What was he going to do this time?
Salem had never remembered being this tired before. The young demon had never been forced to expend so much energy at once, though, and now the rest of the Sandlot had murder on their minds. If he slept, he'd end up dead. If he tried to fight, he'd likely end up dead. Running was almost completely out of the question; he barely had the energy to make it out of the filthy hole he was hiding in, which boded ill for him when they finally found him.
"That was a pretty slick trick you pulled back there," another young demon called over to him. Salem looked out from his hiding spot. The young man seemed to have come alone, but there was no telling when it came to the Sandlot. With the last of his energy, Salem reverted to his smallest (but possibly his most dangerous) form, curling up in the grass, poised to strike.
So, the world was ending today. Well, not ending, exactly. Ending was a word that implied the end of time itself, the halting of the ever-flowing river, a definite point at which everything stopped and the rest of history carried on as a memory. No, ending was much too kind a word. The world's very existence, in all times, was ending today. After today, it would simply cease to be. Time would fold in on itself, and in the place where their world had been, there would be nothing. No matter what time one tried to flee to, there would be no escape-the ticker was winding down at the same pace in every moment of the Earth's history.
Most of the world remained unaware of this fact, as it should have been. They continued quietly about their business, running errands here, stressing out there, and generally not making use of the precious time they had. However, for two demons who had been informed of the impending termination, there were much better things to be doing with the last of their time.
Namely, shagging like bunny rabbits.
"How long do you think we have?" Salem mumbled, tearing through the buttons on Marcus's shirt and pressing his lips against his partner's neck.
For once, Marcus wasn't going to complain about the damage; it wasn't as though he would need that shirt in the morning. As a matter of fact, he was making short work of Salem's clothing in a similar fashion, much more determined in this effort than he usually was. "Two hours," he said quietly, painfully aware of his internal clock ticking away the seconds. Salem let out a frustrated hiss and continued removing the last scraps of clothing that lay between them.
Their lips met, and they pressed against each other, desperate to spend this next stretch of time the best they could. There would be nothing else after that, nothing to remember, nothing to forget. They kissed, they bit, they whispered, they bruised, they worked themselves nearly into a frenzy, hands exploring with much more meaning than they ever had before. Each kiss was one kiss closer to the last, each touch, each moan and sigh. They would all be gone soon, but even if they had never so much as existed, perhaps something would linger. An imprint, a vague memory on the now-blank page that was their place in this chapter of the universe.
It wasn't long before the furious procession took its toll on the participants, but they pushed on as diligently as they could, until their bodies refused to move, shaking from the exertion. Even then they kissed, they touched, pressed their lips to everything their necks could reach and some things that they couldn't. No second was going to be spared to the idle separateness that had settled over them in recent years. They were making up for any time they might have lost, now that there was about to be no time at all.
"I love you," Marcus whispered breathlessly in Salem's ear, collapsing against his chest in a panting, sweating heap. That was it; he couldn't push himself any further.
Salem stole a kiss from his lips, and Marcus found that he had at least enough energy left in him for that. "I love you too," he returned, voice low and strained. Their mouths met again, and this time they both refused to pull away. Marcus's internal clock had unfortunately not failed to stay accurate throughout the goings on of the past two hours. There were minutes left, maybe seconds.
He felt the sensation of Marcus's mouth against him fade away, the heat of his body drifting off into some black emptiness. So this was it. This was the end of things, the eternal abyss they'd been dreading. Well, Salem thought to himself, closing his eyes and feeling bits of his consciousness flow away from him, piece by piece. If that was the way it had to be, then at least they'd made the most of it.
The young demon came to a stop less than an arm's length away. He seemed less than intimidated. "You can't reach out and bite me in that condition, can you? No, no, you look absolutely exhausted. Can snakes look exhausted? I guess they don't have eyelids, do they? Well, you looked exhausted a moment ago, so I'm sure you're exhausted now." He reached down to touch the small serpent's face, confident that the creature barely had enough strength to open his jaw, let alone to strike. He was right.
He sighed. "Well, I'm here in Hell for a reason, but I guess it's not too late to start earning points on my Karma card. Up the sleeve you go." With few other options, Salem decided to slither up this young demon's sleeve and see where it lead. Death was an inevitability on every other path he'd seen so far.
"My name's Marcus," the brown-headed demon said conversationally. "Yours?"
"Sssalem." He made himself comfortable across Marcus's shoulders, letting his tail and head hang down and out the front of his coat. He was going to sleep, and having no more of this conversational nonsense.
"Nice to meet you, Salem," Marcus replied, unaware that his lidless new friend was already asleep.
