, it’d be too physical and practically rape.” The incubus stammered for a response, but eventually gave up. He did not want to test the limits of that damn contract again. Fuming, he stood up to go find that tree and mark it in a different way.

End of Week 1

xxxxx

It was an unnaturally cold morning in the meadows, leaving frost to cling to the trees and autumn vegetation. Hopefully this wasn’t signalling a harsh winter to come, but for now all Arthur could think of was how desperately he needed to sleep in a bed with warm blankets. Ozzumyn, meanwhile, was completely unaware of the weather, his inner demonic fire apparently keeping him warm while he practiced magic. The incubus had recently started taking a more mortal approach to their travels, eating food with minimal complaints and the like, and Arthur noticed that the rate of psychic seduction bombardment had tapered off in response. He still tried, of course, always leaning too close for an “accidental” kiss or caress, always skirting around the edges of the contract, but it didn’t seem to be his main priority now. He had even slept the past several nights without one orgy dream! Arthur had caught himself missing the constant attention, which was… troubling, to say the least.

“Hot damn, I really think I’m getting the hang of this!” Ozzumyn exclaimed, shaking Arthur back to his senses. He was standing proudly in front of a great old rock with several chunks blasted out of it, though several more gaps were present in the surrounding landscape. At least he was hitting the target some of the time now, a marked improvement.

“Casting magic like us mere mortals really is that different for you, huh?” Arthur asked.

“Hell yes it is, I don’t know how you mortals manage. My demonic magic is a part of me, so everything I do with it comes naturally. But now there are all these rules to follow, like apparently I’m considered a warlock? Whatever that means. And it’s exhausting! But at least it doesn’t run on souls, all I need is a good nap afterwards.”

“I’m happy for you, Ozz, really. And if we push on, we might be able to make the next village before sundown and you can have that nap at an inn. Please, I really don’t want to sleep outside again.” Arthur couldn’t stop a hint of desperation from entering his voice, but luckily the incubus didn’t seem to notice his moment of weakness.

Later, Arthur would chastise himself heavily for rushing the journey. He was too impatient to stop when the sun started to set and the chill intensified, and when they came to a river he didn’t hesitate to jog across the lone bridge. If he had been more careful he would have noticed just how far into disrepair the bridge had fallen, and at the very least he would have paid attention to the warning groan it gave when they were halfway across it. But all he could think about was a warm bed, so when the bridge collapsed there was nothing the squire could do besides grasp desperately for Ozzumyn. The demon had been flying across the river out of habit, but when Arthur grabbed his ankle the weight became too much and they both tumbled down into the water.

An eternal moment of blind panic later, Arthur had managed to swim to the opposite shore and gulped lungfuls of air. Only when his senses returned did Arthur notice that Ozzumyn was nowhere to be found, and like an uninvited in-law his memory jogged up with the reminder that the incubus didn’t know how to swim. The flailing red figure had already been carried nearly out of sight by the current, and Arthur had to sprint to catch up before diving back into the freezing water. Ozzumyn weighed more than his small frame suggested, and coupled with his unhelpful panicking Arthur was barely able to drag them both ashore before collapsing.

Ozzumyn was the first one to recover, and he sat up with steam wafting off every inch of his body. “Fuck, that was awful! I can’t believe you mortals swim for fun… Arthur?” He looked down to find that the squire was curled up into a little ball and shivering uncontrollably, unable to muster so much as a groan. “Shit, you don’t look so good. Fire! Mortals need fire to warm up, that’s right.” Ozzumyn quickly ran up and down the shoreline, gathering every bit of driftwood and broken branch he could carry before dumping it all in a pile in front of Arthur. Then he concentrated, mustering up what little he knew about mortal magic until a bonfire roared to life. “I must be a regular wizard, if only the other demons could see me now. You’re good now, right Arthur?” To his astonishment, all the energy the mortal had left was going into undressing himself in front of the fire. Was this his chance? “Here, uh, let me help you…” Arthur hesitated before nodding, and with practiced hands Ozzumyn had him out of those sopping clothes and down to his underwear in no time.

When he went for the final piece, Arthur’s hand shot out and stopped him with an icy grasp. “N-no, not that,” he shivered, “just hold me, p-please. I’ll f-freeze otherwise.” Arthur turned around and flopped onto Ozzumyn’s lap, his back against the demon’s chest, skin finally contacting skin, and he let out the first pleasurable moan in their travels. “Oh gods, you’re so warm. Here, gimme your arms…” With noticeable greed Arthur grabbed the other’s hands and looped them around his chest, snuggling in deep as he could to get every bit of warmth before falling to quiet shivering. Eventually he quietly muttered, “Thank you, Ozz. You’ve saved me.”

“Uh, yeah, you’re welcome,” came the equally quiet reply. “I-I’m not doing this to be nice, you pulled me out of the river so I’m just returning the favor.” Inspiration struck and Ozzumyn stretched and folded his wings, covering the other in a sort of leather blanket to trap the heat. Arthur didn’t say anything else, he didn’t want to bring attention to the way hypothermia was making his body swell. Yeah, the hypothermia.

