Demonic Possesion Gone Wrong (Gone Sexual?)

Chapter 4

After a few weeks Jason received an email. He’d set up a notification on Selat’s Aestimo Meum Daemonium page to see if anybody had put up any new reviews. He knew the demon had been working, he’d been in and out of the office periodically throughout the previous few weeks.

The last managing partner of the law firm had been one of Selat’s clients. He’d exchanged ownership of the firm for immortality. Apparently he spent most of his time in the Bahamas these days, very occasionally showing up on video calls when the firm needed to pretend they were still run by a human. On the surface it was a ridiculously good deal for the lawyer, but that was how it seemed for most of Selat’s deals. He always approached with payment in mind, offering the client results beyond their wildest dreams for something they thought was inconsequential, the thing he had wanted in the first place. The law firm offered him and his clients the most precious currency in the corporate world, legitimacy.

Using a corporate contract written by a demon wasn’t illegal, it just looked shady as hell. Of course, as Jason had found out, people still used demon written contracts all the time, they were just demon written contracts with the name of a law firm on them. Deceptive yes, but still perfectly legal if the demon was a licensed attorney affiliated with a firm. Selat had in fact passed the bar, no deals involved aside from arranging a possession so that he could sit the exam. It was all completely above board, aside from his supernatural ability to rig contracts in favor of his clients.

Since it was the end of the quarter, Selat had taken a few different clients recently. He preferred to do his work in the office, seeming to enjoy his rapport with his human coworkers. Initially none of them seemed surprised to see him in a human looking body, but then he was onto a second client and a third and he still had the same exact face. That’s when the whispers around the water cooler started. Some of those were of course centered around Jason. The fact that a new warlock had joined the firm’s magic support department on the recommendation of their demonic employer was already fertile ground for rumors, but add on the fairly grisly death of his former employer, deemed an unfortunate accident by the authorities (“a sad reminder of what magic can do to the untrained practitioner” the forensic magician had shaken his head), his voice, the same as Selat’s a few claimed, and the fact that despite being a grown man, he still seemed a little unused to his height, and you went from fertile ground to wildfire. Jason and Selat’s response to all this was to pretend they did not know each other at all, hopefully gaslighting the rest of the office into thinking that he was just hired on a whim at the end of a contract with someone else. Because of this, admittedly pretty funny, effort he hadn’t had the chance to ask Selat what he was accepting as payment now. Hence the email alert.

There were a couple of updates actually. First, he’d broken type, appearing before a more visually varied set of clients. Next he wasn’t hiding himself fully anymore, leaving only his face veiled in shadow. Thank god for that. Wait shit, was he still supposed to be thanking god for things? Fuck, all of this theological shit was confusing. Regardless, he was glad Selat was keeping his face obscured. They’d gotten away with the murder, but it was still probably better that his old face wasn’t associated with a demon for a bit. At least not until his current one came more readily to people’s minds. Third, he’d changed his method of payment. Selat was now trading in reservations and tickets. Usually very close to the actual date of the event or outing, always too close to replace them without paying a stupid amount of money. The idea of some investment banker having to explain to his daughter where her Taylor Swift tickets went gave him a little chuckle.

His phone buzzed again, he’d received a text from an unfamiliar number. “Things have begun to calm down for me. I’d like to meet to discuss how you’ve been doing, given the information I recently revealed to you. I have a reservation for two at 8. Feel free to come barefaced -S” Jason looked around quickly to see if Selat was around. He was not. The warlock entered the contact in his phone as the black heart, coffee cup, and briefcase emojis before replying.

“i’m around. text me the address. any dress code?”

“No dress code. Not that you’d be expected to adhere to one given…”

“special privileges involved?”

“Well… would you kick yourself out without getting a little concerned about retribution?”

“fair enough. got some new stuff i wanted to try out, kinda like most of the old stuff but fits better”

“I look forward to it :3c”

“kitty?”

“I like the kitty >:3”

“was asking to see if it meant anything specific”

“Well, I suppose it might convey the sense that I’m leaning across your desk, supporting my head with one hand” He could imagine Selat sitting next to him, head resting in one hand, the other idle, maybe brushing the top of his thigh as he spoke.

