I SUMMON YOU

The sound of the stereo blasting through its speakers was the only thing that accompanied Marcus the whole drive to a certain destination. He had been like this for two hours and a half, focused on wheeling the road and nothing more. His drivers license he just acquired two weeks after he left the seminary was placed on his wallet, tucked nicely inside his leather moto jacket.

Folded together with the license was an old piece of stationery paper. It was given to him after the seminary's convocation ceremonies by Bishop Elliot, a priest from the City of Soren who was the caretaker of the orphanage house he had lived for most of his teen life. The bishop was a good father figure for Marcus having known no parents in his entire existence.

The letter was written apparently by his long-lost mother, asking the orphanage to give it to Marcus when the time is right. Nineteen years and twenty-one days old of Marcus seemed to be the right time for Bishop Elliot to decide to hand it to him. Although Marcus felt remorseful about it and hesitated for a moment, he accepted the letter without any question.

Inside it was information about an ancestral house including the address and the instructions on how to get inside it. Along with the letter was a stapled lifetime insurance certificate for him to use - a certificate that included a hefty amount of money only he can unlock in the Bank of Soren. Doubtful at first of its credibility, he had Bishop Elliot do some investigation about the bank account and found that it was indeed named after Marcus, created by a certain Iridessa Thayne.

The letter didn't explain as to why his mother left him in the orphanage, but it did explain that leaving him was 'for the best possible reasons.' Worried about Marcus' future, she had the bank account set up for him to use once he was old enough.

Erasing all bad notions of the source, Marcus donated half of the fortune for the St. Therese Charity House Orphanage needs. He became the primary benefactor of the house thereafter. A quarter of the cash, he used to buy a city penthouse and a car for himself - a black Jaguar XKR - and this car was what he was using now on his way to a remote province in Soren to see the place his so-called mother had entrusted on him. He was actually on a three-month long vacation before the start of the Vatican Priesthood Training which will take place in Vatican, Italy for four years.

Schubert's Ave Maria was playing on the stereo when Marcus pulled in the driveway of the old, abandoned house. It was already ten in the morning with a sunny weather. The front garden was battered with weeds and overgrown shrubbery. Pine, oak and magnolia trees were untrimmed and its wilted leaves were left to floor most of the grassy ground and the pavement.

The house itself was a sight to behold. It was a two-storey building that covered quite a lengthy area all the way to the back. The principal color was a bluish-gray on its roofs and walls, and it was outlined with white on the columns and frames. There was a modest front portico with stairs and this served as the first to welcome Marcus on the property when he stepped out of the car.

"I think this should be it huh?" Marcus clarified to himself and went to look for a small hatch at the ceiling of the portico. This was what the letter told him to find. It was designed to be invisible to the naked eye, but a small flower-shaped design was its clue.

Marcus caught sight of it. After gently opening the hatch, an antique key suddenly fell on the floor, catching him off-guard. He picked it up and sought out the keyhole of the thick wooden door.

When it opened, he smirked. "Thanks... Mom, " he murmured and stepped into the interior with his bag full of clothes and hygiene needs. What an easy instruction.

The air felt heavy when he strolled inside the small vestibule. It smelt of wilted grass and rust.

"Great, just what I expected of the house, " he complained after doing a once-over of the living room. "This is going to be one heck of a clean-up for me."

The walls mocked him with its chipped paint. There were cobwebs decorating the ceiling and the Victorian chandelier. In every surface, years of collected dust covered them. At least the furniture were covered with a white linen, but still that didn't give Marcus some assurance. The thick blue curtains made the inside gloomier than it was supposed to be. The dusty crimson red carpet added to its status too.

Marcus strolled towards a slightly-open window and rolled the curtain to the side for the sunshine to enter. That in effect at least lessened the gloomy atmosphere.

There was a connecting door going to another room on the west wing. Marcus entered it and found that it was his favorite part of a house.

The kitchen.

He examined it including the countertops, the peninsula, the stove and the cabinets and found that it had the same collection of dust. The appliances were outdated, but...

"At least the electricity is up and running, " he said when he flicked the switch on.

Another Victorian chandelier lit up and showed what the kitchen lacked the most: food. It was apparently ransacked of its storage - by mice at least.

