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I was starting to get exhausted. It's a rare moment you'll hear a demon admit that, particularly about their thing, in my case the thing being sex. I had been riding the cleric for what felt like hours and he wasn't showing any apparent signs of corruption despite clearly being into it. I didn't know what to do; another thing you'll rarely hear us say. My ass was sore. The cat seemed to have passed out, his tongue hanging from the side of his mouth and his eyes closed. I could've killed him, but what good would that do me? Anyone could kill; I was one of the few who could gift people something more.

And it was starting to get personal. I stood up, feeling a deluge of cum running from my abused rear. My body hurt more than it had after that fall into the lake. I had to figure out why I couldn't corrupt the feline, and there was only one demon I knew who was older than myself. He wasn't that far away, thankfully; it seemed that fate had brought us together. Granted, I loathed the idea of admitting that I needed help, something that was always constant for me, regardless of if I was mortal or demon. But desperate times demand desperate measures.

First, however, I examined that strangely glowing mace he'd been wielding. It seemed dormant now, away from his grasp, and I made no attempts at activating it. I did, however, bring it with me, safely stowed away in the backpack I took from the cleric. Couldn't risk the Order finding it given they likely had patrols on this road every few days. They had enough in the way of holy magic weapons.

Of course, when I tried to force the feline to get up, there was no reaction at all. Typical mortals, exhausted after only... what was it, two dozen fel-intensified orgasms. Sure, his balls would be quite empty and probably aching a fair bit, but that was hardly an excuse to lay there like a hibernating bear. I couldn't leave him there either, because if he made it back home he'd almost certainly rally the whole village and the priesthood, and then I'd have two enormous groups dedicated to hunting me down.

So I did what I had to do; I carried him. Sure, I was strong, and he wasn't terribly heavy, being a cat... but have you ever tried carrying someone a long distance, in particular after hours of intense mating? In addition to that, I had to keep off the road to avoid anyone seeing me, instead opting to make my way through the woods along the side of the mountains. And now I have to climb the actual mountain. I remember my time with the Order, the first day in particular. The climb wasn't easy even when full of energy. That'll be fun.

---

You're vaguely aware of being carried. For a moment, you strongly suspect that you're dead, having lost the battle against the fox-demon, and now you're being carried wherever it is that the dead go. But no, there's no pain in the afterlife, is there? Yet you're acutely aware of your maleness feeling as if it's been tenderized. Not overwhelmingly painful, but certainly irritatingly sore.

What exactly happened? It takes a while for the memories to coalesce into recognizable forms from the embers your returning consciousness. You were headed for the Order stronghold, and then, you had the best sex you'd ever had, an endless string of climaxes that wrung you dry. That was odd, considering you more or less lived a celibate life.

Oh. Yes, the demon. It's all coming back together. You turn your thoughts inward, searching for any sense of that fel corruption, and yet you find none. The Warming Light is muted within you, as well. You deduce that it's been keeping the fel at bay, but that doesn't make any sense. The light is, well, it's metaphorical, you tell yourself. It's mortal willpower, the sum of your dedication. Certainly the priesthood teaches that it is a true divinity, but despite being part of them you'd always had a different approach.

But if it's kept you pure, you must've been wrong. The light must have an objective, ontological existence. Some errant thought, an alarming one, gnaws at your mind. You dismiss it. There are more important questions than the nature of the Light.

You open your eyes the slightest bit. The sun appears to be setting again, and as you guessed the demon is carrying you somewhere. Seemingly up the mountain towards the stronghold, very slowly. He's grunting and groaning as he does so, each step seemingly a massive burden, which only makes sense given that you're not exactly a featherweight despite being a cat. The fact that he's carrying you here of all places must mean that they have indeed taken the fortress, or that there's some kind of attempt to do so happening, and you're the newest conscript.

You close your eyes again, weighing your options. You feel too drained to fight the fox again, at least for now. But there's plenty of time to recover, with how slowly he's climbing. You also sense your weapon somewhere nearby, its glow like a small sun that kept on shining even after the real sun set. So you make a plan. The moment that the demon stopped to rest, or approached his masters, whoever they were, you'd take your mace and decimate them, perhaps dying in the process, but at least avoiding corruption. A noble sacrifice, a proper end. About the best you could hope for.

