Feeling like he’d been dragged behind a truck for four hours, Kyle collapsed face down on his bed. He’d made the mistake of inviting all of period one’s parents into the room at once, hoping it would expedite things. It had only made them worse. But he had discovered exactly where all his students had learned their bad manners. 

At no point had he been allowed to defend himself - his students’ guardians wanted nothing more than to shout blame at him, scream at him for using some unknown, but surely unsavory, teaching method to scare their children into obedience. With no other choice, he’d taken the abuse. He’d found himself wishing Ryka would show up and save him, but there was still only silence from the demon. 

Exhausted to the point of near immobility, Kyle struggled out of his clothes and fell asleep without ever getting under the covers. 

He was halfway through reliving his first encounter with Ryka when an incessant banging woke him. The front door, he realized. Someone was trying to break it down. Cursing under his breath, he put on his glasses and checked the clock next to his bed. Midnight. If they were a burglar, they were terribly inefficient. But very committed, since they seemed to have no intention of stopping. Supposing he should investigate, he put on his robe and shuffled to the living room. 

No sooner did he unlock the door than it was thrown open, sending him staggering backwards. Shocked awake, it still took him a few moments before he recognized the man, fists clenched at his sides, looming on his doorstep. 

It was Mackenzie’s father, Keith, Kyle now recalled. Kyle had only met him once before, briefly, and the other man had left quite an impression. But Kyle recognized him from his picture, which was hanging outside the gym. He’d been the much-admired star of his high school and college football teams, and he certainly still looked the part. At six-foot-five and well-muscled out – both thanks to Ryka - Kyle was by no means small, but Keith barely fit in the doorway. They may have been a match for height, but Keith was far bulkier.

Without a word, he stepped into the house, murder in his eyes. His face was a blotchy red, with angry veins already bulging in his neck. And he reeked of alcohol. “I thought you were going to call,” was all Kyle could say. 

“What did you do to my kid?” Keith screamed, and Kyle flinched away. But it seemed that Keith didn’t want an explanation so much as he wanted revenge. Kyle didn’t even have a chance to react before Keith took a swing at him. He saw the other man’s fist, then half his world went dark as his left eye swelled shut. His other winced closed when he saw Keith preparing to strike again. 

It felt like a battering ram colliding with his jaw, and his feet went out from under him. Stars spun overhead as he stared up at the ceiling. Several teeth felt loose, and he gagged as blood pooled in his mouth.  

Trying to think of a way to save himself from what was sure to be a severe beating, Kyle struggled onto his hands and knees. That was as far as he made it before Keith kicked him in the stomach, forcing him back onto the floor. Not that Kyle was foolish enough to try that again, but just to make sure, Keith took another shot at his ribs. It felt like he was wearing steel-toed boots.

As he gasped for breath, Kyle thought it must be the pain that made him feel numb, because he couldn’t understand how he was suddenly trying to get back on his feet. The innate desire to curl up and play dead was overpowering, and although he was sure self-preservation should have been winning out over all else, his body just wouldn’t stay down. Through one wide eye, he watched his own arms jerkily prop him back up. And quickly realized it wasn’t his will being obeyed. He shrugged off his robe just in time for Ryka to finish summoning himself. 

Glowering at the intruder with red eyes ablaze, Ryka stood and spread his wings. And Kyle realized why they’d been bleeding – they’d grown. The living room was twelve feet across, and the tips of Ryka’s wings, which he’d previously been able to fully stretch open, now brushed the walls. Kyle didn’t have much of a chance to be impressed - all of Ryka’s focus was on his prey. 

“Human filth! Don’t even think about touching my Master again!” he roared. 

To Ryka, the delicious aroma of fear was already overpowering that of the booze. Eyes wide, Keith slowly backed toward the front door. But it slammed shut long before he was close enough to even reach for the knob. “What in God’s name are you?”

Ryka snarled, a sound that seemed to cause Kyle’s attacker actual physical pain. Face contorted in agony, Keith put his hands over his ears. “In Satan’s name, I think you mean. And I’m here to collect on the debt you just incurred by hurting my Master.”  

Even though Ryka and Kyle shared the same body, Ryka’s strength was far greater than his human host’s. With a malicious grin, he wrapped one hand around Keith’s throat and lifted the man off his feet. They dangled inches above the carpet, and Keith ineffectually pried at Ryka’s hand, trying to loosen the demon’s grip. Undeterred, Ryka squeezed harder. 

