Certified™️ 2D Simp

You guys already know I had to get this, I've had the idea since last year, I was just waiting for Mammon's card to come out. I'm so happy - I almost screamed when I saw the final piece. It's better than I could have dreamed 🥹 Thank you sm Sinna. It's been amazing seeing you grow as an artist, and I can't wait to see where you go. I've wanted to get something done by Sinna for forever, and now I finally have !!!

“You’re insufferable sometimes, you know that?!”

It was supposed to be a simple stop by the RAD newspaper club. Lucifer had requested you to drop off files for the newest article covering the Bloody Moon Event, you would drop off the files, and turn heel before that magenta haired bastard by the name of Mephistopheles could say anything. The endeavor itself was almost successful, until a too hasty turn sank your hip right into one of the table corners.

“SHIT!’’

“…And who would utter such crude language within Diavolo’s Royal Academy?”

And thus was the catalyst for what would be an explosive argument. Choice words were thrown until you couldn’t trace their roots. Something about how you were just some lowly human that had no refinement or taste, how he was a pretentious asshole with a gold gilded stick perpetually up his ass. It was only after you had braced for impact that he backed away from you, ominously calm in fixing his pristine uniform and smoothing his hair back when he invited you for dinner of all things. So you could “experience first hand a taste of luxury” and how it might ‘“do you well to be polished up.”

It would have been better to leave, to not be baited by such an arrogant demon who always seemed to have an ulterior motive, but who were you to pass up a free meal? You saw right through him anyway. He would invite you into the lion's den to watch you flounder and embarrass yourself— that would be sufficient enough for the Lords to throw a wrench into Diavolo’s exchange program. What he didn’t know, due to avoiding you as much as possible, was the Devildom had you adjusted well, and that dining etiquette Barbatos had taught you back when you visited The Demon Lord's Castle for tea would come in handy. It’d also provide a small refuge from constantly beating Beels hands off your plate and while trying to tune out Satan, Mammon, and Lucifer’s arguments. You loved the brothers, truly, but they were indeed a handful. Sure, you trade the loudness and chaos for the judgmental eyes and stuffy rules of the royal pearl clutchers, but that was a small price to pay to wipe that smug grin off Mephisto.

A soft knock at your door alerted you from your thoughts. Cracking open the door to see who the would be intruder was you were met with the empty hallway, scanning back and forth, your gaze was fell down to a neat ornate box left in front of your door, with a note attached:

Wear this tomorrow, if your wardrobe is similar to what I’ve seen you dare wear around Lord Diavolo’s home, I know you have nothing suited. And avoid those meddlesome brothers, I’d like for you to arrive in one piece.

You’re welcome

-Mephistopheles

The absolute gall of Mephisto made your blood boil so much that you swear the note could have incinerated under your touch. You simply kicked the box into your room and it slid across the floor until it hit the leg of your bed with enough force to knock the lid off, and peeking out of the disgruntled packaging was black tulle. That had piqued your curiosity. You pulled the fabric from its box to inspect it. It was a dress: long black tulle resting delicately over satin, pleating over the bodice and flowing freely from the waist line. There were gold accents on the right shoulder and a matching arm band that held a tulle sash in the back. Now that second half of Mephisto’s note made sense, you’d have to cause a distraction….perhaps you’d hide Beel’s pudding.

That night the car is impeccably on time picking you up from the House of Lamentation, and the driver makes haste in stepping out and opening your door before you get the chance to do so yourself. A quiet ‘thank you’ and a soft click of the door and you’re off, the drive is quiet with only the soft bumps in the road jostling the fabric of your dress. Either the drive was shorter than you anticipated or you were truly lost in thought for longer than it felt, because soon the car rounded a corner to reveal the large mansion hidden in the hills of the Devildom. Its long walls supported by arches bearing its weight and the lights glimmering through the it’s many stained glass windows. The dinner itself was a blur, a cacophony of “exquisite” and “the markets” sprinkled with all the bells and whistles expected of a typical high class dinner. Always sip from the glass in the same place to avoid lip rings, always leave a bite on the plate, and in the case of obscene amounts of cutlery, start on the outside and work your way inside. How insufferable, you thought, to have so many regulations on something as simple and joyous as eating. And after the array of dishes and dessert were served were you finally able to excuse yourself for some fresh air on the balcony.

The views in the Devildom were always calming even if they were covered in darkness every hour of the so-called day. You let a breath go you weren’t aware you were holding while you stretched and leaned over the balcony rail.

“You look marvelous tonight.”

Mephisto stood in the doorway, a safe distance away. Peering over your shoulder you scoffed. “Thanks. I’m keeping the dress by the way.”

“A gift would imply that.” Stepping closer and taking position by your side. “You surprised me at dinner.”

“Thought I’d crash and burn did you? You are aware I spend time with Barbatos.. but how do you do this, night after night?” Mephisto raised an eyebrow at that. You waved your hand around gesturing vaguely to the house.

“This. The rules, the unspoken etiquette, you know, not being able to use a single fork.” You punctured that part with a little venom. That had him chuckle.

“It’s been this way my whole life, it’s normal.” He said as if it were obvious. And it kind of was- he was right. Mephistopheles was a noble, born in a grand house with grand ways served by butlers and servants. Everything was meticulously crafted, shaped, molded for him. It was given on a silver platter lifting nary a finger once in his life. It was luxurious and grand and so….

Sheltered

“Don’t look like that” came with a soft bump on your shoulder

“Like what?”

“Like you pity me. I’ve had everything I’ve ever wanted.”

That was true enough. But did he ever know what he wanted or was he told so? “But have you ever wanted something simpler? Ever broke the rules or snuck out?” Mephisto hummed thoughtfully as he turned his attention to the distant landscape. “When I was a boy I’d sneak out to the gardens to avoid studies”

“GASP…. Mephistopheles, nobleman, skipping out on his duties?!” Adding a flourish with the back of your hand to your forehead as you feigned shock.

“Hm. I was young and naive back then” he smiled softly and gingerly placed his hand to your lower back to assist you standing straight, an oddly kind gesture that warmed you a little more than you would admit.

“Well… what are we waiting for?” Extending your hand out to him. He looked at your hand and back to you curiously, silently asking for just a crumb more of context. “Show me!” Mephistos curiosity shifted into calculation before it settled into a soft smile as he grabbed your hand and pulled you into the night.

——

The cool breeze carried the, for maybe the first time in a long time, carefree giggles as the two of you ran hand in hand through the forrest, at some point you had abandoned your heels and let the cool dirt dig into your heels. The long fabric of your dress gently rustling behind and swishing with each twist and turn deeper into the forrest until soon Mephisto had led you to a small clearing. You kneeled onto the soft grass to listen to the soft sounds of the stream that flowed through the area. “It’s beautiful.” You whispered.

“Indeed so” came the soft agreement from Mephisto, although he wasn’t looking at the scenery before him.

“Why did you stop coming?” You knew the answer, but you wanted to hear him say it himself.

Mephisto took a seat the large rock next to him. “I grew up.” He answered matter of factly. “I had responsibilities. My family’s influence couldn’t be tarnished by such juvenile endeavors”

You’d understand him at this moment. The previous volatile nature of your previous interactions were simply a defense. Maybe, just maybe, the sporadic nature that came with you- your humanity, was a threat against what was crafted for him since birth. You simply couldn’t fathom the idea of a child’s free spirit being perceived as tarnishing. Oh. But that gave you an idea.

The silence grew after he had lost himself in thought looking out onto the stream… and with it you took the chance to gather a handful of dirt and swiped it across the tanned expanse of his cheek. Mephisto paused, eyes wide trying to process what had happened… did you? No, you wouldn’t dare. No one would be foolish enough to soil someone of his stature. There was a pregnant pause where you wondered if maybe you had crossed a line, but before you could have the chance to weigh the consequences to your actions, he laughed. He laughed loud and boisterous, it echoed in your eardrums and nestled into your chest as you saw the corners of his eyes crease and the bridge of his nose crinkle. It was contagious in a way that had you clenching your gut and bleary-eyed, swiping the tears from your eyes to check if it was indeed the same demon before you.

“No one has ever dared to be so bold” laughter bubbling down as he had the chance to catch his breath. “And a human, at that.”

“We’re not as fragile and pitiful as you demons make us out to be.” You giggled, leaning your face over your knees, wrapping your arms securely around them. Mephisto’s gaze softened at the sight, perhaps all humans weren’t so incorrigible, frustrating, and crass. Or maybe you were, and it was refreshing. A taste of rebellion that cleaned his dull palette that had long accustomed to rules and politics. “Perhaps not.” Mephisto’s eyes twinkled with an air of mischief as he reached behind himself, slow and methodical. “I suppose I haven’t given you enough credit, but I can give you something else, as an apology for my insolence.” Something shifted as he leaned closer, hooded half moons lingering on you long enough to feel the heat rise on the back of your neck and crawling up your cheeks.

“Y-yeah?” God, that came out a little more desperate than you’d intended

“Hmmm” he purred. “..yeah.”

THWACK

There was that laughter again as the scent of mud filled your nostrils. You tried to recover from his surprise attack, but this wasn’t revenge, it was an olive branch. Extended on a level that wasn’t predestined and purposed such as his with Lord Diavolo’s. Did that mean you were going to let him get away with it? Of course not. Clawing the dirt away you pounced toward Mephisto while he was off balance hoping to catch him off guard, but the demon was too fast, and with a swift movement he caught your wrists and extended them above your head.

“Did you think that was going to work?” Amusement filled his tone more than you liked.

“…No” grinning as you reeled your foot back. “…but this might”

With a swift kick to the shin he dropped you, kneeling down with a hiss. That had brought him low enough to land another handful of dirt on his nose. Mephisto reeled back and he surveyed the situation. You had backed up to create space between the two of you.

“Naughty little human” Mephisto teased, wiping the dirt and flicking off. He took a step closer, with each matched with your step back.

“I’m sorry!” You squeaked. It’d be hard to create a second opening but you prayed on pity, feigning weakness.

This amused Mephisto

“You’d expect humanity in hellfire? I wouldn’t fall for such a ruse” A wild grin revealed sharp canines as he stalked forward. There was something in his feral gaze that sparked something unholy within you. Bending at the waist to bring himself to your level his eyes locked onto yours, and if it weren’t for the hot breath fanning across your cheeks you would have stayed lost in the pools of emerald.

“Run”

The cold air burned your lungs as your feet carried you past the trees, grabbing branches and reeling them back to bat off your pursuer. The adrenaline coarsed through your veins and it was exhilarating. It would be a gamble to turn your head and look behind, but was too tempting not too.

“Got you”

You ran into a solid warm mass and shrieked, feeling weightless and realizing Mephisto had tossed you into the air and onto his shoulder. “HA HA!” He raised his arm high and puffed his chest to showboat his prize. “Mephisto! Put me down!!” You tried to protest in between Batting his back and kicking your legs in a feeble attempt to free yourself, although if you were completely honest with yourself you could’ve put a little more oomph into it.

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you over the sound of victory.” Really milking that win as he gingerly set you down, hands lingered on your shoulders. He was different, and not just the sweat collecting on his brow or the left over specks of dirt clinging to the apples of the cheeks. There was joy in his eyes, authenticity. It was so capturing neither of you were aware of the closing distance between. Two planets caught in orbit, dancing with each other and pulling so. much. closer.

The distant sound of shouting ripped through the moment, simultaneously snapping your heads to the direction of the sound. “Uhh.. that your search party?”

“It appears so, I had thought we would have more time.”

Before you could question the implication of more time you’re off again, being led out of the forest and onto the road again. Mephisto has tried to sneak back into the House of Royals but you reminded him that given each others current state that would be a worse idea than when you had beckoned him away from dinner. The new plan: sneak into the House of Lamentation, clean up, and Mephisto could call for a call under the guise that he needed to run out to deliver something to Lucifer at Lord Diavolo’s request. It was near perfect, and it was going according to plan, tip toeing closer and closer to your room with the magenta haired demon in tow.