“you’re going to be tossing plenty of grist into the rumor mill once we stop pretending we don’t know each other huh”

“>:3c” He took a look at the time display at the top of his phone. Two hours ‘til he was off. He stretched, careful not to hit anything with his second, hidden set of arms. Gave him some time to figure out what he was going to wear.

Jason tended to wear black just as much as Selat did, though his fashion sense tended to be a little less polished. He had three types of outfits: old sweatshirt/band t-shirt and jeans so old they felt like sweatpants, work clothes, and slutty shit. Slutty shit was always fun, though he occasionally felt a little ridiculous in it. It was like putting lingerie on a scarecrow, what the hell was he supposed to be showing off exactly? But now that he’d filled out a bit, he knew exactly how hot a good harness would look on him.

Jason was starting to realize that he might’ve had a touch of body dysmorphia before the swap. He figured he probably should interrogate that but the interrogation pile was full of far too much pressing shit for him to think about it too hard. Like what the fuck was he going to do with the rest of his life, and then following that, what the fuck he was going to do with his eternal afterlife? Why was he alright on a lower dose of adderall now, shouldn’t it be the opposite? Did it make him a narcissist if he was fucking somebody who looked exactly like he used to. Wait, did the touch of old body dysmorphia cancel that out? Confusing shit. Really fucking confusing shit. Going on a date with a demon made perfect fucking sense by comparison. Jason ran his hand through his hair. He looked at the time in the corner of his computer screen. Shit, he’d been spaced out for a while it was almost time to leave!

When he got back to his apartment he agonized for a bit over what to wear. The first day after the swap he got in contact with another demon he’d worked with before, She Who Snarls the Wool Upon the Spinning Wheel. She was pretty easy to deal with, she’d trade textile magic expertise for the experience of playing a video game for the first time. Initially he thought he’d found an infinite source of expertise and just started a loop of trading and replaying Final Fantasy 7 over and over again but she got wise to that pretty quick. Now their deal was that he’d trade her the experience of playing a shitty game for the first time and then she’d watch him replay it, forcing him to experience a really terrible game for the first time all over again. He’d been trapped in an infinite Heavy Rain loop for the past couple of years. It always started the same way too, he’d think “It can’t be that bad. I feel like I used to hear good things about this” and then he’d be stuck pressing X to Jason all fucking over again. Another ten to twenty hours of his life that he’d never get back. Unfortunately with the amount of work she had to do for this contract she wouldn’t go any lower than three Heavy Rain Loops, but hey, small price to pay for a custom wardrobe. She offered to toss in protective enchantments on everything for a fourth but he wasn’t that desperate. He could do that himself, it would just take awhile, and it certainly wouldn’t take ten to twenty hours of scintillating fucking quick time events. However, the deal as it was left him with oa good amount of clothes that fit, leaving room for his arms and tail, with subtle cosmetic sigils applied that would hide the extra sleeves and pants hole whenever he cloaked the extra limbs. He needed to find a shorter shitty game. If he was going to have to do this for the rest of his life it was probably worth digging into the Wii shovelware archives.

Now he was at a crossroads, business casual or slutty? Who was he kidding, it was always going to be slutty. He buckled on a leather harness first, liking the way it pushed out his chest. Over that, he put on a silk shirt he’d thrifted years ago, unbuttoned to the base of the sternum. After a moment of deliberation he decided on leather pants. Jason always thought they were way more trouble than they were worth, but now that he had more of an ass he looked damn good in them. Like any good warlock he had a bunch of protective rings and amulets on hand at any given time so he tossed a couple of those on as well. On second thought he decided to commit to one amulet, one ring on his top left ring finger and one on his bottom right. He was getting dangerously close to looking like a member of Aerosmith. Even though he was already pretty damn tall, he pulled on a pair of leather platform boots. Why wouldn’t he? He looked fucking hot, why not try to stand out as much as possible? Finally, he pulled back his hair, fumbling over his hair tie in his haste. He’d cut that himself since the last time they spoke. Not shorter, he liked wearing it longer more than he thought he would, instead he’d done some layering to give it a little more volume. All that time he spent trying to figure out how to style emo bangs in middle school actually ended up being useful for something. Before leaving, he tossed on a fleece lined coat and activated his disguise sigils. He’d find somewhere to deactivate them once he’d left his building.

