6. Oren

Round two of Tanapocalypse was significantly shorter. Quieter too. The screams were like a distant rumble somewhere in the depths of Hell, and Oren found he could easily drown them out by chatting to Jek.

Or, well… chatting at him. The snakelike demon wasn’t warming up to Oren at all, which was honestly ungrateful and uncalled for. He had put his personal satisfaction and the opportunity to finally get his virgin self down and dirty aside to save Jek’s scaly ass, and rudeness was how he was repaid for his testicles turning a lovely shade of blue.

Jek slithered away the moment the danger was no longer imminent, and Oren turned to Luc, finding him slumped in his chair, cock soft beneath his leather trousers, rubbing his temples.

“I guess it’s just not happening today,” Oren said, pointing between the two of them.

Luc’s eyes flashed, and he growled softly. “I’m locking us into my room tonight. If anyone interrupts, I’ll end them.”

It was a promise and a threat all wrapped up in one pretty package.

“The ending seems like a bit of overkill. I’m sure, like… a week of torture would deliver the same message,” Oren suggested sweetly.

Luc eyed him for a second before nodding. “Whatever you want, hon.”

The power of that sentence made Oren a little weak-kneed. The devil was telling him he could have whatever he wanted. Biblically, he should have been concerned about that, but all he wanted to do was kick his feet and scream into his pillow.

“Well I did want to ride you, but since that’s not in the cards, how about we actually do some work in here?” Oren asked, watching Luc’s eyes flash with satisfaction. He understood how people could get drunk on power, but he pushed it all aside, not wanting to start something else and tempt their luck. He turned his back to Luc and gestured at the cluttered space. “So, like… okay… tell me what the vision is here.”

“What do you mean?” Luc asked, pointing a claw toward the mess on his floor. “Just for it not to be like that.”

“Yes, I get that.” Oren turned to look at Luc again. “But do you want it to look pretty and tidy, or do you want a system that will help you be more productive?”

“Um…” Luc brought his claw up to scratch through the thick hair on his head, and Oren wanted to swoon. Just a bit. He also wanted to dive his fingers in there and pull.

Work.

They were working.

“If it’s the first, it’s just a matter of picking up and putting away neatly on shelves. Which you need more of, by the way,” Oren said. “If it’s the second, we’ll have to sit down and talk about what your job entails, how you do it right now, and what would help you do it better and faster.”

“That second one sounds amazing,” Luc admitted, looking a little bit overwhelmed. He was taking in the state of his office, an embarrassed-looking frown wrinkling his forehead. For the ruler of Hell, he looked entirely too cute. “I swear I used to have this place under control, but the world’s been going crazy. We don’t get enough funds to hire and train more demons, hatchings are slow, and the increase in the human population is insane to keep up with. You guys breed like rabbits. Devil or not, there’s only one me, and I can’t really handle all of it.”

Oren nodded along sympathetically, knowing full well what it was like to be overworked in an understaffed workplace. It was a nightmare he didn’t wish on anyone. If he could help while he was here, he’d be happy to.

“Okay.” He clapped his hands. “Here’s what we’re gonna do. We’re gonna optimize your work system.”

He walked over to Luc’s chair and rolled it into the middle of the room as best as he could with both the weight of Luc in it and the amount of stuff strewn everywhere. He spun it around so Luc was facing him, noticing for the first time how Luc’s huge wings were tucked against his back and hanging over the edges slightly, and his tail was squished to one side.

Oren wanted to touch so badly.

His mind flipped through the images of the night before, when Luc had wrapped him up in his leathery wings to comfort him. Oren couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so safe. Instead of afraid, all he’d felt was protected. As if Luc stood between him and every shadow and scary sound that reached him. As if Luc was his shield against the world Oren didn’t belong to.

Oren wanted to give something back. He wanted to let Luc know he appreciated it. And he also… he wanted to show him he wasn’t just some small thing Luc had to protect. He could pull his weight. He could be useful, and he could help while he was there.

He hopped over to Luc’s desk, grabbing his clipboard, some paper, and a pen, then came back, clambering onto Luc’s lap and perching there.

“Comfy, hon?” Luc sounded amused.

Oren wiggled a little to make sure he was in the best position. “Yup,” he said once he was satisfied. He placed the clipboard on his knees. “Okay. What kind of information do you have here… everywhere?”