Salem had never remembered being this tired before. The young demon had never been forced to expend so much energy at once, though, and now the rest of the Sandlot had murder on their minds. If he slept, he'd end up dead. If he tried to fight, he'd likely end up dead. Running was almost completely out of the question; he barely had the energy to make it out of the filthy hole he was hiding in, which boded ill for him when they finally found him.
"That was a pretty slick trick you pulled back there," another young demon called over to him. Salem looked out from his hiding spot. The young man seemed to have come alone, but there was no telling when it came to the Sandlot. With the last of his energy, Salem reverted to his smallest (but possibly his most dangerous) form, curling up in the grass, poised to strike.
So, the world was ending today. Well, not ending, exactly. Ending was a word that implied the end of time itself, the halting of the ever-flowing river, a definite point at which everything stopped and the rest of history carried on as a memory. No, ending was much too kind a word. The world's very existence, in all times, was ending today. After today, it would simply cease to be. Time would fold in on itself, and in the place where their world had been, there would be nothing. No matter what time one tried to flee to, there would be no escape-the ticker was winding down at the same pace in every moment of the Earth's history.
Most of the world remained unaware of this fact, as it should have been. They continued quietly about their business, running errands here, stressing out there, and generally not making use of the precious time they had. However, for two demons who had been informed of the impending termination, there were much better things to be doing with the last of their time.
Namely, shagging like bunny rabbits.
"How long do you think we have?" Salem mumbled, tearing through the buttons on Marcus's shirt and pressing his lips against his partner's neck.
For once, Marcus wasn't going to complain about the damage; it wasn't as though he would need that shirt in the morning. As a matter of fact, he was making short work of Salem's clothing in a similar fashion, much more determined in this effort than he usually was. "Two hours," he said quietly, painfully aware of his internal clock ticking away the seconds. Salem let out a frustrated hiss and continued removing the last scraps of clothing that lay between them.
Their lips met, and they pressed against each other, desperate to spend this next stretch of time the best they could. There would be nothing else after that, nothing to remember, nothing to forget. They kissed, they bit, they whispered, they bruised, they worked themselves nearly into a frenzy, hands exploring with much more meaning than they ever had before. Each kiss was one kiss closer to the last, each touch, each moan and sigh. They would all be gone soon, but even if they had never so much as existed, perhaps something would linger. An imprint, a vague memory on the now-blank page that was their place in this chapter of the universe.
It wasn't long before the furious procession took its toll on the participants, but they pushed on as diligently as they could, until their bodies refused to move, shaking from the exertion. Even then they kissed, they touched, pressed their lips to everything their necks could reach and some things that they couldn't. No second was going to be spared to the idle separateness that had settled over them in recent years. They were making up for any time they might have lost, now that there was about to be no time at all.
"I love you," Marcus whispered breathlessly in Salem's ear, collapsing against his chest in a panting, sweating heap. That was it; he couldn't push himself any further.
Salem stole a kiss from his lips, and Marcus found that he had at least enough energy left in him for that. "I love you too," he returned, voice low and strained. Their mouths met again, and this time they both refused to pull away. Marcus's internal clock had unfortunately not failed to stay accurate throughout the goings on of the past two hours. There were minutes left, maybe seconds.
He felt the sensation of Marcus's mouth against him fade away, the heat of his body drifting off into some black emptiness. So this was it. This was the end of things, the eternal abyss they'd been dreading. Well, Salem thought to himself, closing his eyes and feeling bits of his consciousness flow away from him, piece by piece. If that was the way it had to be, then at least they'd made the most of it.
The young demon came to a stop less than an arm's length away. He seemed less than intimidated. "You can't reach out and bite me in that condition, can you? No, no, you look absolutely exhausted. Can snakes look exhausted? I guess they don't have eyelids, do they? Well, you looked exhausted a moment ago, so I'm sure you're exhausted now." He reached down to touch the small serpent's face, confident that the creature barely had enough strength to open his jaw, let alone to strike. He was right.
He sighed. "Well, I'm here in Hell for a reason, but I guess it's not too late to start earning points on my Karma card. Up the sleeve you go." With few other options, Salem decided to slither up this young demon's sleeve and see where it lead. Death was an inevitability on every other path he'd seen so far.
"My name's Marcus," the brown-headed demon said conversationally. "Yours?"
"Sssalem." He made himself comfortable across Marcus's shoulders, letting his tail and head hang down and out the front of his coat. He was going to sleep, and having no more of this conversational nonsense.
"Nice to meet you, Salem," Marcus replied, unaware that his lidless new friend was already asleep.
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