Then again, you do notice that you're starting to feel rather horny. Unsurprising, given that your naked body is rubbing against the lust demon as he carries you. If he decides to have his way with you again, well, that'd also be a good opportunity to strike. Although you could probably enjoy the mating for a little longer, first. After all, there isn't much of that to be had in your home village.

---

I had to dodge more than one Order patrol on the way. Not an easy feat, while carrying someone. I asked myself why I was even bothering, and the answer that came to me was that I had nothing else to do. Not in the sense of being bored, but rather that this was what I lived for, now. I had no other purpose in life than to corrupt others, to create a perfect sexual paradise for everyone to enjoy, to forever and constantly mate, couple, fuck. It might seem depressing to a mortal, but it wasn't. It was no different than the cat I was carrying having taken it as his life's work to spread the word of the "Warming Light". I knew his type, they gave up all other pursuits, the worldly ones in particular, to serve that singular purpose. I supposed that we weren't so different, all things considered.

And then that nagging sensation came back. It was a little too much of a coincidence, the way we focused on singular aspects of existence that defined us. A horrible dawning realization. Was the Warming Light a different form of fel? A "corrupting" influence, but for different emotions? It'd explain why he didn't seem affected by my presence, or our mating. But that couldn't be. Or could it?

It made too much sense. I thought of the way demons would hunt each other to establish the supremacy of their particular emotion. The same way the Order hunted us for their... discipline, perhaps? Authority? Were they simply taken over by another kind of corruption? Silvermane had been easily corrupted, but he was new to that accursed place, perhaps not yet possessed with whatever energy was present. Too many questions, not nearly enough answers. I had to hope that Lethe would know, having been a demon for much longer. It wasn't much longer, which was good, given that my legs were feeling like they'd outright snap like trees in a thunderstorm if I walked for any longer. They'd been through a lot.

---

You don't dare to open your eyes too much, but from the short glimpses you catch you know you're around halfway up the mountainside. The fox grunts and curses occasionally as he carries you. It's not the most comfortable thing; his arms are starting to dig into your back, and the way you force yourself to stay limp has caused your own limbs to grow numb. Not ideal for fighting. Really, not ideal for anything. You wonder if you've passed the wards that surround the Order base. Can't have, unless something has broken them.

The worst part of it all is that you're already starting to feel aroused again, the demon's presence locking you into a constant state of rut. You don't doubt that you'll eventually absorb some of his taint despite your apparent resistance to it, and you wrack your mind for ways you could overcome the debilitating heated lust that intermittently flares up within your body. If you reach your mace, it might purify you, but even then it's a gamble, given that you already lost against the fox once. Some base part of your mind tells you to just accept it, to embrace the lust and let him breed you into a new sexy demonic shape, with those curvy horns and a huge cock to boot. But you know better than to obey that desire.

Then, in the middle of nowhere, a considerable distance from the main path, you feel a sudden surge of panic. It builds up inside you like a wave, or a storm, and it takes you all of your willpower to remain unmoving, until an ear-splitting howl pierces the air.

You shove yourself out of the fox's arms, falling onto the rocky ground with a thud and rapidly scrambling to your feet. He might be a demon, but there's no doubt about what that sound was, and you share a brief moment of eye contact, establishing an unspoken agreement, a temporary truce lest you both perish. A rage demon, somewhere very close. The fox tosses you the backpack with your weapon in it, and you immediately pull it out. It burns, if such a thing is even possible, even brighter now, like a cluster of suns that lights up the night, painful to even look at. The errant wonder of just how powerful the ancient weapon might be crosses your mind, but you have to focus on survival.

---

And there it was, crawling towards us on the mountainside like some monstrously warped spider. This close to the Order, too. Maybe breaking their wards hadn't been a good idea. As it was, that course of action had left me between a massive rage demon, probably the same one that chased me earlier, and the clerical cat now again armed with the most intensely powerful weapon I'd ever seen. Regardless, the choice was simple. If I sided with the cleric, he might try to "purify" me, or - wishfully thinking - want more sex before doing so. If I sided with the rage demon it'd eat me. Interpersonal relationships were so much more simple before the fel.