Looking like a demon on public transportation certainly had its merits. It wasn’t particularly uncommon to see a demon on the subway or a jaded old dryad smoking in a city park, but it was still a little unsettling for people just going about their days to see a supernatural being out and about. Especially if you knew somebody had a strong enough grudge against you that they might be willing to pay for retribution. Needless to say, Jason was given much more space to spread out than usual. The looks were also new. It’s an unspoken rule in any American city that you don’t stare at anybody for too long on public transit unless you feel like swallowing your own teeth, so no one stared at him, but plenty of people stole quick glances. An old woman hastily made the sign of the cross before sitting down, a buisiness man in a gray suit switched cars at the next stop, a younger guy in a black crop top and fishnet shirt’s eyes discreetly traveled up from his calves, coming to rest on his crotch. Jason coyly spread his legs and the other man quickly looked away.

He snickered a little at that. Jason never shied away from flirting with demons if it would get him a better deal. Most humans were instinctively afraid of demons. Something about them registered in that nook deep in the back of people’s minds that told them “this thing may look a little like you but it’s far more dangerous”. Even magicians who worked with them were supposed to have a healthy fear of them, but Jason had never been particularly scared of them before that summoning mistake with Selat, and he figured he’d probably be just as afraid of a human with a gun pointed at him. Maybe that should have been a clue. He hadn’t felt the same fear in the primal corners of his mind because, somewhere deep in there, it recognized them as the same. The other guy clearly wasn’t on the brink of the same revelation, though he might’ve been on the brink of a different one if his second stolen glance was anything to go by. It was a shame Jason was already meeting Selat tonight, the stranger seemed like he’d be fun to play with.

The restaurant where he met Selat was dimly lit, but it was the kind of place where that was intentional. It was harder to tell in the dim light that one of the two businessmen discussing terms at the next table over wasn’t human. Some demons liked to entertain clients, some businesses catered to that. Served their purpose well enough. Selat kept his face shadowed all the same, still careful to preserve both their anonymity. He wore a charcoal, tweed blazer over a black turtleneck and emerald green corduroys. An elaborate body chain lay over his shoulders and chest, seductively peeking out from under his jacket collar and a gold, snake-shaped ear cuff with emerald eyes wrapped around his left ear.

“When do I figure out how to do that?” Jason gestured at his shadowed face as he sat down.

“Probably never.” He answered bluntly. “My role is one of obfuscation. Shadows serve that purpose well. Even if I didn’t know your name, you wouldn’t strike me as one who obscures.”

“Well then, what would I strike you as?” He flashed a fang as he grinned.

“Hm, one who corrupts perhaps?” Jason could hear the smile under his shroud. “You certainly seem to enjoy it well enough.”

“Man, I’d hope not. I don’t like to mix work and fun. It burns me out.”

“That’s an interesting opinion to hold as one so young.”

“I worked in the games industry for a bit during college. I couldn’t even look at a game when I got off work everyday, even though I took the work because I liked games. If I was having sex for work everyday I wouldn’t be able to enjoy it as much when I wasn’t working.”

“You have a good idea what you will be doing right?” Selat had suggested that Jason take some time to pick apart his name and better understand what it meant. The structure of it made it difficult to decipher. Pieces of the sigil were densely packed and even layered over each other in places to form complex patterns of text. Yet somehow, the structure made perfect sense to him, maybe because it was his name. While he had to construct a 3D model of it in his mind to turn it over and separate the different layers, the biggest challenge was just the sheer density of information.

“I think I’ve got it, yeah.”

“Care to volunteer that information?”

“Based on what I figured out, I am one who punishes.”

“Ah the oldest role there is. What specialty?”

“I was actually hoping to ask you about that. It coincides with this sigil.” He quickly drew it on an old receipt he’d left in his coat pocket. “The closest translation I’ve been able to find is ‘charlatan’ but I feel like that doesn’t capture the whole sense of it.” The demon looked it over carefully.

“There isn’t a direct translation for this into English. It means entrepreneur or venture capitalist, but with a derogatory connotation and an implication of dishonesty.”

“So my old boss then.”

“Essentially.” Jason stared at the candle on their table for a moment.

