Fynn stood at the dock's edge staring into the dark waters. It was just one week before his birthday, October 31st. Halloween. However, Fynn would not be there to celebrate either. There was nothing to live for. Better to get it over with. He thought of the water surrounding him like a cocoon as he was dragged down. Just slip away quietly, no fuss, no bother. The world would not miss him. He took a step closer to the pier's edge. The rain had soaked him to the skin, his fleece no protection, and he was shaking from the cold, unaware his lips were already turning blue.

"You wanna tell me why?" a laconic voice had Fynn turning; his feet dangerously close to the end of the jetty.

"What do you care?" he countered through chattering teeth. Suddenly aware of how cold he was, Fynn found he was shaking so hard he could hardly keep standing.

"Didn't say I cared, just curious."

Fynn could see little of the other man in the dark. Just a dark outline silhouetted against the light. Not so tall, slender, but his voice was powerful in a way Fynn could not define. He took an unconscious step away from the edge towards the man.

"Curious," Fynn repeated, his mind becoming a little foggy.

"You know what it feels like to drown? Not a good way to die."

For a minute it seemed to Fynn he was actually in the water and that the stranger was right. Water invaded his nose and mouth and he was struggling frantically to reach the surface, his lungs burning as his waterlogged body was dragged mercilessly deeper. He gave a cry of distress and found himself still on the dock, but a safe distance from the water, held in strong arms.

"I thought...I thought..." he stuttered helplessly.

"I got you," the stranger said.

There was no rocking or crooning, just strong arms holding Fynn against a warm body. Even if the stranger did not care about him, it was the first concern Fynn felt he had received in the month from Hell. Unable to stop them, the tears fell. He sobbed on the other man's shoulder releasing all the pent-up emotion he felt.

"Wanna give me the edited version? You're freezing. I gotta take you home."

"My boyfriend, I'd only been seeing him for a couple of months, he kept talking about a threesome. I told him I wasn't interested. We hadn't even progressed to full sex as a couple. A friend of his came round and they were laughing, drinking, talking and I felt like a spare part, so much so I hardly drank anything myself. It got late and I wanted to go to bed. Mick said they'd just finish their drinks before they went." Fynn sighed, shaking his head. Even now he found it hard to believe what Mick had done.

"I wasn't happy but went to the bathroom, thinking by the time I'd finished in there they'd be ready to go. I went into my bedroom and they were ready alright, but not to leave. They were naked in my bed, all over each other. Mick said Phil would make up our threesome. They tried to pull me into the bed, their hands all over me. I fought them off, pushing Mick onto the floor and landing a lucky blow that put Phil out of action and I ran out."

"A punch in the goolies will do that," the other man sounded satisfied. "But that wouldn't bring you here."

Fynn nodded, it was exactly where he had landed his flailing punch. He found himself trying to burrow against the man's heat, his voice becoming breathier.

"It was my apartment, but I couldn't face going back that night. I stayed in a motel and went home the next day. There were used condoms and come all over the bed and drink had been poured over my lounge suite. I had to get rid of them both. My fridge-freezer had been switched off, so all the food in it was spoiled. Replacing everything maxed out my plastic and now I'm being made redundant from my job. I keep getting nasty calls from Mick saying it isn't over between us and I've seen him following me to work or lurking around the apartment block. I haven't been in this city long. I don't have friends here, and I have no family to turn to. I just couldn't cope anymore."

"You're tougher than you think. Look, my name's Brant. I need to get you home, warmed up and I think you could use this more than me."

"I'm Fynn, thanks." A warm leather coat was wrapped around his shaking form and he was guided away from the dock and towards a car. By the time they were driving from the port, Fynn's eyes were winning the battle of closing against his wishes.

"We're here." Brant's voice awoke him with a start.

"How did you know?" Fynn whispered, looking at his small apartment block.

"You told me where you lived when you told me about Mick," Brant said. "Dontcha remember? Maybe you were too upset."

Fynn was dispatched to take a hot shower and dress in dry clothes. He had pulled out sweats and t-shirt for Brant, who seemed remarkably dry, and who was currently busy in Fynn's kitchen. He finally wandered back into his lounge to find two bowls of steaming pasta with tomato sauce on his table.

"I like Italian," Brant shrugged.

Fynn was surprised at how good a simple dish of pasta with tomato, garlic, capers and olives could be. There had been little else in his cupboards. He had not shopped, not seeing the need for food.

"It's great," Fynn enthused, taking his first real look at his unexpected benefactor.

He already knew that Brant had no more than a couple of inches in height over him. He also knew they both had a slender physique, however, the peek at Brant when he had changed his t-shirt, had revealed a smooth, sculptured chest and well-defined muscles in contrast to Fynn's softer, more rounded build. His own olive-toned skin, chestnut hair and espresso eyes were courtesy of a Mediterranean inheritance. Brant's skin seemed to have a bronze sheen and his hair was platinum blond and gelled into short spikes. One ear had a row of multi-coloured studs, his lips were full and sensual and his eyes were an unusual shade of amber that had Fynn staring fascinated until he realised Brant was staring back, one eyebrow quirked and a half-smile on his lips.