Marcus released a disappointed groan. He wasn't disappointed on how dirty the kitchen was. He was disappointed with the absence of his favorite. Yes, he was going to see to it that this will be taken care of come lunch time with or without the use of the fridge. This was going to be on top of his list.

He returned to the wide living room and saw a long stairway going to the second floor of the house. It was made of marble it seems and of high quality judging from the shiny streaks of red and blue on the surface. The balustrade was made of the same stone, slender and well-carved out.

When he arrived in the second floor, he found another set of furniture in the center also covered in white linens. He saw his own reflection in a mirror just right above a console table with two candelabras and a slender empty vase in between them. Again, the same dust dilemma greeted him.

In both left and right sides, there were long hallways going to the chambers of the house. Marcus chose the left side to check first. Along the red-carpeted hallway there were three doors. The doors were made of wood and of the same paint: white. When he turned the knob of the first room, he found it locked. The second one too was the same. Marcus raised his brows on each.

The third however admitted him in. It was near a small balcony which showed a nice patio but with a rundown garden. The room was large. It had landscape paintings on every wall and a couple of angel figurines on the shelves. There was another Victorian chandelier hung on the receiving room and when Marcus checked, the bulbs luckily worked.

In a wall next to the main door, there leaned a plastic-covered king-sized mattress. Marcus thought it odd that it was unused, but just shrugged it off and proceeded on examining the remainder of the room. He chose to open a door in his right side where it revealed to be a bedroom. In it showed a French sliding double-door connected to a small balcony, more furniture covered in linens and a four-poster bed frame with no mattress.

"So that is what the new mattress is for, " Marcus uttered, pleased. His mind immediately chose this room for him to use during his stay and thought to use the still-wrapped mattress as his bed.

The rest of his tour in and around the house was normal. He saw the other three rooms in the right hallway and found them to be another bedroom, a study room and a library. The gardens around the house showed the same overgrowth of plants.

It was pretty much a big house entirely, too big and spacious for a young man like him to stay in fact, but Marcus had no choice but to live here for the meantime while the penthouse suite he had bought in the city was still in construction.

"Thanks Mom for giving me this house, " he plopped into a chair in the living room and released a deep sigh, "But you could have at least contracted a caretaker. Dang it, I am going to have a headache cleaning every inch of this house, " he complained to himself again whilst massaging his head.

~ ISY ~

Afternoon came peacefully. Marcus had set up a small dining area in the black-marble peninsula that he had cleaned of dust. Two bags of groceries were placed in the edge, both full of snacks, fruits, bottles of water and ready-to-eat packs he had bought in a nearby convenience store. He had his moto jacket neatly hung on the high chair while his white button shirt was loose on his waist. The sleeves too were pulled to the elbow allowing him to work with ease around the table.

Marcus was in the sink cleaning the utensils he used at lunch when his gaze caught sight of the changing weather outside. It was a cloudy sky bearing a promise of heavy rain soon.

"Oh, great! Just in time, " he smiled, looking at the linens in the living room.

He hated laundry ever since he was in the orphanage and when he became a sacristan, but since he hasn't been acquainted with the nearby establishments yet and where the laundry shop was, there was nothing that he could do but to wash the linens himself.

And having it soaking wet in the coming rain would be a great idea... well, at least for his belief that is.

Quickly stalking out of the kitchen to the living room, he pulled the white covers gently and collected them all in one arm.

Good thing he wasn't asthmatic, otherwise, he would have had a bout of sneezing this time.

At the spacious backyard patio he went and found himself a convenient set-up of waist-high shrubbery near a stretch of picket fence. In there he had the linens spread enough for the rain to soak them. Looking at his work with arms akimbo, he was pleased, grinning from ear to ear. 'This was going to be an easy laundry, ' he thought to himself.

He strolled up the elevated terrace thinking of what to do next when a flash of light came along with the roaring thunder. It was the earth's normal signal of an impending rain, but for a different kind of entity, it was his powerful entrance.

Marcus turned back to face the patio, jerking in surprise with the nearness of the lightning strike. He had anticipated a natural occurrence in front of him, but his mind hadn't expected that he would find himself an unlikely visitor.

Nope, he had never ever expected to see this man again.

Standing near a fire pit at the center of the flagstoned courtyard was the head of the Infernal Armies in the Underworld, Bael. His body was showing small traces of white smoke, his rhinoceros-like horns disappearing gradually, and his long wavy hair and striking eyes were of the same shade as what Marcus had remembered: dark violet and captivating greens respectively.

