Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.
	The precise sounds of clocks reverberate throughout the room, ignoring the fact that they aren't really there. Sitting upon his bed rests Count Harebourg, trying to piece together his thoughts while the clockwork noises inside his head continue to disrupt him. Every time hes sat down to think, those noises return, making him always lose his train of thought and any serious conviction he has for solving the problems of Frigost. Dust has settled on his bookshelves which dominate the room, with his mind always enduring the phantom cacophony of timepieces he can no longer bring himself to read, instead he works at building a tolerance to the noise. And to the Xelor's relief, hes been making progress in that regard, each day he can block out a tiniest bit more of the ticking. Though as proud as the Count is that he's making progress, he still feels restless, his self-improvement not giving an immediate response to the curse plaguing Frigost, the knowledge of that tormenting him.
	The ticking stops instantly, and before Harebourg can enjoy his new-found silence, a deep voice echoes throughout the room, "Still hard at work I see, little Xelor. No doubt running that small mind of yours into a tizzy trying to break my curse." To his credit, Harebourg doesn't scream, but he does show fear, jolting up from his relaxed seat and darting his eyes across the room. The Count has become familiar with this voice, the voice of his enemy.
	A deep guffaw seems to rattle even the walls of the room, the disembodied voice mocking Harebourg as he searches for its owner. "Show yourself Djaul, save me from your games today."
	Slowly, the laughter dies off, killed by a small chuckle. "If you say so, little. Xelor." The Count's skin crawls at the barely concealed-venom dripping from the voice's response, but he has no time to react as a puff of smoke fills his room, disorienting and blinding him. The weight of his bed begins to shift towards one end, forcing Harebourg to scramble a grip on his sheets as the smoke begins to clear, the silhouette of someone else looming above him. Seated on the other end of the bed is Djaul, the large red demon straddling Harebourg while a smug grin is plastered across his face. Djaul's enormous wings flap with a 'whumpf', making the remaining smoke in the room disappear. "Am I everything you expected~?"
	Whatever Harebourg was planning on saying before dies in his throat, the proximity of the one who torments him putting the Count even further on edge. "J-just what d-do you think y-you're doing?" Is all he can manage to squeak out, the red mass of flesh above him still settling into the cushioning of the bed, cutting off an escape for the Xelor.
	"Why, I'm just checking in on my favorite little Count. Have you been getting smaller Harebourg? Should I be making sure you get fed?" A deep chuckle echoes through the room following Djaul's taunting, the Winter Protector enjoying his own sense of humor. "Just look at how gaunt you are!" Feigned sincerity enters his voice as he runs a clawed hand across Harebourg's cheek, one of his sharp nails getting caught on the Xelor's bandaging. Not caring where his claws lay, Djaul strokes the Count's cheek further, but the skin of the Xelor underneath the wrappings is too sensitive for him to ignore the claw scraping against it. Flinching against the nail only causes a larger smile to grow across Djaul's face, the demon delighted in having found a weak point to exploit.
	"A bit sensitive are we? Why don't we try some 'physical therapy'?" Harebourg feels some relief as the claw leaves his skin, only for him to feel a firm tugging as Djaul pulls back on the wrapping. He knows Djaul is doing this to toy with him, but Harebourg can't help but react as the mass of muscle begins to stroke his body. The demon's large powerful hands softly slide across Harebourg, each warm finger carrying a firm and sharp claw that teases the Xelor's skin. Djaul leans closer over Harebourg, to steady himself as he uses both hands to tease the Count, slowly unraveling the bandages that coat Harebourg. And all Harebourg can do is tremble, both in fear and a sensation he's too afraid to admit, the Great Flounderer's grip coaxing out pleasure as it caresses him.
	Djaul is content to let his hands roam, savoring the intimidated being before him, studying each flinch that comes from the Count whenever Djaul presses the blunt side of his claws into the revealed skin of his victim. The wrappings protecting Harebourg's skin from the light begin to bundle up as the demon begins to massage Harebourg's arms, slowly revealing more and more of the Xelor's skin to the light. A Xelor normally stays hidden in their bindings, rarely if ever revealing themselves from underneath their wrappings, following this practice has granted Harebourg bone-white skin, the very image of the snow that now blankets his island. "Ah, the fair complexion of a maiden...is what I do not see. Someone needs to spend more time in the sun."
