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Blank Slate - Part 1 Co-written by Leo_Todrius and Kayawk

The dim glow of the candles cast light across the smooth cement slab that spanned the empty garage, a terrible cold radiating up from the vast cement. The flames flickered from faint drafts coming from the doors, shut as tightly as they could be against the elements. Five candles sat out on a pentagram, the lines etched in with a fine chalk like powder, a ring surrounding the points. Several horn like curves extended outward from the circle, tiny bowls of oils resting on the points. It was a ritual that belonged in some almanac of the dark ages, of pagan rituals and rights... it seemed quite out of place in the middle of a ranch style home on the edge of the suburbs.

In the midst of the symbol a twenty one year old man knelt, his knees on the cold cement. He leaned over the lines, making sure they were perfect before he moved back to the center, gazing down at the book before him. Sam had been a wiccan for some time, but he'd dabbled in several religions. They all had limitations, gaps and commonalities. When he had started to prod at the commonalities he had found a power in the magik of words. Some spells here, some there. An ounce of luck, a dash of adulation. Tiny boosts to improve his life... But tiny wasn't good enough. Sam was six feet tall with broad shoulders. He kept a stable weight, but it was stable higher than he had wanted. He wore large shirts to try and cover up the roundness of his large stomach. Shaggy brown hair was tied back into a ponytail that brushed the nape of his neck and his face was bordered in a bush beard. He had kept it short when looking for jobs, but after months of not finding one it had started to grow out. His hazel eyes took in the page of the book more, looking at the incantations he had painstakingly transcribed. It was the right of friendship... Sam, above anything else, wanted to make friends. He wasn't sure how the rite worked, or even if he had the right word... But he was desperate enough to try.

"Eneadu torana muchanis Farou, Ulandra teagan Orally teadrey..." Sam began, pronouncing each word as best he could.

Soon, a vague scent of ozone filled the room, atmospheric, bringing to mind the absolute power of the nature at its most terrible, and at its most wonderful, as the chanting continued. One powerful blast of wind blew through the drafty garage, the candles almost dying from its cold breath. Sam's hair blew forward, loose ends flowing in the breeze. The pages of his manuscript threatened to turn, a possible catastrophe in the making, but they stayed put. Soon, the wind was suddenly cut off, and no more drafts blew through the garage. A preternatural warmth filled the space, and the candles appeared to burn brighter than they had before.

Deep within the aether, some cosmic machinery kicked into action, and a consciousness awoke for the first time, barely capable of even rudimentary perception. Soon, a familiar hum of strength infused Sam's words, causing a vibration within his throat as the words rang clearly, powerfully from him. This was an encouragement that something was happening, irrespective of whether or not it was the something that he had been planning for so long to occur. The white chalk of the pentagram seemed to glow... or shimmer, as the fabric between physical and spiritual realms was stressed, and slowly frayed in the designated space, a controlled chaotic demolition of reality within Sam's garage. Sam's voice grew hesitant, shaky, but he continued. He had never experienced a reaction this strong. He cleared his throat, continuing.

"Freyu dera depos auda Cerberu, aya summonus sorull..." Sam continued on. He was growing more nervous about the spell he had chosen, about what it might have meant. He had hoped it would make him more popular, make him more charismatic... But something was happening. Sam breathed deep, realizing the floor was no longer cold. If anything, it was radiating heat. At the lines of chalk, the shimmer of the white seemed to rise, and the air was shimmering now above the marked outline. This shimmer pervaded, and grew, soon filling the pentagram. Around Sam, his clothes waved, as though he were floating in water, as did his hair, in an extremely ethereal manner. At the dead center of the pentagram, the shimmer focused, and soon, the distortion was so great that the effect was practically opaque. A low, vibrating hum, almost a grander version of the effect of Sam's words, began to fill the concrete space, reverberating off the hard surfaces, filling the area. The dim shape of a figure, barely able to be scrutinized appeared... within... the opacity.

Sam's heart was racing in his chest, threatening to pound out of his body. His mouth felt dry, his skin clammy. This wasn't what he had pictured at all, but... Maybe somehow, the spell was summoning the friend he had asked for, assuming... That's what the word really meant. It could have meant companion, or even brother. He didn't have any brothers though so it was probably safe from that. Sam continued on, deciding the worst thing he could do was stop part way through. The words flowed from his tongu, reverberated back to him.

Soon, the figure clarified out of the unreal obscurity, as though being pulled forth from two-dimensional plane, as though the distortion were a mirror, or a window... or a portal. Unceremoniously, the slender form was deposited, lurching out of the opacity. As soon as the totality of its apparently odd anatomy cleared the breach in reality, the portal began to dissipate, fading away slowly, diffusing back out into the summoning area, which soon lost its ethereal hazy quality. The humming vibration faded, and soon Sam's words sounded quite normal, his voice absent of its previous magical power. The force of his will no longer protecting the place, the heat soon faded, and the drafts returned. The figure in the center was shivering violently, covered in some kind of wet, sticky residue, some core elemental aspect of the cosmos. The wind seemed to blow away the chalk outlines, and except for the odd small bowls of ritual components, the garage seemed quite mundane once more.

Sam knelt at the edge of what had been the circle, a twenty year old in a tattered green cloak and jeans. He looked up, hazel eyes surveying the figure. Sam reached up, running a hand along his bearded cheek, just trying to get a grasp on reality. As much as he had done, as much stock as he put in it, Sam couldn't believe that he had summoned a figure from the universe itself. He reached out slowly, his hand moving to brush the leg of the figure.

The figure lay on its side, still shivering, curled up into an almost-fetal-position. It, for it had no other concept of identity, was terrified. The product of some metaphysical happenstance, it knew nothing of its surroundings, nothing of itself, nothing of anything. It was of average height, perhaps a little taller, clearing six feet. Its skin was an infernal red, and as its back was to Sam, an ornate marking was obvious to be seen, coursing up the path of its spine. Jet black, the markings began at the base of his spine, variably thin-thick, whispy, weaving lines, making their way up to his shoulder blades, whereupon they spread out into their oddly beautiful glory, Not quite symmetrical thick, twisted, geometrical shapes shooting outward in the clear structure of wings, a skewed grid created by the curved, ordered chaos of the design to fill in the outline of the wing. The "bones" appeared to be wrought metal, and the lines curved with the musculature of its back, tight and strong in a wiry way. Perhaps most alarmingly, a long tailed protruded from the base of his spine, red like the rest of his flesh, as thick around as perhaps Sam's wrist. It was maybe three feet long, and tipped with a slight flare. It was currently wrapped limply around the figure's legs, as if in some pathetic act of self-comfort. Given its posture, no other aspect of the heaving, shivering, terrified form was currently visible.

Sam was shocked, baffled, and completely perplexed... But as much as he was confused, he couldn't leave the poor naked figure shivering in the cold... Whatever it was. Sam moved and scooped his arms under the figure, the slick goo covering his body soaking into the fabric. He carefully hoisted the figure up off the cold cement and began moving to the house. At the main door Sam managed to lift his foot, letting the tread of his shoe turn the knob before the door eased open. One of the benefits of being a hefty guy was being quite sturdy. A wall of hot air from the house washed over the figure as Sam moved in, kicking the door shut behind him.

The house was relatively spartan. Posters had been haphazardly taped to the walls, simple furniture dotted the place and a tan colored carpet lined almost every room of the small ranch style home. It was the last place Sam had ever expected to be carrying a red skinned being. It felt something... it was being moved. An odd sense of vertigo... and then... sweet warmth... contact. Its thoughts were sporadic, not very comprehensible. It had no context in which to make them comprehensible. It instinctively sought to get as close to the warmth as possible, and it nuzzled against Sam's chest weakly, mouth opening very slightly in unsuccessful attempts at vocalization, which died in its throat, still silent. No more of its form was yet visible, only its side, which hinted further at the very slim, fit musculature of the creature. Its tail hung over Sam's arms. Despite its shivers, it was obvious that it was emitting a good deal of heat, though this was somewhat dissipated by the goo in which it was covered. Its eyes opened, and harsh light hit them for the first time. It buried its head in Sam's hold, but then it slowly peeked out, only able to see behind its protector, still weakly. It understood nothing of what it saw. It shuddered, but then slowly turned to look up at the face of the source of the warmth. It's fiery purple irises burned softly as wide pupils gazed with a somehow serene fear into Sam's hazel orbs. The gaze was clearly unnatural. Sam came to a stop outside of his room, looking down into the violet eyes, the flecks of gold, the hints of deep blackness he could almost fall into... And yet, it was a living, breathing figure, one in his arms, one he had summoned. Sam gazed into the eyes for some time before a bead of sweat fell from his brow onto the figure's red skin.

"Holly hell, I left the heat on too long, it's gotta be like a hundred." Sam muttered. He moved into his room, heading for his bed. The bed was messy, the blankets turned up from when he climbed out. A mound of clothes rested in front of the closet, a faint musk of a well used room hanging in the air. Sam leaned down, gently setting the figure onto his bed, spreading him out on the soft sheets. Now that the figure was laid before him, all of it could be seen. The first thing that was obvious was that "it" was really a "he." Quite a "he," as a matter of fact. His musculature was lean, and lithe, and at the center of his tight stomach muscles around the belly button was a ornate design, spreading out from the center, calling to mind the growth of roots of a tree away from a powerful center. The design wasn't a tattoo though, but rather a path of discretely shimmering, tiny gems. They weren't gaudy or ostentatious by any means.

Hanging from his groin was a quite meaty member, hanging black and thick, nearly a foot long though it was clearly flaccid. Odd uniform bulged ribs protruded from it periodically, and the head was flared, odd, softly tipped bits clearly meant to find purchase in wherever it was thrust. His thighs and calves seemed powerful, and his feet were not quite human appearing. They seemed almost-but-not-quite digitigrade, the toes just a little too thick, just a little too long to believably seem normal. As he continued to look into Sam's eyes with those burning violet eyes, specked with gold, his horns were visible, obsidian-looking, standing out from his skull by nearly a half a foot. They were curved slightly, and oddly sculpted, with odd grooves and bulges appearing haphazardly. The ends rolled over on themselves, giving the impression that the horns were somewhat curved, like a ram's, though that wasn't quite right, either. It seemed a mixture of both straight and curved structure. He stretched uncontrollably, almost spastically once set down, and while revealing exceptional flexibility as he flexed and... flowed.. on the bed, he inadvertently tangled himself in the sheets.

