He lay very still and watched an ugly, rat looking creature scurry across the ground and through tufts of dark, serrated grass. Every few feet, it stopped and reared up on hind legs to test the air for any scent of threat. It moved from shadow to shadow in quick bursts, hunting for food, and unknowingly being hunted in turn.

Something stirred in Logan’s mind as he lay watching.

Soft leaves brush against my bare cheek and fill my nose with the green scent of Mesquite trees. The grass bends beneath each careful step. The compound bow is heavy in my left hand. An arrow is knocked and held loosely in my right. The bow is new and I carry it with a sense of great pride and ownership.

I am not alone. A comforting shadow trails silently in my wake, watching with infinite patience. Up ahead, a glimpse of brown and white moves through the brush. I stop and kneel. A deer raises his head, somehow sensing danger despite having the breeze in my face. I raise the bow. Muscles contract against the heavy draw weight, almost too much for my young arms to manage. The snap and twang of the drawstring is sharp off my fingertips…

Logan breathed against an unidentified ache in his chest and re-focused on the desperate, present need to eat. Ever-so-slowly, he eased into a crouch and raised his spear. His throw was good. The rat thing squealed and fell.

Back at his camp, Logan skinned the creature with his rock knife and speared the body to cook over the fire. The guts he wrapped up in the hide. Tomorrow he would use the innards as bait for the next unwary predator. Just one more hide should be enough to stitch a small bag together with his bone needle and braided leaf fiber.

There were failures as well. Blackwood branches proved too stiff and brittle for a proper bow. The latest attempt was glowing embers in his fire pit.

Like the rat, Logan paused every few minutes to listen for danger. It was never far away in this place, and the line between predator and prey was always shifting. He cooked rats and ate. He sipped nectar from plant stalks gathered after watching thirsty animals do it first. He braided thread and stitched hide. Occasionally, Logan slept.

After nearly a week, death seemed less certain. It had come as both a surprise and a profound relief to realize he knew how to hunt and survive the wild though the one who had taught him these skills remained a blank spot in his fractured memories. Thanks to the local wildlife, he had discovered plants that held water. Crude tools had been crafted. Each morning that he awoke was a victory. Every full belly was a battle won.

Logan grew lean and more animal than man. He also slowly began to forget what safety felt like. The fight to survive allowed for no such luxuries.

On day six, Logan emerged at first light to hunt, as had become his habit. Afterward, if he was successful, there might be time to gather more wood. One day, he hoped to have enough to build a crude door across his little nook in the rocks to shield his sleeping body against inevitable discovery. When he slept, Logan dreamed of it. When awake, he tried not to think about days not so long ago, filled with modern conveniences and now impossible luxuries.

Plans and musings were cut abruptly short by movement in his peripheral vision as he stepped out of his shelter. Logan spun, spear raised. Ready to fight, or flee, at a moment's notice.

The demon girl crouched on a nearby boulder, looking at him.

She found me! Logan's blood ran cold. His secret place and his safety were now compromised. He scanned the area for others that may be waiting to ambush him. Logan saw nothing except her, but that was more than enough. He knew how fast she was and how deadly. There would be no lucky breaks this time.

"Hello, Beauty." He spoke gently. The name seemed right. Logan realized that he had already named her in his thoughts after their first encounter. "How did you find me?"

She tilted her head, then raised her nose into the air and sniffed loudly.

Logan cursed beneath his breath, furious at his own stupidity. He had not counted on her being able to track by scent. There was no chance of escape now. For better or worse, it would have to end, here and now.

"What do you want?" he asked.

The demon blinked at him and then reached behind her. Logan tensed and gripped his spear. She turned back to face him. In one hand, she held the corpse of some fat, little mammal. In the other, what appeared to be an actual, honest-to-god, waterskin!

Logan stared, mouth agape. "Are you... offering me food and water?"

She blinked at him and then gently tossed both items to the ground.

He cautiously approached. One step, two steps, three… The demon girl growled at him. Logan stopped. She opened her mouth and pointed at it.

