by Noah Harris
“No!” he shouted.
The Hooded One stopped mid thrust.
“Pull out of me!” Richard commanded. The Hooded One bleated and pulled out. Richard gasped as the massive cock yanked free. He felt a tug of regret, but tamped it down.
“You two, let me go! All you demons, back off!”
The two let go and Richard fell to the hard stone floor of the blasted plain.
The Dark Legions faded away, leaving only Richard and the Hooded One. The demon replaced his cowl. His features all disappeared except for his glowing eyes.
Richard sat on the ground where he had been dropped. His body felt limp, his ass singing with pain and desire, but his mind felt strong at last.
He gazed upon the demon, who yearned to be his master.
“You know I want you, but I cannot give you what you want. I cannot let you roam free in the world. You’d destroy it. And I will not be a slave. Not to you, not to anyone.”
The Hooded One stepped forward, his engorged cock glistening at the tip with a drop of precum the color of coal. Steam issued from it.
Yearning almost overcame him. He wanted this so badly. Richard felt himself weaken. He reached up.
“I wish things could be different,” he whispered, and stroked the length of the piping hot organ.
It swelled and shot forth a great gout of black jism. Richard ducked to the side and the spray missed him, arcing a full ten feet and leaving a sizzling trail on the bedrock.
The Hooded One turned and shot again. Richard rolled away, and kept rolling as a third shot followed him.
At last, the orgasm subsided. The demon’s cock still stood stiff and erect, drop after steaming drop pattering on the stone at his feet. Richard stood before him, trembling with a mixture of relief and disappointment.
He looked the demon in the eye.
“I will always be stronger than you, even though I wish it were the other way around.”
The Hooded One clenched his fists and raised them to the sky, arching his head back and letting out a bellow of rage that rocked the blasted landscape. Richard staggered and nearly fell, clamping his hands to his ears.
“Come here!” a human voice rang out. “There is another way!”
Richard gasped and looked around. That had been Anton Black’s voice!
However, he didn’t see the cult leader. All he saw was the barren plain and the lava fields in the distance. The Dark Legion had vanished. Even the demons that always danced by the lava had departed.
Then, the scene flickered and faded. Richard’s mind reeled. He blinked, and the bare white summoning room began to grow visible through the hellish image of the demon plane.
Another minute, and he was back in his own apartment.
The vision of the demon plane did not fade entirely though. He could still see it faintly, a transparent view overlaying his regular sight, like the reflection of a room when looking out of a window at dusk.
His head felt clearer, although, he knew he was far from sober. He wobbled out into the hallway on uncertain legs, aching from the pounding he had just received. He ran his hands over the sheen of sweat covering his body, and gingerly probed his tender hole, searching for any sign that the demon’s seed had touched him. No, he was clean. Anton and the Hooded One had almost tricked him into completing the sacrifice, but he had been stronger. He had learned that his will was stronger than the both of them combined.
Anton, however, had said there was another way.
What could it be? Was this city-wide blackout his work? What was he planning to do while hidden by the resulting chaos?
He found his clothes strewn along the hallway where they had been taken off by the arms that had reached through his walls. Had he hallucinated that? No, he couldn’t hide in denial. The demons were growing stronger, more capable of manipulating this plane of existence. The barrier between the two worlds had been ground down until it was wafer thin.
Then, something he saw on the floor made him wonder.
It was the combination lock that had been on the door. He had seen, or had thought he’d seen, one of those arms emerge from the wall and yank it off, snapping the metal loop that went through the latch. Yet here it lay, open and unbroken.
Had he unlocked it himself?
Richard retrieved the offending object, locked the summoning room again, for all the good that would do, and looked around.
The demon plane still hung vaguely in his vision. As he got dressed, he focused on it, and he found it grew clearer.
Then, he saw something that chilled his heart.
The Hooded One was running fast across the stony, fiery landscape. Far in the distance, the merest speck on the horizon, Richard spied a torch-lit circle, a gathering of robed figures, and a flat altar.
Immediately Richard knew the horrible truth—the cult had found another virgin sacrifice!
Just then, another wave of the acid hit, warping and twisting the hallway and forcing Richard to his knees.
Reality came back slowly and grudgingly, but it did not come back entirely. Richard found himself curled up in the hallway, unsure as to how long he had been out. The candles still burned in the living room, casting a feeble light over his battered body. Richard picked himself up and looked at them, hoping to tell by how much they had burned down just how long he had been swept away on an acid trip that even now, he was beginning to forget.
The candles told him nothing, however. He couldn’t see them as their little flames danced, glowed, and sent out multicolored halos that radiated out from the flame like the surface of a sun going supernova.
The acid still had him in its grip. He rubbed his temples, trying to clear his head, and saw that the faint image of the demon plane still hung within his vision. He looked away from the flaring light of the candles and towards the shadow of an open closet door, which helped him to see the images better.
Once again, he saw the Hooded One running across the rocky expanse. He could almost hear the rapid clack clack clack of his hooves striking the stone. In the distance, Richard could still see the sacrificial altar, now appearing slightly closer. He could discern the nude reclining form of a young man on it.