“Do you know why I’m a demon? I mean it’s not like I’m upset about it or anything. It’s just I feel like I’m going to have the fucking rug pulled out from under me any minute now.”

“Do you want a general answer or a specific one?” Selat cocked his head.

“I guess both.”

“In general, demons arise when there is a need for them. I for example, as a demon of business contracts, have only been in my position since the birth of capitalism. The rudimentary ancestor of modern computers was built in my human lifetime, it wasn’t particularly long ago in the grand scheme of things. When you consider the recent rise in stature of the techno-plutocrat in the global economic sphere as well as the increase in technology based investment scams it makes sense that a few new demons would come into being. There was a similar situation in the 1980s where a large number of finance demons had to be quickly deputized. As for why you specifically are a demon, no idea. It’s at the whim of The Beloved.”

“Who?”

“That’s what the man downstairs prefers to be called, and what you should call him whenever you converse.”

“Speaking of which, what’s the verdict? Do I get to keep your old body?”

“Right,” Selat sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“What’s up, did you forget to ask?”

“He wants to do an in person evaluation first.” The demon paused. “He also insisted that you return my horns and tail to me.”

“What?! Why?!”

“They’re unique. Each demon has a different set. He likely believes that you will use them to impersonate me.”

“That’s fucking stupid, why would I do that?”

“To receive deal benefits.”

“Nobody knows what you look like though.”

“Tell that to him,” Selat sighed. “Once he finds an angle that someone could theoretically exploit, he latches onto it like a hunting hound until it’s been dealt with. Though I suppose that’s just his nature.” He shrugged.

“I guess it probably sucks for you more than it sucks for me.”

“It’s honestly a relief. I thought he would have insisted that I take all of it back.”

“So then I’m the only one getting shafted,” the warlock joked. “Eh, you know what? I’m free tonight. Do we have to do a summoning for this or do I have to go to hell?”

“You’re awfully trusting, you know. I could merely be trying to get you to my lair so I can tear the soul from your body.” Jason couldn’t imagine Selat having a lair without at least one silk velvet upholstered chaise lounge.

“You wouldn’t do that, you’d ruin the carpet.”

“Why do you think there’s a carpet?” Selat ran his foot up the back of Jason’s calf under the table.

“You don’t strike me as much of a minimalist.” He let his tail wind around Selat’s thigh. “I’m still free the rest of the night.”

“Is that your way of asking me to invite you home?”

“Is that what I’m doing?” Jason gazed into the shadowed parts of the demon’s face where he knew his eyes hid behind the darkness. The sliver of neck visible between Selat’s shirt and his chin flushed red. Someone came to take their order and the demon very quickly composed himself.

“Evening plans aside, how have you been? Have you been adjusting to the new job well?”

“Yeah things have been going alright. They’re still working on getting me access to everything, but I’ve still been able to start getting familiar with all the team protocols. What about you? I saw you changed what you’re accepting as payment.”

“Yes, I have. I’ve always preferred to trade in experience, namely the experience of existing in the world in a body I felt comfortable in. Now I ask for experiences I would have never had otherwise: tickets for sold out concerts, reservations at restaurants with years long waitlists, etcetera.”

“Hey, did you used to look like that? You know, when you were alive?” Selat seemed surprised at the question. “I mean, because that’s how you said you feel comfortable and I don’t know I kinda wanted to know how you dealt with all this.”

“I dealt with it rather poorly to begin with.” Selat took a deep breath. “No, when I was alive I didn’t look like this. I did not even allow myself to consider that I might want to. My life was one of austerity in the name of faith. I believed that through denial of my desires for physical comforts: sex, fine clothing, good food, beautiful furnishings, I would be redeemed before god despite my love of men. Of course I found out that being redeemed in God's eyes has nothing to do with sexuality once I died, but I was fairly distraught about the whole thing for the first few decades of my afterlife.” He played with his ear cuff. “I did eventually come around. Once I began to give myself over to pleasures of all kinds, to feel sensuality drip from my body like spiced honey, I began to live, far more completely than when I was living. It was only then that I began to consider myself, who and what I wanted to be, not merely what I feared becoming. Though, I don’t imagine you will have the same problem.” The demon let the unspoken question hang.

“I’m alright. If anything it makes me feel a little better about aspects of myself.”

“Like what?”