Sam was torn out of the shock and awe of the whole thing by the tangling currently befalling his bed. Before long the red boy had sheets and blankets locked around his wrists, his ankles, all over. Sam chuckled gently, leaning in. He carefully unwrapped one of his guest's wrists and then the other, realizing the goo on his body had soaked into the sheets a bit. He sniffed at the smell, wondering if there was one as he moved to free the boy's ankles. Same considered his thoughts. Boy wasn't quite right. This being wasn't human, he wasn't a child either, but he wasn't a man. If anything he seemed to be in his late teens, physically... For however much the observation was worth. Once Sam had freed the boy, he reached up to gently rub his fingers along one of his horns, to get a feel for it.

The illusion of childhood, or of youth was greatly aided by the look of naive and innocent, helpless fear spread across his face. As this other... being reached to touch one of his horns, he recoiled slightly, though as the warm touch brushed by it, his cock stirred slightly, stiffening a little bit in response to the stimulus. He scrambled backwards, backing against the pillows and headboard, his knees up to his face, arms wrapped around his legs, tail wrapped around the legs as well. He looked as though he were about to cry, whether or not that were biologically possible. The goo, smelling vaguely of rainfall, had been mostly wiped off on the sheets, though a sheen of it still clung to him. He was paralyzed, horrified by the situation, and confused as to what his next course of action could even be. The... other... hadn't tried to hurt him, but...

"I'm not trying to hurt you..." Sam said, holding up his hands before backing away from the bed. It was as if he had plucked the idea out of the being's head, not that they even spoke the same language, "I... won't hurt you, I just want to help. I was looking for a friend." Sam said softly, looking into those violet eyes. He stared at the man backing away, and the action only confused him more, because a growing part of him wanted the other to come back closer, wanting his warm, protecting contact as near as possible. When the other spoke, he was surprised to find that he could understand him. He still couldn't speak, though, new vocal chords yet to make even a single utterance. His panic softened, though. Sam noticed the changes, the calming. A smile crossed his lips as he lowered his hands, "See, not going to hurt you. I just... I wish I knew what to do to help you." Sam said, "I wonder if you're cold..." he said, contemplating more to himself since he doubted the figure could respond.

In the only possible response, the figure shivered, and his helpless posture loosened, coming out of the fearful defensive ball he'd been in. He was now sitting simply on the bed, legs crossed before him. His eyes appeared more curious than anything, seeming to take everything in with that supernatural glare. He sniffed in an obvious manner, and he discerned the faint, musky, masculine smell. It stirred something new within him... a memory. His very first. It was the same smell he'd picked up while in Sam's arms. He found it comforting, though he couldn't decide why. Noticing the shivering, Sam moved close again. He grabbed the blankets and began stretching them out, getting the kinks out before he covered the figure in his bed. First one layer, then another. It was incredibly hot still, but the boy in Sam's bed certainly seemed like a Demon. Sam hoped that he wasn't just in shock and getting cooked. Sam tugged on the corners, pausing. He was tucking a naked teenage... something... into his bed. If it hadn't been so shocking it would have been adorable.

As he was covered with layer after layer of comfortable heat, warmth, which built up under the covers as it emanated from him and became trapped, he was overcome with weariness. He opened his mouth in a silent yawn, and his eyes slipped shut, Sam the last thing he saw before he drifted off into sleep. Soon, only Sam was conscious within the room, left with his thoughts and concerns regarding his new responsibility.

"I have a lot to learn..." Sam murmured.

---

A calmness had filled Sam's bedroom over the long night. Sam had watched over the strange figure that had appeared in his garage, watching him sleep for several hours. He brought in a pitcher of ice water, a platter of cheese and sausage he had cut earlier... But the figure slept and eventually Sam did the same. The harsh incandescent bulb had been extinguished but a string of white christmas lights had been taped around where the walls met the ceiling and on the underside of shelves, casting a warm cream colored glow into the sleepy room. Sam had curled up in his office chair, tipped back with his leg up on an automan in the corner. The sound of rain falling was heavy outside, the old gutters dripping sheets down to the ground just outside the window. The alarm clock glowed in the corner, the green numbers revealing it was almost seven a.m, still too early for sunrise.

Nevertheless, His eyes opened slowly, sleepily. He took stock of his situation, and despite the dim lighting conditions in the room, he could see quite clearly in the dark. He looked at Sam sleeping peacefully in the chair, and he felt warm, on the inside, thinking vague happy thoughts for the man. He looked further around the room, and eyed the plate of food set on a small nightstand by the bed. He dug his hand out from the multiple layers he was under, snaked his arm towards it, and grabbed first a small cut of sausage, nibbling it cautiously. He liked it, he found, and the casing snapped as he bit into it. He tried the other type of morsel on the plate. He liked that too, savoring the creamy, yet sharp flavor. He scarfed the pieces of both he held in his hand down quietly, and then he briefly turned his attentions to the digital clock, which he lifted curiously. He stared into the glowing numbers, wide-eyed, as he soon understood the intervals at which the numbers shifted. He also observed the repetition of certain numbers, though ultimately did not understand what that meant, what the numbers themselves were, nor what the device in his hands was meant to do.

In his chair Sam turned over, a smile on his face, a bulge in his pants. He was having quite a good dream, a visceral dream. As his movements caught the demon's attention, there was a flash in the boy's mind. He saw, for the briefest of instants, what Sam was dreaming; a steamy locker room, a hot body, carnal pleasures... But before any of the images became clear, they were gone again. All the demon was left with was the sense that it had come from Sam. The demon did not quite understand, though somewhat instinctually, he intensified his feelings towards the man in the chair, and they became tinged with the impressions of the demon himself. He did not know what he was doing, nor what the effects of his actions would be. He simply acted as he felt he ought. He sat up in bed, the grey sheets and midnight blue comforter stark against his red skin, still covering his lower half. He replaced the alarm clock and settled the plate on his lap, and slowly enjoyed an early morning breakfast, watching Sam with fascination. His eyes seemed in a constant state of curiosity at this point. He glanced at the pitcher of water on the night stand, but the dank coldness of it reminded him too much of his plight from the day before for him to dare to investigate it any further. In his dreams Sam frotted desperatly with his lover, but his sights were on someone else, someone more mysterious. He gazed through the fog and then he saw him, the demon. Sam's eyes snapped open and he panted in shock, looking around. It was just a dream... a simple dream. he lowered his legs and sat up, his eyes falling across the demon sitting in his bed.

"Okay... Not everything was a dream." he murmured softly. Sam looked at the demon, his curious expression. He glanced around, noticing that the sausage and cheese was gone. He smiled a bit, "Was that enough to eat?" Sam asked. The demon understood the query, but did not know how to communicate a response. He set the plate back on the nightstand, and stared somewhat blankly at Sam. His thoughts were of contentment, idle happiness, and the corners of his mouth lifted slightly to form a small smile. He stretched, yawning once more, silently, revealing sharp, pointed teeth within. His eyes widened as he stretched the muscles of his face, and he blinked a couple of times, clearly waking up for the day. He then sat simply, staring at the man in front of him, small grin back on his face.

"I'll take that as a yes." Sam said, yawning as he stretched his arms above his head, "Looks like we've got an early day..." Sam said, standing up. he reached to adjust himself a bit, "I better take a piss though." he said, bare feet padding across the room as he moved out of the door, up the hallway and into the bathroom. The light snapped on, revealing the plaster walls, the ceramic tiled shower and the smooth basin tub. The demon felt somewhat sad, and longing by Sam's absence, but he remained still. Finally, he pushed the covers completely off of himself, and swung his odd feet out onto the floor, feeling the ground for the first time... and the carpet. It was pretty standard carpeting, though quite soft, and he wiggled his toes with an almost childish glee through its strands. Before attempting to stand up though, he examined the pitcher of water with a waking mind, and decided to examine it. Surely it wouldn't have been put there by the other if it were harmful? He lifted it slowly, perceiving the fluidity of the clear water within. He brought the even part of the pitcher to his lips, and drank slowly. He felt oddly refreshed by the cool sensation running through him, and he drank normally. And drank... and drank... by the time Sam would return, the pitcher would be empty it would seem. Apart from refreshing him though, the water also had the affect of cooling his throat... and loosening his vocal chords. Though he'd yet to attempt to use them, the demon could feel like he'd be more likely to do so successfully now. Sam returned to the room, grinning to see the pitcher empty after such a short while.

"You've been busy... I bet I won't be the only one using the bathroom." Sam said, moving to sit down in his chair again. He faced the demon, looking him up and down from his crimson skin to his jeweled stomach, his flame colored hair and his violet eyes. His tail, his ears, his fangs... And yet no speech, no malice, the simplest of reactions. Same leaned forward and back in the chair, "You really are a blank slate, aren't you?" he murmured. He tilted his head in response, quizzically. As the faintest trace of sunlight began to glimmer through the bottom of Sam's venetian blinds, the demon's eyes became rapt with focus as he traced the course of the line of light bending on the walls of the room. He turned around, knees on the bed, and he lifted one flap of the blind with a finger, watching the emergent sunrise like a child watching the first snowfall in winter. The reds, the oranges, the yellows spreading through the sky... it all seemed warm to him, alluring. He smiled widely and continued to look out the window.

Sam let his eyes trail over the demon's body, looking at his lithe shoulders, smooth back, the way the muscles all seemed to coalesce around his tail. Sam then blushed, realizing how innocent this being was. It really did seem like he was a newborn in many ways. He just leaned back, watching the demon take in the sunrise as the rain let up, the dewdrops glimmering like silver on the water soaked lawn. The demon soon turned around though after a few minutes, his wonder sated for now. He looked back at Sam, though his violet irises still appeared dazzled. He set his feet back on the ground, and brought his hands by his hips on the mattress, arms tensing. It seemed that he was about to try and stand. He'd seen the other do it, and knew that he'd most likely be able to as well. With a heave, he stood up, wobbling slightly, hands outstretched for balance, tail rigidly projecting for the same end. After standing in this precarious posture for a few seconds, he partially lost his balance, and stabilized himself by grabbing the nearest possible anchor - Sam's shoulders.

