Asmodeus held 'Sam' close, almost like a lover as he moved in and out of him. He made to hit his prostate every time, though he never stopped looking into the other's eyes. There was something dead there, but it wasn't surprising. Fallen angels were an enigma of mental unrest. His lips quirked and he reached down to stroke and tease the fallen's cock, working to bring him over the edge. "You needn't worry about it," he breathed, his thrusts quickening. "Just feel, see for the first in your life." His grin widened.<br/><br/>~~<br/><br/>Samuel was sleeping so deeply, yet when Milo came to pick him up he subconsciously looped his arms around Milo's neck and put his head on his shoulder. He was clinging to the purity, and he didn't want to let it go. Even when Milo set him on the bed, he whimpered in his sleep, but didn't fight too hard to keep him there. Instead as his exhausted body, with its broken bones and healing wounds, sunk into the mattress and he was unconscious for what felt like hours. Then again Samuel had lost all sense of time, and that was something that was going to take a long time to retrain his senses of.<br/><br/>His unseeing eyes opened, and at first he froze in terror. He didn't recognize where he was, but he didn't detect immediately any evil. Just...himself. His arms moved, sluggish and still recovering from not being used in forever. His fingers slid over the bedding and more tears filled his eyes. It was so soft on his bare skin, though it was probably filthy now that he'd lain on it. He didn't remember Milo cleaning him. He flexed his fingers, trying to work feeling back into them. His legs were still broken, but his arms had already healed. It was odd, now that he had both demon blood and holy water and magic inside of him. He still felt disgusting. "Milo?" he whispered, voice hoarse like sandpaper. He silently prayed that that hadn't been some weird dream.