He was naked from the waist up, with just a strap of leather wrapped all the way to his buffed shoulders and around his back, fastening its end tightly with his belt breeches. The look was menacing enough especially when Marcus noticed short knives and other sharp related objects he had not seen before. There was a black rope hanging loose on Bael's side and Marcus thought it odd.

Wow. Rope.

He gulped.

What has this demon been up to in Hell anyway?

Bael's line of sight had been sharp and straight, eyeing one source only: Marcus. The latter too was the same, but with utter surprise.

Not to mention his mouth agape the whole time.

When Bael took his first steps closer to him, Marcus' momentary stupefaction lifted. He at first thought it was just an illusion, but it turned out that his long-gone Combat and Skills tutor was real.

In his front.

Now.

"Hello, Marcus, " Bael spoke, no smile, no grin, but his eyes were piercing to the core.

"Sir Heron?!" Marcus exclaimed, clearing his throat and stepping backward. "Why are you here?"

He didn't receive any answer. He couldn't see any change of expression from Heron too as he passed by him towards the open door.

"Why are you here?" he asked again, and this time Heron paused and answered in monotone without looking at him, "You summoned me."

Marcus' brows lifted. "But I didn't summon you, " he said whilst catching his throat dry.

"Yes, you did."

"No, I didn't."

Heron turned to face him, his eyes now burning for a residual emotion Marcus didn't know what. "But you need help with cleaning this house yes?"

"Uh... well, ye-"

"Then, let's begin, " Heron interrupted before the boy could finish. He went to cross the threshold but Marcus held him back with a loud, "Wait!"

Heavens have mercy, the boy was beginning to blush now.

Marcus pointed his sight on the floor and whispered weakly, "I don't-need your help."

Heron tsk'd, a faint curve of his lips followed thereafter. "Com'n Marcus don't be a stick-in-the-mud, " he started, "I can hear your effing complaints back in Hell. You don't need to hide it." At a snail's pace, his eyes roamed equally from the boy's flushed face towards his half unbuttoned shirt. It truly has been a long time - probably three years in the human timeline to be exact - since he had seen Marcus again, and now, he had noticed that the boy's frame had developed more of a man, although his Adam's apple was shyly sheltering itself still.

Marcus' head lifted up and their eyes met. "Yes, but I believe I can manage with cleaning the house." He said it so with more determination, able to calm his nerves and maintain a good posture in front of his ex-tutor.

Heron scoffed lightly. "On your own? I doubt so."

The boy's brows flinched.

"I am not in a hurry anyway, and besides, I believe you are busy in Hell. You were gone for many years Sir Heron, why show yourself now?" Marcus folded his arms in his chest and raised his chin higher. True enough, he got angry that there were no words of 'goodbye' or 'see you later' after the demon left with Father Azrael back to Hell. The training was cut short and Marcus was left to learn more combat skills by himself. Right now, he wanted to know the reason why he came back, and why here? In this very house with him?

"Oh? Do you miss me that badly Marcus? Do I sense jealousy in your voice?" Heron purred, a lot bolder than he had been when he was still a butler.

This made Marcus uncomfortable. He stepped backward when Heron neared him, his heartbeat in distress. When only a ruler away was left and the demon's face was inches apart, Marcus clenched his teeth to keep his lips from trembling. For some reason, he can't make up a good answer.

"Our training is not over yet, " Heron whispered, amused by the boy's silence.

Marcus pulled his face away and gave him a confused look. "Training? What training Sir Heron? I thought we are done with our training? Father Azrael said that once I pass my graduation, I'm ready to become an exorcist priest. I am to join the Vatican priesthood training three months from now so you know."

"Ah, but for me you are not, " the demon slashed. "I know you are still having second thoughts on becoming an exorcist priest, Marcus. Don't you bluff with me." He whirled around and proceeded to enter the kitchen.

"I am not bluffing at all..." Marcus mumbled to himself, keeping his eyes cast with the demon's long, dark violet hair cascading on his back.

He followed Heron towards the entryway and caught his attention back with a light touch of his arm.

"Really Sir Heron, I don't need your help."

He meant it to be as sincere as possible, but without warning, his eyes widened when Heron turned to face him, grabbed his shirt and slammed his back against the door frame. His hands were pinned to the side by an invisible force, while his neck was tightly immobilized by Heron's elbow.

