DoomPet

Chapter 20

In the end they decided to sleep, the marauder snuggled under the covers and motioned for the Slayer to join him. The man gave him a little smile, 'You're in my spot.'

The marauder glanced over to the open side of the bed, "Oh really this is your spot?"

The Slayer nodded.

He chuckled and winced, "Ooh I've decided to take this spot over. In the name of hell."

'In the name of hell?' The Slayer found himself grinning under his helmet at whatever the marauder was planning.

"Yeah, of course I'm a demon. I suppose we could wrestle for it."

Before the marauder could say anything else the Slayer had leapt on top of him and was trying to roll him over.

The demon grabbed him and spooned the man, peppering the back of his helmet with kisses. He whispered in his ear, "Ooh I got you now."

That nearly made the hairs on the back of the Slayer's neck stick straight up.

The marauder went to speak but was cut off by the Slayer grabbing his waist and flipping him on his side. At first he was confused but realized the Slayer was spooning him. Well, trying to spoon at least. Being two feet shorter made him more of a jet pack than a spoon.

The marauder rolled over and fought off the Slayer's attempts to get him to be the little spoon, forcing the man into submission by tickling the skin right where his neck met his helmet.

The Slayer jolted back trying to escape the tickles and was caught off guard by the marauder flipping him on his side and spooning him. The great DoomSlayer was defeated by his enemy... and forced to be the little spoon. He pouted for a second then soon found himself enjoying it. He tried to wiggle free and once again take his title of the big spoon.

The marauder had anticipated such a counter attack and quickly wrapped his legs around the Slayer's waist. He hummed triumphantly with joy and tightened his grip.

He relaxed and dug his helmeted head into the pillow. Being the little spoon wasn't something he excepted to enjoy, but now he was loving it. He scooted into the demon's touch pressing his back firmly against his chest.

The marauder hugged the Slayer towards him tighter, desperate for the touch the man offered. Carefully he placed his head on top of the Slayer's helmet, using him as his own personal chin warmer. He chuckled to himself, oh the benefits of being the big spoon.

The Slayer listened to the rhythm of the marauder's breath, the little whistle of his nose as he breathed, the way his muscles relaxed... and he was intoxicated by it, addicted to the demon that lay beside him. For he was positive his heart and will would break if he had to sleep alone again. 'I love you.'

The marauder smiled, "I love you too."

They struggled against sleep, but their eyelids betrayed them and they slowly drifted off.

They spent the next day relaxing and cleaning armor and as night rolled around the marauder fired up the stove.

He carefully fussed over some pinky meat sizzling on the stove. His brand new shirt was protected by an old white apron Vega scrounged up for him.

The Slayer had dragged a neon green bean bag, one that Vega had found for him while getting an apron, into the kitchen; he was now snuggled up in his fuzzy bunny pajamas watching the marauder, he still felt a bit sick from the whiskey, a slight pain shooting through his head every now and then.

Daisy had dropped down out of the vents with a clatter, the scent of meat too much for her to resist, and scurried over to the Marauder. She nibbled at his pant leg, begging for some of the pinky meat.