A dark cracking echoed through the hallways of the palace. The prince was startled as he heard the sound, his heart pounding, and he sat in bed. Through the canopied curtains of his bed, he gazed out to the heavy wooden door and listened.
Crack.
The prince’s blood rushed through him, making him feel alive on edge. All the hairs on his neck stood. The open curtains of his window faintly lighted his room, the moonlight casting pale light over his blonde hair and even paler skin.
Crack.
Quietly, the boy rose from his bed, padding barefoot to the wooden door. When he opened it, his red, silken, sleeping garments dangled at his ankles, dragging along the floor. What was the noise? Where was it coming from? He bit his lip, heart pounding. He was visibly trembling.
Crack.
The Prince turned the corner toward the dark hall leading to his chamber as silently as possible. The prince’s eyes strained in the darkness, and he blinked to focus on what was sitting there. There was some form there in his private sitting room. He squinted to focus, making small steps and then stepped into something wet. Blinking, he looked down at his foot and couldn’t distinguish in the shadows what he stepped in. He moved his foot and looked down, toes flinching. He could see what was reflecting the moonlight now. Red. A hand reached out to touch the smooth liquid, and when he brought it close to his face, he saw that it was blood.
The hand whipped back in reflex and stepped back, his back connecting to something hard. He trembled, too scared to turn to face what he had backed into.
“What is this?” a cool voice asked. An arm moved around his waist; another snaked and touched his face. “I had not expected to find something like this in the palace of those vile humans that dared to steal from me.” The prince shivered as he felt a hot breath on his neck. “Perhaps taking you will be a fair trade.”
The prince’s eyes widened in shock. He blinked slowly in disbelief. The hand on his waist traveled up to play in his silky hair. “Yes, I shall keep you. Tell me: how old are you?”
The prince finally could comprehend that he was being spoken to, and his well-bred manners came back to him, even after trepidation. He stiffened as he replied, “I just turned eighteen a month ago.”
In a blink of an eye, the arm around him whipped him around and pushed him up against the wall, his head snapping up at the sudden harsh treatment, which contrasted with the gentle feeling from before. He got a look at the man-creature then. The man had a human look to him, but not human. There were horns on his head and vivid cat-like eyes. His long hair was pure black; black veins snaked under the surface of his skin all over. The skin was pale but not white. He grabbed the Prince’s chin and looked at him, tilting his head, “You? Eighteen? As young and fair as you look? Impressive, son of Helios.” He leaned in close to his face and whispered.
Blue eyes met the amber-colored eyes of the demon briefly before he studied the strange person. Prince’s hands gently moved up to take the demonic-looking stranger’s hands. Fingers that tipped black and were stained in blood. Slowly, he slipped out of the demon’s grasp, “My father says not to trust strangers. Tell me. Who are you?”
The raven-haired creature smirked and picked the young man up by the waist and carried him over the pool of blood. The Prince gasped.
“We have forever to acquaint ourselves, my pet,” the demon said, and he walked towards a mirror. He used the blood on his hands to draw markings upon the glass and stepped into it, and the portal vanished.
***
Going through the portal had caused some magical effects, and the Prince had passed out. When he woke, he had hoped the noise, the blood, and the demon had all been a dream. However, he woke to find himself lying on a bed of black fur, still in his silken sleeping garments. Someone had cleaned his face and feet of the blood that he had touched, meaning they touched him unconscious. So the blood and the man were all real. And he was captive.
Sitting up, rubbing the back of his head, which ached, the Prince looked around. Blinking slowly, focusing on details. The room had dark wooden furniture with golden trim. There was a dark oak round table, and at that table sat the horned creature, who looked content reading a book and drinking something from an odd-shaped wine glass. Behind him hung a window from which came in pale light from outside. The Prince’s face fell, and he just stared at the demon. What in the world was he going to do?
After a while, the creature’s eyes flitted up to him, and one eyebrow rose, “How do you feel, my pet?” he inquired calmly, having expected him to wake.
The Prince did not respond. The demon sat the book down and approached him. The Prince shuffled back. “I was not lying when I said I wanted you and not just your pathetic, human kin.” The demon sat down on the edge of the bed and grabbed the teen’s arm to pull him forward. “Do you understand what your father stole from me?”
The teen trembled.
“My family’s inheritance had the power to grant the best wishes and fulfill anyone’s desires.” He tapped the prince’s nose. “Dangerous in human hands; they are usually so pathetic in their wishes.”
