Doom Story Update

2k words. Apologies for the delay everyone, haven't been feeling up to the task lately and I don't want the work to suffer, but I don't want you guys to be left in the dark even more. So, the goal is to get to the end of Baron's Prize before the new year, then start off its revision in 2025. Have a good day everyone!

***

Their fronts were painted in instances of white as the screen flashed with action, the fight scene partnered with a dramatic orchestra. His back was bleeding with cramps thanks to his awkward leaning position, cursing himself for forgetting to bring a few cushions with him on his theatrical visit.

Andreas glanced to his left, where Sharrya lounged nearby, where she didn’t’ seem to share his discomfort. She was laying with just her shoulders propped up against the wall, her long legs trailing out in a V shape before her – a very un-Baron-like look in his opinion – but her defeat in the assault must have harmed her ability to care as well as her pride.

They were divided by a long row of junk food packets, and he was amused to see her clawed hand dip into them every few moments, bringing the snacks to her maw. Either she had come around to their taste, or she was too engrossed in the movie to care. He thought it might be the latter, considering that the movie’s first hour had been full of her confused questions, but the second hour she hadn’t uttered so much as a peep.

The silence was unlike her, considering their past, and while he wouldn’t say it was a friendly kind of silence, he had to admit this was much better than the two of them shooting at each other. It wasn’t every day one got to hang out with a demon, one with a tantalising set of legs no less. The way they just seem to stretch across the cell was always causing his eyes to flick over at them.

The end credits soon began to roll, Andreas sitting up to roll his tense shoulders, asking Sharrya what she made of it.

“Your species’ perception of multiverses is completely wrong,” she replied. “Every diversion they went to had the same breathable air, the same temperate climate, even the same gravity. Such constants wouldn’t exist, the way they were jumping around the Cosmos so carefree.”

“It’s not a documentary on quantum physics or whatever,” he chided. “And it’s not like any human has actually gone into the multiverse.”

“True. The theory is there, however, and I can’t fault that. Nor can I fault the plot, it was quite intriguing, particularly around the second act. This discovery of movies is most enjoyable.”

“And you didn’t even have to destroy the whole world to do it,” he muttered, but not quietly enough that she didn’t hear.

“One would think you were making a jab at my society,” Sharrya replied, her green eyes tracking him intently as he got to his feet.

“Is that what you call it?” he said sarcastically, but Sharrya was quick to respond.

“Oh yes, Hell is a complex civilisation, the legions are just one facet of many. We have cultures, social hierarchies, even a few rudimentary forms of currency.”

“Comparing summoning circles with your neighbours, serving demon lords, and trading in souls doesn’t make you a civilisation, it makes you the literal definition of evil.”

Sharrya shrugged. “That is still the definition of a society, no matter what universe you come from. You might perceive it as evil from your standpoint, but I see very similar characteristics in your world, also. Does mankind not kill in the name of its own gods? Does mankind not trade in the souls of its own people, orchestrating decade-long wars in which every death can be profited?”

“Our hands aren’t clean, I won’t deny that. But we’ve never invaded another universe and slaughtered all it’s people, so on that, we’re one up on you.”

“A reasonable point, if a little naïve. This might come as a surprise to you, but my actions are not malicious, and neither are Hell’s. Conquest across worlds is my way of life, both literally and figuratively.”

“I could see how you’re not a completely evil asshole,” Andreas said. “but Hell as a whole? That’ll need some convincing.”

“How could I put this in a way you’d understand?” Sharrya mused, munching on another handful of candy as she considered her question. She shackles made her hand gestures awkward, but not impossible. “Think of an engine. An engine needs a constant source of fuel, or else it will cease to work, rust, then be rendered incapable of functioning. See where I’m getting with this? Hell is an engine, and a very hungry one at that, but it’s very picky about its fuel. Do you know what that fuel is?”

“If I had to guess, it would be human souls.”

“Not just human souls, any souls. Yours, mine, aliens. The greater the sin of the person, the better. Without the legions to siphon the energies of souls to Hell, it would rust, decay, until all of it would cease to exist, demons included.”

“That sounds… pretty good to me,” Andreas said, Sharrya glaring at him.

“I know you don’t mean that, Seargent. You spared me when you had your chance to end our fight, you must see something in me worth saving.”

“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t,” he said. “What I do see, is that we need something else to watch.”

“Indeed, let us not ruin our movie night with politics. Assuming it is nighttime. You pick this one,” she added. “I wish to see your taste in media.”

“Alright,” he said, sorting through the collection. “Want something to drink?”

“Sure,” she said, and he tossed her a can. Despite her shackles, her arms shot out to snatch it, the Baroness using her claw to flip the tab.

“It’s cool, but also spicy,” she said after taking a sip. “You know my palate too well, Andreas.”

“Try some of those warheads in that red packet there, they’ve got some kick in them if you like it hot.”