Panic didn't appear inside of Marcus from being in this kind of position actually, but he was intimidated by how the demon's eyes lit up with a desire so strong it was almost tangible with the contact of their skin.

"Say that again..." Heron growled low. A staring contest ensued, until such time when Marcus blinked and unintentionally glanced at the demon's hard abdominal planes. His cheeks immediately flushed and because of this, he opted to divert his eyes away and stay silent.

Heron released a throaty groan, one that was pleased over something. He could feel the boy's reluctance and fear mixing together. It amused him. "Hmmm... Don't cower now Marcus. You know how that turns me on." Then he smirked.

Thoughts popped out instantly inside Marcus' head back from the time when they had their training, specifically the time when the demon licked his youthful skin from the neck down to his nipple.

Oh great! With all the memories that could have popped out, why that?!

"Tell me you don't need me again and I am going to punish you, " Heron clarified, watching him intently.

Marcus shook his head once, unable to form a word, and that made the demon pleased. When he was released from his hold, he scrambled to fix himself up. He straightened and took in a long deep breath, only then did he notice the thick haze enveloping the kitchen and Heron's body.

It was just brief, not alarming to call the fire marshal, and when it dispersed, the demon was already in his full service gear -- the butler outfit. Gone were the tight breeches, the leather strap around his torso and the sharp objects attached to it.

What was standing in front of Marcus now was the high-born, well-mannered, and short-haired Traugott House master butler, Heron.

"Then let's get to cleaning, " the demon said after looking at Marcus' agape response.

The whole night Marcus wasn't able to sleep properly. His mind drifted off to the recent events earlier with his self-proclaimed butler.

The entirety of the house was basically covered with colonies of cobwebs and thick dusts, but since the bedrooms, the living room and the kitchen were the most accessed of the areas, Heron and Marcus chose to clean them first.

They started with the kitchen of course, just so Heron could whip up an evening meal for both of them with ease. First, Heron decided to take his overcoat off. Marcus gave him a raised brow.

"To avoid it being dirtied, " was Heron's reason.

Then, he unbuttoned his long-sleeved shirt, taking in a shirtless form. Marcus glared at him and raised his brows again, diverting his eyes away from the well-cut sinews.

"This place doesn't have an air conditioner yet, " was Heron's pretty alibi.

Both answers, Marcus just nodded in response but catching himself overheating inside with frustration. He still can't accept that a demon was helping him clean the house, most especially a demon who has some past with him. But, unable to do anything about it, he just went on his way, focusing on tidying up the cupboards.

Minutes later, that's when he realized that his butler was right, the room was indeed hot, especially when he was actively working.

"Why don't you take your shirt off too, Marcus? It'd be more comfortable, " Heron suggested, stopping from taking the pesky spiders out of the ceiling edges.

"No, no. I'm fine, Sir Heron, " Marcus answered, not glancing at him at all.

Unconsciously, he wiped a bead of sweat from his temple and that's when he felt a cold hand slide under his shirt and touch his waist.

He gasped and turned quickly around only to find Heron staring with piercing eyes in front of him. He ran his hand up to Marcus' abdomen, feeling for the buttons of his shirt.

"Sweating, my dear Marcus, is sexy if it is for another fine reason and if I see you lying in bed. Here, it looks disgusting. So why don't I strip this shirt off of you? It would be my pleasure you know."

With Marcus' mouth open, he quickly pulled himself away and clasped the buttons of his shirt. "No, Sir Heron. I can manage, " was his reply, pointing his eyes downward.

"Then do it, boy." Heron grinned and returned to his earlier duty, showing his back to him.

Marcus did as he was told, whilst releasing a defeated sigh.

The remainder of the kitchen cleaning that afternoon was left with an uneasy boy and an amused demon, both stealing glances at each other.

***

By evening, Heron cooked up a recipe provided on a cream can. There were supposed to be ready-to-eat packs in the fridge for them to heat, but being a butler that he is, he chose to whip up the dish for the boy. Marcus was upstairs changing his dusty clothes, letting his butler prepare everything.

When the food was served, a half-charred steak and a bland mashed potato came into the table. Marcus's brows flinched, watching it in confusion.