“What was his wish?” The prince asked quietly and almost unwillingly.
The horned one smiled, “Oh, my little pet can speak.” He grabbed a lock of the long, silken hair and studied it momentarily. “So you truly wish to know what your father wished for?”
Mutely, the prince nodded.
“Let me taste your mouth, and I’ll tell you,” the man said.
The Prince felt the heat rise to his face. He tensed, “Why would I ever agree to that?” he asked sharply. Why would the demon even want such a thing? They were effectively strangers.
“Have I not already told you?” the devil smirked. “We have forever to acquaint ourselves.” He caressed the Prince’s arm, trailing fingers from the elbow to wrist. “I am making a game. I’ll wager that if I start this off slowly, you will let me do as I please.” His smile grew wider, “And I will give you information. I’m not asking for much for our first bargain, am I?”
Blue eyes blinked once, and then blue eyes looked away, his face hot. Well, it wasn’t fair. Even if this was a demon, there were just certain things a prince should never have to share, especially not with some random man. Many things had happened to him, and he wasn’t willing to share them with some stranger. “But I’m a man, and you’re a man,” he said. He had concluded that men should not be together because of things that had happened sometime before.
“And what does that matter?” the demon asked. “Who cares what a person’s body is when it is the mind and soul that is so beautiful.”
This sounded very plausible in this dream-like scenario. The Prince could agree to that. He had nothing to lose. So why did this feel like a very bad choice? Why did he feel guilty even considering this for a moment? Besides, it was just a kiss. He knew from his schooling and his books how important of a sexual item a kiss was. However, surely the demon could be more cooperative and patient with his captor. How would kissing this devil create such a relationship? “Fine: a kiss,” the prince said.
The Prince jerked back to fall against the pillows and let out a cry as the demon was instantly over him. The kiss was not what he had expected; it was deep, and he made a soft noise. There was a tongue pushing into his mouth; fangs scraped against his lips. He groaned against the demon’s mouth. Pale but warm, arms wrapped around his shoulders. Heat flooded from everywhere. Just a kiss, he thought. His fingers curled in the demon’s silken hair, and his stomach turned excitedly at the feeling. He felt weak to this, and when the demon pulled away, a trail of saliva connected their tongues. He licked his swollen lips.
“Your father,” the demon spoke into his neck, and the prince’s breath hitched as fangs brushed along his skin, tickling him, “Wished for his family to become the most powerful,” he explained. “He didn’t specify the how nor the cost.”
The Prince closed his eyes as his pale fingers tightened their hold. “Why are you so obsessed with this wish?”
The demon pinned the Prince’s hands on the dark fur above his head, “What do you think the ‘cost’ was, Prince?”
The Prince sucked in a deep breath, “What was it?”
Ultimately, the wish was very typical; the wishes usually had to be blood. It was sad and not fair. Yet so typically human. The demon smiled, “You didn’t pay for that answer,” he replied and pulled away. “You should rest, my pet.”
The Prince blinked and lay there stunned. That bastard…using me for his evil dealings. Then he was overcome with guilt: had he taken part in that wickedness? Not only that, he had somewhat enjoyed it.
***
The Prince had been given clothes, taken care of, and left to his own devices for the most part for the best part of the next week. Allowed to process everything that had happened. After all, he was now in a strange place away from his family and home. Everything was new and he didn’t know what to do or think about it.
“So what’s your name?” the Demon finally asked.
Yes, they had gone for an entire week without trading names. The demon had regarded the Prince as “Prince”, “Pet”, or “my Pet”; and the Prince had simply called him “Demon.” It had felt so silly at that point that they had gone so long without basic courtesy. Having learned the rules, the Prince said, “We can trade names: fair?”
The demon smiled, “Fair, my pet.”
And the Prince gave his name in turn, “My name is Sylas. Now, what is yours?”
“Ezreal,” the demon. He ran his fingers through Sylas’s honey hair as the young man became silent. “Feeling lonely?”
“Why am I even here, Ezreal?” Sylas asked.
Ezreal smiled, “No free answers.”
Sylas swallowed, “What do you want exactly for that?”
“Kiss me deeply so I can feel every part of that pretty mouth and swallow your song, then I will tell you,” Ezreal teased.
And so they kissed, tongues touching. So close, and Sylas’s body was quite hot from how close they were. But did Sylas even deserve the answer to such a simple question? Why was he here? What was it his father did to cause him to be here? What was his father even thinking? Perhaps he asked the wrong question.