“There’s loads,” Luc said, laying a hot hand on his thigh. “We have your general layout and magic info. Descriptions of each level and circle, how it operates, who runs it, and who is working there. Torture methods used, with brief descriptions and specialists in each one.”

Oren noted it all down on his paper. He’d had no idea running Hell was so complex… logistically speaking.

“Got it,” he said, studiously ignoring the rubbing Luc was doing on his inner thigh.

“Then you have your sinner files,” Luc continued, eyes fixed on his ministrations. “Personal info, cause of death, list of sins, level and demon in charge of assignment, assessment results, torture method assigned, and any complaints they choose to file over their stay, as well as how they’re resolved.”

“People can complain?” Oren asked, squirming a little as the touches got higher.

“Sure.” Luc used his thumb claw to run along the inner seam of Oren’s pants. “If people think they’re being treated worse than others in the same group, if they feel their torture method isn’t suitable, or they don’t mesh well with their assigned demon, they can file a complaint. We have forms for that. Somewhere.”

Luc finally looked up, hand halting as he searched the room helplessly for where they might be. Oren smiled and patted the hand between his legs.

“We’ll find them and sort it all out.” He noted down forms and complaints as a separate category. “Anything else?”

“We have demon information as well,” Luc said, giving up on accosting him and sinking back into his seat with a sigh. “Personnel files, assignments, time off, transfers, and such. Just regular HR information.”

“Mhm…” Oren penned it all down. “Speaking of that, how do you handle vacations and such?”

“Vacations?”

Oren nodded. “I took the liberty of looking through some files when you left me here the first day…”

“You snooped?”

“I looked ,” he stressed. “Not my fault your files were open on the floor for everyone to see.”

“Not everyone. Nobody spends time in my office but me and Zorun.”

“Yes, well…” Oren said, running a hand over Luc’s naked chest. “You brought me in and left me here unsupervised.”

“So you snooped,” Luc said, wrapping an arm around his waist to haul him closer.

Oren tried glaring harder at the accusation. He wasn’t sure how well that was working, though. He wasn’t the most intimidating person ever, and he doubted the devil spooked easily.

“I looked,” Oren repeated, jabbing a finger into a rock-hard pec. “That’s not the point right now, though. What I saw was that several of your demons are centuries overdue for some time off.”

Oren watched expressions flicker over Luc’s face before he settled on exhausted resignation, leaning his cheek on his free hand.

“We just don’t have enough staff to send anyone on vacation at the moment,” he said, and Oren tsked, twisting to take Luc’s face between his palms.

“We’ll have to figure out a rotation of some kind. Research shows that productivity goes drastically down when workers don’t get time off. And we want a productive Hell, now don’t we?”

“We do, yes,” Luc said, cheeks squished as he nodded.

“And we also want fewer Tana-induced mass panic outbreaks, don’t we?”

“You think that’s related?” Luc asked.

“I don’t think,” Oren said, “I know. Her file said she hasn’t had a vacation in, like, three thousand years. That’s a lot of years, Luc, isn’t it?”

“It is.” Luc nodded agreeably once again.

“Exactly.”

He clapped his hands and hopped out of Luc’s lap and onto his feet, turning in place and humming as he took in the state of the small room.

“Okay. First of all, this space is way too small to be your office and hold all the shelves and things inside. Is there anywhere else we could move one of those two?”

“Hm.” Luc frowned slightly, and Oren let him think as he walked around the room, trying to catalog what they’d need.

More shelves, or even filing cabinets. Metal ones with locks so Luc could keep the files protected and ensure data protection protocols were followed properly. Colorful binders, labels, a label maker, markers and pens, a laminating machine, and pouches. He could make laminated info cards for all the sinners and demons! That would be really useful.

He noted all of it down on his clipboard.

This was where Oren thrived. Stuff like this was what he was good at, what he enjoyed more than anything. Organization, making things tidy and neat, logical, and easy to use. He’d get the place flawlessly organized by the time he had to leave.

He ignored the tiny pang in his heart at the thought. He hadn’t thought about Heaven at all since his first few hours here. Any normal person… soul… whatever he was, would have been counting down the days until they could escape Hell for Heaven, but Oren had never claimed to be normal. He looked around at all the grotesque, evil, demonic things surrounding him and felt an inexplicable sense of belonging.