"Is...is this edible?" he asked, looking up at Heron who was standing in a Spongebob-printed apron (Marcus had bought together with the food packs this morning) and a spatula on hand.

"Of course, why are you asking?" Heron immediately replied with sharp eyes calculating the boy's move.

"Nothing, " Marcus answered and then took a knife on the side of the plate, cut the God-forsaken steak into pieces and forked a small cube of it. After tasting, Marcus almost wanted to retch, but didn't.

"It's...good, " he commented, eyeing the demon with a hard smile.

"Hmmm... that will do, " Heron stated, pleased with his so-called accomplishment. "Go on, eat."

Marcus held his breath to continue. Might as well do as he was told than face the wrath of the demon general. But goodness, he was a lover of food, but food like this wasn't going to be his stomach's best friend. Not at all.

"By the way Sir Heron, do you cook for Father Azrael in the Traugott Residence?" Marcus questioned, painfully swallowing the pieces down.

"No, this is my first time cooking Marcus, " answered Heron, still staring like a guard dog.

'What?!'

Marcus choked. "Then, who does it for you in the residence?"

"There are maids for that you know. I am a butler, I don't do cooking."

"Really. You don't even know the word 'spices'. Why bother to cook for me?!"

There was a short silence that followed.

Marcus waited for Heron to answer, expecting some sentences like 'I want to learn or it's none of your business, ' but his answer was all too different.

"Because I aim to feed you, Marcus, " was his stern reply. His eyes, containing a torrent of emotion, stared at him. The words were simple but Marcus held his breath. He couldn't see if the demon was pertaining to the food or something else.

"Thank you for your concern, Sir Heron, " was his uneasy reply. "But we can always eat outside or heat some food packs, you don't need to cook at all."

"Right, " Heron replied whilst putting the spatula on the sink. "That's just an option though." He took his own share of the dish and sat opposite Marcus.

They both ate together for minutes in silence, nothing to take note of. Once done, surprisingly, Marcus didn't have any leftovers, but actually, it was a hard choice to make, shoving the hard meat inside his throat and acting happy about it.

"By the way, how did you cook the steak when the gas stove is not working?" Marcus asked, becoming curious suddenly.

"I used my hands, " was Heron's short reply.

"What do you mean, " the boy asked nonchalantly, not getting what the demon meant.

"I summoned fire from Hell, Marcus, " he coolly replied, "that's how I cooked this beautiful steak."

And that made Marcus choke out the last cube in his throat. "What?!"

"What what?" The demon's brow rose.

"Seriously, Sir Heron, you can't do that!"

"And why is that?" His tone was clipped, but with some degree of innocence.

Because you can just grill the steak with charcoal, not with the ridiculous flames of Hell that's why!

"Because there's a perfectly good grill in the patio, you can just use that, " Marcus muttered silently, trying to calm his nerves with a drink from his share of bottled water. Seriously, the fires of Hell?

Heron, crossing his legs, answered after a smirk.

"Oh, sure I can do that, but it would take time. There are better things I can do tonight than making dinner."

'What the hell! Are you a butler or not?!' Marcus shouted in his mind.

Heron leaned forward, stretched the spoon in his hand and rested the tip of it on the boy's chin.

It felt cold and moist, and it sent shivers down his throat. Marcus flinched and shifted to move his face out of contact. "Then, next time, let me cook, " he suggested, acting not at all flustered by his gesture, but he was deep inside, "I value my food you know."

Heron gave a snort and placed the said spoon down. "Fine by me, " for some reason, he accepted without having much of a fight and that relieved the boy very much. "Just make sure you cook better than me. And while you're at it, please replace this overbearing yellow sponge with bunnies. I want to watch you cook with a bunny apron."

He stood up, took his empty plate and dropped it on the sink, turning his back on Marcus. He pulled the apron off overhead and dropped it on the trash bin.

Marcus, although alarmed seeing this, squeaked in his head silently, 'but I love Spongebob!'

Come bedtime, one predicament arose without even pointing it out. The still-wrapped mattress that Marcus was supposed to use was still leaning on the wall. It was a weighty one since it was a king size.

"Hmm, what do I do with you?" he asked, looking at the huge inanimate object in his front.

Unwrapping the mattress wasn't a difficult task as it could be done by just one man alone. However, placing it on the four-poster bed frame would be a feat, needing at least six men to carry it from its present position to the intended location across the room.

