There was no going back to the hotel now. Not with the body there. Though calling it that was being more than a little generous. Really, it was a collection of scattered parts – very few still recognizable as human – united by a vast puddle of blood.
Things weren’t supposed to have ended up like that, not by a long shot. Their prey was never supposed to wind up in their room. And they certainly weren’t supposed to die there. But this one had followed them, and hungry as he was, Ryka had let him. The sinner needed to learn a lesson, and the demon was an eager teacher.
However, this one had also made a brazen attempt to fight back. It had been futile. And fatal. Ryka had lost his temper, and their victim had lost his life. Enraged as he’d been, the retaliation continued long after the man had died. Hence the mess.
Somehow, luck had been on Kyle’s side to at least a small degree, and exactly one shirt and one pair of pants had avoided being splattered with blood and gore. True, he’d had to rummage through the gruesome scene to find them, but it had been worth the effort. Because now he could leave the hotel without drawing attention to himself.
He often left his luggage behind, supplying himself with a new wardrobe in every new city. So it wasn’t unusual for him to leave without anything but the clothes he was wearing. What wasn’t so usual was ducking out of the hotel days early with no backup plan, and leaving behind not just clothes, but a corpse.
Hands shaking, he hurried through the lobby and out into the streets. No one would find the body until the following day, when housekeeping would make a horrifying discovery, but he needed to be well away from the hotel by then. He hoped he hadn’t looked suspicious practically jogging out the door, but it was too late to worry about that.
Relax. I won’t let anything happen to you.
That was only so reassuring. It meant that if they somehow got caught, the body count would rise again. Kyle didn’t have the stomach for that, not after what had just happened.
“I need to move our flight up. We can’t stay here. I’m scared to find another hotel.”
I’m happy to move on. But you’ll be fine. Find another place – I’ll make sure there aren’t any problems.
Another scary thought – finding out just how much Ryka was capable of. It felt like he was stronger every day now. But the demon didn’t respond to Kyle’s panicked thoughts. He usually tried to wait for Kyle to speak his mind, but sometimes Kyle wished he’d be more invasive. Like now, when he didn’t want to talk about avoiding a murder scene while on a busy city street.
“We can’t do another hotel – it’s too risky. We can go to the airport, but I don’t really want to sleep there. I don’t think it’s safe to be somewhere so public for so long. So unless we can get a flight right away ….”
There was no immediate response. Distracted as he was, Kyle was walking aimlessly through the streets, and had at some point veered off the main road. The buildings were becoming more residential, and when he finally stopped and evaluated his surroundings, he realized this wasn’t a good thing. There wasn’t going to be anywhere safe for him to lay low here.
Not unless he went knocking on doors. Like the one he practically skidded to a halt in front of. The one belonging to a creepy old Victorian house, exterior painted entirely matte black. It had probably looked out of place in this neighborhood decades ago, but it stuck out even more now. The city had modernized around it, leaving it a relic of a bygone era.
Kyle thought it was interesting, sure, but couldn’t fathom why Ryka was keeping him glued to the spot, instead of allowing him to keep fleeing for safety. “Ry, we need to move,” Kyle muttered.
No. This’ll do.
“What?”
Fast enough to give him whiplash, Ryka turned Kyle’s head to look at the small sign posted at the end of the walkway leading to the front door. “Satanic Temple,” it read. Kyle swallowed. Ryka had explained there were different kinds of Satanists. The theistic kind that seemed over-eager to damn themselves, performing rituals on the unwilling, sinning in Satan’s name, and generally causing trouble for everyone around them.
Then there were the nontheistic ones that called themselves Satanists, but used the organization more to make political statements. Sure, they used dark imagery, but most in this camp were Heaven-bound, whether they believed in it or not. Because although they claimed to worship Lord Satan, they were humanists more than anything. In either case, Kyle didn’t see how they’d be of help.
Some of those second kind still believe. And regardless, they’d help you. It’s a church of sorts, and one you can make it through the door of. So go on, let’s get a roof over our heads for the night.
Not that he had a choice - his feet were already carrying him to the front door. Open hours were listed on a plaque there, and since it was within those times, he gave the door a push. And found himself in a gift shop. Unexpected, but at least he didn’t feel like he was intruding. A chime went off when he stepped through the doorway, and he could hear voices in another room.