"Hello there." Sam smirked, reaching up to rest a hand on the demon's hand. It was quite warm. Sam smiled, "You okay?" he asked gently. The demon gulped, and repeated in a hoarse, never-used voice;

"Okay..." He nodded slightly. He pushed off of Sam's shoulders to stand once more, this time more stably, though he was still shaky. This seemed more to prove to himself that he actually could do it, and after maintaining it for a good thirty seconds, he sat back down, this time in Sam's lap, one leg drape over Sam's thigh, the other planted on the ground. He was comfortably settled at an angle against the man's chest, and he put a hand on Sam's pectoral. He was smiling, and repeated, "Okay," sounding more sure of himself this time. His thoughts were of fulfillment, happy, warm, and affectionate. Sam grinned, a bit perplexed, a bit embaressed. He tried to fight the arousal forming in his pants.

"It's going to be a bright new day for you." Sam murmured. The demon nodded, understanding. He glanced back out the window, and then at Sam, adoringly. He was still slightly shimmering in the sunlight from the sheen of fluid on him, and he felt a slight stiffening on his 'seat' beneath him. He scooted minutely to reveal the bulging part of Sam's pants, and he slowly brought his hand down on it, squeezing softly to investigate its nature. Sam gasped in surprise, blushing a bit as he shivered in delight, releasing pheromones only the demon could smell.

"Maybe... we should get you a shower or a bath, get you cleaned up." Sam murmured. The demon could smell... feel... the pleasure rolling off of Sam after he squeezed the curious spot. He smiled waxed a bit impish, and he shook his head, happy to give his other such feelings. He squeezed again, more slowly, experimenting with what combination of pressures derived the most obvious results. He nuzzled his head against Sam's chest as he continued to fondle him steadily. Sam leaned back, one hand lacing through the demon's hair, holding the red skinned boy's head to his chest. Sam's hips slowly rose and fell, pushing his groin against that hand. It felt so good, sinfully good. The demon, knowing something important lay within, felt the urge to release the stirring thing beneath his grasp. Not understanding the concept of a zipper, he flexed a finger, revealing a small, sharp claw. With a series of lightning quick surgical cuts, an uneven triangular hole appeared in the front of Sam's jeans, and his cock was now revealed, fully erect now that it was unencumbered, and the demon's senses were rocked by the smell and perception of Sam's eager need. He took gleeful pleasure in running a single teasing finger slowly up the length of Sam's shaft, curious to see what effect it would have without that material in the way.

Sam moaned gently, his heart racing. Musk radiated from his exposed manhood, the thick member pulsing in time with Sam's heart beat. He had inhaled sharply at the quick work of exposing his cock and now sighed in delight, feeling that amazing finger along his length. The demon felt so good to make Sam happy, and it created a feedback loop of sorts as thoughts of pleasing and pleasuring Sam filled his mind. He wrapped his whole hand around the shaft, pumping it a few times before he removed it with thoughtful consideration. His mouth then opened, head still held against Sam's chest, and a long, wide tongue snaked its way slowly down to Sam's cock, dripping saliva very slightly. The warm, slick length wrapped around the shaft, contracting and sliding and rubbing constantly, practically milking the dick.

"Fuck yes!" Sam called out, his head dropping back in bliss. He'd never seen his cock look so amazing as it did coiled with a tongue and covered with thick saliva. He panted hard, his cock throbbing with lust. The demon may have been a blank slate but he came with some fascinating built in features. Soon the demon began drawing precum to his tongue, the liquid so intensely musky and strong as it touched the tongue drawing it out of the shaft.

The demon began to moan as he tasted the liquid, it being the sweetest most wonderful thing he'd yet to taste. Beyond that though, he was filled with a strong sense of belonging, like this was what he'd been meant to do. He rubbed his hands slowly, lovingly against Sam's chest and back as he continued to squeeze and lick the cock, encasing it with the warm, wet, fleshy rope of his tongue. Sam held the demon against his chest, panting hard. The chest heaved and fell beneath those amazing hands. The coil of tongue was working wonders too, drawing precum up into his mouth. The juice slipped down the demon's throat, sending waves of pleasure through his body, making it feel as if it was more awake, alert, and healthy than ever before.

As the demon felt energized, the perceptions and senses washed over him infinitely more strongly. The tastes... the scents... the sensations... They mixed and merged within his mind, his lust in the moment mixing with his memory of the musky scent from the day before, feeling safe and warm... Love and lust, loyalty and affection, the merger of the feelings of one lover to another and something like the blind love of child for parent. Unaware f the demon's thought process, Sam reached the brink of his capacity. He howled out in bliss, his balls throbbing as they ushered forth an amazing load. A huge spray of thick, musky cum was unleashed. Every drop of it was brought up into the demon's mouth, flooding across his senses.

This was aided by the demon's swift, instinctual movement, almost feral with its efficiency. Almost falling off Sam's lap, the demon dropped to the floor, and wrapped his lips around the quivering, spewing shaft, all in the space of a second. He drank it all down, shuddering and moaning with the taste and warmth of it all... and the scent of his other... He swallowed it down greedily, and when the flow finally subsided, he looked up at Sam, face almost one seeking praise or attention. Sam panted hard, his head laying across the back of the chair, his arms at his side. The orgasm had been the most intense of his life, and yet... He felt more able after it than he had before. Slowly he lifted his head, catching sight of the demon.

"You are... so amazing." Sam whispered, looking at his face. He was so innocent, so cute. Sam couldn't help himself. He spilled out of the chair, grabbing Sam, pulling him into a warm, close hug. The demon did not have the understanding to know to return the embrace with his arms, but he did push himself into Sam's chest softly. His tail wrapped around the pair a time and a half, protectively and almost possessively, revealing its prehensility. Despite his valiant attempt to swallow all of the man's seed down, he still had a bit smeared on his lips, and his whole body was still a bit sticky and glossy from the atmospheric residue that coated him in the garage during the ceremony. His chest was vibrating softly, and he was humming in contentment, eyes closed, head against Sam's pectoral.

Sam was so overwhelmed by the sensations, the embrace, everything the two had come to share. He reached up with one hand, tipping the Demon's head back just a bit. He leaned his head down, extending his tongue to clean the cum from the Demon's lips slowly. The demon could feel the human's inferior heat and heartbeat radiating against him in their embrace. The Demon was unable to resist himself when the tongue, bumpy to his enhanced senses, ran over his lips. He pushed into it, maneuvering his head such that Sam's tongue slid into the Demon's mouth, where his own tongue slowly and elegantly played with its new visitor, taking full advantage of its own length. He brought his lips to Sam's, and they were smooth, and soft, and warm, as though they were designed to entice whomever they kissed, wherever the location of the kiss may be. The kiss was more romantic than passionate though, the Demon's curiousity-driven lust sated for now. His inherent nature seemed to be somewhat diluted by the unconventional circumstances of his creation, and the inherent realities of his environment.

Sam lost himself into the kiss. His eyes glided shut, his tongue bobbed around so softly. His lips pressed to the demon's and saliva spilled back and forth between them. It was indredibly deep, hot, wet... But even to Sam it felt more loving, caring, contenting than a lusty kiss. Still, a painful pang in Sam's lungs reminded him to break the kiss and draw in breath deep before he nuzzled his head against the Demon's, holding him there for a long moment. The demon's eyes were open as their heads stayed close in affectionate solidarity, and he gulped, and tried to speak once more, with the only word he knew. Voice somewhat strained, but clearer than before, he asked,

"Okay?" Now the characteristics of his voice were evident. It was on the high end of an adolescent average, youthful, but with subtle hints of a depth of character or wisdom beyond what seemed immediately apparent. It was kind, innocent-sounding. The inflection of his question made it sound extremely genuine, heart-felt. He very subtly shifted his head, in order to make sure Sam wouldn't accidentally hit one of the Demon's horns that was near him. It was curved, granted, but the Demon still wanted to spare Sam any possible discomfort. Sam leaned in, running a tongue over the base of one of the horns, shivering in guilty pleasure.

"I don't know how much you understand me, but I think we should get you cleaned off, try a shower." Sam said. The demon shuddered, the horn a sensitive zone on his body. It made his whole skull tingle pleasurably, but he resisted the impulses it gave him. When Sam spoke to him, he did in fact understand all of it, except for the last word. He seemed to understand nouns and verbs related to concepts or abstract notions, but such a concrete reference to human technology such as "shower" went over his head. He backed his head away slightly and repeated inquisitively, but slowly, "Shower?" He played with the word as he spoke it, finding simple pleasure in the long "ow" sound. He looked to Sam, trusting to be guided.

"It's like... rain. Water falls from above and makes us clean. It can be warm or cold." Sam said, moving to stand fully, helping the demon to his feet. He smirked again, "You really are like a blank slate." he paused, "I'm going to have to call you something eventually. What about... Slater?" Sam asked.

"Call me?" The demon, Slater, perhaps, asked, not comprehending the notion of identity, or of a name. As he stood to his feet, still shaky, he wrapped his arm around Sam for support, of many varieties. He appeared nonplussed, and he set his head against Sam's shoulder, neck craning slightly to do so. It seemed he'd found a comfort mechanism for his frequent confusion. Sam reached over, running his fingers through the Demon's hair. It was so silky, though sticky in a few places. It took longer than usual to get the demon into the bathroom given their position, but at last they made it to the doorway. The carpet came to an abrupt stop where the floor tiles started. A mirror sat above the sink and the counter to the left, a toilet beyond that, and at the end of the room was the wide basin tub, glass panels slid out of the way to give access to the interior. Sam looked at the demon, letting him adjust to the new sights.

The Demon shivered, feet on the hard, cold tile. He preferred the other softer ground more, he decided. He released his grip on Sam, and stumbled forward. He seemed mesmerized by his appearance in the mirror, and he moved right to the counter, hands grabbing the edge for stability as he examined the other Demon before him. He made slight movements, and observed their correlating responses in the mirror. He quickly understood it was a reflection, not real. Nonetheless, he became lost in his own violet eyes, and he put a hand on the mirror, over his reflection's stomach.