I considered running, but my wings felt like rusted iron. I had to trust the cleric. And then I had an idea.

"Cat!" I yelled out. "Let me infuse you with fel! It'll energize you for the fight!"

He seemed dubious at least. But we both knew that the fel didn't affect him as easily as it did others, and in addition, we knew that it was a very powerful fuel.

It took some effort but I managed to conjure a ball of foxfire, willing to float closer to the cleric, who held his weapon aside as to not burn it out of the air.

---

The creature was in full view, now. A howling mass of jagged edges and teeth, barely even resembling anything organic. Pure, chaotic rage that sought only to destroy, like a force of nature. This was the end of all of us unless you did the unthinkable. You needed every advantage you could possibly have. So as the foxfire neared you, getting so close you could feel it variably tickling and singing your whiskers, you hesitantly opened yourself to it. Certainly, you'd been tainted with the infernal energy earlier, even willingly so towards the ends, but this was different, something done with a non-zero amount of eagerness. You take a gentle breath and inhale, the sheer scent of the fel immediately making you regret not just running. It smells like fire, vaguely sulphurous, like a musky perfume immediately absorbed by your nose, and the night brightens. The deeper shadows become luminous, colours and details emerging from the darkness, and the fox in particular - Calion, you suddenly know, without him ever having told you - becomes outright vibrant, standing out like an orange beacon in the night air.

The mace feels heavier and hotter. But why would it protest now when it hadn't when the fox forced you to fuck him? Surely that was the greater offense. Nevertheless, there's no time to think. Like a thunderstorm, the massive beast rushes at you. Calion dodges to the left and you to the right, and with your reflexes temporarily sharpened by the fel, you manage to swing your weapon, the glowing steel impacting with one of the many arms - or perhaps legs - of the demon. There's a blinding flash of light and a smell like that of burnt ozone, and the rage roars. You're not sure if it even feels pain, but it feels something, and that lends you some hope even as you land, barely staying on your feet. The mace feels like you're holding onto a red-hot iron now, burning almost as fiercely as it surely burns upon contact with demonic flesh.

The enraged demon rears up onto its hind legs, like a bear. That's probably what it used to be. It has mouths covering its chest, each one gaping and dripping, some twisted with rage and others with hunger, and it feels like staring at an impossible shape, a perversion of space itself, much like the fox, only angrier. More hateful. Even blind lust suddenly feels like a friend, a safe haven to bury yourself in, literally and figuratively, and even as you move you wonder if it'd be so bad to be like Calion was. At least it wasn't destruction, but lust, hardness, wetness... beautiful, in a way.

And then you barely dodge another massive swipe that seems to wound the air itself, the pressure almost drawing you into the demon's claws. The snow melts wherever it moves to, and its presence even scorches the earth itself, leaving a blackened trail behind it. You turn to retreat, the immense hatred emanating from it threatening to knock you out, even with the additional power of the foxfire.

---

I saw his pupils dilate as he accepted the foxfire. Maybe that was the key, _agency._Perhaps mortals had to accept the gift of my corruption. But then again, he hadn't hesitated to fill me with his seed, was that not acceptance? Perhaps not, considering how forced it was. But then, how had Lethe corrupted me? Perhaps deep inside I just wanted to be fucked, while the cleric was merely a victim until now. Of course, it'd take more than that to actually purge the light from him and turn him into another beautiful lusty slut, but it'd have to wait, with rage itself trying to erase us from existence.

I would've flown away, had my worn wings allowed it, but I was earthbound just like my hesitant ally. This had to end now. The luminous mace was doing some damage, but would it be enough? Enough to end the threat before the cat or I made a single mistake, dodged the wrong way even once and ended up shredded or mauled? Maybe. I had to do something, but what? I was effectively unarmed against a foe of this size, at most acting like a distraction while the cat landed the occasional strike on it. Each time the mace impacted into its black flesh, I was forced to look away, lest I be blinded. Such was the brilliance of its light.

Why didn't I escape, rather than dancing around the demon, inviting my own demise when those swiping, tearing claws managed to land a blow? That was the strangest part of it; I felt a certain affection for the mortal. A jealous twinge somewhere in my heart, of wanting him to be mine. Mine and Lethe's, to play and mate with. Demonic affection, perhaps closest in similarity to the teenager's crush, but not as short-lived.