	Even with how thinly veiled that backhanded comment was, Harebourg can't help but feel his blood pumping to his cheeks, it having been so long since someones seen what he looks like without his wear covering him. Unable to watch Djaul unravel him any longer, Harebourg turns his head to the side, trying to sink his head into the cushioning of his bed, an action that only encourages Djaul in his harassment. "Now, now, don't be shy. I'm sure we can find a nice little boy Xelor for you to settle down with~." The red flesh of the demon contrasts with the Xelor's white complexion as he holds Harebourg's hand for a second, "Or would you prefer someone like me?" Silence hangs in the air, until Djaul breaks into a fit of deep laughter, "Ooohahahaha! Ha! I'm really too much some times." Seeing an opening, Harebourg squirms his way up his bed further, away from the demon currently chuckling to himself, and unfortunately drawing his attention. 
	"Just. What. ARE YOU DOING!?" Djaul's voice booms throughout the room, a rage boiling inside of it that the words themselves seem to be flame, increasing the frequency of Harebourg's trembling. The demon lurches forward on the bed, this time bringing his body even closer to the Xelor than it was before, his warm skin close enough to make the Xelor feel as though he may burn from proximity to it alone. "You would DARE to turn away from ME!?" The Winter Protector roars again at the Count, who's already intimidated beyond words. Bringing down a hand, Djaul presses Harebourg into the bed, making sure he can't escape, but the rough contact managing to tear a moan from the poor Xelor. Instantly, Harebourg regrets having let the moan escape, as he feels Djaul lessen his grip on him, but then only to come back even harder in more sensitive spots. He tries his hardest, but Harebourg can't hold back another groan of pleasure as Djaul's thick hands squeeze across his lithe body. "Oh I get it, I certainly do. You aren't a maiden, but a harlot looking for pleasure!" 
	This time with a stronger grip, and much faster than before, Djaul begins tearing the bandages from Harebourg. More and more of the Count's pale skin is revealed to Djaul, the demon beginning to revel in the sight of such a perfectly white canvas to play with. But even as he busies himself with undressing, he finds time to continue to tease the Count, squeezing out a moan when he pinches the Xelor's nipples and making the sensitive flesh blush red while it swells. Finally, Harebourg's body is completely revealed save for his face, the only spot left where the wrappings remain taut. Pressing down onto the Count's neck with a single claw, Djaul manages to pull out another lust-filled grown from Harebourg, before he pulls back his talon and cuts through the bandaging left. Something compels Djaul to only pull half of the cloth masking away, revealing only Harebourg's bright red cheeks and his panting mouth, the sight pleasing the demon on a level he very rarely acknowledges.
	"Yes. I think you do prefer someone like me...don't you?" This time when he speaks, Djaul's voice is a deep rumble, an edge to the voice that excites and terrifies Harebourg. "Someone who can punish a very very naughty girl..." Before Djaul made it clear he was teasing the Xelor, but now there seems to be a hunger in his voice, his massive hands sliding down the Count's body and following the curves. All Harebourg can do is grip at the bedding as he lets Djaul's hands slide along his waist, their descent stopping, the Count wants this even though he knows its wrong, and that only seems to terrify him even more. "I have just the right punishment in mind for you-" the demon's powerful hands stroke at the Xelor's crotch, the red palm seems to pause for a moment as it feels his already rock-hard length before continuing to caress it "-but for now, lets try this..." Djaul's rumbling voice seems to turn into a growl as it dies away. The warm hand upon his crotch is too much for Harebourg to endure, the shifting muscles underneath the crimson skin pressing against his throbbing shaft making him shiver in pleasure more than fear now. Slowly, he can feel pre dripping from his cockhead, lubing up Djaul's palm. "Cum for me little girl."
	"Ouh!" A loud moan is torn from Harebourg's mouth as Djaul closes his hand around his cock, surrounding it in warmth. And if that isn't enough, the demon's other hand plunges a finger into the hole in the Count's chest, Djaul running his finger across the rim of Harebourg's cavity. For his own sake Harebourg tries to fight off the feelings assaulting his mind, but he's already far too aroused from Djaul's treatment of him and he feels his ballsack begin to tighten up. The Count goes slack against the bed as his cock throbs out its climax, firing off his payload into the hands of his sworn-enemy. "Such a low endurance... How disappointing." Djaul only seems to react with unenjoyment as the Xelor's essence fills up his fist. "I'll be sure to fix that." His mind still alight with pleasure and fatigue, Harebourg begins to drift off, while Djaul wipes his hand clean on nearby wrappings. "I'll be in touch~."