"It's pretty, isn't it?" Sam asked, reaching over to gently rest his hand on the jewels seemingly fused to the crimson red flesh that was as smooth as butter. Sam pulled his hand back after a moment, blushing again. As his cheeks reddened he cursed being so attracted to such a pure, innocent being. He maneuvered around the demon, turning the shower on. He adjusted the temperature and soon a hot spray was cascading down. Sam looked to the demon, "This is the shower. We stand under the water and get clean." The Demon nodded, and he was drawn by the warmth he felt even from a distance, a slight hot mist floating towards him. He replied simply, "Okay," and moved to the lip of the tub, standing beside Sam. His mind was crammed with thoughts, slow for trying to process them all. He gently took Sam's wrist, and brought the man's hand back to his stomach. He squeezed the sides of the palm, as though comforting the other that it was okay to be there. As the heat of the water teased him, so close now, in a quiet voice he gave sound to the thought that had been overshadowing all the rest:

"Slater? What is Slater?" It was the first non-repeated sentence, his first construction. Sam was surprised by this. He moved to help the Demon into the shower slowly.

"I am Sam. You are Slater." Sam said, hoping he wasn't overstepping his bounds, but he really wanted to have a name to condense all the strange goings on under, something to comprehend the demon with. The demon's eyes were wide, and he mutely allowed himself to be led into the shower. He relaxed visibly as the hot water cascaded down his slender build, and he looked lost in his own thoughts.

"Am... am... am..." he repeated, to himself. He mimicked, "I am Slater, you are Sam," now looking at Sam. Suddenly, comprehension dawned within the violet, the gold inside shimmering. He said, "I am Slater." Slater then smiled, and poked Sam's pudgy belly with a wet, red finger, slightly soaking a small point on his shirt, and said, "You are Sam."

"I am Sam, you are Slater." Sam chuckled. He looked down at his shirt before he decided to take it off. The cloth was slipped up, tossed to the side. Before long he'd dropped all his clothes in the corner. He felt embaressed to a degree, but Slater had a lot to learn. Sam picked up two items, showing them to Slater; "This is soap, this is a washcloth." Sam said. He held both in the water and then rubbed the soap on the washcloth. Once that was done he set the soap down and leaned into the spray of water, rubbing the washcloth along Slater's body, working at the slime that had been there from his birth. The soap left a trail of white suds behind it that washed away as soon as the spray hit it.

Slater grinned as his body was rubbed down by the soft yet bristly cloth, and he set his hand on Sam's as he was washed down, riding along, learning by doing. The cloth found its way all over himself, and the white stream flowed continuously as the mysterious liquid washed away. His skin soon felt much better, a bit drier, less slick, but certainly for the better. Once he'd been washed from head to toe, neither tail nor horns escaping Sam's diligent progress, Slater snatched the soap and washcloth from Sam. He ran the cloth under the water himself, to rinse it out, and then brought the soap to washcloth just as he'd observed. He positioned Sam under the water, and then rotated him around, so that Sam's back would be to him. He stepped very close, and draped both of his arms over Sam's shoulders. The arm with empty hand wrapped across his chest, but the other began to wash him, rubbing down his stomach, arms, shoulders, neck... wherever he could reach. He wrapped his tail around their ankles as his lanky arm found its way down to Sam's groin, giving it a detailed, gentle wash, before removing his hand once more. He spun Sam around again, this time hugging him with a proper embrace as he washed the man's solid back, hand rolling over the shoulder blades, tracing along the spine. His head was behind Sam's, eyes carefully watching his work. Sam was elated to recieve such care and that Slater was picking up on things so much faster. He gave Slater a gentle grin.

"Thank you." He said softly, making sure to work with Slater until they were both clean and well warmed by the water. Slater dropped the wash cloth, and pecked Sam on the cheek. He replied, "Thank you," in a way that implied that he understood its implications. He closed his eyes, enjoying the hot water warm every inch of his skin. Though they couldn't see it outside the simple plastic shower curtain, the couple had been in there long enough that the wide mirror was fully fogged up, and a visible haze had arisen.

"Are you hungry again? Do you have... to go pee?" Sam asked, feeling as if he was ruining the moment trying to help this new person understand how life functioned. His thoughts hadn't even ventured out of the house, he was too caught up in the moment. Slater shook his head, and said, still shakily given his lack of confidence with language, "No, I don't feel hungry, but... it's not the emptiness, it's a pressure," he explained, confirming the second question. He said this without embarrassment, not understanding the cultural stigma of such a private matter. He did not know any better. Sam put his hand gently on Slater's abdomen right above his groin.

"Is the pressure here, or further back?" Sam asked, trying to decide which position to teach Slater first. Slater nodded, and replied.

"Right there, where you are." Despite his earlier nonchalance, he became a little anxious, a little thrown off by the unknown cause of this mysterious symptom, and Sam's caring but clinical response to it. Sam reached over, turning the shower off. He grabbed a towel from the rack, tossing it down onto the floor before stepping out. He offered Slater a hand to help him out.

"I'll show you what to do." Sam said reassuringly. Slater nodded a little helplessly, and took Sam's hand as he slowly lifted one foot out after the other. He trusted Sam to help him with whatever he needed. What other option did he have, besides? "I know you will," he confided, softly. His eyes shone and the tip of his tail, still dripping, ran down the side of Sam's leg. Sam helped Slater take just three steps before turning him toward the toilet. He stood behind Slater, reaching to take Slater's hand and guide it to his shaft. Sam gently helped Slater take his manhood in hand and carefully aim it at the toilet into the basin.

"When you eat or drink, eventually you have to do this. If you relax the muscles down here-" Sam said, using his other hand to rub the abdomen gently, "The pressure will drop. And we do this here in the bathroom." At Sam's rubbing, the muscles soon gave way, and a powerful, steady stream, clear, jetted from the tip of his member into the toilet. Slater felt gradually relieved, and as soon as the flow ceased, and the dripping subsided, he murmured, "I feel a lot better... Thank you..." he looked up at Sam, smiling, trusting. "What happens now?" he asked, still dripping from the shower. His posture was looser, relaxed.

"Now we dry you off." Sam said, grinning. he grabbed another towel and wrapped it around Slater, starting to rub him all over, building the friction. He fluffed the towel around Slater's head to get his hair dry before delving down along his legs. The long red mane became somewhat frizzy from the dry static, and Slater giggled as it was ruffled by the towel. As the water was wicked away, he felt a lot more comfortable, less aware of his own skin, which was truly dry for the first time in his life. He stepped into a wider stance to allow Sam to more easily dry him, and he felt a pang of guilt as he watched this other do everything for him, while he could do so little for him in return. One corner of his mouth dipped into a small frown, but only temporarily, as he couldn't help but giggle again as the high interior of his leg was vigorously rubbed. Sam stood back upright and leaned in to press his lips to Slater's briefly before he dried himself off, dropping the towel onto the floor.

"There... All done getting clean." Sam smiled, looking Slater over up and down. Slater felt the soft stomach as Sam bent in slightly, and he puckered slightly in response to the contact. A thought, complex by his ever-raising standards, crossed his mind once more, and Slater asked,

"Sam, why are you showing me these things? Why are you doing all of this for me?" There was no irony in his words, the questions genuine, curious, almost dispassionate. Sam blinked, a blush crossing his cheeks once more. It was the only time his skin color rivaled Slater.

"I..." Sam hesitated, not sure what to say, "It seemed like you need to know? Everything looked new to you." Sam said, starting to worry about what he had done. What if he had over stepped his bounds? Slater eyed Sam's cheeks as they became rosy, curious, not understanding why.

"Everything is new to me..." he said, "but, I just appeared, and you didn't know Slater..." he stammered, slightly misunderstanding the implementation of names. "But you still took me, and did all these... things for me. Things that were... good," his last pause was long, as he looked for the right word to use, but he lacked one in his vocabulary, and he was forced to settle for the most basic, applicable one he did have. "And you're showing me these things, and I can't show you anything or do anything for you," innately feeling obligation and indebtedness, neither concept needing to be taught to him. He broke from the concentration that was required to vocalize these thoughts, and he looked at Sam's face once more. In a tone that seemed radically different, he innocently asked, "What's happening to your face? Why's it becoming like mine?" referring to the crimson hue. Sam was scrambling to process all of the questions, statements, connotations. Sam took a breath before deciding the bathroom wasn't the proper place. He took Slater's hand and led him out of the bathroom, down the hall and into the living room. They moved around the couch and Sam helped Slater sit on the cushion before sitting next to him. Sam considered his words for a moment before looking into Slater's eyes.

"I think it's my fault you wound up here. I was trying to figure out how to make a friend, not to be alone... And then you appeared. You didn't know anything and I wanted to help you, to make sure things turned out okay." Sam paused, "And my cheeks get red because sometimes more blood flows to the surface." Slater sat down, getting comfortable on the squishy cushion, settling his bare ass onto it. His tail casually hung to the side of him, over the end of the couch. He brought his feet up, and sat cross-legged. One hundred percent of his focus was on Sam, his eyes curious.

"A... friend? Alone?" he asked, neither word nor concept familiar to him. "And why does blood flow to the surface?" he asked, though he didn't understand what blood was. He didn't ask about it, intuiting that there was a far more important lesson to be learned than a simple identification of term.

"A friend..." Sam leaned back, pausing, "We need to get you a dictionary, book of words..." Sam hesitated, "There are lots of people in this world. Most I don't know. Some I do. Ones I know and like are friends. Sometime it can feel like you don't know anyone and then you feel alone, even though it isn't true." Sam said. Slater's expression became soft, almost worried,

"B-but I'm here. You're not alone. Why would you ever be alone?" He didn't recognize the tautological nature of his exclamation, and he was once more struck by the inadequacy of his vocabulary as he continued, "You couldn't be alone! You're too... good, too warm, too... there, for people not to want to know you." He was trying to compensate for his lack of vocabulary by describing the only other positive, applicable descriptions he knew. He literally could not understand, without irony, why Sam would ever be or feel lonely. Sam was the only person he knew, the only other being of any kind. Of course Slater felt this way, he couldn't help it. He looked dumbly, worriedly into Sam's hazel eyes. Sam leaned in, kissing Slater's cheek softly before leaning back.