Why was the vision almost the same as before? Had he only been out for a few seconds, or in the strange physics of this other dimension could he see two different scenes so far apart?
Perhaps he still had time. Maybe the Hooded One still had a long way to go, and he could find out where the sacrifice was happening and stop it, as he’d done last time.
The room spun a little. Richard held onto the arm of a chair to steady himself. No, what was he thinking? He’d only been able to disrupt the last ritual because his friends had arrived, guns blazing. How was he supposed to do it all alone, high as a kite, in the middle of a blackout with gangs of looters running around?
He had no choice. Richard blew out the candles in the living room until the apartment was bathed in darkness. Only the red light of the fires from the city shone through the windows. He turned his back on the world outside and gazed out onto the faint vision of the demon plane. Yes, he could see it more clearly now. He sensed that if he simply walked towards the distant sacrifice, he’d make it to where it was happening in this world. Due to the dark magic Anton and the cult had cast, the ritual existed in both planes simultaneously, like the summoning room and the Everard, visible both to humans and demons alike. He could use his vision of the demon plane to navigate through his own world.
He hurried out of his apartment, closing the door behind him. He had no way to lock it, but there was no point in worrying about that now. If the looters came, they could take everything they wanted. If he didn’t stop the ritual, everything would be gone anyway.
The red glare of the fires appeared clearer in the outside hallway. From the window at the end of the corridor he could see flames rising above a building a few blocks away. With his supernaturally enhanced vision due to his sensitivity to the demon realm, he could see the sacrifice
taking place beyond that.
He hurried as fast as he dared, down the dark steps and out into the city.
The street looked empty. He thought he saw some struggling forms in the darkened park across the street, and he thought he heard someone cry out, but he didn’t dare waste time going over there. Whatever was happening would be nothing compared to what Anton had planned.
As a dim background to the darkened city, he could just make out the faint image of the Hooded One running across the bleak landscape of the demon realm. Richard shivered as he thought he glimpsed hooves beneath the bottom hem of the demon’s waving robe. Mustering his willpower, Richard started to jog after him, following the demon from within the human realm, hoping they would end up in the same place.
For a while he ran in silence. The streets of his neighborhood were relatively quiet as they were all but abandoned. The shopkeepers here had gotten their shutters down in time, and the looters had gone for easier pickings elsewhere. He did see a few people, bundles in their arms, hurrying into residential buildings. His neighbors—his respectable, well-off neighbors—returned from a night of grabbing their share. Richard shook his head in disgust and continued following the Hooded One.
Richard briefly lost sight of him after a couple of blocks, when he turned a corner and came upon a burning delivery van. Flames flew up three times as high as the van itself, and a gang of middle-aged men were dancing around it, the flames shining on their grinning faces and receding hairlines. The acid coursing through Richard’s veins made their faces stretch and distort. One, clutching a fifth of whiskey, had a big belly that seemed to wobble and push out, as if there was some demonic fetus inside.
Blinking to try and purge himself of the vision, Richard ran past as fast as he could. When he got to a darker area, he caught sight of the Hooded One once again.
He found that he had been thrown off the trail slightly, by the distraction of the vehicle fire, and he had to take another turn. This brought him to a narrower and quieter street. He ran down it, ignoring a few skulking shadows creeping along the base of one of the buildings; one carried a coil of rope.
Richard’s muddled mind got a vague inkling of where the Hooded One might be heading, but before his thoughts could organize themselves, he came to a wide shopping avenue, lit by several small fires in trash cans and one roaring, shattered storefront. The fires illuminated a scene of mass insanity; steady streams of people issued in and out of stores. A big crowd had gathered in front of the burning shop, drinking and laughing. The street was strewn with trash, papers and discarded consumer goods. Shielding his eyes from the glare, he could just make out the Hooded One running far ahead of him. Richard picked up speed, trying to catch up to the demon.
Just then, he staggered as another wave of the acid overtook his mind. The street contracted and expanded like a giant lung, and the flames coruscated in a rainbow of brilliant colors. He stared in fascination at the burning building as giant, demonic faces leered and laughed at him from within the flames.
Richard tripped over a pile of discarded shoes and fell hard on the pavement. The scene whirled around him in a Technicolor swirl. The blare of a siren and the bleating honk of a horn made him look up. A fire engine ten stories high bore down on him, the mouth at the front breathing fire. Richard scrambled to get out of the way. Three cop cars came up fast behind him, like scuttling beetles with beady eyes that stared at him as if they knew the truth.
Richard stumbled again, the ground wobbling too much for him to get to his feet. The demonic vehicles hurtled towards him and he wasn’t going to get away in time.
A hand grasped his shoulder and hauled him to one side at the last second.
“You alright, buddy?” a voice asked. The voice was high and clear, and sounded young. Richard struggled to focus.
“Get me away from the light,” he replied, blinking.
Caring hands led him to a darkened alley. Behind them, Richard could hear the fire engine and the police cars screech to a stop. Several shots rang out, followed by some return fire.
“Let’s go. It isn’t safe around here,” the voice said.
