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Harper emerged from his limo with his usual no-nonsense lack of flourish. He paused to glance up at the unevenly spaced forest of brick and iron chimneys towering overhead and belching greasy black exhaust. But this was no time for admiring his Afterlife's work; he had a problem on his hand.

Security had him through the entrance and onto the plant floor in less than a minute. There was no mistaking the Overlord, and nobody wanted to get in his way. All the more so when his face was twisted into an unamused scowl.

The dragon demon found the object of his ire soon enough. A portly, furry demon in a three piece suit - Harper had no idea what he was supposed to be (if anything) - was clutching an overstuffed clipboard and nervously leafing through it. Next to him was a less well-dressed shift supervisor, while a couple of other Sinners in hard hats and boiler suits stood around them.

Harper was upon them in a matter of seconds. "What are you layabouts doing just standing here?" he barked, "Haven't you someplace to be?" The employees scurried off in a hurry, leaving the Overlord alone with the project director and supervisor.

"Balthor," he grunted to the portly demon, "I trust you have a satisfactory explanation for why the Dis project has fallen even further behind, and this plant's cement output has dropped almost forty percent?"

Balthor flinched and struggled to resist the urge to hide his face behind his clipboard. Harper might have been amused were he in a better mood. "I-I am afraid I don't!" he said, "The delays are due in part to the falloff in productivity. There was a real mess with the supplier, and..." he glanced over at the shift supervisor, who sighed and took over.

"Somebody fucked up in a real big way, repeatedly, along every step of the process," said the reptilian demon, "Come up to the office and I'll show ya."

The two Sinners and Overlord ascended the metal staircase to the main office tucked against the edge of the ceiling. Its wide floor to ceiling windows allowed for a commanding view of the whole operation. They had not come upstairs to watch the floor, however.

Harper went over to one of the desks and sat down. The supervisor reached over to take control of the keyboard and punched in a few commands to bring up the ledgers from the company mainframe. "I've seen plenty of cockups over the past century on the floor, but this takes the fucking cake, I'll tell you what," he said.

The dragon demon browsed the lines of numbers on the virtual ledger in silence for several minutes while the two underlings looked on in apprehension. What was out of place? The orders seemed airtight, every procedure was followed to the letter. Nothing was out of the ordinary.

"What precisely is the problem with the sheet, gentlemen?" he finally asked, "All the orders to the supplier appear to be correct."

"Check the invoice we received for the sand," said Balthor.

Harper clicked over to the invoices and brought up the one for sand. A whole trainload straight from the dusty badlands of Wrath was regularly delivered, and this train did not appear to be any different. Wait a moment...

"This isn't the grade we need to make cement," Harper concluded. Balthor emphatically nodded.

The Overlord steepled his fingers and rested them against his snout. "How then did this get past you? For that matter, how did this get past anyone in the supply chain?"

"That's what we were tryin' to figure out," the supervisor drawled, "We asked the folks in Wrath to send over the paperwork they got from us. Balthor, show him."

The timid project manager plucked a few sheets from somewhere in that fat stack on his clipboard and handed them over to Harper. There, in plain view and carbon copied, was the error in the order.

"This makes no sense!" Harper growled. He had to pause and resist the urge to burn or crumple up the sheets. His lawyers would need them later. "Did you match them with the carbon copies in the files?"

"Sure did, sir," said the supervisor, "But they don't match what's in the computer."

Harper pinched the bridge of his muzzle. He could feel a headache coming on. "I am beginning to think that this was no mere oversight," he grunted.

"Um, that's what we're worried about too, Mr. Harper," said Balthor. He shot a questioning look to the shift supervisor, who nodded gravely.

"What do you mean?" the Overlord asked. His grip tightened on the back of the chair, and his claws sunk into the aged wood of the desk as the two men hesitated. "Well?"

"There's been rumors, sir," Balthor said, "The shift supervisors have been catching snippets of conversation among some of the employees. They never name names or places, and it's all just hearsay at this point, so we don't have any solid leads-"

"Out with it, Balthor," Harper growled.

Balthor flinched and got to the point. "There's rumors among certain shifts that the Diabolical Federation of Heavy Industry is attempting to organize the plant."

For the first time in many, many years, Harper's blood ran cold. It lasted just for a moment, before searing heat filled his veins, and red began to creep into his line of sight. A sharp pain behind his eyes made his muscle tense as a migraine shot through his head. Unwanted memories came flooding in hot in its wake.

"They are willing to speak if you are."

"I already told you, that is out of the question."

"It is not too late to reach an agreement, Sir, what if we...?"

