My first male romance fic. I hope it doesn't suck.

Rated for language and slight guy on guy action, but nothing excessive because I suck at writing that crap.



[fawr-ev-er, fer-]
without ever ending; eternity; continually; incessantly; always
an endless or seemingly endless period of time

"Together forever, never apart. Maybe in distance but never at heart." ~ Unknown


Being summoned is not a pleasant experience.

It hurts. It hurts so, so much.

If you've ever poured hand sanitizer into a paper cut, you'd get an inkling of what it feels like to be summoned. It's similar to that, only on a higher scale and all over your body. Not only does being summoned burn like Hell, but it also stings and sizzles.

It is not a pleasant experience.

Luckily, being summoned is not a common occurrence. Well, it's not as common as it used to be.

Nowadays, humans don't believe that summoning a Demon is possible. Sure, there are a few humans that believe, that know, but they're viewed as mentally unstable in the eyes of their peers.

And, of course, there are the families that have been summoning Demons for ages and ages, but even in those families, there are non-believers.

I find it quite unfair that people can believe in God and Angels without a doubt in their minds, but when it comes to Demons, the opposite of Angels, they're skeptical.

Over time, I've come to believe that humans don't want to believe in Demons because that would mean that there's a Devil, and that would mean that Hell does exist, and that they actually have to watch what they do in life or else they would burn in it for all of eternity.

Of course, just because people don't want to believe that it exists, doesn't mean that it doesn't.

But I digress.

After nearly five hundred years of not being summoned (and it should be mentioned now that time in Hell flows differently than time in the mortal plane. Like, five hundred years for me in Hell could be as short as ten years in the mortal plane, or ten years in Hell could be eighty years in the mortal plane. There's no rhyme or reason to it, so don't bother trying to figure it out), someone has finally dug up my name and actually managed to successfully call me to the mortal plane.

And, as I mentioned earlier, it is not a pleasant experience.

I like to think that this excuses my behavior when I finally do arrive in the mortal plane, in the middle of a summoning circle, in a room saturated in incense.

"Who the fuck summoned me?" I growl, glancing around the smallish room trying to find the human that put me through that pain.

When I don't see them, I decide to examine my current setting.

It's a small room in the annoyingly symmetrical shape of a cube. The walls are black, the floor is cement, and the only entrance/exit to the room is a heavy, steel door. Orange-red flames flicker from candles situated in torches hung up on the walls; one on each side, with bundles of incense sitting in little basket-things attached to the torches. A cloud of smoke whites out the ceiling and swirls lazily through the room, giving the place a foggy, creepy look.

All in all, a pretty generic summoning room, though I must admit that the steel door is a bit different than I'm used to.

The circle I'm standing in is a rather simple one, as far as summoning circles go. It's round; a thick outline with a thinner one just inside of it, and a line of the same thickness as the second one several inches inside of that one. In the space between the second and third lines sit four pentagrams; one in the spot in front of me, behind me, and to the left and right of me. Words that I have no desire to translate also fill in the space between the second and third lines.

As I said, definitely one of the simpler summoning circles.

Movement in the corner of my eye draws my attention to a spot in the room I somehow managed to miss in my earlier perusal, and I finally lay blood colored eyes on my summoner.

Holy shit, he's huge!

Now, you have to realize that most of the people that summon demons are tiny little things with black, greasy hair, beady eyes underlined by deep, black circles that speak of many sleepless nights, sunken faces, twiggy bodies and sickly-looking, pallid skin. They almost always wear thick, black robes that they think makes them look imposing but only makes them appear even more twiggy, and they're almost always screwed in the head; a lot of the time they can be heard mumbling to themselves, speaking nonsense that I'm not sure even they understand.

Pretty much, summoners are creepy little fuckers. They're also rather pathetic.

But this guy, wow, he's definitely not the stereotypical summoner.

He's tall, taller than me who stands at an intimidating height of 6'2". He's got muscles that literally ripple when he shifts, but his arms aren't 'he's-definitely-on-steroids' large; they're compact. His skin is a delicious caramel color that glistens in the soft candlelight. His hair's a chocolate-brown color that falls to just below his ears and slightly covers icy-blue eyes that shine with life.

In other words, the guy's fucking gorgeous.

Damn, you just don't see summoners like this guy!

"You are a Demon?"

His deep, rumbling voice snaps me out of my wide-eyed stare of his god-like beauty, and I rearrange my awed features to show indifference. "I am, Human."