He cast a secretive glance at Luc, who was still deep in thought, and knew he was no small part of the puzzle either.

Oren liked it here. More than living.

Which was a huge problem for his innocent ass.

He sighed, pushing those thoughts away for more productive ones. He could concentrate on the here and now.

“Well?” he chirped, watching as Luc came back to himself.

“There might be a room right next to this one,” Luc said, looking to the left.

“Might be?” Oren frowned, following his line of sight.

“No, there is one, it’s just… it’s in an even worse state than this.”

Oren blinked at Luc, because he had no idea how it could possibly be worse than this place. “Is it a portal to a demon dimension?”

“We’re in the demon dimension, hon.” Luc smiled, and Oren fidgeted, feeling his cheeks flush.

“No, I know that. But, like, an actually terrible one where bad things happen to good people who don’t deserve it.”

“Ah.” Luc chuckled. “That kind. And no, it’s not a portal to anywhere. Just extremely cluttered and forgotten because of it.”

“What’s in there?” Oren asked.

Luc shrugged. “About everything we had no idea where to put.”

“Anything important in there?”

“Probably.” Luc used his tail to scratch his head. “There are several things I’m missing that I can’t seem to find anywhere. My best guess is they’re in there.”

“All the more reason to get it in order then.”

“It’d take days to even empty it.”

“In that case we might need reinforcements,” Oren said. “How many of your demons could you call to help us, do you think?”

“I’m not sure.”

“You said sinners have a daily routine, and this place mimics their old life. So I’m guessing the demons are also free when the sinners sleep.”

“Yes, but you said they need breaks too,” Luc said, and Oren scowled.

“And you chose NOW to take my word as gospel?” He scoffed. “Just tell them there will be fresh flesh for anyone who helps.”

Luc tilted his head then gave a small nod. “Okay,” he said, standing up from the chair. “I’ll let them know.”

“Perfect, thank you.” Oren plucked his list off the clipboard. “And in the meantime, here’s what we’ll need.”

Luc took the paper and scanned it.

“We’re not due for an office supply order for a while, though,” Luc said.

“Who decides?” he asked, and Luc just pointed his finger toward the ceiling. “Right. Well, they put an innocent soul in Hell and caused him distress and emotional damage. I feel like getting me these things is the least they can do to improve my fragile mental health.”

Luc stared at him, mouth agape and wings stiff behind his back.

“Your mental health is suffering?” he asked. “Why didn’t you say anything? Is there something I can do?”

Oren chuckled at the bewilderment on Luc’s face and shook his head. He walked over and placed his palm in the middle of Luc’s chest, doing his best to ignore the warmth of his skin.

“I’m perfectly okay,” Oren said, “but if I have to play that card to get us things, I will. Nothing stands between me and a good laminating machine.”

Oren saw the exact moment it clicked in Luc’s mind that Oren wasn’t as innocent and nice as he seemed. No, he hadn’t ever done anything to deserve Hell…but he wasn’t exactly a saint either.

“Noted.” Luc said it with finality, like he really was logging that away. He gave the list in his hands a little shake. “I’ll get right on ordering these things, and I’ll have Zorun rally some help while I run some other errands. I’ll take Beast with me to get him out from underfoot.”

“Perfect. Send them my way. I’ll start in on this… well, all of this. I need things sorted before I can even begin figuring out a system.”

“I really didn’t mean to let it get this bad.” Luc rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed again.

“Don’t worry,” Oren said with a smile. “Gives me something to do.”

Luc returned his smile before exiting the room with Beast on his heels, and Oren wanted to melt at how sweet it looked. He had no idea what was happening to him. He’d spent his entire adult life looking for someone who fit him. People saw him and immediately thought he was sweet, fragile, breakable. They learned about his heart and wanted to wrap him up in cotton and keep him safe.

Oren wanted to be dismantled. He wanted to burn and shake and scream in pleasure. Pleasure nobody was willing to give him.

And now he was dead, in the last place he’d expected to be, and he’d found someone who ticked every box Oren had. The infamous butterflies everyone talked about had entered stage left and refused to leave. The devil made his faulty heart stutter, and for the first time, Oren wasn’t afraid of the skipped beats.

Shaking his head to get those thoughts out of his mind, he sat cross-legged on the floor and grabbed the first file he put his hands on.

He had work to do.