“And what do we have here?” Freezing in your path, ice running through your veins. Slowly, you both turned to the direction of one pissed off Lucifer.

“whatever this is,” he gestured between the two of you “will be addressed later. But care to explain why the kitchen is missing a wall?”

If you asked anyone in the Devildom about the sorcerer Solomon, they would tell you to be wary. Some would say he was a bit odd, while others said he was down right insane. Whispers would fill the hallways as the platinum haired sorcerer walked down the corridors with a perpetual smile that never quite reached the corner of his eyes. Outside of RAD he was a scarce sight, always locked away in his room within Purgatory hall pouring over old texts and alchemy books with nothing but the light of the moon and sparse candle table side.

Solomon was old, ancient by human standards. No one really knew how old he truly was, not even himself. When you lived as long as he did everything became a distant memory, a thick fog only his dreams would give pieces to. He knows he’s lived long enough to see his family and ancestors wither away, lovers lost, and empires fall. He remembers a dull ache that would sit deep in his chest and carry with him through the three realms, always a weary wanderer throughout the times, with only broken cities and dead emperors welcoming back from his travels.

He’s not sure when he began to busy himself with studies, but it’s not a measly task to become the strongest sorcerer in the realm. Time was inconsequential when it was an abundant resource. Hours would shift into days, days to years, years to centuries, millennia blending together until the lines were muddled and worn. “Humans are short lived,” Barbatos mentioned over tea while a young prince inquired about him eons ago, recently ascended to the throne. “Humans aren’t made to live that long. You begin to wonder what exactly it does to the mind, the very soul.”

And he was right, oftentimes Solomon found himself hunched over his study reworking a spell for the nth time over, the evidence of his disheveled state betrayed by his nails dirtied with ink and herbs and deep shades of bruise lingering under his eyes. Only when his vision was bleary, raw, and unable to focus on the alchemy circles before him would he finally allow himself a rest at the edge of his bed, reluctantly dragging his feet to the small bedroom that collected more dust than dreams. Immortality is a fickle thing, the fabled pinnacle of human desire to break the shackles of flesh. Solomon would scoff at the thought, being a testament to it. What a lonely existence it was, staying awake until his eyes couldn’t hold was the tonic to quell an anxious mind, preventing the pit that would sit heavy in his chest if left unattended too for too long. He would remember Barbatos and the fountain, that fateful day that irreparably changed his life.

And then there was you.

When you arrived at the Devildom, Solomon was interested in the new human exchange student because you were an ordinary human. Not a sorcerer, or even an occultist who dabbled too far. It was strange, how someone of your likeness could end up in a place like the Devildom. The relationship between the three realms was shaky at best, with many demons who would take a chance at your shiny soul the second you rounded the corner. The thought sent a jolt through his chest and pooled like thick oil down his ribs to collect at the base of his stomach, it stayed with him throughout the day; gnawing and biting at his ears between classes and paperwork. It was annoying, he thought. A nuisance getting in the way of his work, unsure of why it mattered so much to him, after all, Lucifer assigned his brother Mammon to guard you. Not that it helped much, considering the Greed demon would gladly abandon you for a shiny Grimm rolling down the hall. With a heavy sigh and flourish of his cape, he decided to seek you out for an introduction, offer his assistance, and that would be the end of his underlying worries.

Not long after a small acquaintance bloomed. It began with occasional questions on shops and streets of the Devildom and assistance with studies in potions class. The sorcerer had become a quiet constant in your life, lurking in the shadows without you realizing, a fleeting glimpse in your periphery that could be mistaken for a trick of the light. He would watch the way your hips would swish down the halls, and saw the ease of how you would begin to corral the brothers; he saw the sprouts of your relationships blossoming fruitfully in how you walked with a little more tenacity, turning corners without a shaking palm or hesitant step compared to the earlier days of your exchange. It had been a few weeks since you last seeked him out, and the restlessness that was briefly quelled has returned and began simmering to the surface. Patience was bitter, but its fruit was sweet, he’d remind himself- an old adage he remembered a wise man once said from his long years past.

——

The sound of his leather heels padded softly down the empty hallway of RAD as he pondered thoughtfully of the prior months' developments, in both your budding friendship with him and his increasing thoughts of you, ensnaring his mind and festering deep in his chest the more he tried to resist. It wouldn’t be hard to seek you out and ask you if you needed help with studies, or another excuse to spend more time with you, but that would be temporary, soon dragged off by Lucifer or any brothers who nipped stubbornly at your heels demanding attention. If he wanted to get closer to you, their lingering presence was the first obstacle to overcome. He craved more. He needed more than casual conversation and passing touches. He needed you to trust him. How else could he be more than a mere companion in your eyes when you kept him at arm's length?

Just as he stopped to pinch at the frustration collecting between his eyes, he heard soft chattering paired with two sets of footsteps: one was sporadic and light, while the other was soft, even in pressure and cadence, a familiar rhythm he tuned his ears to over months of skulking about. He could pick you out anywhere in a crowd.

”Ooooooo you promise you’ll stop by Majolish for me? Pretty please?”

Asmodeus. Sickly sweet as ever

”Yes, yes. And by the Akuzon pick up for Levi, and Devilmart for Beel’s endless appetite.”

Solomon could picture the playful roll of your eyes. It was one of many of his favorite habits you had. “I just need to drop these papers off to Mephisopheles, then pack up and I'll be on my way. I’ll see you at home.”

Home. The word soured in Solomon’s stomach, twisting and churning bile. He could be your home. He could give you anything you wanted, if only you’d come to him and ask. How much longer would it take for you to realize it? Perhaps you underestimated the power he held to make your dreams come true, as long as he could stay by your side. The fruit of patience was sweet, but it is the skilled laborers that feed their fields. All you needed was a little nudge in the right direction.. in seeing how he was good for you, better than any of the brothers. He could help you see the truth: no one else was made for you. He waited for the sound of footsteps to fade into the distance before cutting the other way.

“Agh.. where did I put it?” You mumbled in frustration.

After dropping off Mephistopheles’ paperwork, which had its own set of difficulties, you made your way back to grab your bag. Your bag which was currently… missing. You circled around the classroom and checked the others, scanning the corridors and adjacent halls. You swear you had left it in your last class, tucked neatly under your chair. You did always have a habit of setting things down without a second thought, and if it didn’t have your wallet in it you’d almost consider abandoning it to rush to the shops. While the shops were the safer part of town, it was the more rural walk back that worried you and it was beginning to get late with all the side distractions.

You took a moment to chew on your thumbnail absentmindedly while tracing your steps from earlier. Anxiety was creeping in, burning at your heels that carried you back down the hall to the original classroom.

“Shit!” you huffed in frustration, dropping your hand to rest on your hip. The pittering of your tapping foot was a metronome to the racings thoughts of what to do next. Twirling around on your heel to go back, you spotted the god forsaken thing sitting on the shelf by the door

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” you swore, snatching the bag in frustration and stomping off.

———

You headed down the cobblestone path past the various shops, multiple bags dangling from your arms, double-checking your list: face cream and nail polish from Majolish for Asmo; the latest copy of whatever 12- worded-titled manga from Akuzon pick up for Levi; and three bags’ worth of snacks from Devilmart.

You continued walking home, past the bustling shops and taking twists and turns down the quieter roads, stopping to adjust the absurd amount of straps everyone expected you to carry, turning down the alleys and beaten paths that gradually faded from the bustling shops.

Throughout the entire trip your thoughts were occupied, tracing back to your bag. How did you lose it anyway? Then, there was the case of your supposed simple paper drop off to Mephistopheles, which was delayed by a stray open window, blowing the stack of papers from your hand and sending a few strays out into the courtyard. Once you ran out to collect everything as fast as you could, you received an earful from the arrogant noble demon, who took his time to chastise your delays. It was down right odd how every obstacle today presented itself, but you had eventually chalked it up to Murphy’s Law.

The sound of snapping twigs jolted your attention, hyper aware of your surroundings and the late hour now. Being so consumed by today's events you hadn't paid attention to where you were walking, or how late. The rhythm of your steps quickened to match the pace of your heart thumping against its ivory cage and echoed in your ears as adrenaline filled your veins. The air was ice-cold and it burned your lungs with each labored breath.

“Well, well, well. What do we have here? A lost lamb without its shepherd?” A teasing voice called out to you, echoing eerily from somewhere on your left. A tall figure slithered from the shadows of the dark alley. All you could see underneath the hood drawn over his face was a sinister smile that revealed sharp, glistening fangs.

“It’s far too late for such a delectable soul to be wandering alone at night, wouldn’t you agree?” To your horror, a second figure approached from the other side, effectively cornering you between two demons. Step by step, they slowly closed the distance, leaving you with no chance to escape .

“Take a wrong turn, human? Where’s your lap dog, hm?” One of the demons asked, sounding far too amused.

“I take it losing every last Grimm at the casinos right now, or maybe he’s still hanging from the ceiling thanks to that damned brother of his.” The other demon simply laughed.

This was bad, and you were quickly realizing you were running out of time as the two assailants began closing in, but fear had gripped your ankles and kept them planted to the crossroads. You could run. But they’re much faster than you. Scream? Would anyone hear? Even if they did, would they be an ally? Your pacts were useless, you didn’t know how to summon the few brothers you shared them with. Options were running out quickly and your perpetrators were looming in

A wisp of purple light flashes by, and you squint as you're suddenly encased inside of a bright, translucent shield. The barrier pulse and forces the demons back, hissing and baring their teeth as if they were burned by being too close to you.

”That’s close enough,” Solomon warned as he stepped into view. Even through the rippling barrier he cast to protect you, you could see his eyes were dark and stormy with anger. “Attacking an exchange student under Lord Diavolo’s protection would surely be seen as treason, don’t you agree? I know for a fact Barbatos has excruciatingly painful ways of dealing with traitors that would dare tarnish his master's name.”

The demons' sputtering excuses were feeble and useless. Solomon kicked one demon square in the stomach before turning on his heel and punching the other demon across his jaw without mercy.

“I would recommend leaving, as fast as possible, lest he find out.” Solomon smiled now, and turned around smiling once the demons scrambled and fled into the night. The shield he cast on you dissipated as soon as the demons were out of sight, and he rushed to your side as your knees buckled and threatened to give out under you.

”Are you alright?” Solomon rested his hands on your shoulders, scanning your face and checking for any injuries. Tears welled up in your eyes and you sobbed as the adrenaline wore off.

“Shhh, shhhhh, it’s alright, I’m right here.” he folded you into a gentle embrace offering a few comforting pats on your back.

Once you calmed down, he offered to walk you back to the House of Lamentation, guiding you arm in arm. He made inquiries as to what happened and what you were doing out so late at night, of course he knew. Just like he asked why you hadn't summoned the brothers with your packs, he knew. It provided the most opportune time to offer his assistance, as your mentor, and teach you the road to becoming a sorcerer. When the two of you arrived at the House of Lamentation, your face stained with tears, he had the upper hand to convince Lucifer of his proposition; their precious lamb was almost hurt today, without their chaperone.

———

It’s been months since you started your apprenticeship with Solomon, spending hours at his side. It was hard work, the various exercises and studies he assigned to you, and often he would provide criticism and praise at whiplash speed. Solomon would often compliment your progress, and make you laugh, but when he leaned in close to read your work over your shoulder you would feel the heat blossom across your cheeks. You found his aura addicting, wanting to know more of him, spend time by his side, but just to pick his brain and learn more, you would always justify. After all, his touches were fleeting, merely that of a mentor proud of his student, you believed, but they left you craving something more, a foolish thing.

Visiting Purgatory Hall to see Solomon was a nice reprieve from the rambunctious demon brothers you lived with at the House of Lamentation. Today he must’ve had something different planned because he asked you to come to his room instead of the RAD library or the lounge he shared with his roommates.You arrived outside Solomon’s bedroom door and gave three sharp knocks, and you stood a little straighter when you heard footsteps approach from the other side.

