Chris is a demon sent to hell from his belief of not being one to believe in God. He is set to be the next ruler of Hell, also set to marry Satan's daughter, who is not completely sure of it all.
short story based off the song Bloodsport by Sleep T...
I made loving you a blood sport I made loving you a blood sport I made loving you a blood sport I can't win
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Chris hands rest behind his back. He's been taking in every single detail. The ceremony just a mere days away. He has been on edge since then. Pacing the floor just as worse than before. Every so often stopping to yell at the slaves who aren't working fast enough for him.
He is not pushing the date back.
He refuses with every single bitter word that cuts straight down to the bone.
He's already thrown three over into the hellfire with no concern or worry. Noting the way you flinch and whine at the fact. He doesn't know what's gotten into you, but he knows it's starting to become irksome. It's affecting his thought process. He has been in training since the day he was told of the news.
And if it absolutely takes away every single inch of energy, he'll get you straight to the way you should be.
You are way too sensitive and jumpy for this.
His sleep has not been on schedule and it's starting to affect the way he sees things. He swears he needs this to be done. He would talk to Satan about moving the ceremony date up if he could. Only the last few things needed, they are in the process of being done.
And they will be done.
One way or another.
He yells at the slave stopping to wipe at the sweat on his forehead, "Get back to work! Now! We're on a time frame! Let's go."
His voice animalistic.
He knows you are frowning from where you sit. He can feel it. It's quite annoying. That's one thing he can't wait to make disappear. Once he is in the ruler seat, he has rules now for you. He has a list of them. He needs you to toughen up.
As well as you need to smile more.
He'll make sure you will.
It's quite frustrating that he can't even do his job properly with out having to worry about you being some major issue. Some nagging voice inside of his head at a constant time. He really wishes you didn't come with the deal. He'll handle it eventually. He can't think about that right now.
Important things first, the wedding.
His new throne sets where it should. The arch placed just above it. The thin black sheets above it entangled and ready to be pulled over when comes time. If it would even come. Seems like the days are moving slower and slower. The hours just passing as a mere day to him.