His eyes rake up and down my body, obviously noticing the fact that I look absolutely nothing like a human's idea of a Demon. "You don't look like one."

I'm tempted to roll my eyes, but I'm used to hearing that.

Humans apparently think that Demons are horribly disfigured, ugly creatures that smell like hellfire and brimstone, and have two sharp, pointy horns protruding out of their foreheads.

What a load of bull.

We look exactly like a human does. The only differences between a Demon and a human are the colors of our eyes, the fact that we've got razor sharp teeth, and that our ears are pointed slightly.

I'm not disfigured in the slightest. In fact, I like to think of myself as a pretty handsome guy.

"I may not look like your idea of a Demon, but I assure you, I am a Demon. I have been since the day I died." I tell him, then, after a moment of thinking, "Well, maybe not the day I died. Probably a couple of days afterwards. I'm not sure. Time passes differently in Hell."

"I see." is his mumbled reply. I wait for him to say something else, but the human seems to fall into thought.

Huh. He doesn't talk much, does he? "So. What the fuck did you summon me for, Human?"

"I hear you can grant wishes." He states, blinking out of his odd silence.

Wishes? What does think I am, a genie? "Uhm, no. I don't grant wishes. I'm a Demon, not a genie."

He cocks his head to the side, and I stare fixatedly at the incredibly soft-looking hair that falls over his eyes. "If you don't grant wishes, then what do you do?" He asks, narrowing his eyes at me and looking all adorably confused despite the fact that he looks like he could snap me like a twig.

"I make deals. You ask for something, I ask for something, and if the somethings are fairly equal in quality, then it's a deal, and we both get what we want." I explain, trying to keep myself from drooling over his sexiness.

"Oh." He mumbles, glancing down at his feet and falling into another bout of silence.

I sigh, shift around in my circle as much as I possibly can – which admittedly isn't very much – and inspect my nails.

They're nice, clean nails. I like to keep them that way, as opposed to other Demons who just don't care about proper hygiene now that they're dead.

I don't understand why they think that just because they're no longer alive, they can smell like absolute shit, but Demons aren't exactly the most sane of creatures.

And it's totally understandable why, too. Hell's not exactly a conducer of sane living, you know?

It's just that, there are ways to stay decent-smelling, but the other guys just don't seem to care. I can honestly say that in a room filled with about twenty Demons, I will be the only one to have bathed.

With the enhanced smelling that all Demons possess, it makes for a very uncomfortable situation.

"So I have to offer you something in return for your services?" He asks, once again snapping me out of my thoughts.

I nod, grinning at him and revealing my pointed teeth, "Yup! And it's gotta be of equal value, too, or else the deal falls through and I go back to Hell, and your request goes unfulfilled."

He looks up at me, his ice-chip eyes boring into my own bloody ones. "So…what would you ask for? My soul?"

I don't bother stifling the laugh that bubbles up, and double over laughing like an idiot. After a second round of laughter that's set off by the human's annoyed expression, I finally manage to calm down enough to reply, "No, no, no. We don't take your s—soul. That's only in movies."

His annoyed expression melts to one of confusion. "Then what would you ask for, Demon?"

"Please, call me Shea." I tell him, straightening and trying to catch my breath. A spark of recognition flashes in his eyes, which confuses me, but I ignore it. "And whatever I ask for would have the same amount of value to me as whatever you ask for does to you."

The human still looks confused, so I try to think of an example, and when I do, I smirk. "If you asked for, say, a car, maybe, then I would most likely ask for a hand job, okay? If you asked for a big, fancy house with the works, then I would ask for a blow job. If you asked for all the riches in the world, then I would ask for one night of sex. If you asked to make the unrequited love of your life fall madly in love with you, then I would ask for a month of nightly sex. And so on, so forth."

"Why sex?" He asks.

"I'm a Demon. I don't get much. I'm fucking horny as Hell." I reply.

"Oh." He mutters, and, yet again, falls into thought.

It's kind of funny, actually. He doesn't seem at all opposed to the idea of having sex with a guy, which is definitely a first.

Which doesn't mean all that much since I've never actually asked any of my other summoners to have sex with me. Didn't you read about my description of them? There's no way I would let any of those little creepers touch my body.

This human, on the other hand, can do whatever he wants with my body, and I will follow his every demand.