“Welcome! I’ve been expecting you, please come in.”

”Thanks for having me Solomon.” You replied, stepping into his room. It was larger than it looked, with long bookshelf’s lining the room and stretching toward the ceiling. There was a long oak table and a few sitting chairs, matching wood with red leather. At his desks sat several manuscripts and ink quills, and on the longer center table scattered documents next to various bottles and beakers. It was neater than expected.

“Is it what you expected, dearest apprentice? You’re staring is making me nervous.” he whispered behind you unexpectedly. The sudden proximity took you by surprise.

”Apologies, I didn’t mean to startle you.” He added, amused.

”It is a sight to see, fitting for a sorcerer like you, although…” curiosity took the better of you as you scanned the room. “Where do you sleep? Do you sleep or simply hang like a bat from the ceiling like Barbatos.” You glanced up in jest.

”And what, pray tell, were you doing in Barbatos’ room? You’re going to make me jealous.” He pouted.

”Don’t be like that, I was on strictly business and it… didn’t end up well, remember?” It wasn’t a pleasant memory, the mere mention had you shrinking into yourself. Solomon offered a comforting hand on your shoulder.

”Now, my darling apprentice, we shouldn't dwell on the past. You’re much stronger now, and you know I’ll always be here to protect you as well. Come on, let's get started, will you grab a few things for me?”

Settling the stack books down on the long oak table you wiped the sweat from your brow and caught your breath.

”Should be all here!” You exclaimed proudly

”Well done! I appreciate you coming to help me, it makes me so happy to have such a helpful student.” The words came easy to Solomon, and seeing the look of proudness shining in your hopeful eyes was his weak spot.

It would be a lie to say he hasn’t grown fond of you, obsessed even. Though, he wouldn’t dare use that word. It was his responsibility to keep you safe, happy, and well cared for, even if you didn’t know it. Even if he was the hand behind the board, moving each piece in place strategically. He could see victory closing in, the checkmate that would seal your fate - you just didn’t know it yet.

As you adjusted the books and organized the table, he watched your face settle into that cute little pout when you think. He watched your hair cascade off your shoulder as you moved, tracing his eyes down your figure and taking in the soft curves that would jiggle when you walked. Solomon was a man of patience, learned from his long life span, but even his patience was wearing thin.

”Ah!” An idea came to him, smirking to himself. “My dearest apprentice, we forgot one. Would you mind grabbing the first edition copy of this book here-” he said, gesturing to the book of medicinal herbs “-for me? It’s on the top shelf right there. It has a larger catalog of some things we might need.”

You took a peek behind your shoulder, gazing up at the highest bookshelf where the older, more original copies belonged. Strange, you thought. You were sure all the materials were in front of you. You had even made sure to double check everything to ensure you wouldn’t need a second trip, and perhaps appease Solomon, but you wouldn’t out right admit that.

”Oh- I’m sorry, I was sure I had all of them, just a second.”

”No worries, I’ll be right around the corner bringing in our alchemy supplies, shout if you need me.” A lie easily crafted.

As soon as you turned around he sulked near the corner, pretending to look like he was busy, watching you from the corner of his eye as you climbed the steps of the ladder, teasing him with the tantalizing sway of your hips. A low growl sat in his throat, eyeing every bend and curve of your supple, innocent flesh. He felt his desire grow hot, the pleasant view up your thighs and rounded bottom stoking the flames. With a small, personal, adjustment to his robes he was ready to strike.

You reached for the requested book, standing on the tips of your toes and reaching out, fingertips nearly brushing the spine. With a small flick of Solomon’s wrist, the bottom of the long ladder jostled, sending you off-kilter with a shriek.

“SOLOMON!” You screeched, closing your eyes to prepare for the inevitable crash.

Something warm and firm broke your fall as you tumbled to the floor at dizzying speed, landing in a flurry of limbs and hair as you took a moment to orient yourself. The smell of sage and fresh linen filled your senses as the scene in front of you came into vision. Soft strands of silver tickled your cheeks as perplexed gray eyes looked down at you.

”My my, are you alright dear? I thought I told you to be careful.” Solomon chided you with a small frown, not making any move to give you space. His slender fingers were wrapped around your waist, and his long legs somehow had tangled between yours. A scandalous scene to any eyes that may accidentally wander wn ithout knocking.

”F-Fine! I’m fine! I don’t know what happened, the ladder moved or maybe I lost balance? I- I don’t- I couldn’t quite reach-“

”Now now-“ He tsked. “What matters is your safety, you gave me quite the scare. Are you sure you’re not hurt?”

He lifted your chin with a folded index finger now, inspecting even closer so his nose was brushing yours. You’d never been this close to Solomon, but now you were taking in the grays of his irises. They were deep and boundless, monochromatic in nature, like roaring thunder clouds passing over rolling waves. The small specks of silver splashed against its dark hues reminded you of light slipping through the clouds to touch the waves. It was easy to fall and be lost, a bygone sailor lost to the currents.

The sound of your name rang in your ears, a soft voice pulling you back to shore.

”Hm?”

”Did you hear anything I just said?” Solomon asked, puzzled. “Do you have a concussion?”

”What? No!’

”Hahaha! just checking! By the way, did you call for me in your last moments before you fell?” He was smirking now, a toothy grin that pulled on the corner of his mouth.

”NO-“ your denial came abruptly, but Solomon was quick witted and had you caged, both metaphorically and physically.

”My dear apprentice, there’s no need to be shy. In fact, I’m honored to be the one you would call to in a time of need. You are absolutely adorable.” He flourished with a nose boop, before acquiescing his position and helping you to your feet. When you both stood, he made no move to give you space, letting the moment sink in, watching to see if you would lean in closer. Your eyes momentarily flickered to his lips, before losing your will and coughing, smoothing down your hair in a vain attempt to collect yourself.

Disappointing.

He had you so close, right there. If only you would give up this charade he had spent weeks, no, months, chipping away at. He did everything right, even if it did require pulling a few strings. Just a little push, he thought, replacing a few ingredients with similar likeness while you were distracted.

——

“Do we have everything?” You inquired, scanning the table.

”Almost, just a bit more of this.” Solomon reached across you, nose brushing your neck while he grabbed what he needed. Your eyes fluttered closed to take in a small breath.

”Here it all is. Start by adding the first three ingredients.” Solomon watched as you followed his instruction, grinding hearts and measuring them out carefully. You were so adorable. The anticipation had him gripping the corner of the table. You continued following his instruction and reciting the spell for the end goal successfully pulling off a tracking spell. The plan was to test it on Solomon, and he would use his teleportation to hide away. A simple sorcerer's game of hide and seek, and it would help you practice your teleportation as well.

”Very good so far, nearly there. I believe you’ll need this next.” He plucked a single hair from his head and tossed it in. As you turned to grab the last ingredient, he slipped a pinch of something extra. You tossed the remaining ingredients in and the bowl erupted with a light pink smoke, shooting directly into your face before sputtering out. You coughed and wiped your nose feeling an odd sensation begin to bloom.

”Hmm. You might have been a bit heavy handed.” Solomon pondered. “No worries, it should still work, ready?” He faked readying himself to teleport, to keep the ruse up. You felt dizzy and began wobbling, gripping the table to catch yourself.

”Hm? Are you alright?” Solomon put his hand on your shoulder to look at you, and he felt so warm.

”Yeah, um-“ you cleared your throat, embarrassed. “I’m ready.”

”You look pale-“ he looked at you with concern, “-and you're wobbling,. Here, have some water, we can try again later. Are you ill?” He continued with faux worry, handing you his glass of water.

Everything about Solomon magnified tenfold: the curve of his jaw, the bob of his Adam’s apple. His hair looked so soft and and fluffy, all you could think about were wrapping the silk strands around your fingers and pulli-

“Dearest? Are you okay?” Solomon's warm hand on your shoulder brought you back to reality. It felt large and tingled your skin even with the barrier of your jacket.

You cleared your throat again.

“Hmmn. Yeah. It’s just uh- a little warm in here.”

”Warm? Are you running a fever?” He brought the back of your hand to your cheek, forcing yourself to stifle a moan. Your hand shot up to grip his wrist. You were drowning in his senses: his touch, his scent, the pulse you could feel through his wrist. It made your knees weak. Spotting this, he wrapped his other hand around your waist to steady you, bringing you closer.

”Hey, hey- I got you, come with me. Let’s get you some air.” Solomon led you past his study to his bedroom, setting you on the edge of his bed and opening the window. A cool breeze passed over your face providing fleeting relief. After cracking the window he stood to remove his robes and tossed it on the back of the chair, the last thing you needed to see as now you could make out his slender waist through the black turtle neck he wore, his shoulder blades as he moved and the rippling of his back. The candle light provided a stark contrast on the sharp lines and curves of his figure.

“W-what, uh, are you doing?” You panicked

”Hm? I’m going to get some cool water, you seem to be running a fever.” Solomon looked over his shoulder to you, accentuating his hips and the long lines of his legs.

”I'll be right back”

He disappeared into the bathroom and you sighed in relief. You had no idea what’s come over you, but every nerve was screaming his name. Frustrated, in more ways than one, you ripped the top few buttons of your blouse to fan some of the cool air, wringing the hem of your shirt and clenching your thighs to quell the building pressure inside you, begging to be relieved.

You sat up quickly as the bathroom door opened and Solomon re-appeared with a rag and bowl of water.. He knelt down and sat it on the floor between your feet and slowly… excruciatingly slowly…rolled his sleeves past his forearms. The muted blues of his veins ran delicately down his wrists before disappearing underneath the depths of his flesh and swam back up the corded muscle, creating valleys just begging to be traced. You watched his long and lithe fingers run underneath the sleeve to secure above his elbow before he repeated the process on the other side. Your head was foggy and it was harder to breathe each passing second. Solomon dipped the clean rag into the pool of fresh water and you watched closely as his knuckles turned white and taught when he wrung the cloth of excess water, flowing in between his fingers while a few stray droplets trickled down his forearm, passing over the bulged and strained veins that twisted and moved with the motion.

He looked up at you and reached for your face, brushing a few pieces of stray hair behind your ear as he pressed the cool rag to your cheek, gently tapping from the side up to your brow and forehead. He was driving you crazy and you needed to leave before the last thread of sanity snapped, but every cell was screaming to stay, to feel the warmth of his skin and heat of his body on yours. The room started spinning and you once again brought your hand to his wrist to steady yourself.

”How does this feel?” Solomon inquired, peering up through his messy silver locks.

Amazing. Divine. Keep going.

”Better, um, thank you.” You managed through gritted teeth.

If your head wasn’t spinning as fast as it was, you would have noticed the brief flicker of Solomon's eyes from your lips to your unbuttoned shirt, forgetting you had opened it earlier for some reprieve. You might have caught the flames in his eyes, and the momentary lick of his lips.

”You’re warm, you still have your jacket on… let me help you.” Solomon stood up and hovered over you to slip the jacket from your shoulders.

Alarm bells were ringing in your head, you needed to leave. Run away, before you did something you shouldn’t change, but it felt so good to have his hands run down your arms. His touch was a sip of water in the middle of the desert, an oasis at the end of the horizon, tempting and seducing to the lost traveler, but never quite within reach.

”Here” he said gently, tossing your jacket to the ground and softly holding your hand, guiding you gently to lay down.

Abort. Abort. Abort. Leave.

“Rest a minute, you’re sweating.”

”I-I think I’m feeling better.” You protested, propping yourself up on your elbow.

”I insist. I won't let you leave this room until you’re feeling better. It’s my responsibility to take care of you.” Solomon was leaning above you now, one knee pressed next to you dipping into the mattress with the other still planted to the ground.

Unbeknown to you, the sorcerer was fighting his own battle. He had you exactly where he wanted, flushed and sweaty, clothes disheveled with need. A sight of divinity beneath him. Your eager glances you thought he hadn’t noticed have been driving him mad the whole evening, you looked like a lost little lamb in search of its Sheppard. He traced every part of you, scanning every feature, every freckle and line, naivety in your brow, he would burn it into his eyelids and carve the sight into his heart. His limits were being tested, but he needed to wait, he needed you to finally submit, then, he would reap his sweet fruit.