"Sorry," Fynn said, blushing furiously.

"'S ok," Brant shrugged, his smile widening. "Kinda nice you think I'm worth looking at. Guess I'd better be going, although I'd like to see you tomorrow night. Take you out. Show you life is worth living even when things look bleak. Wanna have a meal, go to a club?"

Brant had moved closer and Fynn could see the hope in the other man's eyes. He smiled and nodded. Brant had, after all, saved his life and was very attractive.

"I should take you as a 'thank you'," Fynn murmured.

"Things are tight for you right now. Your company is payment enough for me. I can ask my dad to check out work opportunities. You can tell me over dinner tomorrow what kinda work you can do. Deal?"

"Deal," Fynn nodded. He watched with growing anxiety as Brant headed for the door.

"Can you stay?" Fynn blurted. "You can have the bed and I'll sleep on the couch. I just...I just don't want to be alone right now."

"You have the bed, I'll take the couch," Brant said. "It's no problem. I just have to be away very early, so I won't be here in the morning, but I'll leave a couple of numbers for you. Just leave a message on this one. I will get it and get back to you, but it might take a while. If it's really urgent, ring my dad," Brant said looking intently at Fynn. "I mean it, Fynn," he added. "If it's important, let my dad know, ok?"

"Ok," Fynn agreed, adding the numbers to his cellphone. He then got sheets, duvet and pillows and made up the couch. He stood back and smiled shyly at Brant. "Thanks," he murmured softly.

"Sleep well, Fynn," Brant smiled.

****

Fynn was having a nightmare. He was certain he was drowning. He struggled frantically, unknowingly entangling himself more and more in his sheets. He moaned and whimpered, not waking enough to unravel himself.

"Easy, baby, easy," a soft voice crooned and Fynn's tussle with his bedding began to subside. He felt himself eased back against a warm, smooth, bare chest and sighed contentedly. An arm slid around his waist, holding him securely, and he settled.

Fynn was in the state between waking and dreaming. He began to imagine how it would feel to have Brant's white teeth nipping at his shoulders. He moaned softly, rolling onto his back and arching, offering his chest, inciting his dream-lover to pay similar attention to his nipples. He whimpered his appreciation as a volley of sharp nips was followed by slow, sensual suckling. His legs spread wide, his hips canting upwards, his aching shaft demanding the same wet suction as lavished on his nipples. As his erection was taken into moist heat, Fynn gave a low, deep groan to vocalise his pleasure. There was something different about the tongue that slid up and down or swirled over the head of his engorged flesh, but Fynn was beyond the ability to identify what. A hand cupping his sac and tenderly squeezing his balls was enough to send him over the edge. His hips pumped furiously as he was milked dry. Finally replete, his softening sex slipped from its haven and Fynn slept dreamlessly once more.

****

Fynn's sienna orbs drifted open lazily. He grimaced at the thought of the mess he would find, but when he threw back his sheets his body was clean, not covered with the evidence of a very realistic wet-dream. He frowned briefly and then shook his shoulders. Padding into his living room, he found the note from Brant.

'I'll be round at 7.00. Dress smart but casual. Fill the fridge. See ya later. Brant.'

Fynn smiled softly at the money left with the note and shook his head. It was nice to think that the other man cared. He was already looking forward to seeing Brant again.

****

The next three days sped past faster than Fynn could believe. He had slept with Brant each night, although the other man had done nothing more than hold him. It seemed to calm and settle him, but Fynn was beginning to want more than the reassurance that the strong, warm body so readily provided. He was sure he had seen desire in the fascinating amber eyes, but Brant had made no mention of developing the relationship. He glanced at his watch once more. Brant was late and, so far, there had been no call. A tap at his door had him scurrying to open it. He stared at the older man standing there.

"You must be Fynn," he said. "I'm Mark, Brant's dad."

"Is he ok?" Fynn asked anxiously. "Please, come in," he added. "What's happened?"

"He's ok, Fynn. He'll just be a little late getting here. He didn't want you worrying he'd stood you up."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Fynn asked, still unconvinced.

"No, son," Mark said. "But it's good to know you care for him. My son is a good man."

"I know," Fynn said softly. He wondered who else would have lain and held him the way Brant had. "Would you like a coffee, tea?" Fynn asked, suddenly remembering his manners.

"A tea with milk no sugar would be nice," Mark smiled.

Fynn found Mark easy to talk to and the older man had taken more detailed notes on Fynn's work experience to try and find something to replace the job he was losing. They chatted for half an hour before Mark left, still assuring Fynn there was nothing to worry about.

The older man had only been gone fifteen minutes when there was another knock at Fynn's door. The brunette stared with shock at the big, blond male that stood glaring at him.

"Told you it wasn't over, slut," the big man growled menacingly.

"Mick..." Fynn began but a brutal fist drove the air from his lungs as it was slammed into his stomach. As he staggered back into his apartment, he was spun easily and a thickly-muscled arm grasped him around his throat, causing Fynn to have to stand on tip-toe. He tried to loosen the grip, his breathing little more than a tortured wheeze as he struggled for air.