He barely had time to appreciate the “Hail Satan” shirts on display before a man and woman, both dressed to match their place of employment, appeared through a beaded curtain. “Welcome, brother,” the woman greeted.
People skills a little rusty after his last interaction, Kyle stared at her for a moment before blurting out, “I need help.”
“What can we do for you?” They were moving closer, like they expected the answer to be “Give me a hug.” Eyes wide, Kyle backed away, and they froze. At least they seemed to understand body language, unlike most of the people Kyle encountered.
So, if it’s not whores or murderers, you can’t do this anymore?
“Not after what you just did, no,” he spat, realizing too late he’d answered out loud. The man and woman were staring at him, both obviously concerned and now probably assuming he needed mental health care. He almost laughed out loud at the thought of Ryka bursting out of the straight jacket they’d try to strap Kyle into. “Um,” he said to Satanists. “Um.”
I can’t believe you used to be responsible for teaching other people’s kids.
Shut up, Kyle thought. To the two people still staring at him, he managed, “Sorry. I … need a place to stay. Just for tonight, even. I don’t know where else to go.”
The pair looked at each other then back at Kyle. “We can help you find someplace.” The woman said. Both were very likely thinking the best place for him to be going was the psych ward, he knew.
This wasn’t working. Kyle knew he wasn’t doing a very good job communicating, but all he could think of was that hotel room splattered with blood and entrails. “Is staying here an option? I think it might be safer for us here.” The second the word left his mouth, he sighed. Now he absolutely sounded crazy. Neither of them were moving to call the cops yet, but it probably wouldn’t be long.
Dumbass.
“Let me try that again, please.” The man nodded. Kyle thought he was handsome, and nearly turned and bolted for the exit as soon as his brain registered the fact. Ryka was unperturbed. At least there was that.
Be honest, he urged. For a brief moment, Kyle thought he meant about the fact that the only other chunk of his brain firing was whichever part controlled his libido. Though that probably had very little to do with anything above his shoulders. Fighting the urge to roll his eyes, he finally understood that Ryka had meant about his reason for coming here.
“Um, my name is Kyle. My husband is Ryka. We had a very long night. Well, mostly I did. We have a flight out of town in a couple days, but can’t go back to the hotel. He said we’d be safe with you. Please.”
“Where is your husband?” At least they didn’t ask why he couldn’t go back to the hotel. That question, when it inevitably got asked, could be Ryka’s problem. Not that he’d have any qualms about answering it. Proudly, to boot, Kyle was sure.
“Close by,” Kyle answered. And realized too late how vaguely threatening it sounded.
Not enough to deter them from asking them the question he dreaded most. “What happened? At the hotel?” The woman was speaking again, and Kyle felt safer focusing on her. Fewer competing emotions.
“We were followed.” He didn’t want to do this, and flirted with the thought of just turning and leaving.
“What does that mean? We want to help, but we need to know what happened. We have a place for you, but ….”
“We can’t go back,” Kyle told them again. He couldn’t say it. But they so wanted him to.
“Who followed you? Did they do something to you?” A pause, the woman glancing nervously at the man before finally working up the courage to ask, “Did you do something to them?”
Saying “no” to that last would have been easy - he wasn’t one that had torn a full-grown man into little more than human confetti. He’d only had to watch. But he couldn’t tell them that. Or anything else. His mouth seemed to have stopped working.
Too many questions. Let me handle these idiots.
Knock yourself out, Kyle thought.
So it was no surprise - to Kyle at least - when Ryka spoke through him a moment later. “You don’t get to play at Devil worship and then turn away one of his children.” Even as a passenger, his voice still rumbled up through the floor, a deep growl behind his words, windows shaking in their panes and devil-themed glassware rattling on shelves. The pair of Satanists looked in horror down at their feet, reaching out to steady each other. “Nothing to ask now?”
There was no time for them to react - Ryka was already undressing. Slowly, carefully, he came forward, managing to only knock over one book display as he unfurled his wings in the tiny gift shop. To their credit, the Satanists didn’t scream, though they did immediately scramble back behind the sales counter, clinging to each other. Ryka advanced on them, using his wings to block their exits, even though it meant toppling over that rack of t-shirts. “Were you paying attention when my host - my Master - spoke?”
