Art & Ozz

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***

Deep in the magic Everwood Forest, far away from the eyes of civilization, the demon was on the hunt. He kept to the shadows of the trees, never making a sound as he stalked his prey, and and when she finally paused her trek he scrambled up an old oak to plan. The demon Ozzumyn would never admit it, but he was not exactly powerful--he was practically still a child, not even 100 years old yet--and being an incubus besides meant that a direct conflict was out of the question. But when he saw this pretty young maiden heading out of town, the demon just knew he had a chance to drink deep from her soul.

The only reason he had not yet made his move was the added complication that his prey was actually a paladin. Hunting such a devout peon would normally be suicide, but she seemed to be from the order of Selûne; the squire of a lesser Moon goddess on some pilgrimage without her master would be an easy conquest. Besides, he was the dreaded incubus Ozzumyn the Insatiable! No soul was safe from him, and after corrupting a paladin he would have bragging rights for an age!

The dreaded incubus hunkered down in his hiding spot and licked his lips, giddy with anticipation. The squire had stopped her hike at a glade with a river and was undressing for a bath. This was going to be too easy! He watched the armor come off, long brown hair cascading over bare shoulders, and she never once looked back in his direction. Once the squire was neck-deep and started humming to herself, Ozzumyn made his move and slinked out of the tree.

Demonic instinct took over as Ozzumyn walked, subtly changing his person to be more appealing. Pheromones kicked into overdrive, his gait became more confident, chest broadened, muscles and jawline hardened, wrapped up with some magical glamour, everything to make him irresistible to any woman. "My my, what a little snack we have here," Ozzumyn drawled in a rolling baritone, cutting off the girl's humming mid-song.

Bright blue eyes slowly turned to look upon the demon in all his unholy glory: just over six feet tall, skin red as embers and hair black as the abyss, goat horns curled down towards a tight body that you could drink wine off of. Ozzumyn was nude save for a pair of dark leather pants, and a combo set of demonic wings and spaded tail flared slightly to make him look even larger. Any woman would either run screaming or fall to her knees at such a sight, and for a long moment the squire stared up at him without moving a muscle.

"Oh, hello. How are you doing today?"

Ozzumyn's mental train came to a screeching halt. Of all the responses, a completely cordial greeting paired with an innocent smile was absolutely the last one he expected. He tried to rally, though it took a few false starts. "Oh, uh, I'm doing alright, tha--I mean, I was wondering if I could, uh, warm you up a bit after that cold swim."

"Why thank you, yes! If you could just hand me that towel next to you." The request was so straightforward that the demon had already complied before he realized what he was doing, and the squire stepped out of the water to dry off. She was pale and slim with bright features, a soft face, and...

"Wait, you're a guy?" All confidence had fully evicted the premises of the incubus, leaving Ozzumyn feeling and looking very silly as the squire stretched and dried without a modicum of shame.

"Hmm? Oh yeah, the hair does sometimes fool people. I know I should get it cut, but this just feels more natural, you know?" The young man carried on as if he were talking to an old acquaintance while he dressed, and not a fearsome demon actively chasing after his soul.

Said fearsome demon was desperately trying to get his brain back on track. The gender of the prey doesn't actually matter to a sex demon--a soul is a soul, after all--but the usual approaches are vastly different. As soon as he realized his mistake, Ozzumyn's demon physiology began to automatically correct and alter his body. He shrunk by several inches, pheromones changed gears, his voice went up an octave, muscles softened to a runner's build, everything to make him seem less intimidating and more inviting. He can still do this, he had to do this! Everyone can be corrupted, it was just too bad he wasn't more powerful or he could just turn into a woman and make everything easier.

"...So this is my first pilgrimage! It's scary to be out of the coven for the first time, but Master deNarcel said it would be good for me. Just another month or two until I reach the town of Oxheim, and once I build a church to Selûne I can go home! I'm Arthur, by the way. Arthur Dawnstride." The young squire stuck out a hand. "What's yours?"

The demon had recoiled slightly, ready to spring back from the other's incoming attack, but he limply took the hand when Arthur's actual intent finally hammered its way through his skull. "Uh, I'm Ozzumyn." Talking again helped shake his mental blocks back into place, and the incubus continued, "So, Arthur, that sounds like quite the adventure you've been on. Maybe I can do something to help you relax a bit...?"