"You've spread yourself around since ditching me," Mick rasped in Fynn's ear. "The punk, the old guy, bet you were cheating on me. Bet you were seeing them before you pretended to be all offended by a threesome. Made me look a fool, Fynn and I don't like that. Now I'm getting what I wanted from you from the start. A piece of that pretty, tight arse."

Fynn's desperate thrashing grew weaker as he was dragged across the living room into his bedroom. Mick's free hand was at his groin, unfastening his jeans as he was propelled forward onto the bed. Mick followed him down, crushing him, Fynn's face jammed against a pillow making breathing impossible. He tried to dislodge the bigger man but the swirling dots before his eyes coalesced into one and his eyes closed.

Satisfied that Fynn was pliant enough, Mick flipped the barely conscious brunette onto his back, grinning malevolently. He tore open Fynn's shirt, yanking it half-way down the slender torso, pinioning the younger man's arms to his sides. He roughly pulled down the opened jeans to mid-calf, smirking as the briefs were dragged to mid-thigh, the clothing helping to immobilise Fynn's legs. He rolled his captive back onto his stomach as Fynn began to recover and to plead uselessly.

"Please don't do this, Mick. Please don't." He moaned in a mix of fear, humiliation and revulsion as Mick pried his cheeks apart. The big male making no move to try and rape him, but Fynn could feel the cold eyes devouring the sight of his hidden entrance exposed and vulnerable. It was just a matter of time. Mick was going to take what Fynn had never freely offered to him.

"Fuckin' bastard."

The words in a feral rasp accompanied Mick's weight vanishing from Fynn's body and a yell of shock from the big blond. Groaning softly as he moved, Fynn rolled to see what had happened. His eyes widened as he saw what was happening. Brant had hold of Mick around the throat with a single hand. Mick had both of his wrapped around Brant's wrist but to no avail, not breaking or loosening the smaller man's hold. Instead the bigger man was forced to stand on tip-toe despite his greater height and breadth. Fynn was stunned by the flames of fury that seemed to flicker in Brant's eyes.

"I should rip off your balls, shove them bloody side first down your stinkin' throat and leave you to choke," Brant said, his voice a sibilant hiss. "This time you live, but if I even smell you anywhere near Fynn again you're a dead man. And no one will find the body." The last words were punctuated by Brant shaking Mick as if he was a rag-doll before throwing the blond out of the front door.

"I'm so sorry, baby."

Fynn could scarcely reconcile the softly-spoken, gentle man who now held him in his arms with the embodiment of rage Brant had been just seconds before. However, the shock of his assault had kicked in and he began to shake.

"I've got you, baby," Brant whispered, nuzzling at Fynn's temple.

Fynn's memory of the rest of the night was hazy and disjointed. He remembered Brant carefully undressing him, low growls accompanying each discovery of a bruise inflicted by Mick. Being helped into the bathroom and held in strong arms whilst a hot shower cascaded over him alleviating some of the chill from his shock. Then being bundled under the bedcovers, snuggled tightly and protectively against Brant's heat and strength. He murmured wordlessly, burrowing against the other man's chest, sighing as he finally settled. He dimly wished he would wake in Brant's arms, but an instinct told him the other man would be gone by morning once more.

****

Fynn was not surprised to find Brant had gone when his eyes opened to see morning. He sighed as he held the note left by the other man promising to return that evening and to explain why he could not have been there when Fynn awoke. However, he was surprised when Mark turned up at the door, with a slender woman whose hair and skin colours instantly made him decide she was Brant's mother.

"We're sorry to disturb you, Fynn," Mark smiled as they seated themselves in his lounge. "But we wanted to speak to you."

"No, really, it's fine," Fynn replied. If he was honest, their company was welcome. He was still shaken by Mike's appearance and this was an opportunity to feel more relaxed whilst waiting for Brant to come.

They chatted amicably for a while before Fynn sensed the real reason for their visit was emerging.

"We wanted you to know that Brant will keep his word, Fynn. He will talk to you later, just as soon as he is able. We also wanted you to know, well...Safara and I faced the same decisions you and Brant will face," Mark said nodding to his wife who clutched tightly at his hand.

"We know how much Brant cares for you," Safara added. "We love our son very much and we want his happiness. All we ask of you, Fynn is that you look beneath the surface and see Brant for who he really is. Just like Mark did when we courted," she added gazing lovingly at her husband.

"I will," Fynn promised, touched by the concern of Brant's parents if unsure of what they actually meant.

****

It was a couple of hours after dark before Brant arrived, Fynn finding his home in the strong embrace and holding as tightly as he was held.

"Make love with me?" he asked, pulling back to look into amber eyes that held a mix of hope and pain.

"I can't baby," Brant husked.

"I don't understand," Fynn said. "Your parents came round. They said you cared for me. I thought...I thought..." he stopped, his voice breaking on a sob.

"I love you, Fynn," Brant whispered. "I loved you from the first night when you suffered the nightmares and I held you in my arms. But it's not that simple."