“I like to hurt people,” the warlock admitted. “Not in a sexual way or anything. I don’t know, maybe it would be more acceptable if I got off on it, but I don’t, it’s just fun. But hey, if that’s what I’m supposed to do for eternity after I die I guess it’s probably a good thing that I like doing it. Makes me feel less guilty about it anyway.”

“That’s good.” Selat relaxed a little bit.

“I worked a lot of my shit out in therapy. I figure that wasn’t something you would’ve been able to do.” The demon laughed a little.

“Nor do I think I would have allowed myself to.” The set of his jaw suggested a wistful smile under the shadows. “Everyday I’m glad I could live from my time until the present. So many things have happened in these brief few hundred years and the rapid pace at which information is exchanged has improved the lives of so many. North America was a mere colony when I was born and now I dine with a lover in one of the continent’s largest metropolises. I have read so many stories written by humans about the misery and loneliness of immortality, but I cannot fathom how one can allow themselves to fall to misery and loneliness when the world bursts with so many new and exciting creations.”

He considered Jason a lover. That was comforting to hear out loud. Selat wasn’t just here out of some sense of responsibility to act as a mentor, or professional desire to follow up with a client. Jason wasn’t just reading affection into his actions that wasn’t there.

“Glad I’m keeping you from going crazy.” He joked. “To be honest it’s helpful to have somebody else to talk to so I know I’m not going crazy.” He laughed and then quickly reached out to touch Selat’s hand resting on the table. Okay yeah that was real. Selat put his other hand over Jason’s. He let the shadows fall from one eye.

“You’re not crazy.” A smile played at the edges of his eye. “You have a meeting with the devil in your calendar for this evening, and you just a few minutes ago, propositioned a demon, but you’re not crazier than anyone else in their 20s.”

“So uh speaking of that, how am I supposed to get down there? Aside from dying I guess.”

“Oh this should be interesting. It’s your first time on the other end isn’t it?”

“so am I supposed to stand anywhere specific or…”

“Wherever is fine. What I’m doing on my end is all that matters.”

“cool” Jason squeezed his phone into his pocket, creating a rectangular outline in the leather.

After they’d eaten Selat had told him to just go home and wait in his apartment. The demon would then return to hell and summon Jason. That was something he’d known was theoretically possible, it was part of the reason magicians didn’t just go around giving out their true names willy nilly. You didn’t want to end up in a situation where something with hundreds or thousands of years more experience than you could force you into a contract. Needless to say Jason had never been on the receiving end of a summon before and he wasn’t quite sure what to expect.

He decided to sit down on his new couch while he waited. However, the second he began to lower himself down, he felt a tugging sensation deep in his chest. He felt as if he was moving at a pace fast enough to tear his skin from his bones and then just as quickly as it started it stopped and he fell to the ground.

“What is your name?” The voice that asked was unfamiliar, but it curled around his mind like incense smoke, pleasant and suffocating all at once. He knew he was not being asked to answer with the name his parents had given him.

“I am He Who Boils the Blood of the Exploited. Or Aestuo if that’s easier.”

“Do you know why you are here?”

“I am to return the horns and tail of He Who is the Truth That Hides Between Words and consult with The Beloved regarding my retention of this body.”

“Good. You may rise.” Selat stood next to him, the shadows obscuring his face now removed. He looked impressed with how Jason had handled himself. Before him sat a figure on a golden throne. He was naked aside from the golden chains that bound his body to the chair. His dove-like wings were pinned down separately by two bands locked around his chest. A golden manacle adorned with rubies covered his eyes and bound his head the the back of his throne in a mockery of a crown. The appearance of the man himself blurred and shifted before Jason’s eyes, never landing on one face for long, though each was transcendently beautiful. For the first time he felt fear deep in the back of his mind. He knew instinctively that the man before him was not the same kind of thing he was, and that what he was could kill something like Jason with a snap of his fingers. The warlock inclined his head slowly.

“Thank you Beloved One. I apologize for making a request of you upon our first meeting, but I wished to ask if upon returning the horns and tail that are currently part of my body, you would be willing to grant me the ones I will eventually receive early.” Jason heard the clinking of chains as the man on the throne shifted. He squeezed his eyes shut expecting to be struck down. Then he felt something brush the edges of his mind. Something ancient and far larger than he could see. A thing that blacked out the horizon of his consciousness. He allowed it inside his head but avoided touching it himself as much as possible. It pulled away and the thing on the throne began to laugh. It was like slicing open a hand on broken crystal.