The demon sucked on his tongue.
That wasn’t fair.
When they parted, his heated cheeks were being softly stroked, and the heat went lower, making him uncomfortable.
“You’re here because I want you to be here,” Ezreal said.
Yes, he had asked the wrong question. This place felt like a prison, and he was living an ongoing nightmare. For all his life, he was treated to wealth, the finest food, clothes, and everything a prince could have. Well, not everything. Not true freedom. Ezreal wouldn’t truly touch him unless they were bargaining, so there was that. Ezreal had morals, it seemed and for that Sylas was grateful. The demon wasn’t that bad.
“Did my father know what would happen?” he whispered.
Ezreal paused, “He likely wasn’t expecting the cost,” he said.
“Don’t judge him: he is a king,” the Prince protested quietly. “He thought he was doing what was best.”
“Humans are not good at wording things as you find out,” the demon said.
Flustered, yes, Sylas knew. It was tricky, and there were loopholes. His mouth was raw, his face still tingling. Everything still felt hot. Ezreal liked to make him kiss him for answers to even the simplest questions.
“I learned much about humans through their desires,” Ezreal said. “They were so happy with their wish and the treasures it gave them.” He let his hand slip into the silky blonde hair and massaged the scalp gently, and Sylas naturally rested his head in his hands.
Sylas furrowed his brow and spoke carefully, “Do I count as one of the many treasures?”
The demon grinned, “Have you never seen how precious a human is compared to magic gems, gold coins, and powerful talismans? People think they are wealthy in gold and gemstones, but what truly is wealth?”
That made him feel better despite the double meaning. He suspected that whatever Ezreal didn’t directly tell him was insensitive. He was a creature that knew people did stupid things, but to revel in their suffering seemed extreme. Ezreal was a demon, but he was honest. Sylas could agree with being blunt and mean. That’s how he would like to deal with some people in his life back in Helios. That person at the ball, for instance.
“If you were wiser, Prince Sylas, then you would enjoy the leisure life I offer. I’m giving you all these luxuries of beautiful clothes, jewelry, and good food.” His silky, white fingers slipped under his chin and tilted his face. “What say you truly give yourself to me and forget about what your father did?”
Forget.
Sylas almost agreed. “I can’t do that, Ezreal,” he said with wide, innocent eyes. “I don’t know what that would mean.”
“Perhaps so,” the demon replied.
“Hey, Ezreal. Let’s play a game.”
“Go on.”
“A riddle, a hunt.”
“Whatever will be fair to you, my pet.”
“Say something about yourself.”
The horned creature blinked and smiled, “You stumped me, Sylas. On purpose?”
“Of course,” he agreed.
“Then that’s it,” Ezreal sat on the bed and shrugged. “This game is over. I let you have it, for I, too, let my guard down and know I cheated. And how do you deal with a cheater, Sylas?”
Sylas stiffened as a pair of arms wrapped around him and pulled him against the soft silk shirt. He gasped as fangs sank into his shoulder. He didn’t pierce the skin, but it caused Sylas to gasp and turn his head away. Had he wanted him to bite him?
***
Eventually, and unsurprisingly, they did get to know each other quite well. There wasn’t much else they could do. As a human kept within a demon’s palace, Sylas had no other companionship. He assumed servants were unseen to him, but he didn’t ask.
Ezreal lived off stories and reading. So, there was a conversation, at least.
They spoke about Sylas’s human parents, where they came from, Ezreal’s lineage, and how the curse was passed on in his family. Ezreal, he found, wasn’t born a demon but became one. It sounded reasonable in a weird way. Ezreal’s mother was a sorceress who failed to read the fine print in an attempt to gain riches and find a perfect mate. One could only tell a wish-granter what they wanted by telling them their ideal lover. Again, like Sylas’s father, humans and their failure to understand.
So, Sylas was similar to Ezreal: both were caught up in the insanity that their parents had brought upon them and their families. “Is there any chance I can return home?” he asked Ezreal after the demon had explained that he ate stories to live.
Ezreal’s cat-like eyes went very round as if he hadn’t considered that, “Do you want to? After all, you still haven’t learned what happened that night. I took you away.”
That was true. “There aren’t many other methods to extract the knowledge from you,” he ventured.
“True, but it would be nice for my pet to ask me,” Ezreal stated matter-of-factly.
“What would I have to pay for the entire story?”
