"Because I like you."

"That's probably pretty hard to believe," you add. "I'm not sure if I can believe it myself, but I do. I like you. And I don't want to hurt you." The confession is about as un-demon-like as you can get, but it feels like the truth to you. When you look at your master, you feel that strange warmth in your chest, and the last thing you want to do is hurt him.

"I believe you," Harold says, and leans close, his lips soft against yours. You close your eyes and kiss him back, your arms sliding around his slender body, drawing him up against you. He is warm and soft, moaning into your mouth as your tongue glides across his.

Suddenly, he pulls away, flushed and out of breath. "We should get out of here. It'll be dark soon and someone thought they spotted a werewolf in these woods a few weeks ago."

"Where shall we go?" you ask. "Someplace with a bed, I hope."

His cheeks redden, a trait you are finding more and more endearing. "Of course," he says. "We can go to my apartment. We'll have to be quiet so we don't piss off the neighbors, though. Or, I guess we can go to my parent's house. They're on vacation and asked me to look in on the place once in a while. It's in the country, so it's a bit of a drive, but it's secluded."