As the dust settled, Zac found himself flat on his back, gasping for air. The heavy weight on his chest wasn't Goremaw anymore… It was Andras. The owlman had somehow ended up straddling Zac, his taloned hands braced against Zac's shoulders, his tattered greatcoat draped over them like a dark tent. His golden eyes were inches from Zac's, wide and vibrating with a mix of fury and something that looked suspiciously like a panic attack.
"Bad boys... don't have... happy dogs... you big... feathered liar," Zac wheezed, his eyes still watering from the nut-crunching incident.
"Fuck you," Andras snapped, his beak clicking sharply. He tried to push himself up, but his boots couldn't find purchase on the slick, meat-chunk-covered floor.
Unfortunately for the both of them, Goremaw wasn't done playing. Seeing his two favorite people in a pile on the floor was the ultimate "Go" signal. The warg barked happily and launched his three-hundred-pound body onto Andras's back.
The impact slammed Andras back down into Zac.
"Oof!"
Goremaw began to bounce, his massive tail thumping a frantic rhythm against the floorboards as he "play-mounted" his master. Each time the warg jumped, Andras was hydraulically pressed into Zac's chest and hips.
"I thought... March was... the Mormon one," Zac managed to groan, his ribs creaking under the rhythmic assault.
"GET OFF, GOREBOY!" Andras hooted, his hat falling over one eye as he was repeatedly shoved down into Zac's lap. "And what the hell... do you mean... Mormon?! I'm the Sower of Discord! I'm a prince of the Pit!"
Zac's words came out in sync with the bouncing pressure. "Then... why... are... you... getting... Gore... maw... to... jump... hump... us?"
"Jump hump?!" Andras squawked, his feathers ruffling so violently he looked like an exploding pillow.
Finally, the owl had enough. He didn't try to push; he simply dissolved. The shadows beneath them surged, and Andras slipped through the floor. He reappeared a second later by the half-open door, leaning against the frame and frantically straightening his coat. He looked completely flustered, his chest heaving.
"What the hell is 'jump humping'?" Andras demanded, his golden eyes darting around as if looking for the hidden camera.
Goremaw, meanwhile, looked quite confused as to where his master had gone. He tilted his massive head, looked down, and saw that his human play-toy was still there. With a happy huff, he went back to work, his massive, wet tongue slathering across Zac's face.
Zac tried to fend off the tidal wave of slobber with one hand while gesturing vaguely at Andras with the other. "It's a... religious loophole!" Zac shouted over a bark. "The definition of sex is so vague! If you just stick your dick into someone and you don't move, it's not really fucking, right?"
Andras cocked his head to the side, looking profoundly disturbed. "No, that's... that's still very much a sex act, you lunatic."
"That's just 'soaking' your dick!" Zac continued, his voice muffled as Goremaw tried to lick his ear. "But! If you're soaking, and someone else jumps on the bed and causes you to move in and out of the person you're soaking in, you're not really the one humping them! It's a technicality workaround! Neither the top nor the bottom is doing the fucking, so God thinks that's A-OK!"
The silence that followed was absolute. Even Goremaw stopped licking, sensing the sudden shift in the room's psychic energy.
Andras stared at Zac. His beak hung open. His golden eyes searched Zac's face for any sign of a joke, but Zac was looking back with the earnest, helpful expression of a primary school teacher explaining long division.
"That is the stupidest fucking thing I've ever heard," Andras finally snapped, his voice trembling with a mix of awe and pure horror. "What the fuck is wrong with your Earth?"
Zac sat up, wiping a particularly large gob of saliva from his forehead and scratching Goremaw behind his torn ear. "I thought you were going to Rube Goldberg defile me anyway," Zac muttered. "Wasn't that the plan? A complex series of pulleys and levers that ends with my innocence in tatters?"
Andras put a hand over his face, slowly dragging it down. "Goremaw," he said softly, his voice muffled by his palm. "Please bite that human to death. He is evil. He is literally trying to rewrite the laws of morality with his horniness."
Goremaw looked back at his murderous master and let out a high-pitched, pitiful whine.
"OH DON'T GIVE ME THAT!" Andras hooted, his patience snapping. "If you kill him, I'll let you sleep on the couch! The good couch! The one without the bloodstains!"
Goremaw looked between Zac and Andras, clearly weighing the pros and cons of murder versus upholstery.
"You don't even let him sleep on the bed with you?!" Zac gasped, horrified. "But he's so cuddly and warm! Dogs are pack animals! They need physical contact!"
"GOREMAW ISN'T A DOG, HE'S A DEMONIC WARG!" Andras yelled, his feathers puffing out again. "HE EATS SOULS!"
Zac and the demonic warg totally ignored him.
"Who's a good dog?" Zac cooed, scratching the black hellhound's chin with both hands. "It's you, huh? You're a good dog! Yes you are!"
Goremaw's leg started thumping against the floor.
"ENOUGH!" Andras roared. "If you're not going to maim him and you're not going to listen, then walkies are OVER!"
The owl waved his arm in a sharp, cutting motion. The shadows beneath Goremaw suddenly turned liquid. The warg yelped as he began to sink into his own shadow like he was standing in quicksand. He tried to grab Zac's leg with his paws, attempting to drag his new friend down into the void with him, but the shadow swallowed him whole with a soft shloop.
Goremaw disappeared.
"Hey!" Zac complained, standing up and wiping the remaining slobber off his face with his sleeve. "Why'd you do that to Gorem-awesome sauce? He was just getting to the good spot behind his ear!"
Andras loomed over Zac, his shadow stretching long and menacing in the dim light. "He was acting Gorem-awfully like a bad doggo… I mean, dog… I mean, WARG!"
Andras looked furious with himself. He turned around quickly, fumbling in his pocket. With a snap of his talons, he lit a cigarillo, inhaling deeply as if the nicotine was the only thing keeping him from committing a hate crime... against humans... he hated that his pet warg seemed to love the human.