"You want to trade? Is that it?"

Something like frustration seemed to pass across her face. She stabbed a finger at Logan’s crotch. Then she pointed at her mouth.

"Wait, what?" He scratched at his scraggly, new beard. "No way. You want to trade supplies... for a blow job?"

She tilted her head at him.

"Supplies." Logan pointed at the water skin. "For a blow job." He reached down and cupped his bulge in one hand, decidedly uncomfortable at his own vulgar charades. "Yes?"

The demon licked her lips.

Logan laughed. He couldn’t help it. In his wildest dreams, he could never have imagined such a bizarre scenario. It was all too absurd. "Well… not exactly what I was expecting, but yeah, why not? “Make love, not war" seems like a reasonable approach to diplomacy. Damn sure beats trying to kill each other, even if this whole situation is nuts, um... no pun intended."

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He watched the demon girl leap down from the rock and retrieve her trade goods. Cautiously, Beauty moved closer, feline grace in every slow step. For the first time, they stood face to face. Logan noted that she many pounds smaller and a full head shorter than he was, but it in no way detracted from her strength and prowess, or her deadly potential. He looked into her alien, lantern eyes but could not guess what she might be thinking or feeling at that moment.

There was an electric charge in the air between them that Logan could not identify. It felt like the cold brush of danger. It also felt like the held breath of anticipation and wordless possibilities.

Logan held her gaze and stepped back into his shelter. She followed him in, every line of her lush body taught as a bowstring. Once inside, Beauty solemnly presented the trade goods to him. Logan took them in much the same fashion. It all felt strangely formal, like a peace treaty between warring nations.

They stared at each other. The tension in the air was thick enough to swim through. Logan was acutely aware that, cornered as he was in this cleft of rock, she could rip him into bloody pieces if she wanted to. It was a huge gamble, yet nothing about her body language suggested violent intentions.

No risk, no reward, Logan thought. Though, in truth, it was more prayer than a statement of fact. Either way, right or wrong, it was too late to back out now.

The animal he set aside for later examination. The water skin was far more interesting. It was leather and well made, reflecting a considerable amount of crafting skill, which seemed to indicate some degree of society. What passed for civilization in hell was impossible to imagine, but at least he now knew it was out there. For some reason, it gave him something he had not dared to consider in a long time, hope.

It was heavy. Logan uncorked it and sniffed at the contents. He blinked in surprise. It wasn't water. "Can't be." He took a sip. It was warm, and the flavor was all wrong, but he knew that taste immediately.

Logan looked into her eyes. "Where the hell did you find beer? You know what? Never mind. Thank you, Beauty."

She tilted her head as if attempting to puzzle out his words. Beauty pushed the water skin aside and looked down at his crotch and then back up.

"Now?" He chuckled her but in his mind, Logan was more than a little disturbed by the demon’s fixation with oral sex. Such single-minded focus went well beyond erotic and into the realm of disturbing obsession. He honestly had no idea whether to be turned on or frightened by the behavior of his new friend.

Regardless, a deal was a deal. Logan began to unbutton his jeans. "Alright, then. If I feel you must."

She stared as he let his pants fall around his ankles, and his shaft rose to partial attention at the memory of their last encounter. Small, lavender hands reached out to cup and cradle. Logan breathed a sigh of relief that her claws were, it seemed, retractable. Beauty looked up at him, then pointed at her mouth.

"Go ahead," he smiled. She looked at the pile of dried grass he used for a bed and then back at him. “I see,” he nodded. "Is this position new for you?" He reached out and placed his fingers on her shoulders. She tensed but did not pull away. "It's ok."

Gently, he pushed down, encouraging her to kneel. "Try it. It's fun, I promise."

The demon girl looked down at her hands, gliding over his stiff erection. She looked back up, wide-eyed. Logan could almost see the dots connecting in her mind as she grasped what he was suggesting. Perhaps it was only wishful thinking, but he thought he saw her golden eyes light up in anticipation.

