Let him fuck you

Straddling his waist, you rise up on your knees and reach back, grabbing his cock and guiding it to your asshole. As you start to sink down, he sits up and grabs your waist, stopping you.

"Wait, don't you need lube or something?" he asks. It takes a moment for you to realize that he's concerned that you might get hurt, but when you do, you get that strange feeling again, like when he said he trusted you.

You reach up, cup his cheek, and lean down, pressing your lips to his in a soft kiss. "Don't worry, a demon is always ready to fuck. Our assholes are naturally lubricated."

"Oh," he says. "Right. Of course. I... I forgot." He says it like he knows how strange it sounds, for him to have forgotten you are a demon, in spite of the horns, wings, tail, scales, and lavender skin, but again, it gives you that feeling, that strange warmth in your chest, to think that when he looks at you, he sees more than just a demon. You're not sure how to respond to this feeling. You search back through the eons of memories at your disposal, but find little that helps you understand what is happening.

Perhaps this is simply another form of lust or pleasure? That's what demons feed on, after all, the only emotions that make sense to them, the only ones that serve a purpose. It would explain why you like this feeling, why it makes you feel good. That must be it.

With that figured out, you focus on getting your master's cock inside you, rubbing the round knob against your slick hole. He moans as you slide down, your hungry asshole devouring his hard rod, taking him balls-deep inside you.

"Oh, fuck, that feels good," he whispers, his hands at your waist gripping and kneading your firm flesh, urging you to move.