Page 84 of The Music Demon

He nodded. “Fast or slow?”

After nibbling her bottom lip for a couple of seconds, she said, “Fast.”

Before the word had time to travel into space and begin circling the Earth for all eternity, Lyric had pushed in and brought forth a moan from Shivaun that relieved his worries. What he heard was not an expression of pain. It was an expression of desire.

“Ahhhhhh,” she said as if all the mysteries of the universe had suddenly been made crystal clear.

Though he’d begun with a mighty thrust, he withdrew slowly enough to be the sweetest agony before commencing a slow ride of perfect communion. It became evident to both of them that they’d unwittingly embarked on a multifaceted journey of discovery, both of themselves and each other.

Lyric could say honestly that he’d never before experienced perfection. Joining with Shivaun was beyond divine. Every cell in his body was engaged. Every fiber of his essence was humming. Every perception in his reality was being enhanced with a tune up. Every thought was sharper. Every feeling more intense. Every desire more urgent. When satisfaction waxed, intensity waned, then the delectable rhythm would loop and begin again.

When they wordlessly agreed to a respite, they lay side by side holding hands and looking upward at a domed ceiling mural that could have been painted by Michelangelo. With a thought Shivaun turned the ceiling into an open-air sky view, revealing the clusters of lazy moving clouds; some white, some gray, but all gilded with silver edges where the sun’s filtered beauty highlighted their shape.

Lyric thought it might be appropriate to say something. To explain what their coupling was to him, but found himself speechless. Basically; another first. He knew he’d been changed somehow. He could feel it in his mind, in his heart, but had no context for description. A string of questions ran through his mind in pursuit of sorting out his feelings.

Had sex with the female made him softer? Or more appreciative of bougainvillea? Even more interested in her well-being?

He knew female demons were capable of altering reality in ways that few creatures could. Nothing in his memory suggested they could also alter the makeup of their lovers, knowingly or unknowingly, but information on the subject was scarce to non-existent. Lyric might have been distressed by that possibility if he didn’t like his current state of being. But he did.

He felt… good.

Shivaun had been musing about how strange it was to create by thinking. The unbidden thought flitted across her consciousness that perhaps fallible creatures shouldn’t have such power, but she wasn’t really in the mood for fathoms-deep reflection.

“Many people would say bein’ able to think things into bein’ is evil.”

Lyric pulled her hand up to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “And yet they’d jump at the chance to do what you can do.”

After a brief pause, she said, “Could any demon find this place? And make changes?”

“I don’t know about finding. Seems unlikely, but I can’t say for sure. But nobody can make changes unless you give them permission.”

“I do no’ think I gave you permission to add this beautiful bed.”

He smiled. “Maybe not consciously, but if it hadn’t been okay with you, the bed wouldn’t be here. I assure you. This place is your lair. You designed and decorated it and changes are only possible if you approve.”

She raised up and leaned on an elbow, looking down into Lyric’s face, which seemed changed. Not so much in form as in relaxed. Happy.

“Mylair?” She smirked. “Have I become a wild animal?”

He shrugged. “Call it what you want. Home. Residence. Pad. Crib. Lair.”

She looked around. “This is my home?”

“If you want. You’re free to recreate as often as you want. Or redecorate.”

“Redecorate?”

“Hmmm.”

“You have somethin’ in mind?”

Looking at her with a small smile, he said, “I do.”

With a sweeping wave, she said, “Be my guest, demon. I’m curious to see how you’d change my vision.”

With grace and movement that would have been too fast for the human eye to track, Lyric swung out of bed. Shivaun appreciated the view of his retreating naked form as he walked to the edge of the pavilion and looked out.

He wished himself a pair of drawstring linen pants that rode low on his hips, but remained shoeless and shirtless. Shivaun rose and wished herself into a flowy linen shift that matched.

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