"Yeah. Tight." He thrusts in and out of her ass once, letting her know what he means, and drifts off to sleep, the pleasant, almost cinnamon like smell of Altra's hair reminding of the home he left behind.
He ran his hand through the knee high grass, walking down the path to his manor. He could see his wives and kids there... As he walked, his hands started to change. The skin became a dark, almost black, purple, and his nails curled out into claws. The scene in front of him was changing too. The manor was up in flames, his wives and children cavorting around something. Excited, Dryvu ran to see what they were so excited about. Looking down, he saw his own human form. Curled up, naked, and dead. Confusion. Pain. He looked down at his chest, to see his family of demons dragging him into their folds, their claws reaching into his chest, and—
Dryvus bolted upright. It was morning.