Down the long, empty hallway, two separate beats of footsteps grated on the concrete floors until the sounds stopped in front of another door similar to the one the two had just been in. The light of an oil lamp that had been swaying on the level of their shoulders moved down to hip level, brightening the keyhole into view. Turning to Drokn, Glolieh searched for her key within her pockets as she said, "I'm not supposed to let the two of you meet, so I am taking a risk. In return, I expect a favor of my choosing."

"Why the fuck do I have to do an elf a favor? Meeting him is my right," grated Drokn. Despite all the demon had been through with Eial, he had gained favor for only that one elf. The deeply etched teachings of hatred and judgment towards elves as a species continued to seep into his core, the mere sight of them boiling hatred. Yet having to be around them, many of them, and the audacity of this elf to demand something of him— it tinged every nerve of the demon.

Displaying a silver key-shaped object, Glolieh stared forward and calmly responded, "If you don't agree, I won't let you in."

Immediately, Drokn lunged, attempting to grab ahold of the key for himself. However, the shackles on his legs were heavy and his lunge was more on an awkward step. Not to mention, his hands were still bound behind him and his only means of capturing the key was his mouth— all of which he had momentarily forgotten in his impulsiveness.

Without a struggle, Glolieh simply stepped back in counter and continued her taunt, staring at the key in feigned interest and then back at the demon.

Glaring as he revealed clenched teeth, Drokn hissed a "Fine!" His compliance had been dishonest, with no intention to follow through.

Whether the guard was aware of his lie or not, with a brief, satisfied smirk, Glolieh put away the key back in her pocket. She hadn’t even used it, when in the next moment, she eased the door open. "The key was fake," she said, "And the door was never locked."

Drokn had one too many of this guard's taunts. Though, one was too many, itself. Being made a fool, his mouth flicked open to curse in a momentary fit of rage when suddenly—

"Glolieh?"

The sweet melody seeped through the small opening of the chamber door, completely stilling the demon.

After a second of silence, the voice called again, "...Drokn?"

"I'll get you two in the morning," Glolieh announced as her eyes followed the demon who had rushed past her into the chamber. With the demon's back to be the last her vision could see, a SHHING! echoed in the hallway, leaving the other two locked alone within the magic nullifying cell.

Drokn froze at the sight of Eial, his heart pumping as his palms grew clammy. He had been prepared to meet the elf just seconds ago, but perhaps he hadn't thought of what meeting the elf alone would mean. Away for too long, his elf was finally in front of him with no other distractions. There was an odd yearning that pulled at his chest, and whether it was himself or his bond connection reacting, he couldn’t tell. He was struck frozen within his many thoughts, questions, and yet his mind blanked all the same as he seared his gaze into the faded green irises across.

The room was almost pitch black except for the shaky orange glow of an oil lamp that sat on a flat stone surface in front of Eial, distinctly highlighting the elf's features in a warm hue. As for Eial, he could barely make out the expression his demon wore across the room within the darkness.

Eial had seated himself on the firm cell bed, but in the silence, hesitantly called out Drokn's name again and started to rise. He had barely sat up a finger's length when suddenly he was pushed down by the weight of a presence against him. Straddled on and pinned against the wall behind, Eial was locked in place, when in the flow of movement, a face made its way towards him. Quick to react, Eial sprung his hands up and covered the mouth of the other just before it had landed on his own. There, they sat, paused, with a clearer view of each other's eyes— a hesitance in the amber, a growing passion in the green, a clear wanting in both.

Denying his wishes and testing his restraints, the pull of their bond tugged as if a thick magnet had lain upon the elf's chest, desperate to meet its other half in his bond. In truth, the past weeks away from his bond had indeed taken a toll on the elf. The affection he had held towards the demon tamed his bond, convincing his instinct that there was not an issue.

However, although the elf had the mental fortitude to be away from his bond, the separation had started to take a physical toll. And now, with his bond right in front of him, it was as if a famished hound starved for days had seen the highest quality meal at his footstep. Even if the meal were poisoned, with all senses lost to primal instinct and survival, of course the hound would eat without restraint.

In blankness, instincts taking hold, Eial's hand slowly lowered, past the top lip, down the valley under the bottom lip, it hadn't even met the other's chin when his own lips were caught in warmth. Not even a moment had passed before their lips entangled ravenously, biting, kissing in desperation, breathless against each other. With the demon's hands bound behind him, Drokn used the wall to press the elf flush against him. Eial, with his free hands, clawed his fingers from the demon’s shoulders, to his neck, to his scalp, holding him within his grasp, their deepening kiss lost of his control.

Like animals, they felt into their desires and the pull of their bond, a rush of possessed fever. Pureness, rawness, a vulnerability etching into every breath, every tingling nerve. Their questions, confusions, left aside to follow the wrath of their need for touch.

After a long while of the tormentous kiss, the tug on Eial's chest began to ease and his skin started to regain the color he had unknowingly lost. He hadn't realized how much his body had suffered until it replenished again from the touch of his bond, the difference from just a few hours ago stark to compare. Although his instinctual need had lessened, Eial indulged in the kiss for longer, savoring the sensation of his demon's rough lips and the touch he had missed so much.

Neither knew how long had passed before their lips finally left each other's company. They filled their lungs of air before their hot, unsteady breaths intermingled, their chests rising and falling in sync. Sometime within the passion, Eial's hands had wandered to the favorite horns he liked to touch, the rugged texture against his fingertips as pleasant as he had remembered.

They lingered inches away, eye meeting eye, all guardedness vanished. It was as if they saw a truth, an unfiltered honesty before them. Eial's hands drifted down to cup the demon's face, his thumbs slowly wiping from from the inside to the outside of his cheeks in a pattern.

A blink, a loose thread of hair falling from the demon's shoulders, orange light calming its flicker in the stillness. The sweet voice asked, "Why have you come?"

And a deep voice responded, "Why did you leave?"