They both nodded, eyes averted. “Yes,” the man said. Ryka was glad he was smart enough to answer. Not just a pretty face, then. Because he had noticed how Kyle’s breath had hitched when he’d seen the man. And he wanted to make things up to Kyle. Getting him laid might be a good way to do so.
“Then you already know my name. So say it.” He took another step forward.
“You’re Ryka,” the woman sputtered, still not daring to meet his gaze.
“That’s right. You know what I am?”
“A demon,” she said, sounding like she didn’t quite believe the words coming out of her own mouth.
“And you’re going to help us.” Ryka wasn’t asking. It wasn’t a polite request, either. It was a command, and if it wasn’t obeyed, there would be more blood. Maybe Kyle had been right to worry.
“Of course.” No hesitation. “But there are more-”
Ryka waved her off. He could hear the chatter, the footfalls on creaky old stairs. Even Kyle would have noticed those, no demonic assistance required. So he was already facing the entryway when two more Satanists appeared, both stopping dead in their tracks as soon as they saw Ryka.
He snapped his wings closed, this time scattering postcards, which fluttered to the ground at his feet. The new arrivals both sank to their knees, and their comrades followed suit, looking regretful that they hadn’t thought to do this sooner. “Oh, I like this,” Ryka purred.
Great. Just what you need - an ego boost.
“Don’t bitch. I’ll get you what you want.” This as he stopped in front of the man Kyle had seemed interested in. He could certainly see why. Standing, he was nearly as tall as they were. His clothes were perfectly fitted to show off his lean - but certainly not scrawny - frame. Dirty-blonde hair was pulled back in a tidy ponytail, and he had a neatly trimmed beard. But he was on his knees now, submissive, and Ryka liked to see him there.
“My Lord,” the man murmured, dipping his head.
“Not quite. ‘Ryka’ will do just fine. Though if you want to call me that later ….” The man’s face went white, then brilliant red. Maybe this wouldn’t be difficult. “And what should we call you?” He leaned down so he was face-to-face with the man.
“Zeke.” Still no eye contact - he was staring down at one of the postcards. Ryka could hear his pulse pounding, smell his fear.
“Sure.” A low rumble behind his words. And why he had bothered to ask, Kyle would never understand. It’s not like Ryka was ever going to use this man’s - or any other mortal’s - name. “And do you have room for us? Or would we be bothering you and ….?” he trailed off.
I don’t need a wingman.
But Ryka ignored Kyle in favor of Zeke, who quietly told him, “I live alone. And I have room. I’d be honored.”
“Excellent. With that settled ….” He stood back to his full height, even more imposing with his small audience in obeisance. “I’ll let Master handle the rest. But keep in mind, I’m always with him, always watching and listening.” There were nods all around. “I’m only interested in sinners, so you’re all safe. For now. Fuck up, and I’ll make sure there’s nothing resembling human left of any of you, just like the last idiot that pissed me off.” And there was the answer to their question.
Their fear was delightful. He wanted more, but Kyle’s exhaustion was becoming overwhelming. He hadn’t slept in more than a day, and now a second transformation. “Help him,” he told the group, sinking to his own knees before retreating.
Unsurprisingly, Kyle fainted. He was slow to wake, his body eager for the rest, no matter how it came about. He could hear whispering, but his own name was the only word he could focus on. Blinking slowly, he tried to sit, and felt several sets of hands propping him up.
Though waking to find his head had been resting in Zeke’s lap sent him bolt upright, nearly headbutting the poor woman trying to pull him forward. “Sorry.” His head was swimming and he briefly thought he might vomit, but the feeling passed quickly, Ryka working to save him the embarrassment.
“Are you okay?”
“Very tired.”
“Can you get up?” This was Zeke, a hand on his shoulder.
Kyle nodded. He needed assistance, but not from any of the people around him. Muscles weakened from exhaustion still obeyed the demon’s will. Kyle stood swaying, blinking slowly and trying not to slump back to the floor. All these years, and he still felt the shock of his back straightening and chin lifting, Ryka correcting his posture. He couldn’t have his host looking weak, not this time. “Was I out long?” he asked.