Fynn stared as Brant pulled off his clothing. He stood, naked. His smooth, well-defined chest was adorned with two bronze nipples haloed with copper areolae. His stomach had almost wash-board abdominals. However, there was no treasure trail from navel to groin. There was no hair at all and no navel. Fynn could not help but take a couple of steps backwards as a tail whipped into view, hovering at hip-height as if possessing a mind of its own.

"What...?" Fynn husked, unable to say more.

"I'm half-demon. Dad is human. Ma is full-blood demon. I can exist in this world between sunset and dawn, then I return to my other. I don't catch human illnesses and can survive anything but a point-blank bullet to the head or through the heart. The only thing I have to really fear is demon hunters. The Moderates would leave a demon like me alone. Fanatics would kill me despite knowing I mean no harm to humanity. There are blood-sucking, flesh-eating, soul-stealing creatures out there, Fynn, but I'm not one of them."

"I still don't understand," Fynn whispered. "A demon? You said you loved me?"

"I can either fuck or make love," Brant sighed. "I've done a fair bit of the former, none of the latter. For that to happen I have to love the other person and they have to love me, be willing to be with me for the rest of their lives. Bond with me. I invaded your dream, Fynn. I couldn't have touched you if you'd been awake. There are advantages for you bonding with me," he added. "You'd become immune to most illnesses and anything you did get you'd be able to draw on my strength to beat. You'll be hale and hearty into old age. Disadvantage is that you'd become photosensitive. No more holidays trying to get a tan, needing to use sunscreen during daylight even in winter."

"And you. What do you get?" Fynn asked, the memory of the dream sending more shivers through his slim form.

"I get a lifespan tied to the man I love. When you die, I'll die. As a full demon, Ma chose to bond to Dad. She could have lived for centuries. Love was more important to her, just as it is to me. I'd also be able to stay in this world. You wanna know what real hell is, Fynn?" Brant sighed. "It's seeing life go on around you and yet it's as though you don't exist. No one sees you, cares for you. No one touches you or loves you. I want love, Fynn. I want you. If you feel the same for me, then call for me in your mind, from your heart, between sunset and sunrise on Halloween. If I don't come, you know a Hunter has got me 'cause nothing on Earth would keep me away from you if I'm alive."
"The other night, when you were late, and tonight, was that...?"

"Yeah," Brant sighed. "They'd picked up on my coming regularly into this area. And, of course, getting angry with that bastard who hurt you gave off an incredible amount of recognisable energy to a Hunter. I never just appear where I intend to go. I enter this world some distance away to be safe. As I walked over here tonight, I saw them before they saw me. I took off and hid for a while, coming back when it was safe. Once I'm in this world after sunset I can't get out again. Restrictions of my half-blood inheritance I'm afraid."

"But what if I don't...I can't...?" Fynn asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Then you'll never see me again," Brant said, his head dropping and shoulders drooping.

"Couldn't we be friends, see what happens?" Fynn asked, the thought of never seeing Brant again sending shock-waves through his already trembling frame.

"Sorry, baby, the rules that tie me between worlds have an effect here, too. If you don't love me or call me, then I spend the next hundred years stuck in the other world. I won't see Dad again. Ma can occasionally make contact with me, although it takes a lot out of her."

"Brant, no," Fynn gasped. He stared as the other man...demon...began to dress. Once clothed, Brant came close, his hand almost caressing Fynn's face, near enough for Fynn to feel its heat but not its touch.

"Too late. Once I reveal my true self, there's no going back. I love you, Fynn. You have two days to make your decision. I can't leave my world once I go back to it at sunrise and I can't stay with you tonight. You have to make up your mind what you really feel for me. I know how I feel about you and I hope I'm right about you. I'm going to Ma and Dad till morning. I love you, Fynn," he repeated.

Fynn simply stood and stared, unable to speak, as Brant turned away, his front door shutting with what sounded like an ominous finality. It took a few minutes then Fynn ran from the apartment. However, there was no sign of Brant. He did not have the address of Mark and Safara and he stood bereft. He had two days to make a decision that would irrevocably change his life and the lives of others. He lifted his hand to find tears were coursing unchecked down his cheeks. He missed Brant already and yet, he was uncertain he could give the other man what he wanted.

****

Fynn wandered desolately around his apartment. After his initial shock had worn off, he had gone over in his mind the few short days he and Brant had been together. He remembered the way he had been cared for, courted, protected. He remembered the blond's laughter, warmth, generosity. It had not taken him long to understand why he had been asked to look beneath the surface. Brant might be half-demon in appearance, but he had been honest, caring and more human in many ways, including protecting Fynn from harm, than some people the brunette had known.

He had begged his demon-lover to come to him from the moment his eyes could no longer see the sun, even if it was not quite sunset. But now, nearly six hours later than the real moment of sunset, Brant had still not appeared. Tears fell freely down Fynn's cheeks. He wished with all his heart he could have said the words he knew Brant had longed to hear two days previously; to have said 'I love you.' However, still shocked by the revelation, even knowing in his heart he did love Brant, he had not said it.