“Tell me, what do you need?” His lips brushed your ear.

He moved to strike, leaning down to whisper,

”I would give you anything.”

Snap! The chord which was wound tight was finally plucked, breaking the last dregs of self control. A gasp fell from your lips and you clawed at Solomon’s broad shoulders

”You, Solomon, I need you.” You pleaded, softly, strained, a broken whisper begging for salvation.

Checkmate, the King falls over and rolls off the board.

The second he heard your plea, he knew he won, you couldn’t see the deliciously arrogant smile that passed his lips, the gleam of success that darkened in his eyes. He couldn’t contain his joy and he moved to press his lips onto yours, cradling your face with his hands and wrapping his hands on the back of your neck. He angled his hands to posture your jaw up to get the best angle, begging to part your lips with his tongue, an invitation you openly accepted. He brought his hand to run down your waist and rest at your thigh, applying subtle pressure while leaning in to guide you to lay down. Solomon continued peppering kisses down your neck and began nipping at the soft skin adorning your collarbone, laying claim to that which he so desperately labored for.

Each hot kiss trailed fire on your skin, burning for him. Closing your eyes to focus on each sensation, writhing beneath him to trace every muscle down his back, the way his Adonis belt wrapped around and led into firm thighs, and fuck, he smelled so good. You were drowning in his senses, lungs heavy with his scent, branding the touch of his lips into your soul. If the world fell around the two of you and ended in burning ruins, you would take the taste of him with you on your voyage across the river Styx.

Solomon parted from you briefly, taking his warmth with him to reach behind his neck and take his shirt off with one fluid motion, leaning back on his haunches to display his pride, and let you drink him in. He was a peacock flaunting his feathers, looking down at you admiring him.

And admire you did, the moonlight filtering through the window cast his form in soft hues of blue splashing against the warm candle light, dipping over his pecs and abs, and they were adorned with inky black pact marks and symbols decorating his alabaster skin. Your eyes trailed down the shadows converging from his hips down below his belly button, he was beautiful, like a statue suspended in a museum. You felt hypnotized by him, bringing a hand to run down his torso hesitantly, like a sudden touch would stain or break him. He met you halfway to bring your hand to his heart, and you felt the beating reverberate into your palm and down your arm. Solomon closed his eyes to savor your touch, committing it to memory before raising it to his face, cradling your palm into his, kissing the back of our hand and trailing down your arm. When he reached your shoulder he brought his other hand to undo the rest of the buttons on your blouse. You arched your back to allow room for him to remove the offending article. Your hands fly to his waist to rapidly undo his belt buckle and claim what is yours.

”My my, impatient aren’t we?” Solomon mused.

”Please, I just need you close.”

”Oh?” He perked up at your admission “Who am I to deny anything to my precious apprentice?”

A wild chorus of limbs and clothes follow, tongues dancing and touches exchanged. When you were finally stripped and laid bare, Solomon took a moment to appreciate you, leaning in to wrap himself around you and tangle your legs with his. He nestled his head into the crook of your neck, he took a long huff into your hair and sighed contentedly.

“You have no idea how long I waited for this. I dreamed of you, hoping you would finally come to me.” He admitted, ready to lay his heart before him. ”I watched you, and waited. So. So patiently.” He rolled his hip, dragging his aching length across your core, pulling a sweet moan from your throat.

“I’m right here.” Tears pricked your eyes at Solomon’s admission. In this moment, you would tell him anything he desired, and if he asked, you’d set the world ablaze just to see the fire flicker within his irises.

Solomon lowered himself and brought your nipple into his mouth, hardened by the cool air and began sucking gently on it, rolling his tongue and gently pulling with his teeth while his other hand trailed down to explore the wetness in your folds. You rolled your hips into his hand and whimpered at his touch.

“Fuck- Solomon, right there, please-”

Solomon hummed in satisfaction, his voice gravel and low sending pleasurable vibrations to your nipple that he continued his ministrations on, quickening his pace with his newfound confidence. Your hands came flying to tangle into his hair and tug, mirroring the very fantasy you had earlier today.

You couldn’t take it anymore. You brought your hand down to where you two connected to take his hardened cock into your hand, drawing a hiss from the platinum haired sorcerer. You ran your thumb over the head, smearing the precum that weeped from the flushed tip, and gave his length a few languid strokes. He bucked up into your hand, and dropped his head back into the crook of your neck and began panting, moaning, singing your praises. Having him crumble under your touch stoked a fire, eager to please him, make him feel as good as he was making you feel, pressing chaste kisses into his hair while he continued rolling his hips, fucking your fist while whimpering your name into your ear. Abruptly, he grabbed onto you and rolled you both off the bed, throwing you back onto the soft carpet on the floor and caging you with his arms on either side of your head.

”I’m going to show you how much you mean to me, dearest.”

The anticipation was buzzing, sending little electrical shocks down your body as he grabbed your plush thighs, taking a moment to appreciate the fat pads dip underneath his fingers, then he hoisted them to press them flush against your sides, exposing you completely to him. Solomon hummed in pleasure and licked his lips, looking at you like a predator eyes his prey. He dipped his head to lick a long, hot stipe through your folds and your back came off the bed arched as your moans filled the room, the sweetest sound Solomon ever heard in his long years of life. He realized at that moment, he would do anything to keep it with him, at any cost, more so than he had already done. Whatever else he would have to do to secure his future with you, he was prepared to do. Too long had he watched anything good slip through his fingers with the sands of time.

The fruit of patience truly was sweet, he was addicted to your taste, squeezing your plush thighs possessively, flattening and rolling his tongue across your clit and feeling your core quiver with desire. He might have gotten you here through dubious means, but he didn’t want to be cruel to you. He responded to your silent plea by running two of his fingers around your hole and sank them slowly in, cherishing the silk feeling of your inner walls. He curled his fingers and dragged them across the sweet spot buried deep inside you, using his hands as a conductor would to an orchestra, leading the sweetest sound for his audience of two.

Chasing your high, you began to pick up your hips and meet them against the base of his fingers, syncing your movements to meet his. The pressure was building at a fast pace, collecting in your stomach and rising up your spine, full to the brim and threatening to spill over

”W-wait, not yet, need you-!”

”We have all night darling, so be good for me, yeah?” Solomon teased, looking up at your face contorting and gasping in pleasure. He continued flicking the tip of his tongue across your bud while hooking his fingers upward and massaging.

”I-I’m gonna-” you warned.

“Say my name.”

And the dam burst, pleasure flooding your senses and turning your vision white. You threw your head back while screaming his name. Your back arched while tugging at the roots of his hair that were tangled between your fingers.

Solomon watched in awe, he never witnessed anything so beautiful in his life. The growing embers of possessiveness were now a full wildfire, hot and blazing indiscriminate of anything in its path. He continued the pressure allowing you to ride out the last waves of your climax before he met you for a chaste kiss. Unlike the first one which was hot and heavy and desperate, this one was soft, slow, and gentle: a kiss two lifetime lovers would share under a tree or late at night under the sheets, whispering affection words couldn’t form.

Moments passed side by side in a shared embrace, filled with soft laughter and tracing touches while Solomon allowed you to catch your breath. He waited until your touches became desperate again, knowing the effects wouldn’t wear off for sometime. Perfect for him, he would stay up the entire night, pouring his affection into you, proving how you were made for him, you just had to see it.

He met your gaze with an inquisitive look, asking for permission to continue. When you nodded eagerly, he brought your leg around his waist to rest on his hip, lining his length to your entrance. He gripped the base and ran it up and down your wet slit teasing you, drawing a few more desperate sighs before he sank his entire length in. Solomon pressed his forehead to yours, keeping a hand to the side of your face so he could watch the pleasure wash over your face. Slowly, he pushed inside, inch by sinnful inch and relished the way you fluttered around him, not stopping until he was flush against you. Solomon released a shaky sigh and bit back the pure ecstasy he felt and took a moment to let your bodies rest a moment, connected.

“I could stay like this forever.” You whispered, still floating the clouds of your last climax

“Forever?” Solomon perked, giving a squeeze to your hip, “I quite like the sound of that.”

He rewarded your statement with a deep roll of his hips, dragging himself out and pushing slowly back in, watching the way you would throw your head back in bliss.

Your hands came to grip his waist, the deep rolling of his hips came in irresistible waves. Lost in your pleasure your hands explored the expanse of his back, feeling each muscle dip and bow as he was hitting that sweet spot deep in inside,

“Feels s-so good, Solomon.” You moaned, breathy. “You make me feel so good.”

An admission that made the sorcerer growl and began laying claim to the unbruised skin of your neck. He moved the leg that was wrapped around his hip and guided it under his arm, lifting your bottom and curling the apex of your two bodies up, so that his pelvis could rub against your bud with each thrust.

”You said you could be here forever.” He came up for air momentarily, never pausing his thrusts. “Did you mean it?”

“Yes.” He kissed you.

”You would be mine?”

“Yes-“

”Say it.” Solomon demanded, his pupils were blown with lust, picking up the pace of his strokes.

”I’m yours, Solomon.” You pleaded, chasing your high

”Again.” He punctuated with a thrust.

”I’m yours.”

”Again.” Thrust.

”I’m yours!” The coil sitting in your abdomen wound tight and finally snapped with one last thrust, sending pleasurable waves throughout your body, curling your toes and arching your back, your quivering provided Solomon with extra pleasure as he came with a groan with you. Stars filled your vision as you blindly clawed at Solomon's back, needing him to ground you, hanging on to never let him go. He whispered praises in your ear as he gripped you and allowed you to ride out your high, watching the light dance in your pupils and continuing pumping you full. When the last dregs of pleasure were pulled from you, and your body tired, he peppered you with kisses, singing your praises and tracing your side, keeping you safely caged within the confines of his limbs.

”Who am I to deny such a request from my beloved.” He muttered to himself, never breaking eye contact with your sweaty, shaking form.

”Our wish will be granted soon enough.”

——-

Floating.

Pieces of memory flooded your mind, broken scenes from the night before. Each piece playing fuzzy and bleary, never quite connecting to the next. You brought your hand to your lips, tracing the ghost of touch from last night. You remembered how Solomon touched you, and how you yearned for him. You remembered the feeling of his lips on your bare heated skin and the roll of his hips, how the two of you melded into one body. You remembered how expertly he played your body like an orchestra, and how the two of you continued your escapades late into the night: on his desk, against the wall, the carpet, until every inch of his room was marked with your scent and the bedside candles burned away. When the room finally cast into complete darkness and the moon hung high in the sky, he held your limp body and tended to you, and finally brought you to bed.

You opened your eyes, straining to keep the scene before you focused, you saw pieces of the tree tops and a dark blue sky, flashes of silver hair, and felt like you were floating. Maybe not floating, but being carried? As you strained to gain sense of your surroundings you felt wariness wrapped around you, it was Solomon. He was carrying you.

“You’re awake.” He said softly. “We’re almost there.”

”Almost where?” You replied, rubbing your eyes and clearing the hoarseness from your throat.

”To a place very important to me.” His voice was sober, devoid of his usual demeanor.

There were floating books nearby, and a strong feeling was pulling at your chest like a magnet. A few paces later Solomon gently set you down, your limbs weary and exerted still. A large fountain came into focus, glowing cerulean with books dancing around, leaving trails of phosphorus tracing their flight path. They circled around and ducked and weaved past the twisted limbs of leafless trees. Below the dark granite of the fountain lay stacks of books, some melding into the base while others created large towers around. Solomon knelt down to support your waist, allowing you to rest your head on his shoulder, coming in and out of your drowsy state.

“You might know this place, you might have read about it before. Barbatos took me here once when I was young, and broken.. on the knife's edge of death really.”

He leaned his head atop yours.

”The fountain?” You wracked your brain trying to remember the details.