End of Month 1

xxxxx

Arthur was in a state the likes of which Ozzumyn had not yet seen. The kid squire was running back and forth, tidying random spots before getting distracted and leaping on some other small task. Though, calling him a kid didn’t seem to quite fit now–several months of hard labor would go a long ways to sculpting a man.

Three months ago they had finally arrived to the town of Oxheim, minor trade hub and Art’s pilgrimage destination. His task was to build a church of Selûne to spread the word (and reach) of his religion, but somehow Ozzumyn didn’t expect the task to be quite so literal. There was a small rock quarry, an alchemist that sold mortar, and a whole mountain of gumption from one Arthur Dawnstride. The squire never asked for help, but obviously a proud demon such as Ozzumyn wouldn’t let himself be shown up and he put his magical talents to work as much as he could. Still, all the heavy manual labor was below him and Arthur shouldered it without a word of complaint.

The end result after nearly three months of hard work was a humble church you could take pride in, and a humble man that really hit his stride. Arthur finally had his growth spurt, surpassing the demon by several inches and several pounds of solid muscle, and although his face would hopefully never lose his childlike optimism you could be sure no one would mistake him for a girl again. And right now, he was running around like a panicked mother hen.

“Art! Will you slow down for a minute!?” Ozzumyn finally barked. “Just watching you freak is exhausting me.”

“But they’re almost here!” Arthur panted as he ran past, broom madly slapping at the floor. “I never realized how dirty this place is! And I still need to freshen up, and…”

The next time he reversed direction, Ozzumyn shot out and grabbed him by the shoulders. “Arthur! A little dirt is the point for the blessing, this isn’t ever going to be a big-city spot and that’s okay. The church looks great. YOU look great. Everything is–what’s that smell?”

Arthur blushed slightly, averting his eyes. “Oh, that’s just a little rosemary I’ve put on. It’s kind of my favorite scent for special occasions.”

“You’ve never worn that before.”

“I mean, not much point when it’s just us two walking in the forest,” Arthur admitted with a chuckle. “Do you think it’s too much? Or a bad smell?”

Now it was the demon’s turn to get flustered. “Oh uh no, not at all. It’s kinda earthy, I… do like it, I guess.”

Arthur’s blue eyes flashed at the validation. “That’s great! And I have something for you, too.” He squirmed out of Ozzumyn’s grasp and ran to a jar on a nearby bookshelf, pulling out something purple and presenting it to the incubus.

“…You got me flowers?”

“It’s enchanted lavender, actually. It seems that when you aren’t, y’know, putting on the glamor and giving off all those pheromones, you kinda… well, have an air of brimstone about you.” Ozzumyn gave the squire a blank stare and vaguely indicated to himself that he is, in fact, a demon. “I know, I know, and I don’t mind, but it would really help ease my coven around you.”

“Well damn, Arty, I already put on a shirt for you.”

Arthur scoffed and responded, “A child’s shirt, maybe, I don’t know how you stretched it so much and your midriff is all exposed. And you love it, yes, I know. But just this one more thing for me? Please?”

Ozzumyn passively put up both hands. “Alright, alright, don’t grovel about it, gimme the flowers.” He snatched the plant up and stuffed it unceremoniously into his shirt pocket. “There, do I smell pretty now?”

Arthur fiddled with the flowers for a moment, brow creased with concentration, before giving a sniff and smiling. “Wonderful! Thank you, Ozz.”

“Hey now, you used to only smile at me like that!”

The two spun around at the new voice, noticing for the first time a short young lady leaning against the doorway with one hand on her hip. She was a dwarf in the same squire outfit as Arthur, and the sight of her caused him to light up like a beacon. “Sally! I can’t believe you made it!” Arthur shouted, swooping her up in a crushing, joyous hug that sent them both laughing and bouncing. After that had gone on long enough Ozzumyn let out an obnoxious cough, breaking up the two with some embarrassed laughter on Arthur’s part. “Oh sorry, right. Ozz, this is Salgalsia, one of my best friends from the coven. Sally, this is–”

“The incubus,” Salgalsia breathed, letting out a slow whistle. “So you weren’t just pulling our chain the whole time.” Roughly half a dozen other squires had joined the show by now, some of them looking up at the church with approval but the majority looking at Ozzumyn with anything but.

Well, Ozzumyn knew the day would come where the limits of Arthur’s dedication would be tested. Might as well put on a show. “Greetings, mortals! I am the dreaded Ozzumyn the Insatiable, at your service,” he said, sweeping down in a low and overdramatic bow.

Silence. Arthur let out an awkward chuckle before standing next to the demon. “Eh-heh, yeah, this is him alright. Don’t let the attitude fool you, he’s a sweet guy that helped build this church.”

Ozzumyn snorted and slung one arm around Arthur’s neck, putting on a display of possession while also subtly keeping the squire between him and the others at all times. “That’s right, we’re regular buds! And I’m under his protection, so nyehhh.” Ozz made some rather rude gestures with his free hand, and with a laugh Arthur nudged him in the ribs.

