That night, Daemon slept. He slept surprisingly well considering how active he was in gauging every guy to ransack his hole within three nights. But now, it seemed Daemon was just beginning to realise that a new path following this had awaited. He saw himself walking through the same caverns the cult hid under; the same walls and the same stench intoxicated his mind all the same just as it did when awake. Through the caves, dimmer and dimmer it got. Through the caves, harder and harder he got. He felt his heart race, his prostate throbbing as though it were growing a demon seed just ready to consume him. Suddenly, a man rose from behind and laughed at him. Daemon startled, as though his heart would jump to darkness as he stumbled at the sight of a man unfamiliar to him.

“You’re ready, boy!”
“What are you talking about?”
“You’re a slut, that’s what I mean boy. I know what it is you get up to and I know what it is you love most.” He approached, every step he took matched the pulse Daemon drew to a breath still, heart wrenched; his death almost at a close. Before Daemon knew, this man already had three fingers rammed up the slut’s hole, feeling the prostate throbbing ever so much to the rough fingers that caught him.

“You like to think yourself as virtuous. In the world above, you like to be seen as a gentleman, as they say. You’re not. You may wear a suit for an entire day, but beneath the skin your instincts are base.