Beelzebub quivered, hands curved into a rictus and scrabbling against the wall. The wall would give before Belial, and he was counting on the wall to give, wanting it to, so he could fall through the wall and away from the surmounting terror and lust that gripped him so fiercely.

Belial's touch sent him into gasping fits, like he had been dunked in icy water fresh out of a warm bed. "Get off," he whined weakly, simpering now.