Barbatos had told you the story of how we managed to Summon him as a young and naive boy, and it almost killed him. You don’t remember the details but you remembered how Barbatos spoke of him fondly. Satan once read in a book that described a young and extraordinary sorcerer, one who could have caused destruction to the Three Realms, and how a demon brought him to the fountain and made him the guardian, and was known thereafter as-

”The Wise Sorcerer.” Solomon spoke, his tone sounding nostalgic. “I much always preferred the Witty Sorcerer.”

The pieces started falling into place.

”It was you.” You muttered. “Satan was right.” You smiled fondly, looking up at the fountain with him.

“It was.” He smiled. “I wanted to show you parts of me I haven’t shown anyone else. You’re that dear to me, my beloved.” My beloved. The name rang in your ears from last night, from my dearest apprentice to my beloved, it filled you with giddy pride.

”Did you mean it last night?” Solomon ran a sickeningly sweet hand down your hair

”Hm?” You angled your face to look up at him, the blanket of exhaustion weighing heavy on your mind and body.

”When you said you could stay like this forever with me.” Solomon whispered in your ear, sealing his plea by lifting your chin with his finger to press a gentle kiss. When he pulled back you looked at him like he hung the stars himself and gave him a nod, not quite understanding what he was asking.. But if there was one thing you learned over the past year is you trusted him. Implicitly, the warnings received early on, forgotten from your head, he never gave you a reason to be wary of him. In fact, he kept you safe. Why wouldn’t you trust him?

The pulling feeling returned to your chest, it began pulsing in waves, you brought your hand subconsciously to the place the feeling came from.

”It calls to you, doesn’t it?” Solomon rested his hand onto yours.

”What is it?”

“Follow it.” He whispered, guiding you by your lower back.

The buzzing reverberating in your chest was radiating through your bones, singing high pitched frequencies the closer you got, it was mesmerizing, pulling you in like a siren song. You reached a hand towards the glowing fountain, and Solomon, behind you, was watching your every move, clenching his fists with anticipation. Almost there, just a little closer.

A bright ring of light breaks from the fountain, whooshing the books away and taking the tree limbs with it. You felt a searing pain, iron hot, pulling at you and then-

Black.

——

Back at the House of Lamentation, the brothers' bickering about your whereabouts was cut short by the ground shaking, splitting the soil and uprooting trees. Something felt off and they all felt restless.

“Calm down” Lucifer chided, masking his own anxieties. “I'll be back, I have to meet with Lord Diavolo.” A lie, but he did not want his brothers to worry.

Back in his room, Solomon tucks you into his bed, safe and sound. You needed your rest after all, he turned around to go back in his study and plan on if he wanted to break the news to you, or simply let you continue on, when all of a sudden Barbatos is standing in his study, pinching and rolling his fingers inspecting something.

”Barbatos! To what do I owe the pleasure?” He smiled.

”What did you do?” Barbatos demanded.

”You hurt me. I didn’t do anything, what do you mean?” Solomon pouted.

”I thought you knew better. And what of this?” Barbatos held his hand up, showing the singed herbs from the earlier spell gone astray. “I find it odd that such a simple spell to a sorcerer of your caliber went astray, what’s even more, is the traces of this herb in particular, used for a formidable aphrodisiac.”

”A necessary escalation.” Solomon brushed off, walking up to the table and dusting off some of the remains.

Barbatos ‘ eyes narrowed, displeased with the lengths he had gone. “everyone will. Learn the truth eventually. What will they do when the years pass and they don’t age? What will you do then?”

”I assure you all is well. After all, now the brothers can spend all the time they want with them. And as for me, I have a few things in line to begin my apologies,” Solomon was over the moon, nothing would take you away from him.

Barbatos stared at you dumfounded as if you’d grown a second head.  You flustered under his gaze, your fingers fidgeting and eyes dropping.

“I mean, if it’s not too much trouble,” you stuttered.  Your next words came out in a rush.  “Don’t get me wrong, I love your tea! It’s just... I used to drink it all the time back home, and I’m feel a little nostalgic for it.”

Ah, you were so cute when you got flustered... Barbatos could feel his resolve fracture just the slightest, and he tightened his mental control, like sealing a crack in a teacup.

Diavolo laughed.  “There’s no need to worry.  Barbatos’s coffee is just as divine as his tea. I’m sure it’ll be no trouble at all.  Besides, he just went to the market yesterday and restocked the kitchens.  Isn’t that right?”

Diavolo looked at him expectantly, innocence in his eyes, and yet Barbatos knew better.  The corners of Barbatos’s mouth quirked just the slightest in stiff acknowledgement as he made mental notes to increase the young lord’s workload for the next day or two....

“Yes, young master.  Although, had I known the coffee would be offered to guests, I would have purchased more of a selection.”

“I’m sure whatever you have is fine, Barbatos. I’m not very picky...” you reply encouragingly with a warm smile.

Barbatos stared at you for a moment and returned the expression with more warmth than he’d given the young prince.  “You’re very gracious, Y/N.”

Diavolo clapped his hands together excitedly.  “Lovely!  With all of this talk of coffee, I believe I’d like one as well. It’s been some time since I’ve enjoyed a cup.” 

How quickly one’s control over a situation can shift...

The butler bowed low.  “Of course, my lord.  I will prepare it immediately.” He straightened his stiff spine and stared at you, although he kept his gaze at the space between your eyes so as not to give away the heat he’d undoubtedly feel when looking directly into your dark pupils.  “Is it safe to assume you enjoy your coffee like you enjoy your tea?”

You giggled, the sound of it making Barbatos’s skin tingle.  “You mean more sugar and cream than coffee? Yes, please.”

Great. Just great.

Barbatos’s smile remained firm, yet he could feel its fakeness in the way the muscles at the corner of his mouth cramped. He hoped you couldn’t see it.

With a bow he retreated. As soon as he was out of your line of sight, his mask vanished, transforming from smile to frown.

You wanted coffee.

There was only one, large, glaring problem.  The only coffee in the entire castle was Hell Coffee. 

It was Diavolo’s favorite, his enjoyment of the acidic, bitter taste a constant, warm reminder of Barbatos’s fatherly affection. He only requested it when he required reassurance after a particularly difficult day, when Barbatos’s honest feedback and praise on a job well done weren’t enough.  Barbatos had no need for any other type of coffee, especially since he himself was renowned for his teas and cakes.  No one ever, in their right mind, would request coffee when offered Barbatos’s tea.

With each step, the calm butler began to lose more and more of his composure until he nearly slammed the door open upon his entry to the kitchen.

The three Little Ds in the room startled at his entrance. One stirred a large, steaming stock pot, one washed the dishes, and the other was chopping vegetables.

Little D Two, who stirred the pot, saluted him.  “Hi, boss!”

Barbatos glared. “Out.”

The Little Ds wasted no time in rushing through the door. But before Number Two could make it, Barbatos’s sharp tone caught him.

“Not you, Number Two.  You stay.”

Number Two began to visibly shake, his small hand scratching at his head.  “A-Are you sure, boss? You look like you wanna be alone...”

Barbatos did not have to repeat himself; instead, he pinned the Little D with a stern look.

The Little D began to return to the center of the kitchen where Barbatos stood.

“Close the door,” Barbatos ordered. Little D obeyed and then returned to his side.

Barbatos put his hands on the kitchen island and stared down at its wooden, weathered surface.

“She wants coffee,” he muttered.

“What was that boss? I couldn’t hear ya...” Number Two replied, inching closer.

“I said she wants coffee.” Barbatos repeated as he looked up, his brow furrowed in frustration.

“Who does?” Number Two asked.

Barbatos clenched his jaw for a moment before averting his gaze and answering.  “Solomon’s apprentice.”

He’d hoped referring to you by your title would ease the wildness of his pulse, give him the much-needed distance between his head and his heart.

It did not.

Number Two perked up. “Well, that’s no big deal! We have coffee, don’t we?” He began shuffling through the cupboards. “Where is it, where is it. Ah, here it is!” He held it up in victory and placed it in front of Barbatos.

Barbatos glared daggers at it.

Why would anyone ever invent such a thing, anyway?

Hell indeed...

“We can’t use this,” he muttered.

“What?? Sure we can! It’s Hell Coffee, we make it all the-Ohhh.”

Number Two grew very still and Barbatos’s jaw clenched.

The silence stretched an uncomfortable length of time as Number Two fidgeted.  Finally, he drifted in front of the butler, hovering above the busy countertop.

“So, you, uhhh-”

“Shut up,” Barbatos ordered through clenched teeth.  “Not another word.”

But Number Two didn’t know the meaning of the word. “I mean,” he continued, “it can’t be that bad, right?? Some people like it bitter...”

“Well she doesn’t. You do recall how she takes her tea, do you not?”

Two fidgeted some more, his nervousness worsening. “Ah, right. Good point. But how bitter can it get, really?”

“I’d prefer not to find out,” Barbatos replied.  “No, this will not do. There must be another way.”

“Can’t we just drown it out with cream and sugar?” Number Two asked as he began rummaging through the fridge.

“The purpose of Hell Coffee is to communicate fondness, Number Two.  The magic of that cannot be undone so easily.”

‘There wouldn’t be enough sugar and cream in the entire Devildom to drown out that bitterness...’ Barbatos thought.

Panic curled his fingers into fists, his heart pounding wildly in his chest.  Time was wasting. He had to return to you soon or you and the young master begin to grow suspicious.

But then, Barbatos had an idea.  “Tell me, Number Two.  What are your feelings towards the apprentice?”

“Huh? My feelings? I mean, she’s nice and she helps me out once in a while...” The Little D answered distractedly as he continued to rummage through ingredients.

“Perfect,” Barbatos replied. “You will make it, then.”

There was a loud thump as Number Two hit his head on the inside of the fridge.  He popped out, his little black hand lifting his hat to rub a sore spot. “Me?!”

“Yes.”

“I can’t make Hell Coffee!”

“Why not?”

“I’ve never done it before!”

“It’s not difficult.”

“But what if it comes out awful? I don’t even think Hell Coffee is supposed to work on Little Ds!”

“All the better reason for you to be the one to make it. Come now. Diavolo requested a cup as well. I shall make the first, and then I will guide you through the steps so you may make the second.”

----

Diavolo talked, but you were having difficulty focusing on his words as you felt the minutes tick by.

Perhaps you’d made a mistake...

In all honesty, you weren’t sure what to expect. All you knew was that Hell Coffee was the only coffee available in the castle, a little nugget of knowledge that Lucifer had given to you when he’d told the story of Diavolo attempting to make him the coffee himself.

As soon as you learned that little tidbit of info, your mind immediately went to Barbatos. Sweet, handsome Barbatos.  Barbatos who’s presence made your skin hum, who’s soft smile and deep chuckle made your gut twist in the most lovely way.  Barbatos who’s eyes seemed to read you like a book every time you looked into them, and yet gave away nothing short of amusement in return.

He was such a tea enthusiast that you’d never questioned the lack of coffee on his elegant and detailed menu. But now the thought of Barbatos making you Hell Coffee wouldn’t leave your mind.

After all, how else were you supposed to find out how he felt about you? Ask him?  Like a normal person?? Definitely not; the very idea was laughable.  You’d rather take his rejection through small sips of coffee rather than hear the words uttered from his mouth.

Because that’s what you were certain would happen. The acidity would be mild, the beverage more sugar than coffee. It wasn’t like the royal butler harbored any feelings for you, right? Sure, there was respect and friendship, but that was it.

So then why.... why were you so nervous? Why did hope flutter in your chest like a trapped bird?

Silly.

Anxiety twisted deep in your stomach, crushing your appetite and making your small desserts taste like ash.

But a moment later, he appeared, an ornate silver tray in his steady gloved hands, with two delicate teacups of steaming dark liquid.  He set the tray down and began to prepare them to yours and Diavolo’s liking. The close proximity made the delicious scent tickle your nose, and you inhaled and let out a happy sigh.