Above us, the clouds had begun to shower us with rain, and it sizzled as it landed upon the rage demon. Its energy seemed to be affecting the very weather; there was a tangible electrical load in the air, promising thunder. The cleric struck again, tearing off a piece of the chitinous darkness that surrounded the annihilator. A part of its armour, gone. Was it vulnerable? There was only one way to found out. I knew fel would hardly damage it, and so I jumped on top of it as it flailed after the cat, barely managing to keep my balance on its writhing form. Just touching it was painful, I could feel the energies it emitted burning my paws like some kind of acid.

I didn't know what to do, and so I did the logical thing. I plunged my arm into the reddish, soft flesh revealed by the shadow peeling off, and dug as deep as I could, shredding and tearing. The creature went into convulsions and I could _feel_its flesh consuming mine, but there was no doubt that it was hurt. How badly, though?

A sudden spasm threw me off. Another painful tumble down the rocky mountainside. One day this wouldn't happen on a daily basis. Yet, I barely felt it, given the agony of my arm feeling like it was melting away like fat over an open flame.

---

The demon spasms, rearing up in a rigid convulsion that leaves its underside exposed. It doesn't seem much more vulnerable there, being covered with the same black shadowy chitin and almost fractal claws and teeth, but it must be vulnerable somewhere, and presumably, the mouths lead to that place. You take the shot, driving the mace deep into one of its many gaping maws, and then let go as it heats up, threatening to sear you to the bone. There's a muted crack, much like thunder, and the thing goes limp. Unceremoniously, it slumps, attempts to stand up, and then falls back down, unmoving. A terrible stench immediately envelops the area. Toxic. Even in death the enraged energies of the beast seek to destroy as much as they can. Your mace remains stuck inside of its corpse, its light fading again, untouched by the strange acidic miasma, but nonetheless out of your reach. You resolve to leave it where it is. Most likely, the Order will find it and keep it safe.

Panting, you look at the fox, laying on the ground with little but bone and sinew left of his right arm. You consider killing them, but there's a confusing sense of wrongness about it, coupled with even more bewildering adoration for him swelling in your chest. He's a vile demon, yes, but he did help you. He didn't leave you to be consumed. It might be the fel you absorbed bending your mind, but you can't leave him. Not like this, not if there's the slightest chance that he could be cleansed of his taint. Of course, there was little you could do, given how quickly he seemed to be deteriorating. Presumably, infernal energy with the right attunement would heal him, but it wasn't something you could conjure up.

Calion weakly gestures towards a cliffside not too far away, and looking where he's pointing, you can barely make out the mouth of a cave, only thanks to your temporarily enhanced vision. That must've been where he was carrying you, but what awaited inside? Against your better judgement, you allow him to lean on you, and together, you venture towards the cave. It seems to shimmer, fading from view, only to reappear again. An illusion, fuelled by demonic magic, no doubt intended to hide from the nearby Order patrols, just barely outside of the warded area.

As you enter, the stench of the decomposing demon outside fades away, and something else fills your sensitive nostrils. An overwhelming scent of lust, musky and spicy, of sweat and spilled seed. Calion's body feels hot against yours, his desirability amplified by the sweet aroma. Why are you doing this? Some kind of perverted sense of honor - towards a demon, no less - strong enough to risk your very being to his corruption? It feels like you're somewhere else, your body moving on its own, deeper into the spiralling darkness. None of it feels natural, as if the cave had been carved into the very cliffside by whatever dwelled inside it, and a sense of dread blooms inside your core, along with the unending arousal.

---

My arm was numb. Worse than numb, utterly dead, feeling nothing. I didn't dare look at it. I hoped that Lethe could heal it, but strangely enough, it wasn't the main thing on my mind as we ventured deeper. I had expected the cleric to end me after the massive demon fell. He did not. I hadn't expected him to accept the foxfire, either. He seemed oddly stricken. I felt the same way. It was confusing. A bizarre sense of nobility intermingling with the familiar lust. I wondered if the light and fel could coexist, somehow, and found no other explanation for what I was feeling. Perhaps they were the same, somehow. Different alignments of the same basic energy. Yes, that had to be it, and why he was so resistant to the corruption. I was sure of it, then. The nature of these energies that possessed us. Just as surely as he was becoming more like myself, I was becoming more like him. Honourable, altruistic.