He had no doubts that the other man loved him and knew, with sickening dread, that the only thing that would keep him away was a demon hunter. He had left messages, on both phones, but without reply. Not knowing what else to do, he went into his bedroom, curled into a ball and sobbed openly, still wishing for his soul-mate to come to him.

It took a few minutes to realize that he was no longer lying but sitting and that he was being shaken.

"Fynn, baby, I'm here, I'm here."

Through a shimmering haze of tears Brant's familiar, beloved face finally swam into focus. Fynn wrapped his arms tightly around the other man.

"I love you, I love you," he husked.

"Oh, baby, it's ok. It's all ok now. I love you, too, Fynn. Love you so much, baby," Brant assured, running his hands up and down the brunette's back.

Fynn nestled closer, relishing the strength and the warmth of the body holding him so securely.

"Demon hunter?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

"'Fraid so. I picked up on him when I approached the apartment. I didn't wanna take the chance of just appearing, tempted though I was feeling you calling for me. Glad I didn't. I had to lead him away from you. Had to keep you safe, baby. This wasn't one of the Moderates. This one would make the Inquisition look like a kiddies' birthday party. Got close with a couple of shots..."

Fynn gave a cry of distress and pulled out of Brant's arms, his eyes flickering frantically over his mate's body, noting the burnt skin on one bicep and a burnt patch on the side of the t-shirt. He attacked the demon's clothing, not satisfied until Brant was naked, and then checked every millimetre of skin. His lips pressed gently, lovingly, over the marks that had come so close to separating them forever. Once certain he had kissed each one he moved to suckle each nipple, relishing their heat and hardness.

"I love you," Fynn whispered just before their lips met for their first real kiss. It began chaste, soft and gentle but quickly became hard, wet and dirty.

Fynn whimpered needily as Brant tore his clothes off, hurling them aside, a rumbling growl emanating from deep in the half-demon's chest. Fynn quickly found himself just as naked as his mate, with Brant lying proprietarily between his thighs. Fynn gazed anxiously up as Brandt intertwined their fingers, pinning his arms over his head and settled his body over him. His warmth and weight were a balm to the brunette's soul. Fynn immediately wrapped his legs around those of his demon-lover.

"We don't have to fear them anymore, baby. When we bond together it's like you camouflage me, make me impossible for them to detect. Or, as Ma would say, your love acts like a cloak, wrapping me safely from prying eyes."

"That's romantic," Fynn husked, tears threatening to fall again.

"That's me, baby, just a big pile of romantic mush. Hey, no crying, love," Brant whispered, feathering kisses on the young human's face.

"Make love to me now," Fynn begged. "I want to know you're safe. I have to know you're safe."

"It's not physical love that binds us, baby," Brant grinned, nipping at Fynn's chin. "Now we're here and have declared our love for each other, I'm safe. Making love will be the icing on the cake. And I really love icing and cake," he growled, his voice dropping in timbre.

His hands released his mate's, pressing Fynn's into the pillow so that the brunette knew to leave them above his head, and he began to explore. He pressed his nose into the exposed, lightly-furred pits, inhaling deeply, scenting, licking and tasting before pressing bites against Fynn's skin. Then open-mouthed kisses trailed from jaw to nipples. He nipped each nubbin in turn before alternately licking or rolling the perfect pink nubs until they were diamond-hard and ruby-red. Leaving a hand on the slender chest, Brandt turned his attention lower.

Fynn looked up at Brant, breathing rapidly, hard and aching, as he waited for the half-demon's move. He could not do anything. Did not want to do anything, except let Brant have free reign over his body. His lover's strong hand on his chest and the other on a thigh were holding him down, possessing and owning him in ways he could never have imagined and never knew he wanted and needed. It was as though Fynn could feel each ridge and whorl of the fingertips as if they were imprinting on his skin, the digits splayed proprietarily across him. With a gasp, he was flipped as though he weighed nothing at all.

A hand returned to hold him in place, this time a little lower than his shoulder blades. Fynn tried to twist and move his head to look over his shoulder. He gasped again when a slick finger slid between his cheeks, teasing, not penetrating. He might not be able to see everything his demon-lover was doing, but he could feel it and not knowing what Brant was likely to do next was incredibly arousing. His cock was hard and aching and Brant had barely touched him. Then he moaned as something slick, wet and very, very agile slid over his entrance, circled it and pushed inside him. Fynn shuddered in pure carnal sensuality as Brant's prehensile tongue reached places inside him that no tongue should even consider.

"Brant, oh...that's nice."

"Just lie there and enjoy it, baby," Brant said as his tongue temporarily withdrew.

With the hand holding him down, Fynn could not do otherwise. He moaned and writhed as unfamiliar bolts of lust struck like lightening. Without conscious thought, he angled his hips up, trying to spread himself wider, offering himself, wanting, needing more. Brant seemed to understand the silent plea and the tongue ploughed and possessed, rubbing his sweet spot without mercy until it became too much. Fynn came hard, shuddering and crying out Brant's name as he spilled over the bed.