"I am not alone, I have you." Sam said with a smile before he got up from the couch, moving over to the bookshelf. He rummaged around before pulling out a thick dictionary. He hadn't wanted to take it since he had one on his computer but his father had insisted. He was glad now. A book would be a lot easier to start with. Sam paused, realizing that Slater may not know how to read... But he'd either picked up on language quickly or had an innate knowledge already. He had to try. Sam moved back to the couch, opening the book. He turned through the pages to find the word 'shower'. "This is a book of words... Words and their meaning. I don't know if you can read, I can teach you eventually... But this word here, is shower." Sam said. Slater looked at the designated word. The markings on the page meant nothing to him. He looked at Sam and, seeing the hope in his plan in the man's eyes, somewhat embarrassedly admitted,

"I don't understand..." He then looked away, ashamed to disappoint. But then his eyes widened as they caught a glimpse of something in his field of view. He nimbly lept up, over the back of the couch, and within seconds returned, holding an old piece of paper in his hand. It was one of Sam's ancient metaphysical treatises, written in an ancient, forgotten tongue. It had taken Sam almost a year and a great deal of money to acquire it and even begin to understand what was written upon the decaying parchment, but Slater declared, "These marks mean something to me, though!" His tone was bright, hoping to make up for his previous 'mistake.'

"Really? I can't even read most of that, you must really be smart." Sam grinned, meaning both the compliment and the truth, "What does it say?" Sam asked. But Slater frowned again. The treatise was an explanation of the innermost workings of the cosmos, and penetrated deep into the truth of reality, and beyond. It was heady stuff, to say the least. Slater could barely communicate even basic concepts in English, let alone such esoteric concepts. He collapsed beside Sam and admitted,

"I don't know how to say..." He understood it, somehow, but was unable to convey his understanding in any form. Sam smirked gently. He put his hands on Slater's shoulder and slowly leaned him down so Slater's head was resting on his lap, those purple eyes gazing up at him.

"It's alright... You and I can talk to each other, we're friends and we know how to get clean. That's a great start. It will only get better." Sam said, smiling. Slater felt deeply reassured by Sam's words, and he said, "Okay... I believe you." He set the parchment down on the coffee table, beside the dictionary, and head still in Sam's lap, squeezed the inside of Sam's bare thigh softly. He didn't understand the oddity of a human and a demon laying naked on a couch at eight-thirty in the morning, but appreciated the moment greatly.

Blank Slate - Part 2 Co-Written by Leo_Todrius and Kayawk

An hour had passed from their quiet early-morning rest, and Slater kept his head resting on Sam's lap for a good twenty minutes. He felt warm there, safe there, 'right' there, in an existential sense. He became a little restless due to his seemingly limitless bounds of curious enthusiasm, though, and eventually sat up gracefully, smoothly. All of his actions seemed to be defined by this preternatural sense of smooth purpose and efficient intention. He began to look around the room, just silently taking in all around him. The medium sized thirty inch television resting on a stand by the hallway to the bedroom. The pair of bookshelves housing all varieties of tomes of all shapes and sizes, right beside a modern-looking metal and wood computer desk, on which a modest desktop computer was set up. The living room faded into the kitchen, and Slater knew that behind him, a whole other room existed with equally mysterious items, but he chose not to look. There were so many unfamiliar things that he knew better than to try and learn all of their myriad purposes in one sitting. So, he just looked. After another good chunk of time, outside the clouds began to rumble quietly, and Slater stiffened. He saw outside one of the windows in the living room that the daylight became gray, moody, and it disturbed him slightly.

It seemed... cold. He didn't dislike it, per se, but it felt alien to him. It mellowed him. Soon, drops of rain began to drizzle on the windows, and he stood up to examine this unfamiliar phenomenon. Beside the window, he peered outside, seeing every surface taking on a slick, wet, character. He put his hand on the window, and felt the slight chill. He didn't recoil, but the drops on the outside of the window began to disappear, and steam arose, as his hand unconsciously warmed in response. Sam stirred, reaching up to rub his head. It had been a long, rewarding night and each time he fell asleep it was in a less than ideal position. Still, there was no way to escape the infectious nature of Slater's curiosity. He slipped off the couch and moved up behind him, glancing to one of the photo displays his mother had insisted he kept up. It showed him as a child in the early nineties in garish colors, his teenage years with all black baggy clothes and far too many chains and belts and piercings and his first attempt at a mustache.

Then his college years, looking more normal for the most part. Sam looked back to Slater before he moved up, sliding his arms around the demon's stomach, holding him close as he watched the rain drops evaporate. Slater said with curiosity, "Er, what is it all?" He realized that the source of the steam was his own hand, and he just noticed that it was warmer than usual. He closed his eyes, and the extra heat dissipated, and rain drops immediately flowed over the now-cool window surface. He brought his hand down to Sam's, and smiled as he felt the contact, the gems of his stomach shining amidst the man's fingers. He leaned his head back slightly, resting it on the high part of Sam's chest where his shoulders began. His tail wrapped down around Sam's legs, loosely. He wondered at the downpour, which was becoming a steady, proper rainfall.

"How to explain the outside..." Sam said, considering for a moment, "I don't know if I can. Maybe we should get you dressed and I can show you the yard out back as a start." Sam said, his hands sliding up and down the jewels on Slater's stomach almost inadvertently. A strange, warm energy began to flow into Slater's body. His muscles felt refreshed, his mind more alert, his heart pumping stronger. Slater shivered, and voice cracking slightly, he nonetheless continued, "Dressed?" He then noticed the photographs Sam had been examining, and took one in his hand. It was Sam as a child. He didn't remark on the seeming miracle of the captured image on paper, but instead asked, "Who is this, Sam? He looks like you." He felt warm with the reminder and likeness of his friend.

"That was me, a long time ago." Sam smirked, grabbing the teenage him, showing it to Slater, "This is me ten years ago." Sam explained. He knew time may have no meaning to Slater, but he hoped seeing his child, teenage, and present self would give him some scope of time. Slater blinked blankly, and he stuttered, "But, yo-you're you... How can these people be you?" He took stock of all the photos, and noted the constant similarity to the man who was holding him now. He wasn't worried, but certainly perplexed. He brought each one close to his face, scrutinizing it carefully, trying to glean understanding from them. Sam watched Slater, smiling gently at his confusion, trying to decide how to explain.

"As time goes on, day by day, my body slowly changes. When I was young, I was smaller. I got older and bigger and stronger, I got to learn who I was over time." Sam said, reaching up to run his fingers through Slater's bright red hair. Slater smiled as he felt the fingers play through his crimson mane, and he set the photos down carefully, in as close to their original positions as he could manage. He stepped away, almost reverently. The two-day-old being then asked,

"Will I get older, or bigger, or stronger?" looking up at the man behind him. He tried to imagine himself 'older,' or 'bigger.'

"I think so... Although you were born bigger than most people are." Sam said, a rather big understatement, "Maybe you'll get really big and manly... Or maybe you're just the size you need to be. Most people never really know. Still, let's go get dressed to go outside." Sam said, taking Slater's hand. He squeezed it before leading him eagerly back into his room. He slid open the closet door and began digging around. There were boxes along the base of the closet he pulled out. Sam crouched down, looking at Slater and back again. His new demon compatriot was the size of a teenager. Plus, Sam was hesitant to admit, he was eager to dress Slater up in some of his old clothes. Sam opened one of the boxes, revealing all black clothing. Some of the articles Slater recognized from the teenage picture.

Slater peered over Sam's shoulder to see what exactly he was being pulled into, and he asked, "So, er, what are those for? Do I need them to get 'dressed?' " He sat down on the chair as he waited to be further guided, and his eyes wandered as they tended to do. He stared at the still softly-glowing Christmas lights that hung around the room, the small points of light capturing his attention. He then murmured, "You look... excited, Sam?" He leaned forward in his seat, and thought about what he could do to make Sam even happier. He didn't know it, but he'd been designed, fashioned, to be the ultimate companion to Sam, to both emotionally validate and stimulate him socially and mentally, to appeal to his 'higher-minded' desires, but also to entice his baser needs.

"People, when they go outside, wear clothing. It's partially because it can get cold and they need protection, and it is also so people don't get distracted by how amazing bodies can look." Sam explained, "They also can say something about the person... Some styles say 'I'm independent, unique, tough' and others say 'I'm happy to meet you' and others people wear so they can fit in." Sam explained sagely, "I don't have a wide variety though so you'll have to start out with what I wore when I was your size." Sam said, putting the baggy black pants with far too many chains and straps onto the bed as well as a long sleeve black t-shirt and a long black jacket with a hood.

Slater nodded, absorbing the information handily. He then asked, "Why is it all one color?" but as he waited for a response, he stood up and went to the bed, picking up the long-sleeved shirt first, as it was pretty self explanatory. He grabbed the bottom of it, and pulled it on, backwards. He hadn't put his arms through the sleeves yet, and he turned and asked, "Is this right?" It felt... off. He had no standard to base it off of, so he was hoping that he'd done something wrong or else this could be more uncomfortable than he'd want.

"When I was a teenager, wearing black was cool. It meant I didn't care about fitting in, I was my own man." Sam said. He stood up and moved over, carefully slipping the shirt around to the front. He reached into the shirt and guided Slater's arms into the sleeves. The material caressed his skin, hugging his pectorals a bit. Slater was silently relieved as the shirt settled properly, far more comfortable than before. He preferred being naked, but this wasn't bad, all things considered. The long sleeves ended just above his wrists, his lanky arms a bit longer than normal human proportion. He looked at Sam and said quietly, with a little shame, "I like more than just one color..." not wanting to upset Sam. With all he'd seen of the world, even in its limited scope, he embraced the subtle varieties, the differences, the multitude of possibilities. He then glanced at the pants, glanced at his tail, swishing idly, and then at Sam, paralyzed with uncertainty as to what to do.