"My decision is final. I will not be played for a fool."

"Mr. Harper, I do not wish to second-guess your wisdom on the matter-"

"Then don't. You have your orders."

"Mr. Harper?"

"What are you waiting for? This has gone on long enough."

"Mr. Harper!"

"Do it! March right out there and-"

"Mr. Harper!" Balthor practically shouted.

Harper startled suddenly and violently, causing the two other demons to jump back in alarm. A splintering sound made the dragon look to his right. The back of the antiquated swivel chair had snapped off in his iron grip. He then looked to his left. His claws have carved deep gouges into the desk, and a smoldering scorch mark that resembled an outline of his hand and fingers sent wisps of smoke and glowing embers to the ceiling.

The Overlord said nothing for several moments as he fought to quell his racing mind. His nostrils flared with each heavy breath, sending more smoke into the air. Finally, his stocky frame relaxed.

"It is nothing to worry about Balthor," he murmured, "You should know by now we have contingencies in place for this. It takes longer in Hell than it does on Earth, but eventually all employees get silly ideas like organizing."

Harper returned to the computer and clicked through to a list of contacts. "Here are the names and numbers for your division's legal team. They will report to the plant to monitor the floor and deploy union avoidance measures."

"R-right! Right, I knew that," Balthor said with a nervous chuckle. It petered out as Harper stared him down, unconvinced.

"If you weren't so good with numbers and adhering to deadlines, I would have replaced you with someone who actually took initiative in a difficult situation," Harper rumbled. His attention then turned to the shift supervisor.

"Brief your team on the situation, and salvage what you can from this trainload. Balthor here will be in touch with the supplier to see if we cannot get this sorted out sooner rather than later. We cannot afford any more delays here or anywhere if we are to fulfill our obligations in Dis."

With that, the dragon lumbered to his feet with a groan. "You have Max's number if any matters of concern arise. As for myself, I must retire for the day."

With a crack of his back and a shuffle of his wings, Harper stormed out of the plant with as much purpose and force as he'd exhibited on the way in. By the time he returned to the limo, Drek was already furiously tapping away at his PDA.

"Anything of importance I should know about before I end my day?" Harper asked.

"The general managers of a few of your subsidiaries have expressed concern about an increase in workplace accidents. There's been a falloff in productivity at a few plants besides this one," Drek said without looking up.

Harper rubbed at his temples. It was going to be one of those days, then. "Forward everything to Max. He will be taking my calls for the rest of today."

"Very good, sir," said Drek as he set to work clearing out the inbox.

As nice as Harper's home was, the Overlord had become somewhat desensitized to it. But with the day he'd had today, it felt good to be home. In fact, the dragon demon had no intention of setting foot in his office until tomorrow morning.

With a loud huff of relief, Harper let himself collapse into a chair in the sitting room. His jacket was already hung up, and his tie and collar loosened. He'd make his way upstairs in due time. Dinner wasn't for another hour yet, and he wasn't one for snacking.

After a few minutes of resting in the chair, he decided that a visit to the home gym was in order. What better way to get out the frustration of today? As Harper got up and made his way to the stairs, however, he heard a rustling coming from down the hall. His earfins flicked as he strained to listen. Strange, the kitchen staff usually took their break around this time.

The Overlord cautiously approached the kitchen to investigate. Unlike Drek, he wasn't too concerned about his safety. There weren't many demons capable of hurting him, but one could never assume.

Suddenly, the kitchen door swung open, and Harper briefly tensed. A female imp in a slinky black cocktail dress walked out, a bag of chips and a box of apple juice in her hands. Her platinum blonde hair was done up in a stylish (albeit dated) beehive. Perhaps she'd gone a little overboard with the makeup, but she was quite the attractive specimen. Strange, the white markings on her skin bore a striking resemblance to...

Harper shook his head and rubbed his eyes. Those markings, those horns, those omnipresent cowboy boots, they couldn't belong to anyone else.

"Blitzø?" the Overlord asked. The imp jumped and looked up at him.

"Oh hey Harps!" chirped Blitzø, "Just got offa work and thought I'd drop in to pick up a few things. I got really buttfuck hungry while waiting for you to come back though, so I hope you don't mind that I raided your fridge."

Harper huffed. That headache was still throbbing behind his eyes, and the stress of the day still gnawed at him. "That's perfectly alright," he grunted, before adding perhaps a little too sharply, "But why are you wearing a dress?"

Blitzø drew back, his eyes darting back and forth. "Oh, uh, you mean this?" he asked, passing his hand over the cocktail gown that clung to his slender frame.