“You are a strange one, magician. I will grant you your request, but first,” he beckoned for Selat. “He Who is the Truth That Hides Between Words, take back what is yours.” The demon kneeled in front of Jason.

“Do you relinquish my horns and tail to me?” Selat asked. His fingers resting on Jason’s waist band.

“I do.” The demon nodded in response, unbuttoning the warlock’s pants. He drew out Jason’s left cock and began to suck. The warlock could feel the blinded gaze of The Beloved on them both as he did. The chains binding him clinked as he attempted to shift to get a better look.

“He Who Boils the Blood of the Exploited, take the lead.” Jason obeyed, gripping the demon’s hair and pushing until he hit the back of his throat. Selat choked beneath him and he started to pull out to let him recover, but that voice like incense stopped him. “No, continue. He can take it.” Selat looked at him with eyes watering, but nodded his assent. The warlock stroked the back of his head and continued to roughly fuck his throat. Saliva streaked the demon’s face as he tried desperately to keep up with Jason’s pace. His throat spasmed around him again and the warlock came, his head suddenly feeling much lighter than before. Selat swallowed and blood ran down his face as his horns pierced once again through his skin. “Once more.” When had he put his hand on Selat’s back? Jason didn’t remember doing that. The demon looked up at him knowingly. His eyes flicked back towards the thing chained to the throne. Idle hands huh.

Selat drew out the warlock’s second dick, this time without The Beloved offering instruction. He worked at his own leisurely pace, leaving no part of him untouched. Jason restrained himself, limiting his movements to his hands. He ran his fingers through the demon’s short hair and tried not to think about the gaze he felt from the thing chained to the throne. Eventually he felt himself seize up and Selat’s tail erupted from his pants behind him. Now it was Jason’s turn.

He could still feel those unseen eyes on him. Chains rattled as The Beloved shifted his legs for him. “You know what to do.” Jason took off his shirt and harness and handed them to Selat.

“How much range of motion do you have with those chains?”

“Enough for what you have in mind.” The warlock could see a hint of a smirk on his face. This is why Jason never fucked psychics, they’re never surprised by anything, takes all the fun out of it. Regardless, he pushed his tits together like a man and wrapped them the best he could around the chained thing’s cock and took the tip of it into his mouth.

It tasted strange, like the burning acidic aftertaste that lingers after licking a battery. Jason should have hated it, but something in him wanted this desperately. He didn’t know why, the reasoning just barely evaded his searching mind, but he knew there was something he wanted, no, needed more than anything else in the world and that if he could just make The Beloved cum, he would be that much closer to getting it. The thing chained to the throne for his part moved mechanically, hitting the same place in the back of his throat with each thrust, dragging his cock along the same path down the cleft of his chest. He was eerily silent as well, not even his breathing picking up speed as he pistoned upwards. The lack of sound was beginning to seem like a challenge. Jason dipped one of the forks of his tongue into the slit of his cock. The Beloved’s chains rattled and he let out a barely audible hiss. Inwardly the warlock smiled. It was an inch of ground, but any ground gained against something like this was a victory.

“You are clever, I’ll give you that.” The Beloved opened and closed his fists in a way that told Jason he’d be having his skull fucked right now if the thing on the throne could move his hands. He felt those eyes on him again through The Beloved’s metal blindfold. At the edges of his mind he could feel the whirl of emotions behind them: seething hatred and jealousy, his mind straining against his chains even where his body had long given up, but also a sense of pride and satisfaction. Yes, this one had potential, he was already beginning to consider creative uses for this body he’d had for mere weeks. With wisdom gathered and a form progressively added to over the centuries, he could become something truly special. Then Jason felt a hum of acknowledgement from The Beloved. He knew the warlock was listening.