"I was actually just about to sit down for lunch, why don't you join me!" Arthur had turned around and was rummaging in his pouch, leaving his back totally exposed to the demon.

"Mmm, that does sound nice," Ozzumyn purred. "There is a nice, hot meal I have that I would just love to feed you." His clawed hand reached out and brushed against the squire's hip, but the only reaction that elicited was Arthur freezing for just a heartbeat.

Arthur finished digging, stood holding a small notebook and sack, and looked at the demon with dancing eyes. "Now Ozzumyn, I'm not going to have sex with you. I'm saving myself for marriage, I know it's old-fashioned but it feels like the right choice for me." Then he opened the notebook, flipping through dog-eared pages with the speed of familiarity. "Let's see, judging by the size and shape of the horns, name syntax, the fact that you haven't attacked me... I'm going to say you're a 10th circle incubus, maybe... between 80 and 100 years old, right?"

Ozzumyn was suddenly feeling very naked, and not in a fun way. "I-I-I'm 9th circle, damn it!" he stammered, drawing himself up to a haughty height. "10th circle are little more than imps and hellions!"

The squire held both hands palm out in a conceding gesture. "Okay, okay, my apologies, 9th circle. Still, I get the feeling that... this is your first time too, isn't it?" The demon turned an odd dusty pink as the blood drained from his face, and Arthur's eyes lit up with mirth. "Ha, it is! Oh, don't be ashamed, Ozzumyn, I'm glad this happened! Selûne must have brought us together for a reason. Look, tell you what, you want my soul and I want to save yours, so why don't we travel together?"

"You... what?"

"I mean, let's see who wins first without resorting to a fight right here. Make a bet out of it. By gosh, you could even call it a contract."

That caught Ozzumyn's attention, any demon worth their brimstone would jump on the chance to cheat their way into a contract. "You serious, kid? You want to enter into a contract with me, just like that, to see whose soul gives in first?"

"Yep! Stipulations are simple, let's say you win if you seduce me, no rape or physical stuff, and I win if you denounce your demonic ways. We can't use violence against each other, you can't take anyone else's soul, and I won't exorcise any other demons until the contract is settled. Or, y'know, if one of us dies. Sound good?"

The cogs in Ozzumyn's head were spinning furiously, examining the contract from every angle for loopholes. It was nice and vague, plenty of room to work his own brand of seduction, but no soul sucking was going to be torture... "Can I still have sex, at least?"

"Oh, you can do whatever you want, just so long as you don't touch their soul in any way. The only soul you get is mine, and only if you seduce it out of me."

It was almost too tempting, but if the kid was so willing to serve himself up on a platter who was he to pass up an easy meal? Many a naïve young hero has thought that they could save a poor demon with the power of love or whatever, but after a week of pheromone bombardment they always wind up begging to join the legions of the damned. "Alright kid, you're on. Just need a pick of your blood, and--"

"I'm 18, by the way," Arthur cut him off. "Master says I'm a late bloomer, haven't hit my growth spurt yet. And we don't need anything so flashy for the contract, you know that." The squire reached into the sack he had grabbed, pulling out a lone cookie and breaking it clean in half. "We just have to break bread, so to speak. Here, cheers to a new friendship."

Ozzumyn took the cookie, consciously aware of what mortals (and gluttony demons) did with food but unfamiliar with the actual experience. "And cheers to a good recruitment," he concluded, biting into the baked good.

Hells, it was delicious.

-End of Day 1-

Ozzumyn let out a melodramatic groan, the vibrato rising and falling in time to his gentle but relentless attempts to knock down a tree via headbutting. Once the contract had been formed his body underwent further changes to bring them closer together, losing his roguish goatee and a few more inches of height for a more boyish charm. That was fine, he could deal with that, he was still taller and stronger than Arthur by a smidge. What he couldn't deal with was the last time they passed through a town and he had grabbed an easy bar wench, expecting some needed stress relief. Apparently, taking a bite out of someone's soul when you bed them is all but impossible to avoid, and the pain the contract gave him was the worst he had ever felt. It was only a nibble! Now he was so starved that gorging on mortal food sounded like a solid idea.