Barbatos was unmoved, his eyes kept to the teacups as he handed Diavolo his beverage first, and then yours.

Diavolo thanked him with a happy smile and took the first sip and winced.  “Ah, as bitter as ever Barbatos.  Glad to know you haven’t tired of me yet.”

“An impossibility, young master,” he replied smoothly.

You watched the exchange as you carefully brought the beverage to your lips and sipped.

Your heart sank instantly, the sweet tang clinging to your tongue.  It crushed your hope, silenced the unspoken confessions and washed them away to a place where they’d be left to slowly die.

“And how do you like yours?” Barbatos inquired, his neutral smile hiding any emotions worth noticing.

Or, as you’d just now discovered, where none lurked.

He respected you it seemed, had some basic level of fondness since the coffee still tasted of coffee, of course.  But it lacked the sharp, bitter bite that you’d hoped for, the one you’d experienced whenever one of the brothers made you coffee at the house.

You forced a small smile even as you felt your disappointment coalesce in your throat like a stone.  “It’s delicious. Thank you, Barbatos.”

Barbatos gave a polite nod and his posture eased ever so slightly. His satisfaction of your reaction to your bland, sugary cup only drove the painful truth home further, a nail into your heart.

Barbatos didn’t love you.

----

Diavolo stared at the empty teacups in thought as Barbatos began clearing the table.  “She seemed... disappointed, didn’t she?”

Barbatos glanced at him and then averted his eyes.  “Did she?”

“She certainly left quickly enough after the coffee.”

“I’m sure she simply has many errands to run,” Barbatos replied.  “The brothers and Solomon keep her nearly as busy as me.”

Diavolo stared at him for a long moment, then let out a gentle hum.

Barbatos graced his unspoken need for further attention with a lengthy side-eye.  “Yes, young master?”

Diavolo’s mouth quirked up slightly at the corner.  “Nothing... I just... I was certain that her cup would have been more bitter.”

Barbatos straightened up, the tray of now used dishes in his hand, his own mouth quirking up in return.  “I’m sorry to disappoint.”

Diavolor raised a challenging eyebrow at him.  “You do know I can tell when someone is lying to me, Barbatos.  Even you.”

Barbatos’s smirk vanished as quickly as it came, his walls up instantly.  “I have not forgotten, my lord. As such, perhaps you should cease pursuing this topic.”

“Have it your way...” Diavolo muttered.

Barbatos bowed. “If you’ll excuse me...”

He turned towards the castle, his eyes downcast on the half-drank cup of coffee you’d left behind.  As he began to walk back, Diavolo’s quiet voice followed him.

“You’re making a mistake.”

----

Diavolo’s words lingered in Barbatos’s mind following him into the next day, and the day after that.  It haunted him endlessly, making its appearance at the most inopportune times.  While balancing the budget, monitoring Lord Diavolo’s progress on his pile of paperwork, while running errands... he was far too busy to be so, so.... distracted.

Barbatos whole-heartedly disagreed with the young prince’s assessment.  In fact, in all honesty, Barbatos hardly ever made any mistakes at all, at least not anymore. He was far too careful for such reckless behavior.  Which was why Barbatos had a million and one reasons not to confess his feelings to you.  Between Devildom politics, his duties, and your mortality just to name a few, the cons far outweighed the pros... or so he tried to tell himself.

Even so, he couldn’t deny how you watched him when you thought he wasn’t looking, or the way your smile brightened in his presence... or the way you always managed to find a reason to cross paths with him at least a couple times a week...

Barbatos shook his head to himself.  No.  Best not to go there...

And yet...

‘You’re making a mistake.’

----

The truth of those words didn’t fully solidify until he ran into you at the market a couple of weeks later. Barbatos had already noticed how he seemed to be crossing paths with you less than usual. He already suspected you were avoiding him, putting distance between your heart and him.  He’d accepted it, a consequence of his own choices.

That is, until he saw the look in your eyes; the way you couldn’t quite hide the hurt fast enough behind your smile, the way your lips curled in artificial joy at seeing him.  Your words were brief and cordial, but he could tell you were eager to disentangle from his presence.

He’d watched your retreating back with his breath lodged like spikes in his lungs, the longing to grab your wrist and pull you back to him making his fingers twitch.

Barbatos had hoped that preventing an impromptu confession with cursed coffee would have allowed him to keep you at arm’s length, to keep his affections for you separate from yours.

But this felt less like separation and every bit like entanglement.  You weren’t just drifting farther away from him like two separate objects with nothing but empty space between. It felt more like ripping, a tearing of intertangled roots. It was painful and left an ache in his chest where your presence had made a home.

Perhaps the young lord was right....

----

Even so, Barbatos was as stubborn as he was prideful.  He filled himself with distractions to ease the pain, waiting for time to work its magic and ease the empty longing for both of you.

Another two weeks passed before Diavolo took matters into his own hands.

The prince entered the kitchen to see every single surface filled with extravagant desserts and warm breads. Little D’s were at every counter and stove, while Barbatos stood at the island in the center with a piping bag in his hand, his brow furrowed in concentration.

“Are we having a celebration?” Diavolo asked jovially.

“No, young master,” Barbatos replied.

“Then what is the reason for the feast?”

“I have been making modifications to my recipes to perfect my menu.”

“You mean the menu you’ve already perfected three times this week?”  Diavolo crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe.  “This wouldn’t have anything to do with one particular sorcerer’s apprentice, would it?”

Barbatos’s hand flexed on the piping bag and a large glob shot out onto the cake he was decorating.  He glanced briefly at Diavolo.  “Of course not.”

“Then I’m guessing that it’s just a coincidence that you’ve chosen her favorite color as your decorating inspiration....”

Barbatos blanched and his eyes looked up from his work to take in the state of the kitchen.

Damn it, he was right... cupcakes, cakes, tarts, danishes, marbled bread, muffins... everything he’d made was somehow tied back to you.  Colors, flavors, textures... it was as if he’d gotten lost in his thoughts and his hands had written out apologies in the form of desserts rather than letters.

“Perhaps we should talk about this...” Diavolo suggested.  His amber eyes took in the exhausted Little D’s.  “Okay, break time everyone!”

A roar of cheers erupted throughout the kitchen, and a swarm of dark little bodies vacated the space in record time.

“Young master, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t override my authority within the kitchen,” Barbatos chided as he eyed all of the unfinished work.

“My dear friend, work them any harder, and they’ll all go on strike, and then where will we be?”  Diavolo closed the door behind him and made himself comfortable against the island, a pastry in his hand.  Barbatos returned to piping the decoration onto the cake that was nearly complete.  “You should talk to her, Barbatos.”

Barbatos froze and finally let out a heavy sigh in defeat as he set the piping bag down. He braced his hands against the weathered edge of the counter. “I cannot.”

“Why not?”

“It is not so simple.”

“Isn’t it?”

Barbatos chuckled.  “I sometimes envy your youthful, reckless optimism...”

“You’ve been sulking ever since that day with the hell coffee.”

Barbatos scoffed and straightened his spine in reproach. “I do not sulk.”

“Like a teenager with a broken heart ,” Diavolo pressed with an arrogant tilt of his chin and mischief in his smile.

Barbatos narrowed his eyes.  “If you have enough time to watch me so closely, then perhaps you can explain to me why you’re still so behind on your work.”

“Maybe I’m too distracted watching you clean the castle top to bottom and baking enough sweets to satiate even Beel’s bottomless gut.”

His words got under the butler’s skin and so he started straightening up the space, gathering crumbs of dough and flour into piles, wiping up blotches of icing from the wood grain.  “It is work that must be done my lord, nothing more nothing less.” Then he muttered, “A teenager? Really? You do realize I’m far older than you.”

“Yes, and how many of those years have you been alone?”

“I am not alone, young master. I have you, I have the Little Ds...”

“You know what I mean. When was the last time you fell in love?”

Barbatos froze, his vision blurring. He blinked and it refocused.

Yes... how long had it been?

“Look,” Diavolo said, “all I’m saying is that perhaps this is one area that you’re a little bit... rusty in.”

Barbatos was silent for a long moment, before giving a soft sigh and turning to lean against the counter the same as Diavolo.  “My lack of a love life isn’t the issue.  I can’t afford to jeopardize your position as prince by allowing myself to become emotionally involved with a human. And not just any human, but Solomon’s apprentice.  Many demons still haven’t forgotten how he’d singlehandedly opposed the Devildom centuries ago. I am your most trusted confidant, and as such I must err on the side of caution in all of my dealings.”

Diavolo’s eyes widened.  “Is that why you’ve been doing this?”

“I am your butler first and foremost, young master. You will always be my top priority.”

Diavolo blew air out of his cheeks and leaned his head back to stare at the intricate ceiling.  “I see. I appreciate the concern, friend. However, I believe, in this instance, it’s important that you put a little more faith in me to be able to keep the nobles in line.  Regardless of their opinions, I am the law of this land, and my position is final. Besides, she’s already intricately tied up in Devildom affairs considering she has pacts with all of the brothers.”

“All the more reason to be cautious,” Barbatos replied.

“Screw that,” Diavolo scoffed.

Barbatos gasped.  “My lord!”

“After all you’ve done for me, what kind of a prince would I be if I let the fear of the masses take away your chance at happiness?” Diavolo said firmly.  “You deserve to be happy too, Barbatos.  Now please, for the love of my father, get out of this damn kitchen and go apologize to her.”

Barbatos stared at the prince with wide eyes, before bowing low. “Yes, young master.”

Before Barbatos crossed the threshold, Diavolo called out with a chuckle in his voice. “You should ask her for coffee when you get there...”

Barbatos gave a soft laugh.  He had a feeling he wouldn’t have to.

----

For all of the inspiration and reassurance Diavolo had provided, Barbatos could feel his resolve slip more and more the closer he got to the front door of the House of Lamentation.

Would you turn him away? Run away to your room and allow the brothers to host him instead?  What if you weren’t even home? What if you were with Solomon?

A sharp stab of jealousy reared its head and he forced it back down.

That certainly wouldn’t do him any good, now would it?

He walked up the steps and rang the doorbell as he held his breath.

A silent prayer of gratitude and dread echoed through his mind as you answered the door. You froze when you saw him, eyes wide, your breath caught in your chest.

“Barbatos,” you said dumbly.  “What are you doing here?”

You clamped your mouth shut as you realized how rude you sounded, and all Barbatos could think about was how cute you were...

“I...” he started, and then froze.  He couldn’t say the real reason for his arrival, not on the doorstep where anyone could hear.  “I came to inspect the House of Lamentation for any infestations.”

Your shoulder slumped slightly in disappointment.  “Oh. Okay, come in.”

He bowed graciously.  “Thank you.”

As he stepped into the large foyer, you fidgeted nervously.  He stared the gesture and fought the blush that threatened to creep across his pale cheeks.  “Where are the brothers?” he asked.

“They aren’t here right now. Diavolo called them to a student council meeting.”

Barbatos’s eyes widened.  “Oh. I see...”

He wasn’t sure whether he should thank him or punish him...

He stared down at you as his heart pounded wildly.  “So you are by yourself then?”

“For a little bit,” you replied with a small smile.  “I must admit the quiet is nice once in a while...”

Barbatos’s own lips curled gently.  “Then I promise I’ll be brief.”

“W-would you like some tea?” you asked expectantly.

Barbatos hesitated, Diavolo’s words once again coming alive in his mind.

Ask her for coffee.

But Barbatos forced the suggestion aside.

“Yes, tea would be lovely.”

“Okay, I’ll be right back.  Make yourself comfortable.” You retreated toward the kitchen, and Barbatos sat in a nearby chair.

----

Tea, tea, tea.....

You opened the cannister that sat on the counter and stared at it with wide eyes and an open mouth.

Empty.

No, that can’t be right... you always had tea.

With your brow furrowed, you rummaged through the lower pantry.

Nothing. Not a single tea bag.

No, no, no....

Dread started from your toes and crept up like invisible fingers brushing against sensitive skin.