"Oh yeah, baby," Brant husked, effortlessly flipping his mate onto his back.

Too spent to do anything more than lie panting, Fynn whimpered softly as Brant licked all around his spent flesh, cleaning him. Clearly satisfied with his cleansing, Brant gave Fynn a feral smile and took his softened organ in his mouth. The wet heat was almost more than he could bear on the sensitised skin and the brunette writhed and moaned as Brant's hands held him in place. The demon's tongue was able to wrap around his slowly swelling flesh, sliding up, pausing at the cap to swirl around the head and the tip delicately probing at his slit, before descending to start over again. Fynn was surprised at how quickly he was sucked back to full hardness. The long tongue curled and squeezed and he gasped and moaned, arching into the erotic caress. It then flickered down around his ballsac and his legs spread to offer himself with a wantonness he never knew he possessed.

Once he was fully erect Brant fussed over him, repositioning him on his stomach, ensuring his hard-on was comfortable against the pillows and his hips canted at the perfect angle. He groaned as two well-lubed fingers pushed inside. They stretched and scissored, the gentle movements making him sigh with pleasure. Brant kissed along his spine, his tongue flicking out now and again or nipping sharply with his teeth to add to the melange of sensual sensations. Two fingers became three and Fynn began a rhythmic grind into the pillows and push back on the fingers that occasionally stroked across his jewel making him pant and shake.

"You are so beautiful, Fynn," Brant's voice penetrated his sybaritic haze.

Fynn was about to insist he was ready for more, spreading his legs wider, trying to incite Brant to take him when something pushed inside him, stealing his breath. The penetration shut down his higher brain functions for a couple of minutes as he became accustomed to the desired invasion. It was not Brant's erection, too narrow and long to be the demon's cock, but it was not his fingers.

"That's so hot, baby," Brant groaned, a low, deep, guttural sound.

Fynn abruptly realized it was lover's tail penetrating him and heat surged through his body in a mix of lust and licentiousness. The tail continued to press into him, coiling as it did, stretching him even more than his mate's fingers had done, delving deeper. It began to stimulate his prostate in ways he could never have imagined; the tip swirling around the sensitive nub, flicking over or rubbing across it. The rest of the tail began a thrusting motion combined with a steady vibrating, arousing him impossibly further. Fynn's body shuddered and shook from the erotic assault and he was only able to gasp pleadingly.

"Brant, please, you can't stop, please."

"Not stopping. Yeah, that's it, that's it baby, take it," Brant rasped in a feral growl.

Fynn wailed shamelessly when the tail began moving fast and deep. He cried out in impassioned lust, his body coiled tight with need, as the tail thrust in and out in a hard, unforgiving rhythm. He wanted more, but he could not catch his breath long enough to speak. He made incoherent keening sounds of desire and want, letting Brant do what he wanted. The tail penetrated him over and over, intermittently pulling out only to burrow back in as Fynn cried out in denial, pulled back from his beckoning orgasm again and again.

Brant's teeth were all over his body, his lover making animalistic sounds of pleasure as he sucked and bit. Fynn knew he would be wearing his mate's marks the following day and the thought aroused him even more. He pushed back on the secondary phallus, squeezing his inner muscles, relishing the groans that spilt from Brant's lips as he did. It took only a few more thrusts and the tail seemed to stiffen before going deeper and Fynn was pushed over into the abyss. He screamed as he shuddered and jerked helplessly on the appendage as he came hard for the second time. He vaguely felt the splatter of unexpectedly hot come on his back and buttocks as Brant's seed pulsed over him. It was the last thing he remembered as his vision greyed out.

****

Opening his eyes, Fynn found himself wrapped protectively in Brant's arms, his head pillowed on a shoulder. He noticed he was breathing calmly, which meant he had slept for some time. Raising sleepy, sated, sienna eyes to Brant's face, he smiled at the amber orbs staring lovingly and tenderly down at him. A soft smile played over the sensual lips. He could feel Brant's tail still in him, pushed deep inside, and murmured wordlessly.

"Organic is feted as best, baby," Brant whispered, claiming his lover's lips. A gentle chuckle vibrated against Brant's chest. "Need to make sure you're stretched enough, Fynn. I'm bigger than a lot of men, a fact, not a boast. How do you feel?" the half-demon asked more seriously.

"Like I've been thoroughly loved and still want more. Like I need to feel you inside me. Your cock, not that the tail isn't good, too" Fynn added as the aforementioned appendage slithered around inside him. It sent sensual signals to his sated flesh which began to twitch with reawakening arousal. "I can't believe you're turning me on again. I've never come three times."

"Good," Brant growled. "Because that's just what I'm gonna make you do, baby and you'll be screaming my name as I fill you with my come."

Fynn moaned at the vision the words engendered. He loved how easily and gently his lover moved him into position, the greater strength an incredible turn-on. Brant seemed to loom over him as his legs were draped over his lover's thighs, his hips up high. He could not stop the groan when Brant's tail withdrew, his channel spasming and feeling bereft.

"Easy, baby," Brant cautioned softly.