Oh, certainly I still wanted to take him, to claim him for myself, but perhaps not in the same way. Hard to explain. Rather than wanting to... rather than wanting to claim him entirely, I wanted him to belong to me. Nobody could truly own a demon, we felt little in the way of affection, and ultimately, it seemed that was what I wanted. Something I couldn't get if I corrupted the cat fully. Yes, I suppose it's strange that I claim we felt no affection, only to describe the affection that I clearly did feel for him, but it was equally strange to me. Something I hadn't felt since that fateful day.

I realized that I wasn't sure if I wanted him to meet Lethe, even if it cost me my arm. And so I told him to stop. We'd go elsewhere, just the two of us, and leave everything else behind. Taken by the moment, I turned towards him and planted my muzzle against his, kissing him deeply, not only with lust but with true adoration. Love, perhaps. And he responded in kind. For the first time, I truly sensed him, not only as an object of desire, but the full sum of his parts. He tasted pure, still, like wildflowers, in stark contrast to the musk that filled the cave, and I took in that taste and the energy that carried it with joy.

---

As the fox tells you to stop, warning you of what lies within the depths of the cave - the demon that corrupted him to begin with - you snap awake, out of your trance. A demon showing a sign of actual caring like that was almost unheard of, enough to wake you up. Had he wanted to, he could've surely taken you fully, especially with the help of his infernal partner, but he chose not to.

And then, his slender muzzle was pressed against yours, his healthy paw cupping the back of your head and pulling you into an intoxicating, deep kiss. And it feels different than the first time, less forceful and somehow caring, even though his body presses against yours, with his firm, hard bulge grinding into your rapidly responding maleness. You can't resist it anymore, and even as your tongue tangles with his, you reach down to grope him, squeezing his alluring hardness through the thin layer of cloth, making him shiver and buck.

It's a sacrifice, you know that. Surrendering part of yourself, and the sense of loss only makes it sweeter, somehow, the blind abandon. Nothing else matters; you want him, regardless of the cost, and so you fall onto your knees, bringing your face level with his crotch. The fox immediately pushes his pants down, letting his engorged, oversized cock flop against your muzzle. It's almost too much, the wet tangy heat, and as your raspy tongue traces over his knot for the first time, you hear him moan and whimper. Watery precum squirts against your lips, and you lap it up, truly taking in his fiery taste for the first time.

Yet, you need more. You let him slide into your muzzle through your pursed lips, feverishly licking him as you do. One paw rolls his swollen balls between your fingers, the other squeezing behind his knot in rhythm with the bobbing of your head, taking him deeper into your willing maw. And it feels as if you can _taste_his scent, that thick masculine arousal, seeping into your mouth along with every hot splash of vulpine precum. Why are you so seeking to cross this border of madness? You're far too old to give into a passionate crush like this, inflamed by the adrenaline of battle, and yet you can't help caressing your demonic lover, coaxing him towards new heights of pleasure and an inevitable climax that you know will be spent inside your body, irreversibly changing you into something else. Perhaps it is indeed a sacrifice, perhaps he'll change as well, and rather than two extremes you'll have a small measure of balance. Perhaps.

---

Bliss. It was pure bliss, his rough tongue caressing me, intense pleasure beyond just a simple mating, and instinctively, I pushed deeper, taking what he offered and savouring it, letting myself paint the inside of his mouth with precum, claiming his mouth like I'd soon claim his entire body. Not in a selfish way, not _only_selfish; in taking him, I'd also give myself to him, letting his light reshape me just as the felfire reshaped him.