“Not even a minute,” one of the new arrivals said, getting back to her feet. “I’m Vivian. This is Pauline, Lars, and Zeke introduced himself already. Do you need anything right now? Water? A seat?”
“Both of those, please.”
Without a word, they led him to a back room, passing through a gallery where there was a large statue of a winged, goat-headed demon, two children standing at his side while he read to them from a book. Ryka had schooled his former students, but not like that. It made him shudder to see what they thought of Ryka’s kind.
“Are you offended?” Zeke asked, stepping beside Kyle, who hadn’t even realized he’d stopped moving. “To be honest, most of us are … were atheists.” His eyes widened as he spoke. In just an instant, he’d learned Heaven and Hell - and the creatures that populated them - were real. But he recovered quickly. Like most people who made Ryka’s acquaintance and survived, Kyle assumed he’d need a lifetime of therapy to cope with having interacted with the demon. “It’s to make a statement, that if one religion gets represented publicly, all should be. Better yet, none at all. Or, well … Shit.”
“I know. It’s a lot. But offended? No. I understand. It’s just … weird. He’s good to me. Ryka.” A purr only Kyle could hear. “It’s only people that deserve it that he hunts. Like last night. The guy was a serial rapist. He thought he could fight back. There’s nothing left of him, not really.” His gorge rose, thinking back on the scene in the hotel room once again. “But you don’t really worship them, do you?”
Zeke shook his head. “We believe in justice, but not quite like that.” He looked a little queasy, too. “It’s more about freedom. And respect. For ourselves and each other. We worship the idea of an ideal humanity.”
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“I see.” That part he liked. No wonder they weren’t going to Hell. It was a lot for Kyle to take in, though he supposed he had it easier than his hosts.
“I hope so. Now come on, let’s get you settled for a bit.”
Very gently, Zeke nudged him forward. The rest of the group was in the kitchenette. Already, a chair was pulled out from the small table, where a glass of ice water sat waiting. Kyle gratefully chugged it before collapsing into the seat. “Thank you.” He could feel their expectant gazes. They were obviously too scared - and maybe also too polite - to ask, but the questions hung in the air.
“Can I do the short version now?”
“You don’t have to do anything,” Vivian assured him. Ryka’s words had been taken to heart. “Zeke can take you to his place if you want to sleep. If you want to tell us - or even if you don’t - come back for dinner. We’re having a small gathering, only three more people, and you’re welcome to join us.”
His stomach growled at the thought of food. “That sounds wonderful. Thank you. So much. But I owe you some sort of explanation.” It looked like Vivian was going to again remind him that he owed nothing, but he waved off her concern. “This is what demonic possession really looks like. Well, mostly. We’re a weird case, but … I’m a host, he’s considered a parasite, though it’s more a job title than a class of demon.
“This wasn’t something I ever went looking for. I was agnostic, definitely never painted a bloody pentagram on the floor or anything like that. I was maybe having some not-so-nice thoughts that night, but never wished for anything like this. He was just sent to me, and neither of us knows why it was me specifically.” Ryka was absolutely sure wishing your ex would burn in Hell wasn’t enough to summon a demon, considering actually trying to summon one wasn’t even enough.
“I was twenty-four. That was just over thirty years ago. I said ‘yes’ to him willingly, and because I did, I’m going to Hell whenever this is all over. And we don’t know how long that could be. Another decade? A century?”
He paused, emptying the glass Zeke had refilled for him. “You haven’t aged because of him?” Vivian asked, awed.
“That’s right. I can’t age, can’t get sick, and if I get hurt, he’s learned to heal me. But he needs to be well fed for that. And that means hunting down sinners. He feeds on fear. And guilt. And regret. And anything else awful you can feel. Which is why we were chasing down that guy to begin with. Ryka was stalking him, and he caught on and trailed us back to the hotel. Ryka let him - it’s a game for him.”
He deserved everything I did to him. And more.
“I know, Ry, but -” Kyle cut himself off. They could have that conversation later. Having it in front of people he needed to help him didn’t seem like the right time or place. “Sorry, I still can’t always stop myself when he says something.”