“Don’t tease them, Ozz! He likes to taunt, but I promise he’s only been helping me out. I swear to Selûne, okay?” This seemed to mollify the crowd a bit, and at least none of them looked like they were ready to dogpile him for the time being. Arthur’s jovial attitude turned somber and anxious as he asked, “So Sally… who came to perform the blessing?”

The dwarf just rolled her eyes. “Duh, did you think deNarcel would miss the favored student’s pilgrimage? We’re just the scouting party.” Arthur was absolutely giddy at the news, breaking from the embrace to run outside, and after a beat of awkward staring everyone else followed him.

Ozzumyn kept his distance from the other squires, standing off to the side of the crowd as the jaw-dropping stagecoach approached. It was a magnificent sight, not from its elegance but from the sheer presence it carried: pulled by four massive horses black as midnight, the stagecoach was a solid and no-nonsense contraption built for war and only slightly disguised with the celestial carvings and bunting. The demon was honestly impressed, having expected some haughty and impractical thing, but the ceremony the squires put on opening the door gave that very impression.

Out stepped a veritable tank, tall and broad-shouldered and fully clad in gleaming silver armor with bronze highlights, complete with a navy blue clock embroidered with the Moon to tie it all together. Off came the helmet, revealing a woman with soft features hardened by faded scars on her face and streaks of grey in her braided dark hair. “I’ve missed you too, my child,” she laughed, breaking into a matronly smile as she embraced Arthur. “I see you’ve been busy, the church looks perfect.”

Instead of giving her the grand tour, however, Arthur steered the paladin right towards Ozzumyn while midway through a jabbering story. “…And he helped! This is Ozzumyn, my traveling partner and friend. Ozz, this is Master Harmony deNarcel. I’m so glad you two could finally meet! …Ozz?”

The incubus had not so much as dared to breath since deNarcel had removed her helmet, for he recognized the face and knew to fear it deeply. That face was scrawled on tapestries and described with hushed whispers in the infernal realm, given mysterious boogeyman names to avoid any possibility of invoking her attention. Swan Song, Moon’s Fury, The Golden Bitch. She was, in fact, the only paladin of Selûne that had gone toe-to-toe with a 2nd circle succubus and had lived to tell about it. Hells, she was so powerful that she could scatter Ozzumyn to the four winds with a flick of the wrist, and there’s nothing he could do to stop it.

And here she was, on first-name terms and giving him the judgmental stare of a disapproving in-law.

“How… hhhow,” Ozzumyn tried, but his throat had gone deathly dry. Gulping loudly, he started again, “How nice to m-meet you.” How about that for demonic confidence.

Arthur was suddenly by his side, putting a steadying hand around his shoulders. “Hey Ozz, what’s going on? Are you feeling alright?”

“Do not worry, child, he’s fine,” deNarcel said with a cool, steady voice of certainty. Turning her attention to Ozzumyn, she continued, “Tell me, demon, have you been treating my student with respect and decency?” The demon nodded dumbly. “And you haven’t broken your contract with him?” He shook his head, and deNarcel bent at the waist slightly so she was at eye level and uncomfortably close to him. “Then you have nothing to fear from any of us. For now. I give you my word on that, best not to waste it.”

Wow. That word meant something, and Ozzumyn visibly relaxed at the reassurance. “Thank you, Golden B–er, Master deNarcel. So, uh, what’s this about a blessing?”

xxxxx

The sun was setting, painting a perfect little picture behind the quaint church on the edge of town. Too bad once deNarcel ordained it as an official spot for Selûne Ozzumyn could never again step foot inside, so the demon sat on a nearby hillside and watched the squires in their celebratory feasting from a safe distance.

Ozzumyn flinched slightly when Salgalsia sat down next to him with a grunt, but he didn’t say anything. “It’s not a half-bad church, incubus. We’ll stick around a bit to get it running, but not much is left to do.” Ozz mumbled agreement and they watched the revelry in silence for a moment before the dwarf spoke again, picking her words with some care. “You know, we didn’t believe Arthur at first. In his letters, I mean. Just barely starting his pilgrimage, and he had a contract with a demon just like that? I was packed and ready to come rescue him from you when Selûne herself intervened and told the master to wait and see. Said you would be a true test.” Salgalsia cleared her throat, shame welling up in her voice as she continued, “I thought Selûne had lost her mind at first. But the letters kept coming, and in every one of them Arthur kept talking about how much fun he was having from traveling with you, and how proud he was with how far you were coming as a warlock.”

She turned to give Ozzumyn her undivided attention, every word landing as a verbal punch in a way only dwarves can manage. “That is my best friend down there, he’s totally naïve to the world but one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met. But I saw today how much he had grown, I wasn’t sure he would ever get that confidence while in the coven. And… that’s mostly thanks to you, I think.” Then Salgalsia laughed, shaking herself out of the serious mood before giving Ozzumyn a playful punch on the shoulder that sent him tumbling halfway down the hillside. “You’re pretty alright, demon. I’ve got some dwarven ale stashed away, I’ll treat you to a tankard.”