His lips pursed around my girth, slick with saliva, kept teasing me, bumping against my swelling knot each time he leaned in to take me deeper. I sunk into his throat, feeling it constrict around my tip, and it made me throb in kind, giving the cat more precum to swallow. I felt it pooling in his mouth between gulps, each one massaging my length and making me quake. And he was purring, the gentle vibration resonating through my erection, threatening to make me cum too early. I pushed him off my cock, my very spine outright tingling at the prospect of finally fucking him full of my cum. He appeared to feel the same, positioning himself in the traditional feline mating stance, his shapely ass raised up with his chest down against the dirty cave floor. He was visibly trembling, as if some part of him wanted to run away, and for a moment, I considered if we should be doing it this close to my corruptor. But alas, my cock was doing the thinking for me, and his pink, puckered tailhole was an undeniable invitation, the primal allure of his eager pose impossible to resist. No, I had to breed him then and there, consequences be damned. I just had to hope we'd be left alone.

---

You're aroused beyond belief, your rock-hard barbed cock jutting out of its sheath underneath you, the fuzzy skin stretched taut around you, as if you're bigger and more swollen than you've ever been before. You raise your body enough to take a look, and you can't believe just how tasty you look; if it wasn't for the promise of a good knotting by the fox, you're sure that you'd curl up into a ball and suck yourself until your load sprayed all over your muzzle and into your mouth. It's a delightfully filthy feeling, something you're only vaguely familiar with from your youth, both your desire to have a thick, hard, and leaky cock between your lips and the heated way you're stretching on the ground, presenting your rear to the fox. A demon fox, nonetheless.

You feel him press against you, and for a moment, his heavy and hot cock rests between your cheeks, rubbing into the soft fur at the base of your tail. Calion gropes you possessively, roughly, kneading your soft behind with his padded paws, claws just slightly digging into the skin underneath, and you squirm with delight, arching your back and letting out an almost feral meow. It's not just arousal that drives you, but a sense of fear as well, for what'll happen to you, the adrenaline making your muscles twitch underneath your pelt.

The fox leans over you, already grinding his hips against you. It isn't the first time you've been in this position - you had your flings before you joined the clergy - but it's been so long that it feels like you're a virgin, touched for the very first time. His pointed glans pokes against your vulnerable hole, and it hurts, but only slightly. The firm warmth soothes the pain, and his nearly scalding, fel-infused precum quickly soaks into the bare flesh of your ring, relaxing you and lubricating you. And, of course, making your head swim, an arousal so strong it makes you dizzy pulsating through your body and clouding your mind. You feel yourself throb as he insistently pushes against your tight tailhole, and quickly, you begin to yield to his intrusion, spreading wider and wider to the tone of your own huffs, growls, and moans.

There's a sudden wet pop as he suddenly sinks into you, several inches of his vulpine meat spearing into your body. You feel so full, and the sudden pleasure makes you gasp for air. His length twitches again, heavily, and the heated wetness soaks into you somewhere deep inside.

Calion ruts into you with equal measures of passion and animal lust, probing deeper and deeper into your body with each roll of his hips, his engorging knot wetly bumping against your entrance, only to slip inside with a little more pressure, and then pulled out again, each time spreading you wider as it swells. Soon it'd tie you together, making sure not a single drop of his thick, tainted seed escaped your body, and all you had to do to enable that was nothing, just let him keep ramming that wonderful knotted cock into you, mating with you.

---

He made no attempts to resist as I slipped inside his welcoming tunnel. Of course, maybe that was to be expected at this point, or perhaps I should've been the one resisting, but somehow, such things weren't really the first thing on my mind with his warm tightness squeezing down on my length in the most delicious ways. I bumped over his prostate, and he yowled with delight. I felt him flex, probably close to the point of no return already.

Of course, I wasn't far away myself. I'd have to knot him soon or there'd be no way I'd be able to, not with how quickly I was swelling. Already it was getting difficult pushing in and out of him, and it took considerable effort to pull out of the vice grip of his body.

His fur was so soft against mine. I wondered if it'd grow coarser, if he'd grow wings or horns, or if perhaps I'd lose mine. Just the thought of changing again made me buck into him harder, instinctively seeking to bury myself as deep in that velvety heat as I could. My sheath scrunched up behind my knot and my heavy balls rubbed against his. Just one more thrust, maybe two, and we'd be tied. Then it was only a few more moments until a sweet, wet and sticky release.

---

You can feel his heavy testicles slapping against your rear, swollen with their tainted seed, seed that'd soon spurt into your receptive body. And you need it, want it, like a bitch in heat. So you push back against his length, gyrating your rear. There's an immense pressure as his knot, now almost fully swollen, presses against your sphincter. A twinge of pain as you're spread so wide that you'll surely be left gaping for a day or two, but the thought only excites you since it means Calion will more easily be able to slide his cock inside you the next time, and the time after that.