“No need to apologize,” Vivian quickly assured him. “There’s no need to hide anything here.”
“Thanks. Still not a good habit for me.”
Zeke refilled his water a third time, and Kyle downed it before struggling back to his feet. Any longer seated and he’d be out cold. “You look exhausted. Would you like to sleep?” Kyle nodded. Opening his mouth to answer suddenly felt like too much work. “Come with me, then,” Zeke said, leading the way out a back door. The others watched them go, a little nervously, Kyle thought. There wasn’t time to dwell on it, or offer reassurances - Zeke was already holding open the passenger door of his car.
Feeling himself flush, Kyle dropped into the seat. It was a short ride to Zeke’s small apartment, and the moment he was shown a bed, Kyle belly-flopped onto it and fell asleep.
***
Wake up, stud. Like someone had shocked him, Kyle startled awake. His body responded well to Ryka’s cues, years of trust in Ryka’s instincts now deeply ingrained. No emergency, just your wake-up call. Your new friend is scared to touch you.
“Your fault,” Kyle mumbled into the pillow.
“Sorry?” Zeke asked.
“Nothing. Time to go?” Kyle propped himself up and rolled off the bed. He’d fallen asleep in his clothes, and now tried to smooth the wrinkles.
Zeke started to reach out to help, but quickly pulled his hand away. “If you’re up for it. It is going to be a good meal, though. Lars and Pauli are amazing chefs.”
“Let’s go, then.”
***
The temple was closed to the public now, and the gift shop had been put back to rights. Kyle felt guilty for not offering to help earlier. They made their way back to the main gallery, where a long table now filled the middle of the room. Vases of nearly-black roses and baby’s breath were arranged along the middle, and black candles glowed between them. The table itself was decked in red velvet and black lace. Ryka seemed amused.
Zeke directed Kyle to a seat at the head of the table. Kyle tried to decline, but Zeke shook his head. “For our guests of honor.” At least he took the seat on Kyle’s left. Vivian sat on the other side. They had been the last to arrive, so the three remaining members of their little coven were already seated. Vivian introduced them, and Kyle promptly forgot their names.
Lars and Pauline came out of the kitchen bearing trays of food, and Kyle had to stop himself from drooling. Not that he ate poorly by any means, but this had obviously been prepared with great care.
I’ll let them all fuck me if they feed us like this again tomorrow.
Kyle just rolled his eyes. Which Vivian noticed. “Is this not to your liking?”
“What? No! It looks incredible. He just never shuts up.” Vivian’s mouth made a small “o.” She knew better than to remark otherwise. “But he thinks it looks and smells amazing, too. Thank you again.”
“We’re glad you decided to join us.”
“I’m not crashing anything, am I?” He suddenly worried that he was making even more of a nuisance of himself. As if passing out on a stranger’s bed for most of a day wasn’t enough.
“Not at all! We’ve been planning this for a while. So we only had to set one extra seat.”
She’s telling the truth. For fuck’s sake, just relax. The demon’s way of telling him not to worry. Rude, but effective.
“Well, thanks again for making room for me. For us.” And Kyle noticed all eyes were on him. “I’ll tell you whatever I can. I’m sure you have questions.”
“Only if you don’t mind,” Vivian told him, reaching for his empty plate to make it less so. She piled it high with a bit of everything - roast, souffle, vegetables, rolls - and set it back in front of him. “But eat first.”
Kyle didn’t argue. And once he was stuffed, and everyone seemed to be done eating as well, he leaned back in his chair. Feeling very much the teacher again with his group of rapt pupils, he asked, “Um, so, what do you want to know?”
***
The hours had passed quickly. The rich red wine that had accompanied the meal didn’t hurt, either. By the time the questions ran out, his head was buzzing from the alcohol. He’d easily consumed a bottle, probably more, he realized, emptying his glass for the sixth time.
But he knew the wine wasn’t the only reason he found himself in a good mood - the company was pleasant. He’d worried they’d dig too deep, pry too hard. But they hadn’t. The moment something had made him even remotely uncomfortable, they’d relented. And they’d offered as much about themselves as they asked of him, so he never felt like he was on trial.