"Come and eat, Ozz! Stew's ready!" Arthur shouted from his seat, and Ozzumyn sat down in front of the fire with a huff. And then there was this goodie-two-shoes, sitting all smug in front of his bubbling homemade rabbit and potato stew. Ozzumyn had been bombarding his every waking moment with pheromones, and every night was filled with invasive dreams of orgies and debauchery, and the little squire had not shown any hint of cracking. What was it going to take!? "I know you're feeling a bit... malnourished, but this stew will perk you right up." When Ozzumyn just glared at the steaming pot, Arthur continued, "You'll have to start eating eventually, you know. At least until you learn how to sleep with people without hurting them."

"Hrm. Speaking of, how'd you sleep last night?"

"Oh, lovely, thank you," he answered, ladling two bowls of stew. "You're getting quite inventive with the dreams, do you have personal experience with that tentacle monster or was that all your imagination?"

"Heh, sounds like someone is interested in the wonders I have to offer, maybe you aren't such a tight-ass after all."

"I'd like to think I'm open-minded to things, I've always thought that whatever adults consent to is their business. Just, y'know, after I get married." The two fell momentarily silent, only the sounds of birdsong and Arthur slurping stew to keep them company. "You better start eating before it gets cold."

Instead, Ozzumyn just groaned and curled into a ball. "I feel like I'm going to explode and implode at the same time. I haven't gone more than two days without cumming since I was spawned! And that was as a punishment!" Through a mouthful of rabbit, the ever-helpful Arthur suggested that he just try masturbation instead. "Yeah, sure, and you might as well drink a glass of water and call it a four-course meal. But if you really want to watch I could show you how--"

"Mmm-mm," Arthur hummed, shaking his spoon at Ozzumyn. "I don't consent to that, it'd be too physical and practically rape." The incubus stammered for a response, but eventually gave up. He did not want to test the limits of that damn contract again. Fuming, he stood up to go find that tree and mark it in a different way.

-End of Week 1-

It was an unnaturally cold morning in the meadows, leaving frost to cling to the trees and autumn vegetation. Hopefully this wasn't signalling a harsh winter to come, but for now all Arthur could think of was how desperately he needed to sleep in a bed with warm blankets. Ozzumyn, meanwhile, was completely unaware of the weather, his inner demonic fire apparently keeping him warm while he practiced magic. The incubus had recently started taking a more mortal approach to their travels, eating food with minimal complaints and the like, and Arthur noticed that the rate of psychic seduction bombardment had tapered off in response. He still tried, of course, always leaning too close for an "accidental" kiss or caress, always skirting around the edges of the contract, but it didn't seem to be his main priority now. He had even slept the past several nights without one orgy dream! Arthur had caught himself missing the constant attention, which was... troubling, to say the least.

"Hot damn, I really think I'm getting the hang of this!" Ozzumyn exclaimed, shaking Arthur back to his senses. He was standing proudly in front of a great old rock with several chunks blasted out of it, though several more gaps were present in the surrounding landscape. At least he was hitting the target some of the time now, a marked improvement.

"Casting magic like us mere mortals really is that different for you, huh?" Arthur asked.

"Hell yes it is, I don't know how you mortals manage. My demonic magic is a part of me, so everything I do with it comes naturally. But now there are all these rules to follow, like apparently I'm considered a warlock? Whatever that means. And it's exhausting! But at least it doesn't run on souls, all I need is a good nap afterwards."

"I'm happy for you, Ozz, really. And if we push on, we might be able to make the next village before sundown and you can have that nap at an inn. Please, I really don't want to sleep outside again." Arthur couldn't stop a hint of desperation from entering his voice, but luckily the incubus didn't seem to notice his moment of weakness.

Later, Arthur would chastise himself heavily for rushing the journey. He was too impatient to stop when the sun started to set and the chill intensified, and when they came to a river he didn't hesitate to jog across the lone bridge. If he had been more careful he would have noticed just how far into disrepair the bridge had fallen, and at the very least he would have paid attention to the warning groan it gave when they were halfway across it. But all he could think about was a warm bed, so when the bridge collapsed there was nothing the squire could do besides grasp desperately for Ozzumyn. The demon had been flying across the river out of habit, but when Arthur grabbed his ankle the weight became too much and they both tumbled down into the water.