Putting his arms akimbo, he stared at the towering foam and sighed deeply.

"I may have to ask Sir Heron's help on this, " he stated to himself after remembering the man's parting words before he left to choose a room for himself in the first floor, 'I'm just a call away. You don't need to knock on my door.'

As if on cue, Marcus felt a cold draft in his back and heard a sudden footfall. He turned to look behind him, and found Heron standing with a white towel wrapped around his waist. "You called for me?" was his question then.

"Oh darn! Sir Heron!" Marcus scrambled to open the gap wider. His back was pressed against the wooden cabinet and his eyes in wide saucers. The hell are you wearing?!

"I didn't call for you!" he shouted.

"Yes, you did, " Heron answered, tugging a smile on his lips. His face was wet, his hair was wet, and his torso was wet from a shower. His feet was bare and yes, Marcus was flustered seeing how inadequately dressed the butler was. "You said you wanted my help, so here I am, willing to help you."

"I--I just wanted this mattress installed in that bed frame, that's all, " was the boy's shaky reply.

Heron gave him a fleeting glare and quietly scoffed, "Huh, so easy." He neared the mattress, tore the plastic wrapper in two quick moves and hoisted the huge object up in one arm.

Marcus stared at the sight in awe. "Wow, I feel like my muscles are puny, " he commented, looking at the demon as he crossed the room.

Heron chuckled a lovely tune. "Oh, you'll get yours when we train again, " was his reply, whilst putting the mattress down on the frame.

Marcus sheepishly smiled. "I don't think I will have mine like that. I mean, com'n you're a demon with supernatural strength, Sir Heron."

"Huh, " Heron straightened and crossed his arms on his chest, "thank you for the compliment, boy."

"You're-you're welcome, " with blushing cheeks he said.

Silence fell abruptly. Both of them stood as they were and waited for the other to speak.

Marcus, finding it awkward, dragged himself into a cabinet and though he didn't exactly expect to find linens and pillow cases there, he did to his relief.

"Well, uhm, thank you for the help. You can leave now, " he said, not looking at the wet demon.

But Heron didn't leave. He continued watching the boy as he passed by him and arranged the bed covers and pillow. Marcus was just within his reach, very easy to just push him in the mattress and...

And Heron did without a second thought.

Marcus made a startled gasp when he felt a light push of his back. His face hit the mattress first, his hands making an awkward spread and made the well-fixed linen wrinkle on the edges.

"Goodness, what are you doing?!" he yelled as he rolled to face his attacker.

Heron made a pleased growl as he launched himself on top the boy. His strong arms jailed him in between; their faces in line with each other and one glorious knee touched the boy's crotch.

Marcus' breath hitched, his heart beating madly. "I-I mean it Sir Heron, you can leave now."

The demon though only closed his eyes and whiffed the scent of adolescence clinging on Marcus' neck. His nose was inches away from the tingling skin and his lips hovered on his earlobe. "I missed you Marcus, " he said gently into his ear, "I really do."

Marcus cleared his throat. "Huh, don't joke around, " he said and shifted his head away from him. Hot and tight was his pants now.

"I don't joke, " was Heron's hushed reply.

"Won't you just leave already. You are still wet. The water in your hair is dripping on my face. I bet you were in the middle of your shower when you teleported here."

The image of Heron showering naked inside the bathroom slipped suddenly on his thoughts. Of all the things, that naked vision wasn't a welcome for him, but it did produce an angry blush on his cheeks.

What a sight it would be huh?

And then the vision came true.

The demon grinned with playfulness. "You know I was, " he said, still leaning near his ear. Inadvertently, the towel covering his bulging part fell off in Marcus' waist.

The boy felt heat rush up his head. Not good... Not good!

"Oh, Marcus, " Heron purred, making a trail of his fingers from his jaw, to his throat and down the indent of his collarbone, "the things that I could do to you right now..."

Marcus closed his eyes, unable to keep up with the shooting delightful sensation of his fingers. Does he know that he was sensitive in that part?

And then the sensation abruptly ended. Heron pulled himself out of the mattress and stood up smirking, watching the dumbstruck Marcus.

"Sweet dreams, boy, " he greeted and then disappeared.

Marcus' stared into blank space, remembering how Heron stood in his beauteous butt form. It was a sight to behold, especially with the magnificent display of his manhood on salute, but it was a thought he'd rather want to bury in the back of his head, and bury it deep.