After dinner, which was followed by a very decadent dessert, they cleared the table and all its contents away, leaving the hall mostly empty again. Alone while his hosts did dishes and packed up leftovers, Kyle perused the gallery. There was art on the walls, but the only thing taking up space in the room now was that statue. Kyle found himself standing in front of it again.
They call him Baphomet, but that’s not his name.
“What is it, then?”
Ryka grumbled out something in Hell’s native tongue that Kyle could neither understand nor replicate. “Sure.” Ryka just laughed. “Do you want to stretch before we’re stuck in Zeke’s apartment for the night?”
Please. This time, there was nothing to knock over. Ryka tossed Kyle’s shirt onto the statue and did his own circuit of the gallery, slowly pumping his wings behind him.
When Zeke walked in, he was studying an abstract painting of Baphomet with the children. “So sorry to interrupt,” the man muttered, bowing his head.
“You’re not.”
“Is … is there anything I can do for you?”
“What would you be willing to do?”
Zeke had frozen just inside the doorway, and had yet to look up at the demon. But when the winged shadow fell over him, he risked a glance. And found Ryka leering at him, teeth bared in a lascivious grin. “I … I …”
Be nice. We need somewhere to sleep tonight, remember?
“It’s not me you need to ask. Master is the one that needs caring for tonight.”
“Of course.” Zeke glanced away again, too nervous to catch Ryka’s meaning.
Kyle didn’t miss it, though. Are you really sure? On all counts?
“I am, Master, yes.” Without any more warning than that, Ryka receded, leaving Kyle slumped on the floor at Zeke’s feet. The other man quickly helped Kyle back to standing, even retrieving his shirt for him.
Even though it wouldn’t have cost him anything to do so, Ryka hadn’t mitigated any of the effects of the wine. Feeling a little drunk, Kyle allowed Zeke to help him dress. “Are you okay?”
“Tired again.” It had been more socializing than Kyle’d done in a very long time, and full of food and wine, he found himself eager to go somewhere quiet. “That was very nice, but ….”
Zeke nodded in understanding. “A lot, right? That’s fine. So, shall we?” he offered, holding out a hand. Kyle accepted, letting himself be pulled through the gallery, kitchenette and out the back door.
He wants you. Kyle couldn’t reply, but didn’t need to. Have fun. I’m going to sleep - I stayed up earlier, so now it’s my turn. I’m here if you need me. But I think you’ll be fine.
“Good night, Ry,” Kyle said quietly, trailing behind Zeke so the other man wouldn’t hear. “And thank you.”
There was no reply, the demon already dozing. Kyle just shook his head. Once again, Zeke was holding the door for him. The warm wine buzz seemed to intensify on the ride to Zeke’s apartment.
As before, Zeke showed Kyle to the bedroom, and Kyle realized it was the only one. “Wait, where were you planning to sleep, then?”
“The couch.”
“But-”
“I fall asleep on it more often than not. It’s really comfortable.”
“Still. This is your house.”
“Like I said earlier, it’s an honor. Please.”
Ryka had seemed so confident Zeke was as interested in Kyle as Kyle was in him. But Kyle still hesitated before suggesting, “Maybe we could share?”
Zeke’s wide-eyed terror at the suggestion turned Kyle’s stomach to lead, his dinner solidifying into a dense, acidic mass, and he tried to stammer his way through a retraction before Zeke cut him off. “You referred to him as your husband. I don’t want to overstep.” Which meant he’d thought about it.
“He is. But we have an … understanding. Sort of a selectively open kind of thing.” Embarrassed, Kyle tugged at his shirt collar. He took a tentative step closer to Zeke, who at least didn’t move away. “He won’t be jealous. Or angry.”
Zeke still didn’t seem convinced, so Kyle decided to put it all out there. “He knew as soon as I saw you that I was attracted, and he asked you specifically to let me stay here because he thought maybe you’d be interested, too. In fact, he’s quite convinced it’s a mutual attraction. Is he wrong?” Kyle couldn’t imagine he was, but that still didn’t mean Zeke would be willing to act on his feelings. Especially given the circumstances. Ryka had divulged he’d know everything they did to Kyle, after all. And would mete out punishment accordingly.