“Let me bed you,” Ezreal grinned.
Sylas knew it. His heart pounded in his chest at the idea of it; he bit his lip and could not meet Ezreal’s gaze. Not in front of him.
Ezreal took a seat beside him and ruffled his hair, “We will have a lot of time for sex. Many adventures. But, if you wish to know the whole truth, you must consensually submit to me.”
“What if I’m not a virgin?” Sylas asked. The night at the ball, the man who had gotten him drunk and abused him. He had been too ashamed to tell anyone. After all, he was a Prince, a man. Men don’t have sex with other men; men don’t get sexually assaulted; men don’t… he lowered his head, his lip trembling at the thoughts as he had told someone and he had been chastised for it instead. No, his father had not believed that the noble’s son had done such a thing and that Sylas had seduced him instead out of jealousy.
“Did someone hurt you?” Ezreal inquired, sounding gentle and concerned.
“Yes. My first time was not consensual, but no one believed me,” Sylas murmured.
Ezreal touched his face, “Should I punish them for you?” he smiled.
“No, but I appreciate the offer,” Sylas said as he let out a deep breath. “I moved on from it; that’s why I thought men shouldn’t be together. That time it hurt, and I don’t see how pleasure could come from such an act.”
Ezreal laughed, “My pet, I do not possess the desire nor the will to hurt you that way. You are mine. I would make you cry out and moan for more.” His clawed hand brushed the Prince’s smooth neck, trailing his fingers to the collarbone. “I would make you arch into my touch and cherish every mark I make upon your body.”
Sylas blushed brightly.
“I want a taste of you, and if that is a necessary thing you would need for our bedsport, then I will help.”
That was not the answer he expected, but he wanted to return to his family. He had not expected the demon to be kind to him when captured. However, Ezreal had been incredibly kind and gentle. Honestly, Sylas had grown to enjoy Ezreal’s company. So, what was the harm?
“All right,” Sylas replied.
***
Soon, he was undressing for his demon. Sylas stood, embarrassed. Normally, he only undressed near the maids for baths when he lived back home. He closed his eyes, allowing Ezreal to touch and peel off the clothes. There was no heat, no touch, to his shaft, and yet it began to harden when Sylas started with a kiss. The kiss, like the many kisses before, became hot. Ezreal laid him out gently upon the fur-covered bed. For the first time since their meeting, Sylas felt the caress of his demon over his flushed skin. It sent a shudder through his body. No clothing separated them, so there was no hiding desire.
Sylas watched as his length was stroked at an aggravatingly slow pace. His thighs were apart so the cool air could stroke his sensitive parts. His nipples were teased by tongue and teeth and kisses. He panted, face flushed, trembling with embarrassment, curiosity, and lust.
“I’ll stop touching and stroking you soon, and then penetrate you. The deeper I go, the closer you feel to your climax,” the devil breathed, and Sylas bit his bottom lip. This was not uncommon; he liked stroking himself, but often the end felt lacking. This was new to him: sex with someone he didn’t hate. As the man touched him, Sylas realized he truly liked Ezreal.
Sylas bit his lip and turned his head to the side.
“Don’t be afraid to let out noises,” Ezreal said as he ran a hand down Sylas’s plump rear. “My name as well.”
He could feel something press against his hole. If he stopped this, would it cause damage? Would the man find a way to punish him in his ire?
A finger pressed in. Sylas let out a noise. The finger moved in slick; he had not seen the oil that Ezreal had used, yet the man must have used some due to the fluid movement. However, when a second finger entered him, it began to burn, and he whimpered.
“Poor thing,” Ezreal murmured against his lips. “You will enjoy being stuffed full of my cock.”
“Cock?” Sylas asked breathily, face flushed, and looked down at Ezreal’s face. The demon smiled back at him, and Sylas watched the man’s hands on his body, teasing parts of him.
“I know you’re new to this. Trust me, love, on the pleasures of being bedded by me.”
“Will it,” he swallowed, “feel as good as your kissing?”
Ezreal grinned. He wasn’t a fool to have not noticed that Sylas had gotten hard a few times when they kissed. Mostly within the past few days. Sylas was given intense and amazing kisses, of sucking on Ezreal’s long tongue, of having to swallow the saliva they exchanged. He sighed happily, excited.
With his fingers hooked inside him, Ezreal angled his hips.