The white towel Heron had intentionally left was still on his waist. He took it but not knowing what to do, in the end, he just left the fluffy thing at the bottom of the bed.

His breathing was still ragged, so he stood up deciding to take a shower to calm the heightened senses Heron had evoked on him.

The shower didn't help though, for he never had a good night's rest after that.

~ ISY ~

Two days after, the same routine happened. Marcus minded his own business, and so did Heron. The kitchen shined like new and not a grime was seen. The living room was cleaned; its furniture was tidied. The music room adjacent to it was also brought to life; the curtains were changed and the piano wiped of dust.

Yes, as Heron ordered, Marcus did buy the bunny apron and wore it every time he cooks their meals. Though the demon was busy with his chores, Marcus couldn't help but feel two dark green orbs glancing at him from time to time.

During meal times did they have a decent conversation. Marcus tried to keep the content basic, keeping it close to the cleaning topic as possible and not what had happened to them that night on the first day. Heron was cooperative with it, to Marcus' lucky relief. But he could never miss out the mischievous glint in the demon's eyes.

When Marcus started cleaning his bedroom, that's when Heron teleported and offered his help. The boy adamantly refused, but the butler forced his will anyway. Nothing untoward happened that time. Nothing at all except for the fact that Heron offered to launder his clothes and boxer briefs that were gathered in a laundry basket.

"No, I can do it myself, Sir Heron, " Marcus stated, flustered by the fact that the butler held a heart-printed boxer like a flag.

Heron grinned. "Oh, you will? If I remember correctly Marcus, you hated laundry."

"Well, I do, but I have the decency to wash my own undergarments." He approached him and took the basket out of his hands. "I'll take this to the washroom downstairs."

"All right, I won't keep you to that privilege anymore, " Heron stated, putting his hand up.

Marcus gave him a fleeting look and stalked out of the room. Taking a short route to the washroom, he descended down the narrow stairs located beside his bedroom hallway. He had tried using this route only once and so he wasn't well-acquainted with it yet, especially the twists and turns of the hallways at the end of the stairs.

Once on the first floor, he chose to pass through a hallway purposed for the staff of the house. This one led up to the kitchen and the laundry area quicker than the other opposite it.

"Where is the washroom exactly anyway, " he mumbled to himself, wishing he had asked Heron first before going down.

After finding a door in his right, he opened it and saw that it was a storage room. He shrugged his shoulders and went to open a second which revealed to be the spices room.

'Now that's convenient for me, ' he thought to himself, smiling.

He ambled to the third door his eyes had caught sight of. Opening it gently with his free hand, he found that this was a normal bedroom. It was simple and had simple furniture and light fixtures. He placed the basket down a table and walked around the available space, examining the room further.

Odd. For a room, this one is very clean. No dust at all.

And then it hit him. 'Come to think of it, I don't know where Sir Heron's room is. Is this possibly his?'

Wanting to find a single evidence or a butler suit maybe to prove that he was right, he strolled into a door, thinking that it was a walk-in closet or a bathroom. But as soon as he twisted the doorknob, Heron materialized in his front with a scowl.

"Don't open this door, " said he in a grim tone.

"Sir Heron!" Marcus exclaimed, surprised. He stepped backward and looked at him in confusion. "Why? What's behind that door? Wait. Is this your room?"

"Yes, obviously, " Heron answered with due frankness.

It isn't obvious at all! What the hell?

"I-I see, " Marcus cleared his throat, "Why do you forbid me to open that door anyway?" He shot his gaze onto the closed door and raised his brows.

"Because I just don't want you to, understand?"

Marcus put on a stern look and crossed his arms on his chest. "To remind you, I am the master of this house. I have the power to open any spaces as much as I want to."

Heron stepped away from the door and stated after a cold smirk, "Well... be my guest, master." He bowed low and looked at the boy with daring eyes. "Be my guest. Open it. But know the consequences first. I will have to tie you up and gag you, if you open it. I don't want you laughing when you see what's behind this door."

Suddenly, the threat deflated Marcus' show of haughtiness. He raised his chin though as a mere facade and turned around almost quickly after he said, "The offer is tempting, but no thanks." Taking the basket on his arm, he walked out of the room without a backward glance... without seeing that Heron was already smiling from ear to ear.