"Yes, yes, the dress Blitzø, why are you wearing it?" Harper realized then just how much of an edge had crept into his tone. Before he could say anything else, however, Blitzø spoke first.

"Fuck babe, I'm sorry," the imp said, "Total brainfart. This shit probably didn't fly in the time you're from, did it? I was covering a shift and I had to disguise myself. It's okay if you don't like it. I'll be sure to change before I come over next time." His voice grew faster and more agitated with each passing second.

Harper passed a hand over his eyes and rubbed at his temples. "No, no Blitzø. Don't fret. I misspoke." With a sigh, he beckoned the imp to follow him back into the sitting room, where he settled back into the chair.

The imp followed the dragon demon, eyes shifting apprehensively. "You're sure, right? It doesn't bug you? Cause you sound pissed."

The Overlord snorted, and a hint of mirth slipped into his voice. "I have been in Hell for well over a century. In that time I have seen things living people would not believe. Our entertainment industry is dominated by an effeminate, flamboyantly homosexual talking spider for goodness sake! Blitzø, I can assure you that my mood has nothing to do with you or your dress; I've merely been having a rare day today. You look beautiful, darling."

Blitzø relaxed, a blush coloring his cheeks. "Really? I mean, no shit I'm beautiful!" His usual smirk of confidence returned, and he took a running start to launch himself into Harper's lap. Despite his small size, he still managed to elicit a grunt of surprise from the dragon demon.

With his beloved imp on his knee, Harper put an arm around him to hold him close to his chest. He quickly noticed the spicy aroma of perfume wafting like a cloud around Blitzø. The demons' tails found each other in short order, and gently intertwined in a loose knot.

"Catching a lotta bullshit today, huh?" Blitzø asked. He set down his chips and apple juice and took Harper's hand in both of his own. Their fingers soon clasped together much like their tails.

The dragon demon smiled weakly. "I suppose you could say so. Things have not been going well at a number of my subsidiaries, and I have been running between them to handle the situation personally. Normally the project managers would know what to do, but..." He trailed off as he squeezed Blitzø's hands.

The proprietor of I.M.P. nestled his head into the crook of Harper's shoulder and neck. "Yeah, I feel ya. If ya want something done right, ya gotta do it yourself. It's why I was up in the Living World today. One of the teams' point guys was out sick. I mean, it was nice going up top like old times, but what's the point of hiring these fuckers if they're not gonna do what I hired them for?"

"Mmmh, quite," rumbled Harper, "Not only am I dealing with incompetence, however, but disloyalty as well."

"Pfft! Ungrateful shitheels, all of them," Blitzø scoffed, "They should be fucking honored to be working for your sexy ass."

That got a chuckle from the dragon, but Blitzø wasn't finished. "I mean, just check out I.M.P. The bottom line is that we are all one big family. We do not give up on family," he paused for a moment, "At least we're not supposed to."

They laid together in silence for some time. Harper wasn't sure what to make of the imp's final comment, and he was too mentally drained to give it much thought. When was the last time that the Overlord had just held his boyfriend like this? It was a lovely feeling, just being able to pass the time together with nothing to worry about in the moment. Usually whenever Blitzø came over, he was more interested in-

"Yo Harps, I know what will make you feel better," said Blitzø as he picked his head up and shot the dragon with a mischievous grin.

Harper quirked a brow. "Go on?"

"We go upstairs and you plow my little ass raw. I'll even keep the dress on if you like~" The naughty imp straddled Harper's legs and leaned back to grind his taut behind against him. His dress hiked up to expose the lacy dark panties and garter straps he was wearing.

Ah, there it was. Harper couldn't help the twinge of arousal he felt as Blitzø tempted him. Even so, he was just a teensy bit unnerved. In the past week, it seemed like Blitzø was finding any excuse possible to get the dragon into bed with him. True, the sex was always satisfying for the both of them, but was it necessary? It seemed rather odd for the imp's appetite to suddenly and drastically increase.

The Overlord tamped that worry down. He already had too much on his plate without also fretting over something being wrong with Blitzø. Knowing him, it was probably trivial. Even so...

"As delightful as that sounds," said Harper, "I don't know if I'm in the mood for intimacy right now. Much has happened today."

Blitzø let go of Harper's hand to cup his muzzle. "Now's the perfect time, babe. Stuff's pissing you off. What better way to get it out of your system than by fucking it out? I wanna go rough this time," the imp's voice grew husky, "Show me what you can do."