“He’s not. I am. Attracted,” Zeke admitted, color flooding his cheeks, then immediately draining from his face.
“He’s asleep. Or doing a very good job pretending to be. But I assure you, he approves.”
“Oh.”
“He really was trying to set us up.” Now Zeke was closing the gap between them, making eye contact, though Kyle could still see some fear there. But lust overpowered it.
Zeke hesitated only for a moment before stepping forward and shoving Kyle back onto the bed. “Fuck it, there are worse ways to die than having sex.”
***
Even before Ryka had come along, it had been a long time since Kyle had woken up next to someone. It was nice, he thought, once his moment of absolute panic had passed. Luckily, Zeke seemed to be a heavy sleeper, and didn’t notice Kyle waking with a startled gasp next to him.
Wow. Where’d all that trust go?
“Sorry. I forgot where I was.” Next to him, Zeke stirred, but didn’t wake. Carefully, Kyle climbed out of bed, gathering whatever he could find of his clothes from the floor. Which didn’t amount to much in the dark. So, underwear and t-shirt in hand, he snuck out to the kitchen, dressing there.
Have fun?
“No way did you sleep through that.”
Of course not.
“Then you know the answer.”
You can admit it. I’m not going to be pissed if you say you had a good time getting fucked.
“Fine. Then I had a good time getting fucked.” Fully expecting Zeke to now be standing behind him, Kyle turned around. But the bedroom door was still closed, just as he had left it.
Maybe you should do it again, then. Better feed me that way so I’m not tempted to terrorize these poor bastards when we go back to the temple.
Kyle opened his mouth to reply, but saw the doorknob turn and cut himself off. “Good morning,” Zeke greeted, still naked and in the process of attempting to subdue his hair.
“Morning,” Kyle returned, not even making an effort to avert his gaze. He still tried to make small talk, though. “So, what was the plan for today?”
“They’re closing the temple for the day. Just saying it’s for maintenance. That way there’s no one around if he wants to stretch his wings or anything.” Zeke had used Kyle’s name frequently the night before, but was still unable to use the demon’s. Really, Kyle wasn’t surprised.
“He’d appreciate that.” The words came out as an afterthought. Kyle was too busy watching Zeke to do much in the way of thinking. The other man was starting a pot of coffee, his back to Kyle. It was a view that demanded proper appreciation.
How trusting, Ryka mused. You should take advantage.
That sounded like a good idea to Kyle, who stood and quietly stepped up behind Zeke, leaning in to plant a kiss on his shoulder. Zeke jumped, but only a little. “Are we expected back at any particular time?” Kyle asked. He put his hands on Zeke’s waist. Zeke set down the coffee pot and turned to face Kyle.
“No.” A pause while Zeke chewed on his lip. “I don’t want to piss him off.”
Kyle grinned. “He’s feeling generous. I’ve learned better than to ignore these kinds of opportunities.”
Now Zeke was smiling, too, and pushing past Kyle, back toward the bedroom. Discarding the clothes he had just put back on, Kyle followed closely behind.
***
It was well past noon when Kyle and Zeke returned to the temple. The rest of the coven was there, but not waiting for them, not like Kyle had worried they would be. They shouted their ‘hellos’ from the upstairs offices, but no one rushed down to make sure Zeke had been returned to them in one piece.
“Help yourself to leftovers,” Zeke offered, taking his own suggestion and assembling a sandwich from the contents of various containers in the fridge. “I’m going to get caught up on some work. If you need anything, just holler.” With that, he took his plate and disappeared up to the offices, leaving Kyle and Ryka alone.
Eat.
Now that he’d been told twice, Kyle did indeed help himself, filling a plate. He sat and nibbled at his meal for a few minutes before carrying it out to the gallery. “Your turn.”
In his excitement to finally enjoy some of the food, Ryka failed to give Kyle a chance to undress. They sighed in unison as Kyle’s one remaining shirt was reduced to tatters. Guess I’m about to be the proud owner of a “Hail Satan” t-shirt, Kyle remarked, while Ryka finished destroying the garment.
“No,” Ryka managed through a generous mouthful of leftover roast. “Please.”
I’m sure Zeke can donate an old shirt.