Hey. When you haven't had sex in over eight hundred years, you'd get a little bit desperate, too, okay? Don't judge me.

"So," I say, finally being the first to break the odd silence, "what exactly do you want? I don't know about you, but standing quietly in a limited space inside a smoky room just does not excite me all that much. So, you make your demand, I'll make mine, and we'll move on with our lives, mkay?"

"Before I make any demands, can I ask you a question?" He asks, a serious expression on his handsome face.

I stare blankly at him, imagining all sorts of scenarios in my mind about what it would be like to stare up at that face in the throes of passion. A minute and a raging hard-on later (thank the Devil that I've got really baggy pants that I wear just for this purpose), I blink and focus on his face, trying to remember what he said. "Uh? Oh! Oh, yeah. Sure, go ahead. Ask away, Hot-eh, Human."

He bites his lip nervously which, admittedly, does absolutely nothing to fix my slight problem, and looks away, his icy eyes gazing at one of the candles. "What would it cost me to, uhm, keep…uh…t-to keep…"

"C'mon, Human, spit it out already!" I want my sex now, can ya blame me?

"Tokeepyouforever." He mumbles so quietly and quickly that I have to strain to hear it, even with my enhanced Demonic hearing, and with a deep red flush in his cheeks.

"You want to what?"

As I stare at him incredulously, he seems to shake himself out of his nervousness, and he returns his gaze to my eyes, a determined look overcoming his features, the blush still present. "I want to keep you forever. How much would that cost?"

Well. It seems this day's just chock full of firsts for me. "Keep me forever? What does that even mean?"

"It means that I want you to stay with me until the day I die, and follow me to wherever I go afterwards." He explains, still blushing, and still with that determined look on his face.

"Why would you want that? You don't even know me, Human." I say, thoroughly confused.

He shakes his head and reaches behind him to grab a book I hadn't noticed before. "No, Shea, I know all about you. I'm part of a long line of Satanists. My family has all sorts of books about the different, known Demons that it's summoned, what they are said to look like, what they acted like when they were summoned, and what the summoner thought of their overall performance."

He opens the book to a dog eared page and turns it towards me. On the page is a kind of accurate drawing of what I look like (though there are several inaccuracies. My hair is no longer that long, I wear different clothes, my eyes are a different color, and my face is a different shape than that), my name, and a lot of words describing my personality and whatnot.

"I never really had any desire to follow in my family's footsteps in the Demon-summoning thing." He continues, turning the book back around and staring at my page. "That is, until I heard about you from my great grandpa. He described you as a little rude, but really easy to get along with, very amiable, easy to please, and not at all like other Demons. He said that out of all the Demons he'd summoned, you were by far his favorite. He also said that you were incredibly handsome, and that if he hadn't already been in love with great grandma he'd have asked you to be his partner. He said it was impossible not to like you.

"So, I asked him all about his encounter with you, and after he told me everything he knew, he gave me this book, which has a whole chapter about you: how my ancestors think you died, why they think you're different than other demons, and all sorts of other things about you. I became obsessed with you, and I wanted to meet you so bad, but because I'd never taken an interest in summoning earlier in life, I'd never learned how.

"So my great grandpa took me under his wing, and taught me everything I needed to know. And, after several failed attempts at summoning you, I finally got it right. You're finally here!"

Well, damn. I never knew that I was so well-liked. I can honestly say that I am speechless.

This does explain his attitude earlier, though. Since the picture had several discrepancies, he might have thought that I was another, different Demon, so when I told him my name, he was sure it was me.

"So, Shea, if I asked to keep you forever, what price would I have to pay?" He asks, and I realize that I still don't know his name.

"Hey, Human, what's your name?" Now, normally the summoners don't go telling the Demons their real names, since they're afraid that we can use it to control them, or something, which is a load of bullshit, but we've always been too lazy to bother correcting them.

The human grins, happy that I've taken an apparent interest in him. "My name's Eric Sammerland. And you're Shea. It's so great to meet you!"

I can't help but chuckle at his enthusiasm, now that his earlier somber mood seems to have disappeared. "To tell you the truth, Eric, I have absolutely no idea what the price would be for that. I'm not even sure if I can grant that. That sort of request has never been asked of me before."