An eternal moment of blind panic later, Arthur had managed to swim to the opposite shore and gulped lungfuls of air. Only when his senses returned did Arthur notice that Ozzumyn was nowhere to be found, and like an uninvited in-law his memory jogged up with the reminder that the incubus didn't know how to swim. The flailing red figure had already been carried nearly out of sight by the current, and Arthur had to sprint to catch up before diving back into the freezing water. Ozzumyn weighed more than his small frame suggested, and coupled with his unhelpful panicking Arthur was barely able to drag them both ashore before collapsing.

Ozzumyn was the first one to recover, and he sat up with steam wafting off every inch of his body. "Fuck, that was awful! I can't believe you mortals swim for fun... Arthur?" He looked down to find that the squire was curled up into a little ball and shivering uncontrollably, unable to muster so much as a groan. "Shit, you don't look so good. Fire! Mortals need fire to warm up, that's right." Ozzumyn quickly ran up and down the shoreline, gathering every bit of driftwood and broken branch he could carry before dumping it all in a pile in front of Arthur. Then he concentrated, mustering up what little he knew about mortal magic until a bonfire roared to life. "I must be a regular wizard, if only the other demons could see me now. You're good now, right Arthur?" To his astonishment, all the energy the mortal had left was going into undressing himself in front of the fire. Was this his chance? "Here, uh, let me help you..." Arthur hesitated before nodding, and with practiced hands Ozzumyn had him out of those sopping clothes and down to his underwear in no time.

When he went for the final piece, Arthur's hand shot out and stopped him with an icy grasp. "N-no, not that," he shivered, "just hold me, p-please. I'll f-freeze otherwise." Arthur turned around and flopped onto Ozzumyn's lap, his back against the demon's chest, skin finally contacting skin, and he let out the first pleasurable moan in their travels. "Oh gods, you're so warm. Here, gimme your arms..." With noticeable greed Arthur grabbed the other's hands and looped them around his chest, snuggling in deep as he could to get every bit of warmth before falling to quiet shivering. Eventually he quietly muttered, "Thank you, Ozz. You've saved me."

"Uh, yeah, you're welcome," came the equally quiet reply. "I-I'm not doing this to be nice, you pulled me out of the river so I'm just returning the favor." Inspiration struck and Ozzumyn stretched and folded his wings, covering the other in a sort of leather blanket to trap the heat. Arthur didn't say anything else, he didn't want to bring attention to the way hypothermia was making his body swell. Yeah, the hypothermia.

-End of Month 1-

Arthur was in a state the likes of which Ozzumyn had not yet seen. The kid squire was running back and forth, tidying random spots before getting distracted and leaping on some other small task. Though, calling him a kid didn't seem to quite fit now--several months of hard labor would go a long ways to sculpting a man.

Three months ago they had finally arrived to the town of Oxheim, minor trade hub and Art's pilgrimage destination. His task was to build a church of Selûne to spread the word (and reach) of his religion, but somehow Ozzumyn didn't expect the task to be quite so literal. There was a small rock quarry, an alchemist that sold mortar, and a whole mountain of gumption from one Arthur Dawnstride. The squire never asked for help, but obviously a proud demon such as Ozzumyn wouldn't let himself be shown up and he put his magical talents to work as much as he could. Still, all the heavy manual labor was below him and Arthur shouldered it without a word of complaint.

The end result after nearly three months of hard work was a humble church you could take pride in, and a humble man that really hit his stride. Arthur finally had his growth spurt, surpassing the demon by several inches and several pounds of solid muscle, and although his face would hopefully never lose his childlike optimism you could be sure no one would mistake him for a girl again. And right now, he was running around like a panicked mother hen.

"Art! Will you slow down for a minute!?" Ozzumyn finally barked. "Just watching you freak is exhausting me."

"But they're almost here!" Arthur panted as he ran past, broom madly slapping at the floor. "I never realized how dirty this place is! And I still need to freshen up, and..."

The next time he reversed direction, Ozzumyn shot out and grabbed him by the shoulders. "Arthur! A little dirt is the point for the blessing, this isn't ever going to be a big-city spot and that's okay. The church looks great. YOU look great. Everything is--what's that smell?"

Arthur blushed slightly, averting his eyes. "Oh, that's just a little rosemary I've put on. It's kind of my favorite scent for special occasions."