“What…what are you…” Sylas gasped as the fingers brushed something inside him. His brain seemed to shut off, and he cried out in a broken moan. “Oh!” It didn’t stop at once. Then, he was moaning steadily.
Stunning, absolutely stunning. Ezreal smiled.
Sylas arched and writhed under the demon. He gazed at the man sitting up, kneeling between his spread legs. This made him suck in a deep breath, and he didn’t think he had ever been naked with anyone else willingly. Ezreal looked as well-shaped and handsome as if he were a specimen, as his clothes had allowed the prince to assume. Every part of his body was toned and muscular, and his phallus was also proportional. He may have been a demon with inhuman features, but he was perfect in his eyes.
The fingers came out, and Ezreal shifted. “Just relax,” he said.
Sylas didn’t understand how he was supposed to relax. Fear, guilt, regret, and excitement all roiled around within him. Now that he was aroused and open to such carnal pursuits, he almost regretted his fear. He knew he wanted the exploration but was unsure due to past incidents.
“Relax; it will hurt if you don’t relax,” the devil cajoled.
And relax the Prince did. It took concentration to keep his muscles relaxed, but not so much that he lost feeling. And he felt his inner passage fill up very slowly in, in….deep…deeper. Sylas moaned. It didn’t sting, and Ezreal had thought ahead to the lube, so it slipped in effortlessly. Then the demon was over him; Ezreal held himself up and pulled back, snapping forward.
Sharp and penetrating, a lightning sensation, enough that made Sylas moan as waves went up his back. So intense his hands scrambled for something to hold, to feel. “Oh, gods. Ezreal.”
Over and over, Ezreal thrust into him. Sylas finally hung onto his shoulders and rubbed his burning-hot cheeks. Both panted as Ezreal ground their bodies together; Sylas matched the rhythm. He had never known such a position could be so enjoyable. When he had been forced, he had been pushed down against the floor and violated, but this with Ezreal, face to face, was intimate, and, most of all, Ezreal could kiss him like Sylas enjoyed.
When Ezreal closed his hand around the Prince’s shaft, stroking it almost too fast to keep up, building up a deep feeling in his stomach. He rose higher and higher, and when he cried out Ezreal’s name, his demon lover bit him hard. Ezreal pierced the skin near his collarbone this time, unlike the tease prior; Sylas moaned. Perhaps he had wanted the man to bite him previously. His eyes rolled back, and his mouth fell open, gasping as he spilled between their bodies in his climax.
Sylas’s arms and legs kept shaking, nails digging into Ezreal’s back, even as the demon continued to move within him, and with his cock fully erect, he groaned low in his throat as he rammed it into his trembling human lover a few last times before filling him as he climaxed. Sylas painted, still shaking from his orgasm, his body unable to know what to do with such a heady, new experience. After calming, Ezreal kissed the spot on his neck he’d bitten.
Sylas was exhausted; sated but exhausted. His lover slowly pulled from him; Sylas was unsure if he wanted to protest or just accept the idea of their parting. He could feel the man’s spent leaking from him.
“Sleep, when you wake, I will tell you everything,” Ezreal kissed him.
Sighing, he curled next to the man and fell asleep.
***
Sylas woke. He felt a bit sore but not as bad as he expected. He sat up and noticed that someone had cleaned him while he had slept. A bit embarrassing, to say the least, but another way that Ezreal had been kind to him. He found his robe and slipped it on as he slipped from the bed. “Ezreal?” he called.
Ezreal replied by wrapping an arm around the boy. Sylas wasn’t startled, even though Ezreal had come from nowhere. He had figured if the man wasn’t a coward, he could easily catch Sylas unprepared. No questions, nothing, but Ezreal turned Sylas’s face and kissed him.
“Morning, my pet,” he said.
Sylas blushed, “You can kiss me without the question game now?” he asked.
Ezreal smiled and drew a finger across the bite mark, then he pressed a kiss to it, “With this, I can do whatever I want to with your body,” he admitted.
That both terrified and excited him. Sylas had not realized that letting Ezreal bite him gave the demon some sort of control over him as if Ezreal owned him and could do anything.
“Don’t worry,” Ezreal said, drawing him close, cupping his chin and nuzzling his cheek with his face. “I won’t hurt you as I don’t plan to. Besides, it marks you as ‘mine’ and means no one can hurt you. Consider it a way I can protect you more than something annoying.”
“So,” Sylas chose not to argue, “About last night’s question,” he said, face a little hot as he remembered the intense sex.