Eric's grin doesn't fade, which confuses me since I thought that sort of news would have depressed him just a little bit. "No, it's completely possible for you to do it. An ancestor did it once. He asked his summon to stay with him forever, and the summon told him that she could do that so long as he swore to never abandon her, and be hers unconditionally. And if he broke his vow then she would drag his soul down to Hell with her and chain him to her forever and for all eternity to do with him what she wished."

"So, basically, they were married?" I ask with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes!" Eric replies enthusiastically. "Basically."

Being a Demon isn't the greatest career choice (not that it was exactly a choice). You're forced to live forever in a less-than-desirable environment with less-than-desirable company, and make deals with creepy little humans that only want you for your powers.

To have a human, a summoner, especially one as gorgeous as this one, want me for more than just my ability to give him whatever he desires is both refreshing and relieving.

Which is why I don't hesitate to give him my answer, "Then I will demand the same of you as that Demon did of your ancestor. You will stay by my side forever and always, you will love only me, be faithful to me, and if you ever cheat or try to leave me, I will drag your miserable soul down to the deepest pits of Hell to room with the worst bastards in history. Do you accept these conditions, Eric Sammerland?"

Eric's smiling face fades to a serious one, and his voice is steady as he answers, "I, Eric Sammerland, accept the terms you have laid out, Demon Shea."

"Then we shall seal the deal with blood." I intone.

In unison, we both step out of our circles and walk forward until we're only centimeters apart, staring at each other. I bite my tongue before leaning up and pressing my lips against his, opening my mouth and shoving my tongue through his loosely parted lips.

Almost immediately, he kisses back, rubbing his tongue against my pointed teeth, cutting it, and letting his blood seep into my open mouth.

I reach up and fist my hands in his soft, chocolate hair, groaning when he grabs me around the waist and pulls me flush against him, grinding our clothed erections against one another.

The kiss is so passionate, so hot that I barely notice the tingling sensation travelling down my arm until it reaches my wrists and pain erupts in a fiery explosion, dragging an agonized cry from my throat.

Eric pulls back in concern, his face flushed, eyes dilated, and breathing heavy. "What's wrong?"

I let go of his hair and cradle my burning wrist to my chest, almost crying from the sensation. Eric gently grabs my wrist and we both watch in awe (and me in pain, as well) as a glittering manacle wraps around the appendage. Seconds later, a chain shoots out from the side of it and up, piercing Eric's chest and doubling him over in pain, dragging me down with him.

We both writhe on the floor, holding each other and moaning in pain.

This goes on for several hours, and when the pain finally fades away, leaving only a dull throb, we both lay panting on the floor, our arms wrapped around one another.

"F-fuck, that hurt!" I gasp out, burying my face in Eric's chest. His heart is beating abnormally fast, like a rabbit's, and I'm concerned that it might explode, or something, but then I remember that we were just in a shit-load of pain, so an increased heart rate is not all that uncommon.

"The chain," Eric hisses, grabbing my manacled wrist and pulling it in front of his face to inspect it, "is this our bond?"

I stare at the glittering bracelet (manacle) on my wrist, and my eyes trail from my wrist to the chain dangling down from it, and over to where the chain enters Eric's chest, piercing his heart, just above my head. "I think so."

"How come the chain isn't connected to your heart, as well?" Eric asks, placing his hand on my chest, searching for my heartbeat.

A heartbeat he won't find.

"I've been dead for well over eight hundred years, Eric. My heart no longer beats." I inform him, tiredly. It's not like it bothers me anymore. I've become used to not having a heart. I mean, seriously? If you can't get used to something like that even after eight hundred years, then you've got serious problems.

"Mm, but you're so warm." Eric mumbles, hugging me closer and nuzzling my raven-black hair. "Aren't dead people as cold as ice?"

I chuckle, resting my head back against Eric's chest, back to the spot where I can hear his heart beat. "It's because I live in Hell. It's kind of hot down there."

"No." Eric says, sounding like a pouty little kid, "You don't live in Hell anymore. You live here, with me."

I smile and close my eyes, inhaling Eric's smell. It's a mixture of incense, smoke, fresh air, and life. I like it. "Forever?"

Eric squeezes me even tighter.


Ugh. So sappy. I know that they 'get together' awfully quickly, but you have to understand that Shea's been without someone to care about and to care about him for a very long time, and Eric fell in love with Shea through all his studies of him. So, in my mind, it kind of makes sense that they'd have no problems making out so soon.

Hopefully it didn't suck too bad. I'm terrible at romance.

Please tell me what you thought, it does wonders for how I write.