He felt something slightly odd within him, though, but he dismissed it, attention on Sam. Sam nodded, realizing his desire to turn Slater into a dress up punk, even temporarily, would have to wait. He did owe Slater enough to give him a proper experience. He moved back to his closet, digging around even more. After a while he came out with a citrus orange hooded sweatshirt and yellow track pants. He held them up to Slater, wondering if they were acceptable. Slater grinned, eyes dazzling with the bright colors. He pulled on the sweatshirt, snuggling within its vastness to swaddle himself somewhat. He left the track pants alone, though, and said, "Thanks," glad that Sam had understood and hadn't gotten mad. He felt another shock of that odd feeling, and his spine tingled slightly. He went to pick up the long black pants with the chains, though he just held them, not yet sure how to deal with his tail. He stood there, top covered quite well but bottom completely naked, torn between doing what Sam asked and his own comfort, and it had him at an impasse. Sam realized after a moment he was groping himself and he blushed once more before moving over, considering the difficulties.

"Your tail..." Sam considered, "I wonder if we should wrap it around your leg... or, um... cut a hole in the pants? But that might defeat some of the purpose." Sam considered, reaching to rest his hand at the base of Slater's amazing red tail. When Sam touched his tail, Slater gasped, shook visibly, and his legs gave out. He tried to aim his fall into Sam's arms, and steadily, the pigmentation of his skin began to soften, going from red, to progressively more normal shades of pink, until soon his skin matched that of Sam's. His tail, however, remained it's familiar crimson, as did his hair. Under the two layers on his torso, Slater's tattoo had shifted from its usual black into the old familiar red, giving the effect that the human skin tone was covering his true flesh underneath. His lanky proportions were maintained, but his feet became distinctly more human-ish. From the sides of his hair, slight sideburns, almost lost in the wavy wildness of his hair, grew down to the angle of his jaw line. A small patch of crimson red hair emerged beneath his lower lip, on his chin, a small, almost flame-shaped tuft sprouting. Sam held onto Slater during the transition, taken aback and shocked.

He held his demon friend close, watching the changes with awe and wonder and trepidation. The face remained the same, the hair, the heat... But he looked distinctly more human. Then the cosmetic changes, the facial hair. Sam's cock was soon raging at full tilt and Slater could smell the human's lust. Pheromones, hormones, musk... Intangible things, things triggering his mind on a subconscious level. For Sam, he was much more aware of it. Sam knew if he had seen someone back in his high school days like Slater looked now, even if he had been wearing pants, he would have never given up chasing after them. He would have gone to the ends of the earth, his erection waving like a proud flag before him. Still, Sam pushed the lust aside for the moment.

"Are you alright Slater? How do you feel?" he asked softly, looking at Slater's head to determine the status of his horns. The horns had rescinded slightly into his skull, no longer standing proudly out from him. They had lost their curvy element, and now projected straight, and were still visible, just barely avoiding being missed in the red nest of Slater's hair. Under his shirt, the gems around his stomach had lost a few of their number, which coursed to all parts of his body, flowing over the skin, settling on iron rings around the high parts of his ears, on his nipples, and a couple making his still-impressive, and inhuman, genitalia stand out. He felt weak, and in his condition, Sam's pheromones and his own lust to serve and please the man compounded within his mind. His tail whipped around, tense, and he moaned, tinged with lust, "Sam..." sinking his head into Sam's chest.

Sam tipped Slater's head back, unable to resist himself. He leaned down, pressing his lips to Slater's, kissing him deeply. The hot, human tongue plunged into the wet mouth and a warm hand wrapped around Slater's pierced, demonic cock. The pressure increased before the hand started to slide back and forth, tugging and stroking eagerly. Sam moaned softly into the kiss. It was hard to explain, he had though Slater was impossibly attractive from the moment he saw him. He was equally attractive now, but he was drawn to Slater even more. He held his demon with one strong arm, keeping him aloft in the kiss. The demon was still using Sam for support, wholly dependent on that arm to keep from falling. He was too weak to do anything but valiantly try and return the passion of the kiss, his still-lengthy tongue wrapping around Sam's. Down at his cock, Slater was confused, and had no idea what was happening. He just felt good... really good as Sam stroked him off.

The pleasure radiated from his crotch, and it distracted his otherwise panic-stricken mind. The member began to stiffen, lengthen, and grow hard, and soon, as Sam's hand was forced to spread as the dick gained girth in the erection, it reached its as-yet-unseen full length, a few inches over a foot, now dripping with innate biological anticipation. Sam was mesmerized by how big it was, his hand almost feeling honored to massage such a length. He kept working at it for some time before he broke the kiss. Gently Sam lowered Slater onto the edge of his bed, spreading the demon's legs a bit before he knelt down. Sam's tongue emerged from his lips and began to slowly slide up that ribbed, jeweled, demonic shaft, collecting some of the moisture that had leaked from the tip.

Slater couldn't resist being moved, even if he wanted to, and he collapsed where he was set on the bed. His eyes were closed, and he retreated from the mysterious world he knew so little about into the one he knew (only slightly) more about: his own mind, body, and the sensations running through both. Precum spurted from the tip of the shaft continuously as his hips bucked and gyrated very slightly, giving into pleasure physically despite his own weakness, and he moaned and grunted, calling out, "Sam... Sam... feels so good..." The curious streak in himself manifested briefly as he asked quietly, "What are you doing?...what's happening?" He was panting now, groaning and moaning as the throbbing hot member continued to drip down its lengthy shaft, some of the liquid pooling on Sam's tongue.

Sam's typical generosity at answering all questions was absent for the moment. His human tongue slathered the demonic cock with precum before the hot lips pressed to the tip. Both hands moved, coiling around the shaft, working it back and forth with gusto. He grunted, hips instinctually humping the air as he let spurt after spurt flow into his mouth. It was so naughty, so right, a flavor he couldn't even begin to describe. Slowly Sam's lips began pushing over the tip of Slater's shaft, the hot wet embrace taking in inch after inch. Sam moaned again and the vibrations traveled along Slater's cock, practically making his supple balls tingle.

Slater couldn't help but yell out as the new feelings ran through him. His shaft was being taken in by Sam's mouth, and though it was human-colored at its base, now fully erect it became ever redder as the length approached the tip, which itself was flared with soft hooks of skin. Very little of the red was left, though now, disappearing within Sam's soft, wet, warm maw. Slater felt his balls churn, and he didn't think he could take the good feelings much longer, as much as he wanted them to go on forever. He lay limply on the bed, crying out his satisfaction wordlessly.

Sam felt amazing. His whole mouth was tingling. Hell, his throat, stomach, and body weren't far behind. The fleshy hooks on the shaft tugged on his cheeks in the most delightful way, as if they never wanted to leave. Sam felt his throat relax more than it ever had and the shaft slid into his throat. Sam buried his face in Slater's groin, his throat massaging the length. Sam's hands, with no shaft left to massage, his hands moved to massage and caress the balls beneath the base. Sam was desperate, hungry, horny. The precum was amazing, he couldn't imagine what the cum would be like.

Slater forced himself to sit up, wobbling slightly, and tears of happiness were running down his face. He could never have conceived of such pleasures ever being possible, and he looked at Sam, face in his lap, with total respect, gratitude, and love. These were pure emotional responses, as he was incapable of any true thoughts while held in the throes of this kind of pleasure. He reached his hand down and set it on Sam's head, rubbing it slightly as he moaned. Soon, the precum began to thicken, whiten, the constant flow somehow becoming Slater's true seed before the actual orgasm, which was not far behind.

Sam gulped the richer seed down, eyes shut, pure rapture on his face. He nuzzled Slater's groin, forgetting even to breathe. As Slater watched, it was as if he could see tendrils of energy leaving Sam and entering his body, nourishing his body... But he could feel that Sam was willingly doing this, Slater could feel the love infusing him. It was a heady mix indeed. His spine became rigid, and he sat straight up as the energy entered him, and deep within himself, he felt it blow some barrier open within his essence, his soul, his spirit, revealing something that had always been there inside him, but hidden away. It was a small shard of Sam's soul. The universe did nothing for free, after all, and in exchange for creating Slater, a being designed by the cosmos purely for him; it had taken a bit of his soul and used it to give the spark of life to the new creation, whose own soul blossomed forth from that seed. The energy flowing into him awakened this seed within him, and he suddenly felt so much more connected to Sam. In a brief sensation of nirvana, he felt like he was on both sides, both giving and receiving the pleasure. As he reached his limit, he cried out, thrusting his hips into Sam's mouth, thick, heavy, sweet seed flowing into the man's stomach. Slater's mind was awash white with pleasure, and the newly-created channel between them shook and reverberated with the amazing feeling, deeply affecting Sam's mind as well, now truly tethered to the demon's.

Sam felt light headed, overwhelmed, but oh so much in love. He felt as if he could reach out with his mind and embrace Slater with his entire being, cuddling him close, fostering his uniqueness and enjoying their connection. He felt truly complete with Slater, which was quite the truth given the connection of their soul. Still, Sam was slipping into a nirvana as he gulped that seed down. Slater's mind was getting flooded with brief glimpses of memories; places, items, objects. Nothing complete, not even context of the world, but a broader perspective. He also could feel the energy that had changed his appearance almost like a muscle inside of himself, a powerful energy that pervaded him and anything he touched. As the flow from his cock slowly subsided, Slater leaned back again, panting, weaker than he had felt even before. The shirt he was wearing was sticking to him, sweaty, and even the hoodie had signs of sweat. As the panging within his own mind faded away, the connection between himself and Sam... narrowed, like a tube becoming constricted. It was less present, though both were still aware of it. It was simply... there. It just existed. He was in no condition physically or mentally to take stock of any of the new things he felt himself acquire in the transfer, the images, the energy stored within him... he just lay there, eyes closed, and weakly asked,

"Sam... are you there?" Sam slowly pulled off the demonic cock, licking his lips. He climbed up onto the bed, lying against Slater.

"I'm here." He whispered. Slater tried to bring himself as close to Sam as possible, and he asked,

"What happened... what did I - we - feel?" For he knew that something had happened to both of them, and somehow knew that Sam had felt it too. "What were you doing?... what...?" he trailed off, completely confused. He sounded both satisfied, weak, content, and utterly baffled.