Richard tried to sort out all the lights and shadows. Finally he focused enough to see his savior—a young blonde man of about twenty, wearing gym shorts and a t-shirt. Richard sized him up and liked what he saw. His face was clean and honest, and his tight clothes and short shorts did little to hide his athletic figure.
“You’re not carrying anything. Aren’t you looting like everyone else?” Richard asked.
“Hell no! I’m just trying to get home. I see you’re not looting either. But damn, it sure looks like you’ve been partying.”
“I’m a bit high,” Richard admitted. “Thanks for saving me.”
They stood in an alley, sheltered from the direct light of the flames. There was enough light to see that they were alone. There was nothing there but a few milk crates and a dumpster next to the back door of what Richard guessed was a restaurant judging from the faint grease smell pervading everything.
His companion looked him over, eyes hooded as he gazed down at Richard’s pants. Richard felt his cock stir at the attention.
“Sister, you look like you’ve just been fucked,” the young man said.
Richard gave him a sheepish grin. “Yeah, you could say that.” He glanced in the direction of the Hooded One, still visible as a faint projection on the brick wall next to him.
“Look, I have to go,” Richard said, moving away.
The young man caught him.
“It’s dangerous out there. Why not stay here?”
“I got places to be.”
The man moved closer, putting a hand on Richard’s chest. He tingled at the contact.
“Yeah, like right here with me.”
“Look, I—”
Richard’s words got cut off when the stranger planted a kiss on his lips. He tensed for a moment, and then relaxed into it. Why not? This guy saved his life, after all. He deserved a kiss.
He was a damn good kisser, for sure. Both Richard’s and the stranger’s mouths opened, their tongues embracing and lips locking. Their hands roved each other’s bodies and Richard could feel the hard shaft of the young man’s cock pressed against his own.
The youth pulled away a little.
“You like to fuck as well as be fucked?” he whispered.
“Yeah, but—”
The man turned around and rubbed his pert ass against Richard’s cock. Richard shuddered with desire at the touch of the youth’s body through the thin fabric of his jeans.
Then, he remembered his objective and glanced at the receding figure of the Hooded One.
“Sorry, but I got to go,” Richard said, pulling away.
The young man looked hurt. His face was downcast as the light from the end of the alley flared red and white from the sirens of the parked emergency vehicles. “Why? Don’t you like me?”
Richard tried to think of a response. This guy had just saved his life and he didn’t want to hurt his feelings.
“We can’t fuck here. There are cops right outside.”
The young man laughed and turned him towards the end of the alley, where the lights flashed from color to color. Richard’s vision wavered, and the Hooded One blinked out of sight.
“The cops are too busy with the rioters. They ain’t gonna come down this alley and bug a couple of queers.”
The young man rubbed up against him again. The flashing of the emergency lights in the street made beautiful patterns on the brick wall. Without really thinking about it, Richard found himself pulling down his jeans. His thick, eager cock popped out. The young man smiled, produced a small jar of Crisco, and lubed up Richard’s meat.
The man turned, pressed up against him, and Richard found that he had dropped his own pants, too. Richard’s slick dick pushed between smooth cheeks. When had the guy dropped his shorts? He hadn’t even noticed. He must really be out of it. Wasn’t there something he was supposed to be doing?
Richard couldn’t remember. He felt like a beast in heat, ready to mate. The acid was peaking again. Strange stuff, to peak every hour or so like this.
He cast that thought away, cast all thoughts away, as the colors wavered across his vision like a display of Northern Lights and his cock pressed between the young man’s cheeks to find the puckered hole within.
Richard thrust forward, back arching and eyes hooded as he pushed into that tight, hot space in one single, strong thrust. His partner gasped, and reached around to hold Richard’s hands where they grasped his bare waist. As Richard worked up a rhythm, the narrow walls of the man’s ass locked onto his cock in a hot embrace as the man gripped his hands, keeping them pressed into the smooth flesh of his waist.
Richard moaned. God, this was great. He felt so free, fucking another man in an alley while three police cars sat parked just ten yards away. All his cares fell away. This was pure freedom. This is what he had come to New York City for.
However, a strange sensation tickled the corner of his consciousness. Something kept rubbing against his belly. It wasn’t the stranger’s t-shirt, which was bunched up under his shoulders, and it couldn’t be his hands, which still held Richard’s own. Richard tried to ignore the sensation, but it grew stronger. Something was definitely brushing up against his belly. He tried to move his hands to feel for it, but the young man gripped them harder.
Richard opened his eyes and looked down. Above the sweet narrow ass of the youth bent over in front of him writhed a short, thick, hairless tail. It looked like the tail of a rat.
Richard screamed and leapt back. The youth turned and cackled at him, his mouth widening to take up his entire face, fangs slavering.
“You might as well finish, mortal,” the demon said. “You’ll never catch up, now.”
Richard glanced at the vision of the demon plane, and found the Hooded One had almost made it to the sacrifice site. He ran out of the alley, stumbling in his acid haze as the demon’s mocking laughter pursued him.
As he came out into the street, he shielded his eyes from the brilliant light, which jabbed at him like glass.