Despite his reservations, Harper couldn't help but chuckle. He lowered his head to tenderly kiss Blitzø. "Alright, darling. I suppose I can do that." He hoisted the imp up into a bridal carry as he stood and made his way up to the bedroom.

Just as Harper dropped Blitzø onto the bed, Blitzø held up his hand. "Hold up, wanna see something?" After taking a deep breath, he grabbed the back of his legs and bent back. His legs rose and parted, hiking up his dress, until his ankles flanked either side of his head.

Harper growled lustily in the back of his throat at the lewd display. "Impressive," he said, "I wasn't aware you could do something like this."

"Uh hi? Former acrobat here? I might be a little rusty, but I still got it!" Blitzø said with a smirk. Anything else he was going to say melted into a groan of eager anticipation as Harper peeled away his obscenely tented panties to reveal his throbbing hard shaft and eager tailhole.

It wasn't long before things were well underway. Harper gripped Blitzø's hips as he thrust into him at a brisk clip in the missionary position. The day's stress eating at the back of his mind propelled him harder and faster. It gradually released its hold on him as Blitzø's snug hole gripped his length.

"Bite me," Blitzø suddenly gasped.

"Pardon?" Harper said, slowing down and loosening his grip on the imp's legs.

"You heard me, stud. I want you to fucking bite me," the other male panted, "Scratch me up while you're at it. Make me bleed."

"N-now look here, Blitzø. I'd much prefer not to hurt you," said the Overlord. His thrusting had stopped almost entirely.

"Do it, asshole!" Blitzø practically spat, "I know how much you wanna hurt a bitch right now. Gimme your teeth and claws. Like this." His legs slipped out of Harper's grip and around his waist. The imp lunged up and grasped the dragon's back. His sharp little claws put holes in the back of his shirt. Once he was in range, Blitzø sank his teeth into the thick, scaly hide on Harper's collarbone.

He couldn't hope to break through flesh that tough, but Harper grunted in surprise all the same. Something ignited in the dragon demon as Blitzø pulled back, grinning triumphantly. That grin was quickly wiped away as the Overlord pinned him to the bed and began pounding into him in earnest. Harper's talons sank into the top of his dress and tore it open. They then lightly raked across the imp's bare chest. One got caught in the ring piercing still looped in one nipple, causing him to cry out in pain and pleasure.

Just as Blitzø had wanted, Harper began to nip at him. Even in his lustful fervor, the Overlord took care not to bite too hard. Even so, within a matter of seconds small bite wounds opened up along Blitzø's neck and shoulders. Black imp blood wept from the cuts and the scratches to stain the bedspread below.

"Ow. Ow. Ow," Blitzø grumbled almost rhythmically. He was seated at the edge of an easy chair as a bathrobe-clad Harper dabbed down each of his bleeding cuts with cotton balls soaked in rubbing alcohol.

"Stay still, darling. I'm almost done," Harper assured him. "As truly exhilarating as that was for both of us, I think from now on I will let you do most of the biting and the scratching if that is what you desire."

"Worth it! GAH fuck!" Blitzø proclaimed, then yelped. Harper struggled not to laugh, and was only partly successful.

Once the Overlord had applied some gauze pads to his lover's chest, arms, and shoulders, he got up and stretched. "Now, is there anything else you wished to discuss tonight? It is getting rather late."

"Well, if you don't mind me sticking around, I thought we could-" Blitzø stopped, "Wait, what time is it?"

Harper fished his pocket watch out. "Oh my, we've been at this for quite some time, haven't we? It's long past dinner time."

"SHIT, I gotta get home. I told Loonie I wouldn't be gone long." He paused to give Harper a peck on the cheek, then put his torn dress back on as best he could. The lines of mascara running down his cheeks got a quick wipedown with a spare pair of gauze. It wasn't ideal, but Blitzø was in a hurry.

"Aight, see ya around Harps. You're coming for the next quarterly meeting, right?"

"Of course!" Harper said with a firm nod.

"Okay great! Tell the cook my bad about the kitchen. G'night!" With that, Blitzø was out the door and tromping down the stairs as unsubtly as possible.

Harper sank into the chair with a sigh. Yes, a round of rough sex had been surprisingly satisfying, and he wasn't as tense as he had been when he'd gotten home. Still, this was out of character for the imp. Their lovemaking was passionate for sure, but he'd never before wanted it to be so, what was the word?

That train of thought was interrupted by what Blitzø had said on his way out. What had happened in the kitchen? That question was partially answered as a commotion arouse downstairs. His cook did not sound happy.

A sigh escaped Harper's nostrils. "A perfect end to a perfect day," he murmured.