"We were making love... Physical acts that express how much people care for each other." Sam whispered, nuzzling his face into Slater's neck. Sam felt tired, content, amazed and whole. "We felt good." he whispered softly. Slater understood, and couldn't agree enough. He felt amazing.

"...Is it always like that?" he asked, now feeling a bit better on the whole, less weak. He'd begun to explore within himself the new connection between himself and Sam. He'd conceptualized it as a hallway, between the rooms of himself and Sam. He was 'poking' and 'nudging' at the tether, trying to understand it fully and its implications. Sam would have answered but he was asleep, his chest slowly rising and falling... But at the end of that hallway Slater could sense him, the unmapped regions of his subconscious beyond a metaphysical door.

---

A calm afternoon had settled across Sam's modest house, the sunset gleaming through the windows as Sam stood at the sink, washing the plates he and Slater had dirties eating a delicious roast with potatoes, carrots, onions and savory meat. It had been Slater's first full home cooked meal. Sam felt bad it had taken him so long. It was originally going to be a lunch but they had meandered. Once they had finished eating Sam sat Slater down at the TV and popped in a documentary about the Earth, narrated by Morgan Freeman. After pausing to explain the concepts of electricity, televisions, and movies, Sam had gotten on to cleaning. He could hear the iconic voice of Morgan Freeman reaching the end of the movie, moving on to discuss the vast array of animals that spanned the globe. Sam knew Slater had a lot to learn but having a grasp of the planet he was on and what nature could look like would be good. Sam set the wet plates into the dishwasher and grabbed a dish towel, moving to the archway leading to the living room. He glanced out, seeing how Slater was doing.

Slater was watching with rapt attention, eyes wide with the seemingly-endless stream of images, sounds, and information. He listened to the voice emanating from the box with total focus, understanding that this was where he was, really. This was his home. Home. It was a word that the voice repeated constantly, and Slater felt the impact that the word really held. He was sitting on the couch, legs crossed before him, comfortable still wearing the bright orange hoodie and the baggy black pants. He was still in his quasi-human form, horns still rising through his sea of hair, though he'd wrapped his tail around his leg inside the pair of pants. If it weren't so long or prehensile, it probably would have been quite painful, but as it was, he was extremely content.

"It is a timeless world, full of more forms of life than any we could imagine... But one form of life has reshaped the Earth more than every other species combined... Man." Morgan said. There was a brief montage of shots that had not been shown in the rest of the documentary, the works of man. Great cities, technology, masses of people in Times Square. Then a shot of the Earth spinning as night fell and the dark side of the planet illuminated with vast networks of lights. Finally, the credits began to roll.

"What do you think?" Sam asked, walking up behind Slater on the couch. Slater's eyes shone violet, and his voice was excited as he enthused,

"It's so much! So beautiful, and complicated, and... everything! Humans are... amazing," he decided. He looked down slightly as he said, "...But, I'm not a human, am I?" He knew that he wasn't, never thought that he was, but watching the video, he realized that it wasn't very likely that there could be too many others walking around that looked like him. He'd never really thought about it, but now, bestowed the perspective this documentary had given him, he was struck by the sobering realization that he was unique, truly, that there was nothing else like him. He may somewhat resemble one now, could pass for one with some effort, but he was not a human being. He didn't know how to feel about it, though his expression was vaguely sad. Sam moved, leaning over the back of the couch. He wrapped his arms around Slater and buried his face into Slater's hair.

"You are so special... You're a miracle for me. The best person that could ever exist, and you like me... I'm so lucky." Sam whispered. Slater felt somewhat reassured, but he asked,

"...Was I what you wanted, or planned when you did the, erm, thing?" unsure how to describe the summoning ritual. He felt Sam's emotions dimly through their connection, though he was still feeling slight pangs of insecurity and fear. He murmured quietly in the intervening silence, "Of course I like you... I more than like you, Sam. How could I not?" Sam climbed over the back of the couch, dropping down next to Slater. He slid an arm around his back, leaning his head to consider.

"I found a passage that I thought would help me not be lonely anymore. I wanted someone to be with, someone special. I didn't know if it would make me cool or attractive or something. I was so lucky though because... it gave you to me instead. You're better than anything I expected, and you were exactly what I hoped for, someone to be with." Sam whispered. Slater accepted this, and felt immensely better. Love reverberated through their connection, and he said quietly,

"So you won't try and send me back or make me go away?" This thought had been gnawing at him ever since he'd recovered from his initial condition and had reached a healthy state. It was a source of fear for him. He had a piece of Sam within him, had been created for him, driven by the desire to please him. Sam was his only friend, the only person he knew. Having to be without him felt like it would be death, though he didn't have an understanding of that concept, either.

"No!" Sam said, shocked by the idea, "I never want to be without you. Wherever you go, I want to go. I always want you with me... And I think I want to go on a walk outside now. If you keep your hood up we should be fine." Sam said, leaning to kiss Slater deeply on the lips. Slater took the kiss, needing it at that moment, and he returned it with the same vigor. He felt a hundred times better, and he commented, "I always want to be with you... it's like I need it." And he did. He said,

"Okay, but um, could I have, er, some of those?" He pointed to Sam's shoes. He pulled his hood up, and prepared to go outside. He was eager, excited, his curiosity exceeding normal bounds. The rain had died down considerably, and now it was just drizzling, softly hitting the window. Sam got up and ran back into his room, coming back with work boots and neon green socks. He gave Slater a grin before sliding them onto Slater, plopping the boots on next. With a quick hand he tied them both.

"I'll teach you how to tie shoes later." Sam promised. Slater shook his head, understanding, murmured quiet approval about the socks, and then stood up, taking a few practice steps to get used to walking in the footwear. He stomped a few times playfully, but then looked up, beaming,

"Okay, are we ready?" He asked, visibly excited. He'd gotten a taste of the world through the weird box, but now he wanted to truly experience it for himself.

"I think we are." Sam grinned, moving around the couch. He unlocked the door and eased it open. A chill air moved into the house, making both boys glad they were bundled up. Despite the cold and the wet ground, the heavens were full of golden and silver clouds as the setting sun filled them with the rarest, most precious colors. A few of the very last trees clung to colored leaves. Down the street they saw a seventeen year old raking the wet leaves, listening to heavy metal music Slater could hear four houses down. Slater felt the cold air hit him like a wall, but he liked it, because it was... different. It was something new. He liked new things, he decided. He held Sam's hand tightly as they took a few steps out onto the driveway. He felt the pressure of raindrops occasionally hitting him, and he looked up. The cold water splashed his face, and he laughed. He bent his head back higher, and his long tongue snaked out, trying to catch some of the drops in his mouth. The hood slipped back, revealing his long hair and a glimpse of the horns. Slater didn't notice, too caught up in his gleeful game. Sam was terrified someone would take Slater away from him but he didn't want to break Slater's heart. The real world was so new to him. Sam reached up and pulled the beanie from his head, tugging it over Slater's to cover up his horns.

"Humans don't have a cool tongue like yours... I wish I did, but we'll have to keep it out of sight." Sam said good naturedly. Slater blushed, now understanding and feeling the reddening cheeks he'd seen Sam experience, and he quickly brought his tongue back into his mouth, very happy he'd manage to catch a couple before he'd been forced to stop.

"S-sorry," he offered, chuckling. "I just can't help it, you know? All of this is so... good," he remarked. He pulled the hood more tightly over his head; though even in its shadow his violet eyes almost... glowed. They were visible, even in the darkness. His sharp teeth shone as he beamed and asked, "So, where are we going?"

"I thought we'd walk to the park, a few blocks down." Sam said, walking hand in hand with Slater. He felt like the luckiest man on the earth. After a few moments they passed by the neighbor working on the leaves. "Hey Dylan." Sam said, though the teenager didn't hear. He was mouthing the words to his favorite songs, his long black hair cascading over his shoulders. Slater looked at this other boy with keen fascination. It was his first non-Sam human. He was quiet, and kept pace with Sam, but he looked intently and snuck a few glances over his shoulders.

"You know him?" Slater asked, almost disbelieving of something as integral as human interaction. There was a small splashing noise as his boots went through a puddle, and he squeezed Sam's hand, placing the other in the pocket of the sweatshirt. The chains hanging off of his pants almost chimed softly in the dusk air.

"He's a nice kid. Delivers the paper in the morning, does yard work around the street. I think he tried to start a band a month ago." Sam said, pausing, "A band makes music. There was that music in the documentary, but it was a different kind of music." Sam added, gaining a bit of experience knowing when and when not to explain things. Slater was grateful for the explanation, as he had been quite quiet. He'd thought of asking about what Sam meant by 'the' paper, but decided against it as he watched the earth around him begin to settle down for the night. The sun began to eclipse the horizon, and he silently took in the birds flying into the trees, the few odd people walking about. The cool air on his face relaxed him. He settled his hooded head on Sam's shoulder as they walked.

They made it out of their neighborhood, passing a high school. The grounds were empty for the holiday season, the massive brick structure quiet. Though in the far corner, under the shadow of the gymnasium overhand Slater saw a teenage guy and girl kissing. Sam hadn't seemed to notice. Sam's attention was across the street where the sidewalk began to snake back and forth between plants, leading into the park. Slater observed this quietly, happily. His eyes shone with approval as he thought about the similarities between that couple and himself and Sam, and he hoped that they could find the happiness with each other that he'd found with his friend. He didn't ask Sam for an explanation. He didn't need to. When he brought his focus back to the path ahead of them, he finally spoke,

"You know, when we were sleeping after we, er, made love, I saw you... Like, in my head."

"You did?" Sam asked, surprised for a moment but he smiled, "Was it a good thing?"

"Yeah, I was in this... circle of light, in this hazy world of darkness. I was standing on the carpet, and there was your couch there, and you were sitting on it..." He'd gotten the vague impression that the world he'd been in reflected the contents of his own mind, which, as it was, was kind of bare. This also mirrored the unbalanced nature of his connection to Sam. Sam was connected to Slater, but it was, in fact, a connection, from an external source. Slater, however, held a bit of Sam within himself, meaning that the dynamics of their tether were slightly different from his end. "There wasn't anything else around, and, I went to be with you... I lay down with you, but, then I woke up," he explained. "What does it mean?" he asked, quizzically.

