I Scored Myself A Mate

"No, but it make you laugh didn't it?" Asmodeus asked him back and the red haired man froze. It was this feeling again, that gut feeling that Asmodeus cared in a way he shouldn't. Not because he was a demon or a bad person but because he simply didn't have to. This whole idea had been stuck to Mark's brain and he couldn't stop making weird assumptions as to why he was here making him laugh after he had puked his guts out…literally. 

"Asmodeus…" Mark called out his name and the demon hummed in response. "Why do you care so much?" he asked him. 

"Who? Me?" he asked with an awkward laugh and Mark rolled his eyes. 

"You, you are the one called Asmodeus right?" he told him with a frown and the demon brought his glass close to his full lips. He swallowed it all down with one gulp as he tried to think what he should do. "Thirsty aren't we?" Mark asked him and fixed his eyes on him. 

Asmodeus kept the empty glass on his lips, looking Mark through it with his colorful eyes as he thought hard. What would be the most proper thing to say? Every word that came to his mind, every excuse would simply drown him into a pool of more lies, invisible hands pulling him in and slowly killing him. If one-day mark remembered, he didn't want him to think of him as a liar. The demon had gathered so many bad qualities that if being a liar was added to the pile everything would crumble and this thin balance would be lost. 

He had three days, three days to do anything he could and keep mark alive. This was simply all on him. He had to find a way to achieve his mission and no one said he should lie. Asmodeus loved him, he loved him so much that it hurt. He had never felt emotional pain in his life until he had met Mark and like a sweet addiction he couldn't let go of the man that awakened his senses. From his beauty to his wonderful soul Asmodeus was addicted and if his drug was gone he would end up returning to his old, miserable self. 

While he had been restrained in that castle on the demonic capital, his brother his one and only company he had gotten a glimpse of the true monster within. All of them were hideous, power hid blood and disgust and he knew it better than anyone else. As he gazed down on the bloody rivers of hell he could smell the bloodlust in the air. He could see his old self returning and he hated it. That was why he couldn't punish Mark, that was why he couldn't let go of him. Because Mark was his only way of being more, being more than a monster. He didn't want to be like that anymore, he simply wanted to be with him and lying, lying would be something a king of hell would do without even blinking. When it came to Mark though, he didn't want to be a king anymore. 

"Well you see…" The demon said and let go of the glass. He entwined his fingers in front of him, his elbows resting on the island and he smiled. "You're too pretty for me not to care." He told him and Mark gasped. 

Definitely this was not the answer he was expecting. He was waiting to hear about some kind of profit. Money, gems or even a deal but this? This had not even passed the roads of his mind. That was why Mark had stayed frozen, blinking while the demon found the chance to move closer.  Asmodeus moved his body forward and approached him, the tips of their noses touching. 

"Do you know who I am little human?" he asked him with a cocky expression and Mark gulped, remaining quiet. "I will take that as a no. I am Asmodeus, one of the Kings of hell and you have been honored by peaking my interest." He said with lethal confidence and mark's face turned a bright red. He suddenly moved back, his stool losing balance and making him fall messily on the floor. 

"Ouch." He exclaimed and Asmodeus giggled. He stood up, walking slowly around the island to meet the careless man when mark's scream made him rush. He stood next to him, looking at him while he sat on the cold floor with wide eyes. 

Mark was holding his hand. Literally he was holding his hand from the wrist downwards on his right hand. From his arm a bone was protruding and blood was sprayed everywhere. The fascinating thing was that the fingers in Mark's cut arm were still moving. The red haired man raised his head and looked at the demon expecting for some answers. 

Unfortunately for him Theseus did not have any. He simply stared at the man when Mark suddenly started laughing. He raised the cut arm in the air and showed it to him, giving him a better view of the gruesome sight and he spoke.

"Do you still think I am pretty?" he asked him with a smirk and Asmodeus smiled. 

"Not really the reaction I was expecting." He said and offered his hand so mark could get up. The man took it and looked at the hand. 

"This is simply weird. I don't really feel anything. Like no pain. I am holding my own hand!" he said loudly with a terrified expression. "Do something!" 

"Are you bipolar?" Asmodeus asked him and Mark looked at him as if he was intending to kill him. 

"Considering the fact that I am turning into a freaking zombie I can be whatever the fuck I want. Am I clear?" he asked him shaking his cut arm in front of his face. When he noticed it he whined and stared at it again in disgust. "Get me to a doctor. Now!" 

"Okay mister Zombie." Asmodeus teased him. 

"If you utter one more word I will stick this so far up your ass you will be crying for days." He said.