End of Month 6

xxxxx

 

The young squire skidded to a wheezing halt and crouched behind a mossy stump, desperate to keep his head down. “Ozz? OZZUMYN! Where are you!?” Arthur’s shouts were answered by several thunks as moldy arrows struck his cover, making him hunker deeper into the damp soil. Blast it all, the mission wasn’t supposed to go like this! A villager had spoke of a zombie wandering the ravine, a natural phenomenon in the wilds. Arthur and Ozzumyn had gone to make quick work of it before it had hurt anyone, but when they reached the ravine they found an actual necromancer had made his hideout there and was raising an army. They were caught off guard, woefully outnumbered, and cut off from their cart, and despite some ferocious fighting they were being slowly overwhelmed.

Ozzumyn dove out of the shadows, dodging arrow fire and sliding on his face up to Arthur’s side. “Damnation Arty, what are we going to do?” He asked, spitting dirt as he sat up. “We can’t take them all on, and if I try flying again the archers will cut me down!”

“I know, I know!” Arthur groaned back. The other squires had offered to come, but he just had to show off and try to get a little alone time with Ozz. This was all his fault, and he had to at least make sure word got back about the necromancer. “Our only hope is to make it back to the cart, I’ll cut through the middle and you watch my back!” Arthur gave his friend a quick embrace before yelling and charging into the bushes, his simple squire’s sword and shield blazing with holy light as it cleaved through shambling corpses.

Ozzumyn raised a hand to start blasting zombies, but paused. Why the hug? Arthur must not expect to survive this, he was doing a suicide run for the cart. Which means that, if he just did nothing, if he hung back or ran the other direction, the contract might well end right here. That means no more feeding off mortal food, no exhausting mortal magic, no mortal need to sleep… no more birdsong identified for him, no more passing stories around the campfire, no more genuine from-the-soul laughter or smiles…

Arthur screamed when a rusty blade got past his defenses, and Ozzumyn dived headfirst into the melee. An unfocused blast of raw magic sent a few zombies clattering and exposed Arthur curled up in pain, and when Ozzumyn jumped on top of him a wall of fire shout out of the ground in a circle around them. He wouldn’t be able to hold them back forever, but he didn’t need to. “Arty, I need you to stand up with me! Right now!” Forgotten demonic strength flooded Ozzumyn’s system as he stood up with Arthur, the squire doubled over with one hand cradling his bloodied side. “Now close your eyes! You do NOT want to see this!” In the flames directly in front of them, a hole in reality was torn open by Ozzumyn’s sheer force of will and the two stepped through into a world of swirling fire and madness.

If Arthur had seen any part of the infernal realm he would have immediately had his soul torn to ribbons, but the squire dutifully clung to Ozzumyn as the incubus guided their way through his old home. Hellions and random small monstrosities nipped at their heels, but the bubble of protection Ozzumyn had managed to spread over Arthur kept them at bay. Luckily the planes don’t have exactly matching geography, and Ozz only had to drag Art a few yards before falling through another hole to the mortal realm. They were back at the horses, nearly half a mile away from the necromancer, and Ozz was able to shove Art into the cart before he took the reigns and they galloped off.

“We made it, I can’t believe we fucking made it!” Ozzumyn whooped, his voice carried into a joyful shout by the adrenaline and brimstone pumping through his system. Arthur didn’t join in on the celebrations, and once Ozz turned to his friend all the spirit drained out of him. The squire was deathly pale, blood already soaking through half his body and the bench below him, and the leather armor was peeled alway to reveal a deep cut on his waist. “Oh no no no! Art, I can probably stop the bleeding but it’s going to hurt. I need your permission! Art? Arthur!” Ozzumyn shook the other slightly, but the squire had already gone into shock. If he can’t give permission, then the contract… ah, to hell with the contract. Ozzumyn suffused one hand with superheated flame and cauterized the wound, sending both men into screaming, agonizing pain.

Harmony deNarcel awoke from her fitful sleep to the sounds of panic and commotion. She found her squires standing in the courtyard in front of the church, staring jaw agape as they watched a fireball hurtle down the town’s main street. As the monstrosity neared forms began to take shape, first being two acid-spitting, red-eyed, demon-possessed horses, their hooves kicking up sparks as they galloped beyond the speed of any mortal beast. The simple cart behind had been twisted and blackened by the same forces, and when it came to a screeching halt the wheels dug arcing gouges of hellfire across the cobblestones. The good paladin had shielded the squares behind her and was ready to rebuke any attack, but what she wasn’t ready for was to see Arthur on death’s door in a puddle of his own blood.

Ozzumyn scrambled out of the cart, and deNarcel took notice of the wretched little demon for the first time. The sheer force of her unchecked holy fury was enough to make his knees buckle, but Ozzumyn was able to steady himself on the cart and lock eyes with the paladin. “Please… help him,” was all he could manage before the demonic energy ran out and the world went black.

xxxxx

Ozzumyn groaned slightly as the sharp white light forced consciousness back into him. Everything hurt, there was a thudding in his skull that drowned out all sound, and it felt like his eyes were about to shrivel up and fall out. Relief came in the form of a damp wrag pressed against his forehead, and when he could manage to look up he saw two shining blue eyes smiling down on him.

“Heeeey, Arty,” the demon slurred, “glad to see you’re up and about.”