This didn’t sound like a much better option to Ryka, but he chose to focus on stuffing his face. He cleared his plate in a few short minutes, then squeezed himself - cursing the whole way - into the small kitchen for another helping. Plate heaping, he returned to the gallery, offering the small doorway a few more choice words. This serving was nearly as short-lived as the first.
Meal devoured, Ryka paced the room, glowering at the art on the walls. What are you pissy about? Save some annoyed grumbling, there was no reply. But even though he couldn’t read Ryka’s mind as the demon could read his, they had been together long enough that Kyle could easily guess. Jealous? Still nothing. Too bad you can’t feed off your own envy; you’d never be hungry again.
“Funny.” He sounded anything but amused.
You gave me permission. So are you just jealous I got some and you didn’t? This time, Ryka answered with a snort. Let’s take the couch tonight, Kyle suggested, hoping he didn’t need to elaborate for Ryka to recognize the invitation.
But even if he hadn’t thought it clearly, there had been something in his mind explicit enough for Ryka to understand. “I’ll make sure your friend doesn’t disturb us.”
No nightmares, please. That meant Zeke would get the alternative: raunchy sex dreams, more than likely starring Ryka. The demon had explained that if his target was infatuated enough with someone else, that person’s presence would override his. Or result in a subconscious three-way. But in most cases, since he was the one triggering the dreams, he was their focus. Regardless, his subject fell into a very deep sleep. Aside from the building falling down around him, there wouldn’t be much that would wake Zeke.
Thoughts already roaming to how he planned to ravish Kyle later, Ryka hadn’t been paying attention to the Satanists, and never heard Zeke quietly descend the stairs. It wasn’t until Zeke caught sight of the demon and dropped his plate that Ryka finally noticed him. Though true to form, he never let his surprise show, instead turning slowly to face the man.
“So sorry,” Zeke muttered, following the dish to the ground and sinking to his knees.
Ryka considered pulling his dick out and making this one properly worship him. But Kyle had finally stopped being upset about the mess in the hotel room. No need to find something new for him to be pissed about.
So instead, he asked, “Anything I can help you with?” with enough malevolent undertone to guarantee him a snack at least.
Zeke swallowed, but was undeterred. “We were talking upstairs. Kyle said you travel a lot. And we have temples all over. So if you’re ever in need again, you can always come to us. Any of us. Without giving away too much, we can let everyone know to treat you both as honored guests.”
How quickly they had gone from atheists to ass-kissers, Ryka mused. Not that he had any qualms about imposing on their hospitality, but this had been a fluke. Kyle had been too distraught to listen to reason. This wasn’t something he wanted to make a habit.
Kyle felt the same way. Fine for emergencies. But we don’t need it to be your statue in the gallery.
When put that way, maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to make an appearance every now and then. But Kyle really did know him too well.
Absolutely not. Now if you don’t mind, can I be out again so Zeke doesn’t have to kneel there the rest of the afternoon? Then, so Ryka didn’t say it out loud for him, added, As enticing a sight as that is.
“Yes, Master.” He returned to his passenger position without a word to Zeke.
Which was fine by Kyle. His ability to socialize with other mortals had recovered since the day before, and he felt confident he could handle this. After regaining his feet - he, too, had wound up on his knees - he offered Zeke a hand. And Zeke offered him a spare sweatshirt he had up at his desk.
Once he was fully clothed again, Kyle was finally able to respond to the Satanists’ promise of refuge, if needed. “I hope we don’t have to take you up on it, but it’s much appreciated.”
“We’re happy to help.”
Their little coven had been very helpful. And Zeke had been more than welcoming. Kyle hoped they didn’t think he’d be showing up looking for sex and a meal on the regular. In fact, he had spent his brief window as a passenger trying to figure out how to delicately bring up the subject of their sleeping arrangements for the night. He wasn’t sure what, if anything, Zeke was expecting.
Maybe his worry showed on his face, because Zeke continued, “And I’m taking the couch tonight. Your flight’s tomorrow, right? You should get a good night’s sleep.”
There wasn’t much else Kyle could say other than, “Thanks.”
But as always, Ryka had to get in the last word.
Take the bed, but you can forget about a good night’s sleep. It’s my turn to pummel your ass tonight, stud.