Ezreal chuckled, “Of course. Let’s get you bathed and dressed, and I’ll explain everything. Best if I take you to your prior home to show you how it looks now, hm?” the way he worded it sounded eerie; so Sylas nodded and the man to guide him to the washroom.
***
“The festival,” Sylas breathed. This was his city; however, it looked ravaged. What used to be a house, a store, or a building now lay in rubble. The demon held his hand, ensuring he didn’t fall over the wreckage. He looked at one of the fallen buildings to see a bloated corpse. Sylas covered his face. His hand had gripped the demon’s with all his might as a wave of grief rolled through him.
“Power has cost,” Ezreal said as he progressed down the broken streets.
“Who did this? Why would anyone want to attack this village? We were so happy,” he said. Tears rolled down his face. He loved his home. Loved his kingdom.
Ezreal said, “Not an attack from outside.”
Blunt.
Sylas looked at Ezreal. The statement stung. If not from the outside, then from where? The demon led him down the streets, through the carnage, and to the castle. The moat had bodies of soldiers. It was clear they had been running from something. However, the direction they had run from? They had all been running from the castle.
“All those bodies…” Sylas blinked. How many survivors were there? Or were there any?
Ezreal helped him pick his way into the castle proper. Corpses of staff, servants, maids… all unrecognizable, some torn apart.
Sylas blinked, recalling the sounds of that night.
The cracking sounds. He had not heard any screams, or had he just been privy to the start.
“What was my father’s wish?”
“Power,” Ezreal said.
Power? “Did he get it?” he asked.
Ezreal motioned, “What do you think?” he asked.
What do I think? Sylas tore away his stare from the destruction. He left the safety of Ezreal, turned, and ran forward to find his answers. Hands grabbed him as he was about to search the place, and he was twisted around.
“Dare you see?”
“My mother?” Sylas’s voice broke, “What of her…?” he asked. His eyes grew watery. His legs felt weak, and Ezreal picked him up.
“Do you dare see more?” Ezreal asked.
“I must…”
“All right,” the demon replied. He walked up broken stairs, past broken and decaying bodies. Decay fluids leaked down the stairs, and the smell permeated, causing Sylas to gag in the less-ventilated areas.
But in the end, there was an answer. He found himself where it began: the hallway… the figure he couldn’t make out in the sitting room. In the light of the broken castle wall, he could see the familiar fabric, familiar blonde hair like his own upon a decaying body. The blood Sylas had stepped on the night Ezreal had taken him away had been his mother’s.
Sylas closed his eyes and shook his head. He turned his head and buried his head in Ezreal’s chest. Ezreal gently brushed fingers through Sylas’s hair, soothing the Prince from the horror he had just learned.
“Because you were asleep, he must have wandered past your room when his body shifted,” Ezreal explained. “His wife, your mother, was not so lucky. Nor were the staff, servants, guards, and the like who were, in turn, woken by the sounds his body and the castle made as he rampaged. Power was his wish; the cost was everything he had. And simply because he stole from me, taking the talisman that I inherited that caused me to become what I am, I could take something from him: I chose to use that as a loophole to save you or you be among these corpses.”
Sylas shivered, “What happened to him…? My father…?” he asked
“I investigated, and he made his way to another land where an army levied against him and brought him down,” Ezreal said. “He no longer suffers or brings terror. He is deceased.”
A relief. Though it was heartbreaking
“You wanted to know the truth. And now you have it,” Ezreal touched his face.
Sylas blinked. The man still held him, “What will you do with me now?”
“What do you want?” Ezreal asked. “This place is no home for you; I welcome you to mine if you wish to stay. I will neither pressure nor pursue you if you do not desire it.”
Sylas was surprised. At first, the demon had been terrifying, but now that he learned how it was his father, not a monster or demon. Ezreal was a very gentle man. Truly, he had thought Ezreal was the monster that night, but, in reality, the beast was something entirely different, and Ezreal had saved him and protected him for so long from both the truth and his feelings. Even offering to punish someone, a man who once hurt Sylas, who Ezreal knew was already long since deceased for months now. Sylas was alive and safe and had made a friend in a demon he hadn’t thought was a friend.
He stared at the other and answered, “Let’s go home,” he said.
“Then to our home, we shall return, Sylas,” Ezreal said, kissing the younger man on his forehead and using the same old blood markings upon the mirror to return home.
He would return home with his demon.
No
He would return home with Ezreal.
END