Arthur barked some soft laughter and said, “Look who’s talking, you.” His voice was hoarse and only when the world swam into focus did Ozzumyn notice that his blue eyes were ringed with red.

Ozzumyn sat up slightly, despite the protesting of both Arthur and his own body. “You’ve been crying,” he groaned, “what happened while I was out?”

“YOU happened, stupid,” Arthur said, smiling despite himself. “You had used up all your demon reserves rescuing me, and… I almost lost you there. We weren’t sure if you would ever wake up.”

“Heh, and what would you do without me around to bug you.”

“Well, you’ve left your mark, that much is for certain,” Arthur said, standing and lifting up the side of his tunic. On his waist was a gnarly scar the exact shape of Ozzumyn’s hand, and at the sight of what he had done the demon winced and turned away in shame. Arthur explained, “No Ozz, you don’t get it. This is what saved me. It’s like a memento, something that will always let me remember what you’ve done for me.” The squire reached out and took Ozzumyn’s hand, placing it on the scar. “See? Perfect fit. Plus, Sally says that scars make a man more attractive. Think it works for me?”

Ozzumyn flushed purple and turned away again, but before he was forced to answer the door opened and Paladin deNarcel was in the room. Arthur dropped the demon’s hand and stepped out of the room without a word, but Ozzumyn could see he was blushing just as furiously as the door closed.

deNarcel sat down on the stool recently vacated by her squire and gave Ozzumyn the long look only a paladin can manage. When the silence began to edge on unbearable, she finally said, “About 300 years ago there was a wrath demon that was tricked into a contract with an order of monks. So long as its signed contract was intact, he had to do whatever any monk said. Most stories like this end with the demon being used for a weapon of war, but this was the Order of the Open Hand. Peaceful monks, never asked the demon to do anything besides brewing the tea and whatnot. Anyways, this went on for a generation until a neighboring nation invaded their lands and declared war on them. The monks were able to beat back the invaders with the demon’s help, but they sustained heavy damage and found that, at some point in the fighting, the scroll with the demon’s signature had been totally destroyed.”

She once again fell silent, prompting Ozzumyn to at least contribute something to this conversation. “Uh, what happened then?”

The paladin grinned slightly and said, “He’s serving as both the tea master and historian for the Open hand to this day. The point I’m trying to make is that demons can be truly saved. The infernal realm suppresses this idea, and it usually takes a whole clan many many years to accomplish, but it has been known to happen.” She took a deep breath, as if deNarcel was admitting something to herself, before continuing, “But I have never heard of it happening in just a few months.”

“Whoa whoa, you can’t be saying that I’m actually saved or some shit–erm, ma’am.”

This caught deNarcel off guard and a single chuckle escaped her lips before the paladin sobered up. “I know what happened that night. The price of your freedom was merely to do nothing, and yet you risked everything. You came near death to save a mortal, and there’s only one reason anyone would do that.” She leaned very close to Ozzumyn, ensuring that this moment would take up his entire world. “And that’s love. You have my thanks, Ozzumyn.” The incubus sunk into the pillows as far as physics allowed, utterly a loss at what to say, and deNarcel leaned back for a laugh. A deep, joyful laugh that lasted until she was gasping for breath and wiping her eyes. She stood and placed one hand on the doorknob before turning to Ozzumyn with a final statement. “Just think about it, and when you’re ready… Arthur has a cup of tea waiting for you.”

End of Month 9

 

xxxxx

“Well… here we are,” Art said, clapping his hands together in the hopes that it would make the statement more final.

“Yep, it finally happened,” came the mumbled response. The demon Ozzumyn couldn’t stop fidgeting as he studied the bedchambers, looking everywhere except at the striking human he was standing next to. Arthur’s flowing brown hair had finally been cut as part of the ceremony, though thankfully that didn’t harden the otherwise soft features highlighted by a blazing smile. You couldn’t tell from the loose-fitting ceremonial robe, but Arthur Dawnstride had grown into an athletic young man and and was finally the full-fledged paladin he always wanted to be.

Ozzumyn still couldn’t believe they had gotten married just a few hours earlier. It had been a combination wedding and ordaining ceremony, held on the courtyard of the church they had built together where Salgalsia gave a hilariously embarrassing best woman speech about her first meeting Arthur. Harmony deNarcel oversaw the proceedings, declaring Arthur Dawnstride as an official paladin of Selûne and naming Ozzumyn as his husband in one go. Then there was drink and dancing, all of which blurred into a whirlwind of activity and congratulations until the two wound up alone in this quaint inn.

The incubus was his usual stark contrast to Arthur–all sharp angles and dark colors, he was a bit shorter and much slimmer but made up for it with his off-putting demeanor. Today, however, he wasn’t fooling anyone, and his rich red skin flushed to a near purple when the human touched him. “Hey Ozz, are you alright? I didn’t expect you to be this awkward.”

The demon turned, finally looking directly at the paladin. Hells, were his eyes always this blue? They could light up a room all on their own. “Yeah, yeah, I’m good. It’s just…” he indicated at himself with a vague hand. He still looked every bit a demon, from the curling goat horns and spaded tail to the leathery wings folded over his shoulders like a cloak, but from his stance he was almost like a scared child. “It’s really gone now. Every bit of seductive demon magic I’ve ever had is gone forever, and for the first time I… I feel unsure.”