"Well... When we sleep, our minds go through everything new and even old information and jumbles it all around. It's called dreaming, and our minds use dreams to turn experiences into long term memories. They don't have to mean anything, but sometimes they do." Sam said, feeling that he hadn't done as well explaining this detail. Slater nodded, understanding to the best of his ability. He then asked, "What do you dream about, Sam?" He looked out before them, and they were now in the park proper. Few people were around, and it was quiet. Even as the sky dimmed to twilight, Slater could still see clearly, his eyes shining through the darkness. When he turned to ask Sam his question, it would be seem that they actually were glowing. All was still, and Slater felt safe. Despite his proximity to the college campus, Sam lived in a safe neighborhood, one that remained pretty uneventful. It was positively suburban.

"I used to dream about places I went as a kid, or meeting the perfect guy to have se... Make love with. But then I met you. Now I'll probably dream of being with you and seeing the world." Sam said, putting his arm around Slater's waist, holding him close. Slater remarked,

"I'd like that. Though, at least we get to do it at all, even if it's just in your head." His tone was slightly 'out-there' for this last remark, though it made Slater smile. As they neared the center of the park, Slater couldn't help but look up and marvel at the tall trees. Everything was so green... He could feel energy, feel life. He could see it, in an odd way, like the life energy around him was tangible. He felt unexplainably happy to be near it, to perceive its existence. He felt happiness, in a very pure, meaningful way to see the growing, thriving world around him, capable of perceiving it in a way that Sam simply wouldn't be able to. He hummed happily, and settled his head once more on Sam's shoulder. Sam held Slater to him, rubbing his back, closing his eyes. The air was fresh, Slater was warm, the park was cozy. It was hard to imagine anything any better than it already was. Slater's eyes twinkled as he watched the flowing green around the pair, feeling as though something encircled him and Sam in the air, some warm embrace of the life around them.

"I like this a lot..." Slater said softly. Before long, they arrived at the center of the park, a small swing set and slide placed near a gargantuan tree, nestled in the long, dewy grass. Sam guided Slater to the swing set, brushing the water off with the sleeve of his jacket. Once it was dry enough he guided Slater over and carefully helped him sit down on the swing. Slater giggled as the still-damp seat soaked through his pants. "What is this, Sam?" he asked. He felt comfortable sitting down, his light body barely straining the metal chains connecting the swing to the cross-bar. Small insects began to chirp and hum as night fell. He looked around, the overhanging central tree making the area almost feel like a grove.

"This is a playground, where people come for fun forms of exercise. Hold onto the chains." Sam said, moving to gently push Slater in the swing so it eased forward and then back. Slater did so, holding them tightly as he felt his sense of orientation shift slightly as the swing beneath him swung freely. He instinctively brought his feet up, the boots leaving the ground.

"W-woah," he let out. He felt the air began to brush quickly past his face, and soon, his hood was knocked off by it. He noticed, but didn't see anyone else around, so he hoped he could let it stay down, and his hair fell free, flowing slightly as he soon gained momentum. Forwards... then backwards... more forwards... more backwards... Sam kept pushing, getting Slater some momentum... Although he tried not to get so much his friend would fall from his seat. Sam chuckled, glad to give Slater such a new experience. Slater began to laugh, and he flung his feet forwards, swinging them backwards, getting the hang of it. He began to push himself to go faster and higher, and his laughing became louder as his hair flew away from him, an ethereal red blur. His eyes began to tear up from the cold wind, but he didn't mind. This was fun!

With Slater going, Sam decided to go get on the swing next to him. Sam built up momentum with a fierce determination, catching up to Slater. The two moved back and forth, swinging wildly. The swing set groaned a bit but Sam didn't care. Slater looked beside himself and called out with joy as he saw Sam right by his side. He reached for him, missing a few times, brushing by a few times, but soon, he caught him, and they soon swung in synchronicity, fast and high. They did so for a bit, and, inspired, Slater pushed himself off the swing at the height of its climb. For a tantalizing second or two, he was flying, and he felt completely free. Soon, though, he went towards the ground, and like a gymnast, he gracefully tumbled into a roll on landing, and he was soon sprawled out on the ground, dizzy, but laughing gleefully. The dew was soaking him, and his entire backside was drenched, but he could barely notice. He rolled over onto his stomach and watched Sam, observing the bulky man swing back and forth.

Sam slowed down, daring not to try such a graceful escape like his compatriot. Slater felt something tug at the edge of his consciousness. There was movement at the edge of the park. A tall, lanky man walking past. Deep brown dreadlocks fell from his head. It was as if he was walking in a shadow that surrounded only him, but then he was out of sight. Sam came across the grass, grinning. He reached down, offering Slater a hand. Slater ignored him momentarily, struck by the alien presence he'd perceived nearby. Whoever he'd been, he was something else than human, this Slater knew, inherently. The energy of the park seemed to recoil from this other person, and it made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He then shook his head, and took Sam's hand, and felt himself pulled to his feet. Despite his recent unnerving experience, he declared,

"That was fun!" Once he got his bearings and the spinning in his vision ceased, he hesitantly asked, "Er, Sam, did you see anyone? Um, feel... anybody?" He looked around, his eyes flaring in the night, sweeping around the immediate area. He saw and felt nobody.

"What?" Sam asked, glancing around, "Nope... Didn't see anyone. Maybe it was the wind." Sam said, for once being the naïve innocent. Slater shrugged, and said, "Yeah, I guess..." Deep down, though, he knew it wasn't the wind. He didn't want to scare Sam, though, so he went along with him. "So, uh, where to?" he asked, cheeks still red from the wind.

"Do you want to head home, or keep experiencing?" Sam asked, ruffling Slater's hair with his fingers. Slater giggled.

"I'll always want to experience things. It's just so much, Sam... there's no way anybody could see it all..." He looked around, taking in the space around him, and declared, "But I'm gonna try, I think. And I want you with me for it all." The decision sounded oddly noble in the still night. He shivered though, remembering the... other...

"Then let's go." Sam said, giving Slater a squeeze. Slater settled in beside him, and the two made their way through the darkness. He knew that he wanted to see more, but he perceived a bit of weariness on Sam's part, and he had the feeling that he'd have a long time to do it. He took the lead, subtly, and he began to lead them home, seeing through the night, now on a low alert for any danger, though he had no idea what he'd do if something... not good... came around. They made the trek back at a reasonable pace. The lovers had gone from the school though the scent of their pheromones was still in the air. Dylan was also not outside. No sign of the dark man. Everything was quiet for the evening. Sam hadn't a care in the world, just happy to be with Slater. Slater was proud of himself for recognizing the way back home, and for recognizing the house that had been the sole extent of his world until so recently. He stood by the front door, now a bit eager to get back inside since he'd been spooked. "That was fun... but let's go inside and be together, okay?" he hoped he'd concealed the anxiety behind his words.

"Yeah, of course. It's a bit cold... Maybe we can pop in another movie, or warm up under the covers." Sam said, easing the door open. He ushered Slater inside, following him in. Slater stepped in, and once the door was closed behind him, he immediately dropped his pants slightly and unraveled his tail out and let it hang freely behind himself. It flexed out, stretching, working out the tension it had acquired while under the forced containment. As it whipped around him, free again, Slater said, "Maybe both?" His pants clung to his legs barely, only held up by catching on his hips.

"Well... when we're at home you should be free to be yourself." Sam said, moving to tug the sweatshirt off and then the shirt, finally dropping the pants. He leaned in and kissed Slater, running his hands all over his body. Sam's love for Slater flooded their connection. There was no denying it. Slater gave himself into it, and soon, still in Sam's arms, his body shifted once more. He reached around behind Sam's back, and ran his hands under Sam's shirt to rub up and down Sam's back. As he kissed him, he torqued his head slightly so that his growing horns wouldn't hit Sam while he was... distracted. His skin revealed, the red of his tattoo seemed to flow out into the rest of his skin, spreading completely until the tattoo was black once more. He kicked out of the boots, stepping out of the pants entirely. His beard, and sideburns faded, his face appearing more youthful once again. The piercings flowed away, his central stomach adornments re-arraying themselves in their intricate alignment. Sam sighed happily.

"You are amazing no matter how you look, do you know that?" Sam whispered, moving to kiss and suck on Slater's neck, practically to the point of giving him a demon hickey Slater moaned

"I want to make you happy," The demon said by way of explanation. He ran his hand up and down Sam's torso, rolling over the soft, round stomach and squeezing his chest. "You're the best looking person I've ever seen..." he complimented, his cheek nuzzling Sam's beard.

"You haven't seen that many, but I'm glad you think so." Sam smirked, inhaling softly. He loved the feeling of Slater's cheek, his hands. He blushed a bit as his ample chest was squeezed. Slater hadn't had time to realize that larger guys weren't as desirable on the whole. Slater continued, drawing from his limited vocabulary to say,

"You're so cute... and warm. Hot. Soft..." he pulled off Sam's shirt, and rubbed his stomach against Sam's. He squeezed Sam's stomach and, remembering the documentary, said, "You're like a big bear..." He nuzzled his head against Sam's chest, and spoke into it, "How could I like anybody else more?"

"A bear that will protect his love with everything he has... And I love you more than I could ever love anyone." Sam whispered, leading Slater back toward their room. This was a new word to Slater, but it was one he didn't need to ask about. He felt it. He felt it in his soul connection to Sam, had felt it when watching the young couple earlier, had felt it in the park. He clung to his bear tightly, saying, "I love you so much, Sam, so, so much." Tears began to run down his cheeks, as he felt the frustration of being unable to communicate the depth of his feeling for Sam. He resolved at that moment to learn, to learn how to speak and say what he meant, how to read, how to do it all, just so that he could find the words to tell Sam how he felt. "I love you, Sam, and I always will, and I will never stop loving you," were the best he could come up with at the time as they stepped into the musky room. It reminded him even more of Sam, and how he felt, and he only cried harder. Sam pulled Slater into bed, holding him close.

"I can feel it, I really can." Sam whispered. He held Slater to him, intending to hold him as long as he could... To fill his lover with so much joy there wasn't room for tears.