“That is what you want isn’t it?” Selat looked between the two of them in confusion, not understanding what he’d missed. Jason didn’t exactly like that The Beloved seemed to think of him like a home restorer thinks of a run down Victorian, but he was right. Lots of practitioners of magic wanted to be more than human. A god complex kind of came with the territory. Not many of them, however, wanted it enough to deal with the price. They wanted to become gods up until the point they started to look like one and then suddenly power was a “corrupting influence”, but what was the point of power that wasn’t transformative? What was the point of acquiring forbidden knowledge if you were just going to keep being some guy who stayed in the library all day? What was the point of turning lead into gold if you only used the knowledge to maintain your wealth? Jason was of the opinion that a magician should go down in flames if they went down at all, but on the road to that blaze of glory they should never stop becoming something, even if that something was beyond human capacity to understand. Jason let the cock fall from his mouth.

“Wings too.” He challenged that stare he couldn’t see before quickly taking him to the hilt. It wouldn’t surprise The Beloved, but hopefully the sensation would still be overwhelming enough to elicit some kind of response.

“That can be arranged.” His fingers spasmed slightly. It was better than nothing. He brought a hand down to The Beloved’s balls and massaged them between his fingers. Finally, he felt the thing on the throne seize and his mouth was filled with the taste of chlorine. Jason swallowed anyway, something in the back of his mind told him that was what he was supposed to do, even if the chemical sterility of it made him gag. As he pulled away his back and forehead erupted in white-hot pain that left seconds after it arrived. Then, his back and head felt comfortably heavy again.

He flicked his tail back in front of him. Another snake, based on his now fairly comprehensive knowledge of them, he was reasonably sure it was an eastern diamondback. He tried opening its mouth to expose its fangs and they flipped downward as fast as switch blades. Sick. He felt along his forehead until he felt something hard and sharp. There were three on each side, one longer with two shorter ones flanking it. Two sets of leathery wings stretched from his back, one larger set from his shoulders, and a smaller set at his hips.

“Holy shit.” He spoke the words with reverence, the closest thing a demon could have to a prayer.

A link of one of The Beloved’s many chains snapped and fell to the ground. He strained against them for a brief moment before settling back down dejectedly. “This will be my vow to you, return to me and I will give you more.”

“When do you want me to?” Jason wanted more, sure, but he wasn’t in a hurry to meet with him again.

“It is not my place to tell you, nor would you want to know.”

“So when I die then.”

“If that is how you wish to see it.”

“Metamorphosis is still the death of something. The birth of the insect is the death of the larva. The Phoenix rises again from its ashes but that doesn’t mean it never died.” For a brief moment the warlock could swear he felt The Beloved blink.

“Then you understand.”

“Yeah I get it.” It was an alchemist’s understanding rather than a warlock’s, but he’d been friends with a few of them in college and absorbed a lot of alchemical approaches to magic from listening to them debate philosophies of material and spiritual transmutation. He ended up incorporating a few of them into his own understanding of magic, taking a more fast and loose approach to syncretism than most mages. Some schools of magic were just better at explaining certain elements of the greater truths of the world. It didn’t make sense to limit his study to only one even if it was impractical. Well, maybe that wasn’t so much of an issue if you had longer than a human lifetime to learn. Shit, maybe that’s why demons were usually so good at magic, they had unlimited time to learn it.

“You may leave now.” The way The Beloved said it he made it clear that he wasn’t inviting them to leave so much as telling them.

“I thank you for holding audience with us Beloved One.” Selat inclined his head.

“I’ll see you hopefully in fifty to sixty years?” The Beloved didn't offer any indication as to whether he was right or wrong.

As Selat led him away from the throne, and the suffocating presence of the thing chained to it, Jason finally began to take in the shape of the building he was in. It was floor to ceiling black granite polished to a mirror shine. There were no windows, but red tinged light poured from rectangular skylights carved into the dark stone. Selat saw Jason staring upward at the ceiling.

“Some of the newer demons call this place ‘the toaster’.”

“He doesn’t think that’s disrespectful?” The warlock snorted.

“He doesn’t particularly care. It’s his prison, not his home.” The demon answered as they came to what seemed to be a solid granite wall. Then Selat pressed his hand against it. It cracked open and two perfectly rectangular doors swung outward, bathing the two of them in red.

A city splayed out before them, bathed in the light of a red sun that hung so close to the skyline, Jason was sure he could fly up and touch it if he tried. The horizon curved upward and outward in all directions. If he squinted, he could see more land far above their heads past a sea of smoke colored clouds.