Arthur recoiled slightly, quietly asking, “Unsure about us?”

“No, no! Hells, not us!” Ozzumyn snapped, grabbing Arthur by the shoulders and pulling him back. “Never us. I just… I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. Before the demon magic would show me a human’s weak points, I’d just know what to say or how to move to make them go crazy. I mean, I’ve fucked so many in the infernal realm that you’d think I would’ve learned something, but–” Ozz was silenced by a steady kiss from Arthur, their lips pressing together not in some mad lust but rather as a calming presence that allowed Ozzumyn to stop and breathe in. His husband smelled like rosemary, and the familiar scent instantly calmed him down. “Eh-heh, sorry about that,” the incubus mumbled when the kiss finally broke.

“Shush, you never need to apologize. But is that why you haven’t thrown me on the bed and ravished me yet? You’ve been waiting so long for just that…” Arthur planted a hand on his hip, cocking an eyebrow in an openly mocking gesture. He knew just how to push his husband’s buttons, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it a little. All in good faith, of course, it would break his heart to see Ozz truly frustrated. Just a little prod was all he needed, and the demon’s yellow eyes hardened ever so slightly as he steeled his resolve.

“Now hold up, I’m just trying to make sure it’s good for you. You’re the blushing virgin, after all.” Ozzumyn pointed towards the bed and continued, “So go sit down and let me take care of you. Erm, please.” Art chuckled but did so without complaint, sitting on the edge and resting back on his hands for a good view. With a wave of the demon’s hand the cold fireplace surged to life, and in the dancing shadows the bedroom suddenly seemed like an entire, private world of their very own. Trying his damndest to get back into the familiar groove, Ozzumyn turned and opened his wings, letting the light of the fire fill him with a yellow glow. He was wearing a tight-fitting leather suit brightened by a sprig of lavender on his lapel, and although most would probably consider it a bit scandalous for a wedding it was downright conservative for the demon. Then he started to dance, slowly bending and curving his body to his own music as he undid the buckles holding his jacket in place. It took an eternity, each buckle exposing a bit more of smooth red flesh until his jacket finally fell to the ground and Ozzumyn opened his eyes. Arthur was the squirmy one now, not sure what to do with himself as a full tent had sprung up in his robe. Guess the incubus still had a few tricks, after all.

Ozz walked to the bed and straddled Art, their faces inches apart. They were both breathing hard, hands exploring one another as if they were made of glass. Arthur’s hands slid up and down the demon’s smooth chest and back, eliciting a moan when he brushed against the other’s dark nipples. Ozzumyn slipped his hands under the human’s collar, opening his robe until it fell past his shoulders and exposed a strong chest with just enough hair to be called fuzzy. “You sure about this?” Ozzumyn asked. “Last chance to back out.”

Arthur’s blue eyes seared into the demon. “Yes. I love you, Ozzumyn Dawnstride.” Hearing his full name for the first time broke something in Ozz, and he practically tackled his partner with a deeply mad kiss. Art didn’t fight it, riding along the other’s energy as the kiss turned to grinding and random groping. The paladin had only masturbated a few shameful times as a squire, and the electricity running through his body at his partner’s touch was almost overwhelming all on its own.

When the demon finally came back up for air, his face was set in determination as he squirmed downwards. On his knees in front of the bed, Ozzumyn finished removing his partner’s robe and wasted no time pulling down his underwear. The pink cock bounced slightly when it was finally freed, already glistening with pre and aching for release. It was nothing to laugh at, either, definitely a healthy size for a human, and upon seeing that the last greedy fear died away in the demon’s mind; redeemed or not, he still liked what he liked. He licked his lips, forked tongue sliding out further, and further, until a full foot of wet muscle wavered in the air like a hungry snake. It barely touched his glans and Arthur gasped, almost recoiling from the pleasure. The tongue slid back into Ozzumyn’s mouth for an assuring, “Relax, hon, I got you. Just breathe,” before it slid back out and slowly wrapped its entire length around the member. This was his favorite tease from his old days, showing his victim what no other mortal could do was often enough to give up their soul right there and then… but that wasn’t him any longer. Now he could see the pleasure on Arthur’s face, and that was more than enough.

Too much, in fact, it looked like Art was already close to the edge. “Twy to hol it in,” Ozzumyn tried to say, but Arthur was too far gone to hear. Not daring to let this first time go to waste, Ozzumyn lunged forward and swallowed the entire member in one go, sucking on his husband with gusto. Even an experienced mortal stood little chance against that, and within two seconds Art let out an adorable squeal with his first proper orgasm. Not one drop spilled as Ozzumyn swallowed every bit, relishing in the flavor; not only had it been ages, but this was the best of them all because it was his. When the pulsing finally stopped Ozz stood up to see his partner moaning slightly, eyes unfocused and staring at the ceiling. He was too cute.

“That was… whew.” Art managed to groan.

“Worth the wait?”

“Yeeeees.” The paladin chuckled and sat up, eyeing his partner. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“Naw, don’t worry about that. Demon physiology, I could deepthroat a broomstick if I wanted.”