“I certainly do. Make haste, will you? Who knows when my captors will cut this visit short?”

“Don’t worry about that. People are celebrating our victory out there, should have a few days at least to yourself before they remember about you.”

“A humiliating position, but not an unpleasant one, if it means getting some alone time with my favourite human.”

“Positive thoughts, Sharr’. Positive thoughts.”

As the next movie began to cycle on, Andreas returned ot his place by the wall, but his back began to complain as soon as he settled in, Sharrya shooting him a questioning look.

“Why are you fidgeting?”

“This cell doesn’t exactly make the best lounge, Sharrya, I thought you of all people would know that.”

“You’re not all that tough without your armour on, it seems,” she chuckled. “Come, I know a solution.”

“What are y- hey!”

Sharrya scooted closer, and curled her arm over his shoulders, the whole move reminding him of the yawn-arm-trick, which was fitting considering the circumstances. Her manacles clicked over his chest as she pulled him closer, his shoulder plunging into the meat of her right breast.

He thought that should he ever touch her, she’d be as hot as a stove, and he wasn’t far off the mark. Her skin was like the hood of a car left out in the sun, just barely tolerable to his bare skin, yet there was a smooth texture to her that he couldn’t deny the feel of. He’d expected a demon to be as rough as scales, but her bubble-gum pink skin was like glass against his cheek and arm.

Textures aside, being in contact with the demon had sparked a hint of apprehension in him, and he struggled against her iron-grip. “Sharrya, what the Hell? Let go of me!”

“You said you wanted a lounge, you got one,” she replied. “Stop squirming, Andreas, I’m trying to concentrate on the show.”

“Personal space have any meaning to you?” he complained, trying to shove her away. He almost touched her bosom before grabbing her by the stomach, but it was like trying to push over a bull, her strength quintupling his own.

“You’re the one in my cell, so technically this is all my personal space,” she pointed out.

“You better let me go, or-”

“Or what?” she asked, cutting him off. “You going to kill me, with no weapons or armour, or even the strength to overpower me? Sure, you could cry for help, I’m sure someone is listening in for some sort of safeword, but there is really no reason to get so worked up, Andreas. Being snuggled by me isn’t as bad as it may seem.”

He didn’t want to admit it, but he’d put himself in this precarious situation. He couldn’t break free of her grip, and he began to worry what sort of vengeance she could take on him at this moment.

“Just relax,” she purred, Sharrya pulling him over her leg. The fur on her thigh brushed his rump as he was brought into her lap, her hot flesh sealing him in on all sides. “What do you think I’m going to do, hold you hostage? Not a bad idea, all things considered…”

He fumed up at her silently, Sharrya chucking at him, her laughter making her breasts buckle against his shoulders.

“I’m joking, I’m joking. You’re so strung-up, I thought movies were supposed to be relaxing, communal, won’t you allow me to have the full experience? I’ve lost everything else thanks to you…”

Seeing as they were on not-killing terms, he eventually decided to relent, his struggles ceasing to a few annoyed jerks of his legs. The Baroness sensed his change in mood, grinning down at him as she crossed her long legs in front of him, pressing him into her stomach.  There was just so much of her on all sides of him, that heat she radiated starting to make him break out a sweat.

“That’s it, good boy,” Sharrya said. “I am much more comfortable than the wall, yes?”

“Much hotter too, I’m boiling up down here.”

“Did you just refer to me as hot? How forward of you.”

“I was referring to your temperature, numbskull.”

“I’m sure you’ll get used to it, we just need to spend more time together.”

She settled her hands on his shoulders, pressing the pads of her thumbs into his neck, giving him a massage. He tried to take his mind off her overwhelming presence by focusing on the movie, but it was a tall ask when a literal demon had him in its lap.

Her thighs were like two logs to either side of his waist, the flesh on the insides shaking whenever Sharrya adjusted herself. He could feel the rock-solid abs beneath his back, so defined he could pick out their shape without his eyes. The leather sling she wore to contain her bust rubbed against the back of his head, her weighty breasts gripping his skull like two volley balls. Every time she stretched out her spine (its frequency leading him to believe it wasn’t accidental), they’d slide forward into his peripheral just a little bit, and his heart would pump harder than ever. The damn things were bigger than any human’s bar none.

As the movie continued on, her grip on him went from stifling, to firm, then finally relaxing when Andreas started to get used to her, as she’d put it. At one put she’d even lifted her arms to retrieve their snacks, holding the packet down to him in a silent offer, one he accepted without taking his eyes off the screen.

He should be unsettled, afraid of being in contact with this entity, and a part of him was gripped by these things, but something about Sharrya was overpowering these doubts. Maybe it was the fact she was coming on so strong, and for someone who didn’t get a lot of downtime to go looking for dates, he couldn’t help but find it flattering on some deep level.