When his prey was turning blue, Ryka threw Keith to the ground, kicking him onto his side, just as Keith had done to Kyle. “Did I tell you there’s interest?” Ryka hissed, aiming a second blow at the man’s ribs. It pleased him tremendously to hear bones cracking as his bare foot connected with Keith’s side over and over again. 

Ryka, that’s enough. Stop!

“Why? He wasn’t going to.” 

Please, Ryka. For me.

“His soul is rightfully Hell’s. I don’t think they’ll mind if he’s early.” As he spoke, Ryka directed his gaze to the far wall. A nightlight in the kitchen threw just enough light to make his shadow appear there. It was hunched over Keith’s prone form, hungrily eyeing their victim. 

I’m begging you. Please don’t kill him.

Disappointed, Ryka knelt down next to Keith. He grabbed the man’s face and turned it so that Keith had no choice but to look at him. Ryka’s claws were out again, and they gouged deep holes in Keith’s skin. Blood oozed from the wounds, staining Keith’s cheeks and Ryka’s fingers.

“My Master forbids me from taking your life. You’re lucky one of us believes in mercy. But know this: nothing you can do between now and the time of your death will be enough to save you from eternal damnation. And do you know why? Because two years won’t be enough time to make up for everything you’ve done. So keep that in mind, and remember that praying won’t stop that heart attack.”

Tears streamed down Keith’s face as he realized what Ryka was telling him. All he could do was attempt to nod; his face was still firmly in the monster’s grasp.  

Reluctantly, Ryka pulled his hand away, raking claws through soft flesh. “Now get out of my sight before I change my mind.” Head bowed, Keith dragged himself to the door. Ryka watched with a smile as he crawled out into the front yard. Only when he heard a car driving away did he allow himself to sink to his knees. 

“Sorry, stud, but I’m almost there.” Before Kyle could even ask what Ryka meant, the demon was plunging bloody hands down the front of the pajama pants Kyle had been wearing. He very quickly finished what Keith’s terror had started. Once satisfied, he leaned back against the couch, relaxing his wings by his side.

Ryka! What –

Any judgment Kyle wanted to make was stopped short by a vicious snarl. Taken aback, Kyle didn’t offer anything else, waiting instead for the demon’s growl to quiet. I was just hoping that you could clean yourself up. Please. Already, he could imagine the feel of someone else’s blood on him – some now in very intimate places – and was overwhelmed with anxiety. 

There was no answer, but with a heavy sigh, Ryka got to his feet and headed to the kitchen to do as Kyle had asked. That task was accomplished, he resumed his previous position. The tip of his tail was still swishing angrily across the rug, but he was otherwise still.

When it seemed like Ryka was finally calmed down, Kyle managed a contrite, Thank you for saving me. 

“Were you afraid I wouldn’t?”

A little. You didn’t talk to me all day.

“You deserved it.”

I don’t understand. Please tell me why you were moping in the bathtub and inhaling sweets like some heartbroken teenage girl.

As if he were avoiding Kyle’s gaze, Ryka began studying the carpet. He pulled his knees in close to his chest and wrapped his tail around his ankles. “I know I’m supposed to be the embodiment of evil and all that. But demons still have all the same emotions as humans.” Kyle very much wanted to hear about these feelings, but Ryka once again lost patience with the subject. “You’re an asshole. Don’t me make say stupid stuff like this. Especially not when I’ve said it to you before.”

Said what before? Oh, come on. Just spit it out.

“I’m not going to.”

Won’t it make you feel better just to say?

“So you can blow me off again? No thanks.”

Well, if you decide you want to tell, you know I have no choice but to listen.

“What a dick.”

You know that I actually do like you, right?

Ryka mumbled something Kyle couldn’t understand before hauling himself to his feet. With a yawn, he started for the bedroom. “By the way, sorry about the bathtub thing the other morning.”

That’s okay, I -

“I guess I didn’t make it obvious enough. How’s this?” This time, there was no tub to block the view. The two of them were on the bed, Kyle on all fours while Ryka enthusiastically fucked him. “Or do you prefer it this way?” The demon showed him another option, with their roles reversed. As Ryka passed the mirror, he turned and winked at his reflection. “Sweet dreams, stud.”