You had hoped to make this as painless as possible; give Barbatos his tea, allow him to do his inspection, and then send him on his way.  But already things were going awry.

You hummed to yourself with a furrowed brow as you dug out any and all drink options.  Water, milk, juice, soda... none of those seemed suitable for Barbatos.

You went back to the cupboards, moving items around as you searched.  Your hand wrapped around a familiar bag and you pulled it out with trepidation.

 Coffee.

You stared at the bag of Hell Coffee with narrowed eyes as if it was the reason for the lack of tea within the kitchen.

No.  Absolutely fucking not. You’d already made that mistake once before and you’d regretted it ever since.

Panic filled your veins and you fought back the burning sensation in your eyes.

There had to be something....

Your eyes spotted the upper cabinet that was so often out of your reach. It often housed excess demonus when Lucifer’s own cabinets were full in his office.

Maybe... just maybe....

Who knows, maybe Lucifer had received some tea as a gift from Barbatos and put it up with the rest of the demonus?

You grabbed the stool that had become your best friend within the Devildom-sized kitchen and stepped up.

----

Barbatos sat and fiddled with his clothing, adjusting the uniform repeatedly. It felt awfully tight today, the house feeling particularly warm.

The minutes ticked by, time stretched, and Barbatos grew more and more restless. He checked the time.  The tall grandfather clock chimed its gong.

Finally, Barbatos got tired of waiting.  Perhaps you’d run out the back door, leaving him alone in the house...

He chuckled to himself.  You would never....

He stood up and made his way to the kitchen.  When he pushed through the double doors, he froze as he stared at the sight before him.

The kitchen was chaos, cupboards open and various contents spread out on the counter.

And you, you were on a stool, precariously balanced, as the upper half of your body vanished inside a high cabinet.

“No, no, this can’t be happening...” you muttered, unaware of Barbatos’s presence. He could hear the anxiety laced in your tone, the tension tight around your vocal chords. You were desperately searching for something.

It was almost comical, watching you stand on your tippy-toes, and it’d been so long since Barbatos saw you up close, that he paused to cherish the view. His eyes followed the curves and lines of your body, his lips slightly parted.

That is, until you started to wobble...

You could feel the balance shift, felt the scrape of the wood beneath your feet give way to nothing.

That split second of panic, of knowing you were falling, was interrupted by strong hands and lean arms wrapping around your waist, catching your weight against a firm, tall body.

The impact of your body against Barbatos’s forced his own back against the closed lower cupboard, but he held firm, keeping your feet from touching the floor. Your arms were around his neck instantly, survival instinct forcing you against him as if he were a tree.

Time felt frozen for a moment as your heart pounded with adrenaline.

You knew immediately who’d caught you. After all, there was only one other person in the house with you.

Not to mention you could smell the scent of sugar clinging to his uniform, could smell the tea on his breath as his own heart pounded beneath yours.

You were torn between embarrassment and desire, your eyes closed as you clung to him.  But then you remembered the hell coffee from weeks ago, recalled that neutral smile he’d worn when you drank it, and your heart broke all over again.

Slowly you loosened your hold around his neck and pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes.

“I... thank you.”

His green eyes stared back, his skin flushed, although you were sure it was due to the haste in which he had to have moved to catch you. Barbatos held you for a moment longer than he needed to before slowly setting you down on unsteady legs.

“You’re welcome,” he replied.  Then his eyes looked up past your head at the kitchen behind you.  “Might I inquire as to what’s happening?”

You opened your mouth hoping to find a believable lie there, but there was none.  Only simple truth came forth, clumsy and blunt.  “We don’t have any tea.”

“Oh...” Barbatos looked down at you.  “So you’ve decided to reorganize your kitchen.”

The emotion pounding in your chest finally gained enough strength to work their way up your throat and brim your eyes with tears.

“I... I only have coffee. And, and water, and juice, and soda, and...”

Barbatos watched the panic overtake you and he took your hand in his, his thumb gently rubbing across the back of your hand.

“Coffee will be fine.”

What he had hoped would assuage your fear only seemed to heighten it, causing the tears to finally break loose, running wet tracks down your cheeks. You refused to look at him, instead focusing on the details of his uniform.

“B-but... I only have Hell Coffee....”

Realization dawned on Barbatos’s face, and then his expression softened.  “I see... then let us make some.”

He began to step to the side to go around you but you clutched his hand tightly, halting his retreat.  “No, you don’t understand. It’s...” Barbatos waited patiently as you found your words. Finally, your voice came through soft and timid.  “It’s going to be too bitter.”

A soft smile spread across his lips.  “I think in this case I am willing to make an exception.”

Confusion furrowed your brow as he led you over to the counter with your fingers intertwined.  “I... I don’t understand.... I thought...”

“Y/N, I have a confession to make... and an apology as well.”

A few minutes later and the sound of laughter is filling the kitchen with the scent of coffee in rich in the air.

“So you really bullied Number Two into making it??” you laughed.

Barbatos gave you a reproachful look.  “Bullying is a strong term, Y/N... but yes, I suppose I did.”

“Well now I know how Two feels about me, I guess...”

“And you know how I feel about you, too,” Barbatos replied with a small smile.

“Wellll,” you hummed, “Yes, but...” you stared at the two cups of fresh coffee sitting in front of each of you. “I still want to try it...”

It was Barbatos’s suggestion to make each other’s cup, to assuage any lingering doubts.

“Then let us proceed,” he replied.

With your eyes locked you both picked up your cups and took a tentative sip.

Sharp, deep bitterness greeted your tongue and your face soured.  Barbatos’s cup seemed to be no better, as he attempted to stifle a cough.

“Oh...” he mustered.  “Oh goodness, that’s...”

“Truly awful,” you replied with a chuckle.  “In the best way, of course.”

“It really is, isn’t it?” he laughed.  He took another sip and you watched in amusement as his winced.

You sipped yours again as well, and forced it down with your eyes squeezed shut.

“Do... do we have to finish the whole thing?” you asked.

“It’s customary to do so... not finishing it implies you’re unwilling to fully accept the other person’s affections.”

You frowned into your cup with a pout.  “Silly Devildom customs...” you forced another sip.  “Blegh.”

Barbatos grinned, his cheeks warm as he watched you.  “Perhaps, however...” he said, “we can call a truce.”

“Don’t toy with my emotions, Barbatos,” you teased.

His expression sobered from one of amusement to calm affection.  “I promise, never again.”

Your skin felt hot and you averted your eyes down into your cup.  His hand came forward, and you felt him tuck your hair behind your ear.

“I am truly sorry for deceiving you,” he said softly.  “It was a poor decision and one I’ll always regret.”

Your gaze returned to lock with his, and suddenly you’re keenly aware of his close proximity and of the emptiness of the large house.

Barbatos’s hand lingered gently on your jawline, his fingers tucked behind your ear.  His eyes flickered to your lips before returning to your eyes again.

Then he closed the distance and kissed you, his lips soft and tender against yours.  You melted into it, melted into him, your fingers twining into the jacket of his uniform.

He pulled away slightly and you stared at each other. Then he kissed you again, his lips firmer, more confident.  His hand went from your jaw to your waist, pulling you close against him as your arms wound around his neck.  The desire written into his touch, his lips, emboldened you to open your mouth slightly and swipe your tongue against his lips.  Barbatos’s lips curled into a smirk against yours, a deep chuckle vibrating in his chest. He acquiesced to your silent plea and opened his mouth, his tongue meeting yours.

Your body awakened at the warmth and taste of him, the acrid coffee still sharp on his tongue.  You pressed yourself harder against him, and his body pivoted until you were pinned between himself and the counter, your coffee cups long since forgotten and growing cold while your body grew hotter.

Finally, Barbatos broke the kiss, his forehead pressed against yours as his hands tightened on your hips.  “You’re going to make me behave improperly if you continue to torture me so.”

He was taller than you, much taller; you barely came up to his shoulder.  It made the buckle of his belt press against your stomach.

And below that...

Heat pooled in your core, desire heavy in your gaze.

“Oh no, not improper,” you teased, your hands on his hips in return as you looked up at him with pleading eyes.

Barbatos chuckled as he cupped your cheek. “What a troublemaker... however,” - he forced his body to separate from yours - “I would like to perhaps court you before repurposing your kitchen.”

You pouted your lip in disappointment, and Barbatos stared at the gesture with flushed cheeks.  His thumb came up and brushed against your protruding lower lip.  “Don’t do that,” he chided.

You grinned and playfully nibbled at his thumb, trapping it between your teeth.  His eyes darkened. He leaned in to kiss you again, but your words halted his approach just as his lips started to brush yours.

“How about dessert?” you asked against his mouth.  “Our coffee was so bitter, we deserve something sweet.”

Barbatos froze and gave a frustrated chuckle.  “Is this how it’s going to be from now on?”

You grinned.  “Maybe...”

“Hmm,” he hummed. Then he leaned closer to you until his lips brushed your ear.  “Sounds like fun...”

Your legs felt like jelly, your heart pounding so fiercely you were sure it was going to jump from your chest into his.

But then Barbatos pulled away, putting distance between you. “Fortunately for you, I happen to have a wide variety of desserts waiting in the kitchen at the castle. So,” he extended his hand to and bowed, “if you’ll accompany me...”

You smiled and took his hand. “I’d be happy to.”

“Wonderful. Let us take a shortcut.”

Barbatos opened a doorway out of thin air, and with your hand linked with his, guided you through.

As if on cue, Barbatos spoke.

“Why have you never asked to form a pact with me?” he asked quietly.  His tone was polite, controlled, and in that instant, you knew that he was guarding his dissatisfaction.

His tone concerned you, and you rolled over to your back to face him.  You stared into his green eyes, and he couldn’t hide his hurt fast enough behind his neutral gaze.

“I thought you didn’t like pacts,” you replied.  “After what happened with Solomon, I... well, it didn’t feel right to ask.”

He held your gaze for a moment, before returning his fingers to trace along your chest, your ribs, your stomach.  He was quiet, his gaze pensive as his eyes trailed over the pact mark along your shoulder.

You watched him, taking in the beauty of his demon form and all the little extra signs of body language it provided.  The shudder of the skeletal wings on his head, the annoyed twitching of his dual-tipped serpentine tail as it flicked back and forth behind him.  But you didn’t need those to know what he was feeling.

“I’m sorry,” you said gently. “I didn’t know it would bother you. I thought it was what you wanted.”

Barbatos glanced at you, before returning his gaze to the pact marks that he traced.  His fingers traced the one along your hip, his fingers gently pushing down the bed sheet that covered you so that he could see all of it, reach all of it. Your body shuddered instinctually at his touch, once again reawakening for him.  He noticed of course, and the corner of his mouth quirked up slightly.

“What happened with Solomon was between me and him.” Barbatos returned his gaze to you, his hand gliding along your thigh to pull it over his own as his leg nestled between yours. “You are not Solomon.”

Your pulse became heavier, your heart pounding hard against your ribs.  “I’m not,” you agreed.  You reached your hand up and ran your fingers gently through the long bangs on the side of his face that hung down to tickle your cheek.  “I’d never hurt you.”

He smiled gently.  “I know that,” he replied.  “And yet, here you lay beneath me, covered in the marks of seven men, and not a single one of them mine.”

Barbatos lowered his lips over the pact mark on your shoulder and bit into it, the pain making you gasp.  But then his lips closed over his teeth, and he sucked, pulling at your sensitive flesh with his tongue.  Pain flowered into arousal.  But his mouth left you as quickly as it had come, leaving behind a dull ache on your skin and between your legs.

You knew for a fact that he had marked you, the hickey dark and bruising.  A wave of familiar heat flooded down to your clit, and you grinded yourself against his thigh.

He didn’t acknowledge your desperate action, his eyes instead focused intently on his handiwork on your shoulder.  It was Lucifer’s pact, the mark of Pride.  It always seemed a fitting place for it; the eldest brother always carried the heaviest weight of the family upon himself, all due to his inability to share responsibilities in order to guard his ego.