“Ha, that’s good to hear. Well, your turn!” He suddenly slid forward until he fell on his knees, and when Ozz started to protest he shushed the demon. “I’m not going to let it not be even like this. Plus, I’ve always wondered what it’s like…” It took a little straining, but he finally dislodged the tight leather pants and pulled them down, gasping when a monstrous member almost slapped him in the face. It was deep purple and throbbing and, amazingly, ribbed slightly along the entire length. “Whoa. That… you’re big, Ozz.”

Ozzumyn gave a sheepish laugh. “Yeah, most demons are. That’s what I mean, you don’t have to–eep!” Art had grasped the base of Ozz’s cock, his fingers barely closing the circumference, and was tugging on it experimentally to see what the demon liked. When he got a good rhythm going Art stuck out his tongue and ran it along the length of the member, tasting it from the base to the head before letting as much into his mouth as he could fit. This turned out to be little more than the head before Art’s gag reflex kicked in, and he looked up at the demon with apologetic eyes. Ozz, however, was off in his own world, his only conscious thought was holding back from facefucking the human. Incubi were not meant to go without, and he had been waiting so long for this day that he was ungodly sensitive. “Don’t stop, Art,” he groaned, “keep going just like that. Please.” Arthur hummed happily and resumed his work, sucking on the head and pumping at the shaft with both hands. His jaw was aching by the time Ozz suddenly gripped two large fistfuls of hair, letting out a guttural growl as the incubus finally came.

Arthur was not prepared for the torrent of demon semen that filled his mouth, it tasted bitter and the musk it carried was overwhelming. He was able to maybe swallow once before he pulled back on reflex and his face was drenched in the sticky liquid, pump after pump painting him an off-white ooze monster. Coughing and sputtering, Art struggled to clear his eyes and the first thing he saw was a horrified expression on his husband. Rather than complain, Art laughed and said, “So that’s what that’s like. I guess I have some learning to do, huh?”

Ozzumyn rolled his eyes and laughed back, bending over to cup Arthur’s sticky face in his hands. “You were amazing, thank you. Now let’s get you cleaned up…” The forked tongue slid back out into view, and with a few practiced motions Ozz had lapped up almost every drop of his own spilled seed. With a smirk he pressed forward and kissed Art, the pearly liquid swirling between them as the demon fed his husband. Ozzumyn gulped down a good bit himself, of course, but sharing was one of the many things Arthur had taught him and this seemed like the best time for it.

When it was finished and the kiss broke, the two were left gazing at each other through a cloud of hormones with dumb, half-lidded smiles on their faces. “Sooo… what now?” Arthur finally asked when the silence had begun to grow awkward.

“Well, I don’t know about you but I’m certainly not done,” Ozzumyn responded, sitting down on the bed and pulling the other up next to him. The demon’s rigid member hadn’t softened one bit, and the paladin bit his lip when he noticed. Ozzumyn had remained chaste for so long while he waited for Arthur, and while that feat was quite the proclamation of love from an incubus Art hadn’t considered just how much pent-up sexual energy he would have to deal with. It must have been such a burden for him to carry…

Art rubbed his chin at the daunting task ahead. “Of course not. Just hope I don’t get lockjaw, heh.”

Ozz rolled his eyes and said, “No, not that, we’d be here all night. Lean back, I want to show you something…” Art obliged, but squeaked with surprise when Ozz hoisted his legs up so they were out and to the side. Then he pulled out a bottle of oil, drizzling a liberal amount in both his hands before going to work. He rubbed Art’s pelvis and thighs, getting them nice and slick before going in and grasping his half-erect cock. Arthur gasped and Ozzumyn grinned, secretly delighted to find out just how sensitive his new husband became after a good climax. More oil was poured on until the paladin’s nethers glistened, and as he worked the soft shaft with one hand the other traveled further downwards; first to give the balls a good fondle, then to massage the sensitive taint, and finally…

Arthur yelped and bucked when a finger suddenly pressed against his anus, and Ozzumyn had to calm him down. “It’s okay, it’s okay Arty! Just trust me, it’ll feel really good.” Arthur lowered himself back down, but he was visibly tense and looked very unsure about where this was heading. Ozzumyn took extra care, rubbing his middle finger in tiny circles around the opening until the human started to moan slightly. Then he wiggled the well-oiled finger in, and although Arthur grimaced he didn’t say stop and it slid in all the way without problem.

“That… this feels funny,” Art said through clenched teeth. Ozz smirked. “I’m not sure what you’re–HOOOO!” The incubus had curled his finger upwards, putting just enough pressure on the paladin’s prostate to make his mind blank and his back arch. “What the hel… heck was that!?”

Ozzumyn barked a good-natured laugh. “That, my love, is your prostate. Most men never even realize they have one, or they’re too scared to look. But it feels great, doesn’t it? That’s what it’s there for.” Ozz was massaging the organ all through the explanation, and already Art had been reduced to a quivering puddle. “Ooo, we’re going to have so much fun with this in the future. But it looks like you’re ready!” Arthur’s member was fully erect again, and the proud paladin actually whimpered slightly when Ozzumyn pulled out with a pop and flopped down next to him. “Hurry, hurry, stand next to the bed!” Arthur was confused, but spurred on by his partner’s enthusiasm and did so without question. Once they had swapped positions Ozzumyn spread his legs in the air and grabbed his ass, presenting his own star. “We’ll need a lot of work before you’re loose enough to handle my bad boy, but… hells I need you inside me, Arty.”