The head of his lover's erection pressed against his entrance and even after the thorough stretching, Fynn experienced a frisson of anticipation laced with apprehension. He could feel how much bigger it was than the few he had experienced before. Fynn was not a virgin, but he was far from easy. He had only gone all the way with less than a handful of lovers. But Brant was incredibly gentle and worked the prodigious member inside him slowly.

"Still ok?" Brant checked.

Fynn nodded, even as he panted through the discomfort. It was still a stretch, but he wanted Brant inside him. He watched Brant's face, frozen into a mask of intense concentration, as the demon rocked back and forth in small increments, the massive erection slowly sinking into Fynn's body centimetre-by-centimetre. When, finally, fully, fantastically, Brant was buried balls deep inside him, Fynn wrapped his arms around Brant's shoulders, pulling his lover down so their faces were just millimetres apart.

"Forever, Brant, promise me forever," he demanded.

"Forever, Fynn, I'll never leave you, never," Brant promised, as he closed the last of the distance to claim Fynn's lips. His tongue slid inside his mate's mouth, tasting, learning its flavours and textures. Then he wrapped it around Fynn's slick muscle, vanquishing it utterly, before sucking it victoriously into his own mouth to complete his lover's ravishment. He felt Fynn's body relax completely, the incendiary tightness around his cock easing fractionally as his lover unconsciously ceded his body to the half-demon.

A sigh in a mixture of contentment, love and need slipped effortlessly past Fynn's lips. He relished the feeling of voluptuous fullness, his body not only accommodating the immense invader but ready for more. He smiled and wriggled to show he wanted Brant to make love to him, clenching inner muscles as best he could. He got a feral smile in return and his lover began a slow move out till just the head of his penis remained and then thrust evenly back. It took just a few strokes over his jewel to have Fynn writhing, fisting the bedding, his head rocking from side-to-side.

A low moan from the brunette accompanied Brant beginning to move faster, in deep, rolling thrusts, rotating his hips firmly and steadily. Fynn cried out as Brant's tail wrapped around his swollen member, rippling and contracting, the tip flicking over the slick head. The demon's mouth possessed his, the tongue mimicking the motions of the phallus pounding inside him. Hands and fingers pinched, pulled and rubbed his nipples or gripped tightly to his skin. Never in his life had Fynn felt so utterly and completely loved as well as utterly and completely possessed.

Their movements became a concerto, hard and fast, hot and wet, giving and taking, Brant's powerful body pushing into his lover who pressed back to meet every thrust. It was finally too much for Fynn and he came again. As he reached his pinnacle, Brant's tongue pulled back, but the brunette's throat was too raw to do more than give a hoarse sound as he sprayed over their heated, sweat-glistening bodies. However, it was a cry of Brant's name as his lover had vowed. He moaned as his lover rammed inside impossibly deeper, the entire bed jerking with the power of his movements. One, two, three more thrusts from his strong haunches and Brant moulded to Fynn's body, filling him with his hot seed as he roared with climax. Fynn gave a groan as sharp teeth bit into his shoulder, Brant's tongue snaking over his skin, the primitive, possessive gesture triggering a secondary dry orgasm before Fynn's world finally faded to black

****

Fynn awoke slowly, his body announcing its thorough usage. He could see marks on his torso from the strong hands that held him and the sharp teeth that had wanted to brand him as belonging to his demon-lover. His lower body ached, reminding him of their intense and passionate lovemaking. His smile turned into a look of concern as he realized that he was alone and where Brant should have lain was cold to the touch. He felt dread clutch at his heart. Has the joining not worked? Was Brant now trapped in his own plane where Fynn would never see him again? Fighting down rising panic, Fynn flew from the bed to check the rest of his apartment

At the sound of a choked sob, Brant turned to see Fynn, the young human clearly distressed. He quickly found himself with his arms full of sobbing lover.

"I thought, I thought..." Fynn stuttered unable to get the words out.

"Sorry, baby," Brant murmured, pressing butterfly kisses to his mate's face. "I wanted to treat you to breakfast in bed. Kinda like a little Honeymoon."

Fynn opened his mouth to accept his lover's tongue, letting the feel of the agile organ possessing his mouth and the strong arms holding him against Brant's hot-skinned body assuage his feeling of worry. He soon began to moan around the thick flesh. His mate's tail had wrapped around one of his thighs and was nudging his sac whilst the tip rubbed sinuously against his rapidly filling cock.
"Oh yeah, baby," Brant whispered hotly in his mate's ear.

Effortlessly Fynn was lifted and expected his lover to take him to bed, but instead Brant simply moved to a kitchen chair and sat down, Fynn settled to straddle Brant's widespread thighs. A hand trailed languidly down to his balls, gently sliding them together and apart. Brant's strong hands then moved over Fynn's body, massaging and squeezing wherever they went. He moaned encouragingly when his demon-lover's tail slid under his cheeks and along his cleft.