Schlorp. His knot sinks into you again, the pressure immediately relieved as your abused tailhole closes up behind it, clenching on his shaft. Your love groans, and then bites down on your neck, hard. His thrusts grow frantic and short, without a lot of space to slide in and out, but all it takes is that one bite, that mating bite, to force you over the edge, just as nature intended. You cum, hard, your barbs flaring as your feline juices spray onto the rocks, climactic pleasure shooting through your body, your ass milking the demonic fox's cock for his seed. And you get it.

With a tremble that goes through his entire body and a surprisingly quiet whimper, you suddenly feel his cock lurch inside you, throbbing once, and then again, and with the second pulsation you feel his sticky cum spurt inside you, coating your inner walls with his thick seed. It feels almost soothing, at first, like balm for your battered body, and then, an intense surge of fel corruption that causes your legs to give out. You slump onto the floor with Calion's cock still filling you with heavy throbs, every nerve alight with fiery pleasure, and all you can think of are cocks and cum. Of swallowing down great mouthfuls of it, feeling it slide down your throat in thick strings, of getting filled to the point of looking pregnant. You realize that you've collapsed into your own wasted cum and delight even in the feeling of it soaking into your fur. Everything feels so wonderfully filthy, and you lay there passively, letting your lover fill you with every drop of his cum.

---

It was strange, the emotions that swept through me as I finally came, seeding my new lover. Yes, lover, for it was not merely lust I was feeling. No, even as I bucked against him in the throes of my climax, I wanted him to be mine. I wanted to be with him, to protect him. Even my orgasm wasn't as wild and lusty as before, but gentler, longer, making my eyes tear up from the almost agonizing pleasure. No, this was something new, something I hadn't felt since I became a demon. The counterweight to whatever the cleric was feeling.

Finally, the pleasurable quakes stopped, though I'd be tied to the cat, drooling what cum remained in my balls into his body for a while, panting. The stale air of the cave was almost suffocating, but I focused on the feline's increasingly tainted scent, my nose buried in the fluff of his neck. I barely even realized my jaws were still locked around his scruff, and it took a moment for me to let go, his insemination complete.

Other thoughts came to my mind. Where would we go? It'd have to be far away from demons, from the Order, even from the cat's priesthood. Perhaps across the ocean to unknown lands if we could commandeer a boat. It'd be difficult to stay anywhere in the known kingdoms, with neither of us likely to be accepted by our own. Particularly if my lover grew horns of wings. I looked at him in the dim light of the cave, barely lit by moonlight reflecting inside from the entrance. There was no sign of anything yet, but as usual, corruption would take time. How many matings did it take for me? Two? Five? Ten? I couldn't remember. I twitched inside him, weakly, when I thought about that. The lust wasn't gone entirely, of course, but it was in my control, if just barely.

---

You are already moving your hips against the fox before he even goes soft. Sure, the emotions would probably balance out eventually, but right now all you want to do is to mate. It's delightfully ironic that the lust demon is the one who grits his teeth and forces himself to pull out of you - with a loud pop and a deluge of cum spilling out - and instead get you to focus on what was important.

What was important? That you sail away, he tells you. Where and how, you ask. He replies that you could steal a ship. The old you would've protested, claimed that you're both too old and it's too immoral, but somehow, it feels like an acceptable solution now. Just the two of you, leaving all this behind. You've heard the stories of more open and accepting civilizations beyond the oceans. Maybe it's a good idea.

And so, you leave, down the mountainside and through valleys and forests, stopping only for the occasional wild romp when the arousal becomes too much, leaving a trail of spilled cum as you go. Somewhere along the way your scalp becomes itchy and soon enough small horns grow in, nowhere near the size of Calion's, but nonetheless sexy to behold, a little secret sign of your corruption, easy to hide under a hat or hair. You seduce the captain of a ship together, with the old seadog all too eager to mount not one, but two small males, and as he and his crew sleep you sail his sloop out of the harbour.

Where you end up is another story, but it's a long and hot journey on the salty waves.