Beauty slowly slid down Logan's body until she knelt in front of him, and his length was twitching against her cheek and hair. She leaned against it, rubbing her face across his heated and rigid flesh like a cat. Her eyes traveled across his torso as if to commit to memory every contour and curve beneath his burnished skin. Fingers traced over the sharply defined muscles of his abdomen and thighs. The expression on her face was one of fascination.

Eventually, the demon turned her attention to more urgent concerns. Unlike last time, she now had full use of her hands. Beauty took full advantage of this, stroking and caressing the shape of his penis from root to tip.

It was clear that she was still learning, and it wasn't always pleasant. She gave his balls a hard squeeze. Logan jumped and gritted his teeth against a sudden and unwelcome bolt of pain.

"Ow, fuck! Easy, Beauty!"

She looked up at him, then back down. She tried again, more gently. Logan groaned encouragement. "That's more like it. Yes, those are very sensitive."

Beauty held him in her hands, stroking around the base as she lined him up with her mouth. Her purple tongue snaked out to taste his flesh. She took his full length in her mouth, gently sucked on it, then pulled away to stroke his shaft again as she stared at the slit.

Again, her single-minded obsession was startling. He watched her repeat this odd behavior a second time before he understood. Truly understood.

“Oh. That’s what you want? Ok, I see. The thing is, it… ah.” Given the close proximity of her teeth and claws, Logan considered his next words carefully. “It doesn’t work like that. There’s no spigot to turn or switch to flip. It ain’t a lawn sprinkler. You have to…” ” He made a vague gesture. “Prime the pump, so to speak, to get things, um… flowing.”

The demon looked at him with curious eyes, fingered still wrapped around, and gently stroking, his tender and very vulnerable flesh.

He cautiously and carefully reached down to brush his fingers against the back of her head, gently urging her lips forward. “If we could just take a step back to last time and do that part again, we can both get that happy ending.”

She seemed agreeable to the notion. More importantly, and much to his relief, the demon girl did not appear offended or angry at his efforts to refocus her efforts. Logan watched her plump, black lips open wide around his girth. Her hands reached around to firmly cup his ass.

Logan nearly swallowed his tongue as she looked up to meet his gaze, then swooped in and took his entire length down her throat in one, smooth motion. She gave him no time to recover as she pulled back to the tip and did it again. Playtime, it seemed, was over.

“Oof!” Logan groaned. “Yep, that’s the ticket to ride, right there. Just… oh boy, keep doing more of that!”

Like the last time, once Beauty got down to business, she was a force of nature. Logan let his fingers brush through her thick mane of hair. When the demon offered no objection he gently laid his hands on either side of her head and began to take a more active role in their “negotiations”.

Beauty held nothing back, milking him with absolute determination and staring up at him to watch his every reaction with those golden, cat eyes. Wet, slurping noises filled the little shelter as she worked him. A low, and delightful, humming sound of contentment gently vibrated her throat.

"Fuck," Logan grunted at the rising ecstasy cascading through his body. He leaned back against the wall, and his hips instinctively pushed forward into the soft pillows of her plump lips. "Fuck!"

The urge for release grew uncontrollable. Logan's hands sank into her mane of hair, pulling her forward to brush her lips against his pubes as he began to empty his balls into her belly. He held her there as he convulsed with pleasure, entranced by the shape of her petite mouth, stretched around his thick girth and the subtle rhythm of her throat muscles swallowing each blast of his seed.

He let go as the last shiver of orgasm faded, but Beauty was not done with him yet. Logan focused on staying upright on shaky legs as she continued to suck gently, intent on collecting every drop of his cream. Her tongue circled and licked the head, sending blissful post orgasmic after-shocks through his body.

Logan groaned and started to slide to a sitting position on the ground. She let him slip from her mouth and licked her lips. Beauty remained on her knees, watching him with a calm, curious expression.

He took a deep breath and smiled at her. "You know, I think this might be the beginning of a great relationship."

She cocked her head as she looked at him. And then, for the first time, she smiled back.