His breath quickened and his heartbeat increased rapidly. When Brant had used his tail the previous night, Fynn had experienced an intoxicating mix of love, lust and need. The incredibly flexible organ had provided a completely different sensation from his demon-lover's agile tongue or long, thick shaft. He groaned needily, eyes closing as the tail probed between his cheeks, though it did not penetrate. Instead it flickered around his spread entrance, teasing him, making him writhe to get it inside him.

"You like that, dontcha, Fynn, baby? You getting all hot and bothered over my tail?" Brant growled in Fynn's ear, his hands still moving over his mate's slender form. "You want to have it inside you?" The coarse, casual words were at odds with the pure love on Brant's face. Then the tail thrust in deep, spearing his lover and Fynn cried out.

Fynn's hands reached out to wrap around Brant's shoulders, moaning wordlessly as the tail breached him. He gasped as the tail vibrated inside him, settling into its unique rhythm. He arched instinctively in reaction to the desired invasion. His lover's tongue pushed deep in his mouth and the sinfully talented tail made its home in his heated depths. It gave short pulsing motions as it vibrated, the tip caressing his prostrate in its incredible, unique ways. Brant's free hand tweaked and rolled his nipples and Fynn felt he was being consumed with the flames of his passion once more.

"You're so gorgeous, baby," Brent whispered, running his tongue around his lover's ear and tickling the sensitive skin. He bit down on the succulent morsel of flesh between his mate's shoulder and neck. He gave a smile of triumph at the mark left by his teeth from the night before, his mark, branding Fynn as his for any other of his kind to see. Even when it had faded from human sight, demonic eyes would see and recognise its significance.

He knew just how close his mate was, but wanted to prolong the erotic torture just a little longer. He gave a feral grin at the wanton moans and pelvic thrusts from the slender brunette splayed across his thighs. He was addicted to the sight, sound, taste and feel of the young human and especially when Fynn was falling apart, hurtling towards an incendiary release. He growled before thrusting his tongue back into his mate's mouth. His lover's cock continually brushed against his own erection and Brant derived almost as much pleasure from his tail in the tight, hot channel as if it was his iron-hard rod.

The fullness was incredibly satisfying for Fynn, whichever part of Brent was inside him. He writhed helplessly, moaning his appreciation, rocking back and forth. His drooling cock rubbed against Brant's hot, hard stomach or the demon's long, thick shaft. Soon he was panting, mercilessly propelled towards a cataclysmic climax as the tail's pulsating became a rapid plunge in and out, fast and hard, corkscrewing mercilessly against his prostate as it did.

Fynn was shaking and mewling helplessly from the constant stimulation. Pleasure tightened his body, his channel clenching around the organ inside him. A cry of denial wailed in the air as Fynn's imminent orgasm was denied him. He tightened his legs around Brant's waist as the half-demon effortlessly stood, carrying Fynn back into their bedroom.

"Not that way this time, baby," Brandt husked. "Got a better way to make you come."

A low, wanton moan fell from Fynn's kiss-swollen lips as he was laid on top of Brant, his lover's tail never leaving its haven. With a gasp he realised his lover's intention and began to thrust his hips, eager to bury his aching flesh into the half-demon's searing, slick sheath.

"Oh yeah, baby, that feels so good. Feels good to have you in me," Brandt groaned. He gave a grin as Fynn began thrusting as his shaft filled Brant's impatient channel.

"Love you, love you," Fynn chanted in tempo to the motion of his hips. His lover's tail had settled into the same beat and it was the most incredible sensation Fynn had ever known. He captured Brandt's lips, plunging his tongue past the sensual lips as strong hands moved proprietarily over his back and buttocks. He could feel his mate's hard, hot organ throb between their bodies and with a deep groan he began to thrust faster, unable to deny himself any longer. He knew it would not be long before he lost coherent thought, his lover able to turn him from a rational, thinking being to one of pure carnal, sensual sensation.

He finally came with a long, drawn out cry of release, Brant's hand in his back holding him to his demon-lover's breast and impaled by the sensual, secondary phallus. As he pulsed his own release deep into his mate's clenching channel, he heard Brant growl with pleasure. The moment stretched languorously until Fynn was eased back and then a rock-hard shaft was buried balls-deep in Fynn's prepared sheath in one controlled, fluid motion. Almost instantly the brunette felt his lover's unusually hot come fill him and he writhed ecstatically.

As his lover's orgasm finally ended, the last of Brandt's crème buried deep in Fynn's welcoming depths, the brunette gazed down adoringly at the softly smiling blond. He could feel the love they shared in every cell and synapse, it was almost like a living entity that flowed effortlessly between them, uniting them for the rest of their lives.

"I love you so much," he murmured, cupping his demon-lover's face in his hands and mating their lips for a deep, satisfying kiss.

"Me, too, baby," Brant grinned as they broke apart, softly panting. "I'm glad I listened to that persistent inner voice and went to the docks that night."

With a replete sigh, Fynn parted his lips as Brandt's long tongue took possession of his mouth and a gentle hand tenderly fondled his nipples. It occurred to him that not all miracles were the domain of angels or Christmas. Sometimes they came in the most unexpected of ways and in the most unlikely of packages.