“Are you sure I won’t hurt you…?”

“No! Demons are stretchy, remember? Don’t even worry about foreplay, just–I’ve waited so long and I’m so hungry for you. Pleeeease!” Ozzumyn wiggled his butt slightly, spaded tail swishing with mad desire. Seeing the proud demon submit so eagerly stirred something deep within Arthur, something that young squires are always told to reject as sinful… but heck, they’re married now and lusting after your own spouse isn’t a sin, right?

Heart thudding in his chest, Arthur wrapped one arm around Ozzumyn’s leg in a reassuring squeeze and used the other to aim himself. Ozz’s skin was flushed and burning against his, but barely put up any resistance as he pressed forward and the head popped inside. Straining with resistance against the urge to flop forward, Art slowly pushed every inch in until their hips finally connected and they let out simultaneous sighs of satisfaction. “Ohhh stars above, you… you’re so HOT!” Arthur moaned.

Ozzumyn laughed at the strained compliment. “Mmm, you’re pretty handsome yourself,” he purred back, curling his tail around the other’s waist to pull them just a bit closer. “Now fuck me–I mean, love me good and proper!” Arthur tried, bless his heart he tried, but it quickly became apparent that his inability to keep a rhythm applied to more than just dancing. He would get a few slow pumps in that sent Ozzumyn’s world spinning, but Arthur would quickly get over-excited and lose the tempo. He’d go so fast that his feet would slip, or he’d pull too far out, and he’d have to slow back down.

Great as it felt to finally be on either end of a good fuck again, Ozz knew neither of them were going to cum anytime soon like this. “Hey hon, I wanna try something,” he said, interrupting Arthur’s frantic thrusting. The man looked confused but laid back down on the bed and Ozzumyn went back to straddling him. The demon leaned forward to embrace the paladin in another kiss, this time adding a little grinding on top. Slow and deliberate, he relished in the sensation of humping his partner and feeling the two hot rods sliding between them. “Hells, I can’t wait ’til I can top you,” Ozz groaned, the surging desire coming out almost like a whine.

“Yes Ozz, I’m sorry I’m such a… what did you call me? A tight-arse,” Arthur chided, but his smile was as good natured as ever and Ozz responded with a playful pap on the pectoral.

“Quiet, you. This will do juuust fine…” Then the incubus leaned back, grasped his partner’s shaft, and sat right on it. He hilted himself effortlessly, humming with satisfaction; from this vantage he could watch Art squirm with pleasure and he loved every second of it. Then he reached his hands up, clasping them behind his head to show off his long, slender red body, and started to grind. Arthur moaned and his eyes rolled back right away, the man melting like butter under Ozzumyn’s skilled shifting and squeezing.

“Oh yes, just fine indeed,” Arthur groaned, reaching down to grasp his partner by the thighs. “I think I’m going to love watching you dance like this.” With that encouragement Ozz sped up the pace slightly, his whole body undulating in a perfect mirror to the dancing flames. Arthur had to grit his teeth to hold off the pleasure, Ozzumyn was not attempting to hold back any longer and Arthur knew he wasn’t going to last long. In an attempt to reciprocate the pleasure Art shifted and grasped Ozz’s prick, jacking him off in time to his grinding.

This was, to Arthur’s amazement, the right choice. His touch was enough to break Ozzumyn’s concentration and the demon threw his head back in a surprised gasp. Then he leaned forward, planting his hands on Art’s chest and locking eyes before switching from a slow grind to a mad bounce, pounding himself on Arthur’s shaft. Both the men were straining as their gentle lovemaking turned into a sort of unspoken competition on who would last longer, each one trying to send the other over the edge with pleasure alone.

Ozzumyn likely could have held off longer if he really tried to, but having his prostate pounded while a strong hand jacked him off was just too good… plus, he wanted to give his husband the win. “Shit… fuck you’re good, Arty. Please, say it again. Please!”

Arthur’s pleasure was distracted with the momentary confusion, until he realized what the other was asking for. “I love you, Ozzumyn Dawnstride!”

“I love you tooahhhAHHH!” Ozzumyn’s voice shot up an octave, his whole body shuddering as the floodgates opened and he came again. This one was strong enough to make him momentarily black out, spilling his seed in great globs all over his partner’s chest and face. The senseless spasming made him clench down on Arthur’s meat, sending the paladin tumbling right after in his own orgasm.

Neither one said anything for a long time, both of their heads swirling too fast to make sense of the world. When they came down from cloud 9 Ozzumyn cleaned up his partner again before nuzzling down into his strong chest. “By the gods, I never imagined it could be so good,” Arthur eventually panted.

Ozzumyn purred, “Mmm, me neither,” and he meant every word. A demon could get used to this.

End of Year 1

xxxxx

THE END