“Are you coming?” Selat looked up at him from halfway down the stone steps, bowed in the center from thousands of years of pedestrians.

“Yeah, I’ll be right down.”

Selat had a small town house right outside the city center. Its gray stone looked almost pink in the light of the red sun. As the demon fumbled with the keys Jason noticed Selat was getting a few looks from the neighbors. Right, he was the one out of place now. He managed to get the door open and motioned for Jason to follow him inside.

Selat tossed his keys onto a green glass dish sitting on a wooden end table inside the foyer. He kicked off his shoes and waited for Jason to unbuckle his boots before taking him up the stairs. They passed by his living room on the way, giving Jason a glimpse of a few comfortable looking arm chairs, an inlaid coffee table with delicate curving legs, a soft area rug and yellow stained glass windows lined with plants, dappling the room in warm orange. A spiral staircase with an organically curling wrought iron railing led up to the second floor. They passed by an office with a wooden desk carved in the same style as the railing and the coffee table downstairs. That was art nouveau right? Jason was pretty sure he remembered that being the name of that style. The demon opened the door to his bedroom. His bed was also lavishly carved. Thick green velvet curtains hung from the almost vine-like canopy stretching over it to offer the demon shelter from the ever shining red sun as he slept.

“Apologies for my forwardness but I truly just wanted to lie down after all of that.” The demon flopped down onto the plush duvet.

“We don’t have to do anything if you don’t feel like it. I mean, even I’m fucking tired after that shit.” Jason sat next to him and peeled off his tight pants, more for the purpose of comfort than anything.

“Would you be willing to just hold me?” Selat looked at Jason’s hands as he asked, a small blush forming on his cheeks.

“Of course. Does your body still run cold?”

“A little bit, yes. Why do you ask?” Jason hugged Selat to his chest and then enveloped them both in his wings. Light passed dimly through the thin skin.

“Is this comfortable?” The warlock asked. Selat laid his head on Jason’s chest and sighed contentedly. “Guess that’s a yes.” The demon shifted a little.

“What did The Beloved mean if he asked you if this is what you want?” He thought for a moment, considering whether or not to tell him. Well, it wasn’t like Selat could really judge.

“While I was up there, he was thinking about adding stuff to me. Not just the wings or any of the stuff he did today, it sounded more like it was going to be an ongoing process.”

“Well that’s the case for all of us really. Apparently The Beloved thinks we’d all go insane if we didn’t have any goals to work towards, so he ensures none of us are given perfect bodies. In my case he insisted on adding extraneous nonsense I didn’t care for, insisting that someone would eventually wish to trade for it.”

“How’d that one work out for you?” Jason entwined their tails and kissed the top of his head.

“Fairly well all things considered. Though I would’ve preferred it if I didn’t have to deal with these horns anymore.”

“They look cute though.” Selat raised an eyebrow. “No really! I don’t know if it’s just a modern thing or something but a lot of people think it’s cute to have horns or animal ears and stuff like that.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“Remind me to send you some pictures of some Arknights characters later.”

“Alright? What about you then, what do you want to change?”

“I don’t really know how to describe it.” Jason shifted all four of his wings. It already felt like he’d always had them. “I guess just more in the least specific sense possible. Something like this but more potent, you know? Further from human.”

“So we move in opposite directions then.” Selat rubbed the base of one of Jason’s horns between his fingers. “You should ask for a ridged penis the next time you speak with The Beloved.”

“That might be a good idea, though I was thinking about getting him to make my tongue longer and thicker. Figured you’d like it if I could fill two of your holes at once. Though, he might let me do both if I ask him nicely. I think he might’ve made my fangs a little longer without me asking for it.”

“Let me see.” Jason let Selat pull back his lips, his fingers resting on the inside of his cheeks. “You’re right, they are longer.” He took his fingers out of the warlock’s mouth. “He must really like you.”

“Not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing to be honest.”

“I can’t offer much reassurance there.” The demon laughed a little.

“I’m glad I have you in my corner at least.”

“You still trust far too much.”

“I think I might just be a very good judge of character.” He held Selat’s chin in clawed fingers and the demon’s eyelids fluttered. “You’re really too damn easy.” Jason bent down and kissed him.