He made some space around himself and started piling documents into stacks based on what they were. Pretty soon, he got into his usual groove and lost himself in the work. He was elbow-deep in what looked to be centuries-old complaint forms when he heard the knock at the office door.

“Yes?” he called out, and Zorun’s scowly face and quadruple horns poked in. “Zorun, hi! How are you?”

Oren was determined to make a friend out of Zorun. He hadn’t had many of those while alive, and he clearly wasn’t any better at it dead, but he had hope. Zorun seemed prickly and mean most of the time, but he also looked lonely to Oren.

“Boss said there’s stuff to take out of the old storage room,” Zorun said, ignoring Oren’s friendly greeting completely.

“I’m also great, thank you for asking,” he said with a wide smile, raising his eyebrows at Zorun expectantly.

The demon stared at him for the longest time, left eyelid twitching. Oren kept his gaze steady, refusing to be the first to blink. Zorun huffed and looked away.

“I’m fine,” he grunted.

Oren beamed. “That’s good to hear.”

“I’d be better if there weren’t four hands trying to get into my pants right now,” he continued, looking back over his shoulder.

Oren raised his brows, ducking his head to spot four identical, bare legs behind Zorun’s.

“We just wanted to cheer you up,” Azoth said, slipping into view on Zorun’s left looking unrepentant.

“We just want to make you happy,” Tarik said, appearing on the right and pouting.

Oren dug around himself. “I think I saw a harassment form here somewhere…”

“No need.” Zorun snaked an arm around each tiny waist and picked the two of them up. They squealed in delight, which probably wasn’t Zorun’s goal, as he placed them ahead of him inside the room.

“Hi, Azoth. Hi, Tarik,” Oren said, waving happily.

“Pinkie,” they chorused, before looking around the office and turning their noses up. “Did the boss throw a tantrum in the last century that we didn’t know about?”

“Not a single tantrum. Probably multiple. But this is a buildup of years of neglect,” Oren said. “Surely you saw some of it at one point?”

“They refuse to come by the office,” Zorun said. “So I have to track them down.”

Azoth smiled wickedly. “But isn’t that so much more fun?”

“We like playing games with you better than listening to boring old Luc,” Tarik said.

“Luc isn’t boring!” Oren found himself immediately defensive.

“Oh yeah, we saw.” Zorun snorted, and the twins tittered.

“Exactly,” Oren said with a sure nod, not in the least bit embarrassed. Who had inhibitions when they were dead and in Hell? “But we’re not concentrating on that right now. We need to get to cleaning up. Let’s go look at this storage room and see the damage.”

As they walked out, they were met by Kassel and Jek.

“Luc said to meet here?” Kassel blinked all his eyes at them in confusion. “He also said I was to keep a fifty-foot distance from you at all times, and Jek had to enforce it, otherwise he’d hang us by our entrails.”

Oren giggled. “He was joking.”

“He didn’t sssound like he wasss joking,” Jek muttered, shuddering.

Oren waved it off. “Let’s get cracking. Many hands make light work. We’ll be finished in no time. Follow me.”

“Zorun, we’re tiiired,” Tarik complained.

“Zorun, can you carry us again?” Azoth whined.

“You haven’t even started walking, brats,” Zorun said, but to Oren’s surprise, he picked the twins up again and carried them the few steps it took to reach the storage room before setting them back down.

Oren tested the handle and couldn’t get it to budge, though it didn’t seem locked. He had to get Kassel to force the door open in the end, and the whole thing busted off its hinges, an avalanche spilling out into the hallway in its wake.

They all looked at the mess for a few moments.

“It’s not so bad,” Oren said optimistically, hands on his hips.

“Can’t we just throw it all down the abyss?” Zorun asked.

“No!” Oren gasped. “What if there are important documents or artifacts or something in here?”

“How important can they be if they were locked in there?” Jek asked, slithering over and nudging a few piles.

More things collapsed as a result, and it released a massive cloud of dust into the air that made everyone cough.

“Tragic,” Tarik drawled, sharing a disgusted look with his twin.

“Come on, guys,” Oren said, despite the strain in his throat. His eyes were watering from holding back the coughs. “It’s not so bad.”

“No. You’re right,” Zorun deadpanned. “It’s worse.”

Azoth poked a folder with his toe, flipping it open. “Ooh, this one is about Babul.”

“Ooh, gossip!” Tarik cheered.

The twins descended like vultures, scooping up documents to peruse the contents.

Oren opened his mouth to stop them, but Kassel placed a hand on his shoulder. “That’s the best you’re going to get out of them. At least they’re occupied.”

Jek shouldered between them, spreading his arms out. “Fifty-foot rule!”

Zorun rolled his eyes and trudged by all of them, stepping onto the ruined door, which cracked under the pressure, and into the chaotic room. “Let’s get this over with.”

Oren scrambled after his trailing wings, skating on all the loose paper, before stopping to assess the damage.

It was… bad.

It was like they’d spent decades opening the door, throwing stuff in, then slamming it quickly before it could fall out again, and this was the result. There wasn’t an inch of space that wasn’t covered in paper or boxes or strange-looking items. There was even a statue that appeared to be a poor rendition of Luc poking out of the paper pile like it was drowning.

Kind of fitting, to be honest.

“Are you sure I can’t just throw a match on it?” Zorun asked, crossing his big arms over his glowing chest.

“Uh-huh. You can start in that corner with the… growing fungus stuff… and I’ll go over here,” Oren said, upbeat. “Kassel, can you come and help me with the high places?”

“Why do you hate me?” Jek shouted. “I like my entrailsss!”

“Jek, you can get us some cleaning supplies and empty boxes to categorize,” Oren said, ignoring his wailing. “Let’s go, team!”

It was slow progress at first.

Demons weren’t big on cleaning, or being gentle, or alphabetizing. But Oren eventually coaxed them into the swing of things with effusive praise and encouragement, singing happy working songs until Zorun started banging his head against the wall.

Kassel was the biggest help. The demon was placid and followed directions with minimal fuss even though he had no facial expressions. Jek complained a lot, but he also took direction well with some buttering up. Zorun and the twins, though… were another story.

Mainly because when the twins got bored, Zorun was their favorite plaything until something else distracted them.

Currently they were taking a break in the hallway, lying on their stomachs with their tails and feet swishing in the air, batting an onyx crystal globe Zorun had tempted them with between them like cats. It pulsed ominously every time it was hit, but Oren figured it was safe enough and wouldn’t explode.

Zorun was brooding in the shadows, watching them, his markings glowing restlessly.

“Could you help me move this shelf, Zorun?” Oren asked, determined to get him back on the road to productivity while he could.

Zorun huffed but did as he was asked, shoving the creaking metal back into some form of shape against the wall with brute strength.

“Perfect! Thank you.”

Zorun scoffed. “It’ll collapse again as soon as you put anything on it.”

“No, it won’t,” Oren said confidently. He placed a single sheet of paper on the shelf, and it let out an ear-splitting screech, a bolt flying off and pinging Jek in the face.

“My eye!” Jek cried, slapping a hand over his face.

“Oh dear.” Oren winced, grateful that Kassel was already helping the other demon. He turned back to a smug-looking Zorun. “We need to request new ones immediately.”

“Good luck with that,” Zorun said, eyes inevitably straying back the twins’ way. “If I had known all it would take was a shiny object to get them to leave me alone, I would have done it centuries ago.”

Oren raised a brow, sensing the lie in those words but unable to fully understand the complexities of the trio. There seemed to be much more at play than was shown on the surface. “You need help with them?”

“Are you offering?” Zorun asked, raising a brow back.

Oren hummed, tapping his chin. “I don’t know… You didn’t help me with Luc when I first got here. You wouldn’t even tell me he was single.”

“Like you needed it. He wanted to bend you over the moment he saw you.”

Oren smiled happily at the graphic comment. “Thank you!”

Zorun snorted and turned away.

“I don’t think you even want help,” Oren said, taking a stab in the dark with his instincts and hitting something as Zorun glared but didn’t deny it.

“What am I doing next?” Zorun asked, changing the subject.

They continued for a few more hours before the demons started to grow listless and tired. Oren didn’t want to push them too hard, knowing Hell was already understaffed, so he called a halt to proceedings, happy they had made a dent in the mountain.

Grime was stuck to all of them in the aftermath. Their legs were covered in caked dust, their hair all turned prematurely gray. The length of some of their claws was now undeterminable because of the amount of dirt on them.

It sparked an idea in Oren's brain about how he could show his gratitude.

He grabbed Zorun’s arm before he could disappear into the ether. “Do you think you could get me a few things from the land of the living if I made you a list?”