Now it was tainted, stained with Barbatos’s touch.

Barbatos kissed his love mark tenderly, before continuing a trail of soft kisses and licks down the length of your arm, his hand holding your wrist to allow him easier access.  His lips made his way to your palm where he placed a final gentle kiss into the sensitive nerves.  Then he turned your palm over to nip at the mark on the back of your hand.  It was Mammon’s pact mark this time, the mark of Greed.

He repeated the action he’d done before, ignoring the needy roll of your hips and the whine of your voice as he sucked at your skin, drawing forth your blood to just beneath the surface, where it washed out the details of the pact mark’s center.  He stared at that one too after he’d finished, his thumb rubbing over it as if he could smudge it off of your skin.

Then his eyes were moving, searching for the next. They settled on the mark detailed intricately on your hip, the mark of Envy.

“If I could rid you of each and every one of them, I would,” he muttered. His nail dragged over the surface, the pressure stinging as it cut into your skin. You hissed air in through your teeth, but once again his mouth was over the wound he’d caused, his tongue lapping at the small line of blood.

You rolled against him again, but this time his hand pushed down firmly on your hip and held you still.

The next mark, the mark of Gluttony, was on your stomach, framing your belly button like an intricate henna tattoo.  It kept the center of the mark from him, but it didn’t stop him from sinking his teeth into your skin just below it and sucking.  His chest was pressed against your aching core, your wetness sticking to his skin. Your clit sang its praises, your cunt gathering wetness, as his body pressed against your pubic bone.

“Barbatos...” you whined, your fingers clutching the bedsheets.  “Please...”

He paused in his task, and looked at you with narrowed eyes, pupils expanded with desire and beneath that, a dark, carnivorous possessiveness.  “Please what?”

Your breath hitched in your throat as your body sang like music notes on glass. Any sharper, any louder, and you’d shatter, explode into a thousand pieces beneath Barbatos’s touch.

“Please... don’t stop,” you whispered.  “Mark all of them.”

Barbatos’s breath caught in his throat. Whatever he had expected you to say, he hadn’t expected it to be that.

He came up to hover over you and captured your mouth in a fiery kiss, his tongue pushing past your lips to demand your acceptance of him.  You opened instantly, your arms wrapped tight around his neck as you tried with all your might to press every inch of yourself against him.

He was gone as quickly as he’d came, returning once again to the space between your legs.  You had thought he’d continue on to the mark adorning your thigh, but he stopped to plant a gentle kiss against your clit, followed by a slow draw of his tongue from your wet entrance to your sensitive nub.  You gasped, the heat of his mouth calling every nerve into attention for him, your cunt throbbing and aching.  He growled low, and drew his tongue along your slit again, the wet muscle pushing deeper into your hole before sweeping up to capture your clit gently in his teeth. He gave it a small suck, and your hips began to buck against him, desperate for more.

But he didn’t linger.  He moved away from your aching, wet core as it clenched around nothing, your body desperately calling for him to return.

His steely resolve never ceased to impress you.  You could tell by how rock hard he was that he wanted nothing more than to plunge himself into your depths.  But this task was far more important to him, and he was determined to see it through to its completion.

He settled himself over your thigh, his fingers tracing the mark of Lust.  It was his least favorite mark, far too close to the intimate parts of you for his comfort.  His bites and sucks were harder this time, and you tensed against it, pleasure shifting into pain.

Barbatos wasn’t one to hurt you.  Not truly, at least.  He enjoyed torturing you, making you beg for him.  But true harm, true fear, was not something he ever wanted to see in you when you looked at him.

So, to ease the harshness of his mouth, his fingers stroked you gently, dipping between your folds to soothe and pleasure.  His fingers withdrew to allow his thumb to find its home and draw small circles, applying enough pressure for you to focus on pleasure instead of pain.  You writhed beneath him, your breaths becoming quick and labored as your hips began to stutter against his hand, but Barbatos never let you cum, keeping his touch just gentle enough to keep you from falling over the edge.

When he finally lifted from your thigh, the mark of Lust was blacked out with multiple hickeys.

Barbatos sat up, situating his legs on either side of yours, straddling your thighs.  He grabbed your bicep.  “Roll over,” he ordered as he pulled you.

You listened, rolling to your stomach, your head propped on your forearms.

Goosebumps scattered your skin as you felt his hair tickle the middle of your back, followed soon by his lips, barely brushing.  He trailed his mouth down the curve of your body, following the valley of your spine. You thought he’d stop there to address the large pact mark in the middle of it, but he continued on, following the rise and fall of the hill of your ass, and down your thigh until he finally reached the sixth pact on the back of your calf, Wrath.  He lifted your ankle slightly as he set to work, placing his own mark over it. 

You waited in silence as he worked, your mind falling into a calm serenity.  The heavy invisible anger that had been present in the room earlier was gradually lifting with each bite and dark imprint he left on you.  But you knew there was more to be said, a quiet anticipation that hung between the two of you like an invisible veil.  You were together, your hearts visible to each other, but still somehow separate.

His hands trailed back up your body, his lips ghosting up, up, up until they once again found the middle of your back where the last mark burned.  It was Belphegor’s mark of Sloth, and Barbatos paused as he stared down at it, his fingers tracing its edges.

“It’s not just about the marks,” he finally confessed quietly.  “It’s about what they mean. It’s about not being able to be with you. Not being able to protect you.”

Your eyes began to burn, the swell of emotion within you clawing for a way out.  Barbatos must have sensed the change in you.  He gently planted a kiss between your shoulder blades along your spine, followed by another on the smooth plane of your shoulder.

“I want to be able to protect you,” he said against your skin. “I want you to be able to call on me if you ever need me.  Why should they be able to protect you when I can’t?”

The tears finally slipped from your lashes to absorb into the pillow as he lowered himself back down to the pact mark and began to finish what he had started.  He sucked and bit, as his hands caressed your sides, his fingers squeezing your flesh and releasing.

“I wanted to...” you finally whispered.  “I wanted to make a pact with you from the very beginning.  From the moment I knew I loved you.”

You could hear the intake of breath behind you and his grip on you tightened, his nails digging into your skin.  You rolled to your back again so you could face him, to let him see the truth in your eyes.

You cupped his face in your hands as he hovered over you, watching, listening.

“I’ve always wanted it,” you continued.  “But I didn’t think you did.  And it wasn’t just about Solomon. I knew that a pact with me would impact your loyalty to Diavolo.  I didn’t want to do that to you. I didn’t want to ever put you in a position where you felt torn between me and duty.”

Barbatos’s gaze softened, the wings crowning his head shuddering softly before tucking gently in relaxation.  His tail ceased its movement, instead laying gently and twining around your leg.  His hand covered yours as you continued to cup his cheek.

“The pact will always take precedence,” Barbatos replied.  “Not even Diavolo would be able to question it.  And, he wouldn’t anyway. He has always been the most reasonable of demons and respects the binding power of pacts without question.”

You bit your lip, your brow furrowed.  “Are you sure? What if that changes?”

Barbatos smiled softly and cupped your face in return.  “If I have to choose between loving you and duty, then I will choose love.  Every time, for eternity.”

More tears slipped down the corners of your eyes to absorb into your hair.  “Then make a pact with me. Please.”

Barbatos’s eyes glowed slightly, and a shudder ran through his body.  He lowered himself onto you, the heat of him soaking deep into your skin, your muscles, your bones.  You could feel his heartbeat against your chest, deep and pounding.  He may be a demon, but he looked and felt as real as any man, and far greater than any human.  His cock was hard between you, pressed against you in all the right places, places that made you want to arch your hips and greet him, to coax him within you so you could let him feel the love that nestled there, just for him.

He didn’t question your request.  He didn’t require verification. He took your decision as gospel, an order that he was more than willing to follow.

He kissed you hard, his mouth open and tongue searching.  You met his ferocity with your own, your fingers gripping his hair tightly as your legs wrapped around him.  He pulled away just enough to stare into your eyes again.  With every inch of your bodies intertwined, he dipped his hips, allowing his cock to find its home at your wet entrance.

“I am Barbatos, Demon of Time, servant of Prince Diavolo, first of his name.”

He pushed himself into you slowly as he spoke, allowing your body to stretch around him and welcome him home.  You gasped, your eyes closing briefly, before they opened again.  As he bottomed out against you, your cunt tightened around him, throbbing.  His cock twitched, his nerves singing in pleasure as he felt the magic of his words begin to coalesce.

“I pledge myself to you, Y/N...” he pulled out slowly to the tip and pushed back in again, just as slow.  “...that we may be bound by an unbreakable pact.”

He loved the way you inhaled, the way your pulse fluttered in your neck.  He pulled out and thrust in again, harder, as the magic moved through him, first as a trickle, and then a stream.

“This I swear to you on both my name as well as the very blood that runs through my veins,” he finished.

The stream was now a river, powerful and strong.  If you didn’t complete your end of the pact, it would sweep you both away in its destructive force.  The thrill of it, of the feel of ancient power humming in his veins while your cunt squeezed his cock, brought its own sense of dizzying euphoria.  He thrust into your harder, his pace increasing as he lifted himself slightly to improve the angle of his approach, to reach the deepest parts of you, the parts that made you moan and writhe.

“I....” Your breath hitched by his thrusting. “I am Y/N, descendant of Lilith, keeper of the... Seven Deadly Sins through oath and blood.”

Your oath was interrupted briefly by a sharp gasp as Barbatos thrust deep into you, his breaths turning into pants against your skin as he watched you, his cheeks flushed red.

You could feel the magic transferring to you, the demonic power within him flooding your veins.  If you didn’t finish your oath, the binding would be incomplete, and it would incinerate you from the inside out.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, forcing yourself to center on him as you felt your orgasm begin to build.

You strengthened your voice, your tone firm.  “I accept this unbreakable pact, that we may be bound in body and name.”

Your hands moved from his neck to cup his cheeks as you rode the tides of his lovemaking. 

“I promise to call upon you in my times of need, and to guard your soul as my own.  This is my oath to you.”

Barbatos gasped as he felt the connection solidify, an anchor that pulled him down to you.  He could feel his orgasm begin to build as the magic weaved and tangled itself between you.  He lowered his lips to your body, his soft lips meeting the top of your stomach just below your ribs. A ring of magical fire emerged on your skin, radiating outward to unveil the intricately woven circle of his pact mark on your solar plexus.  It didn’t burn, and you didn’t scream.  But you gasped, your eyes flying open at the power that coursed through you.

Barbatos’s thrusts increased as he greedily watched the fiery ring expand across your skin like a stone being dropped in a pond.  His eyes glowed, and his canines sharpened as his demon blood burned hot from the binding.  He closed his eyes and kissed his mark on you again.

“Mine.” He said gruffly as he thrust into you. He could feel his balls begin to tighten, could feel your sweaty thighs shaking against his hips.

“Yours,” you replied as your fingers were once again tangled tightly in his silky strands.

“All mine,” he repeated.  He planted another kiss as the pleasure coursing through his body started to crest.

“Yes. All yours,” you confirmed.  “No one else’s, I promise. Ah! Barbatos...”

Your words fell away into soft whines and gasps as your entire body tightened around him in anticipation of the euphoric fall you were about to take.  The magic still coursed strong in you, making everything heightened, sensitive, and your connection with Barbatos more powerful than ever.

His mouth found yours again, all tongue and teeth as he panted heavily into your mouth as he fucked you fiercely, the bedframe shaking and shuddering.

The pleasure finally snapped, overtaking you like wildfire just as the magic had done moments before. You came with a gasp as you clung to him, and Barbatos followed suit, your name on his lips as he spilled himself inside of you, his cock thrusting needily.

The frantic rhythm subsided to a stuttering of hips and spasming, sensitive bodies, the air between you hot and humid with each panting breath.  You stared up at him with tired, dazed eyes, and he kissed you with your face in his hands.

“I love you,” he whispered against your lips.  “I love you, I love you.”

You wrapped your arms around him. “I love you too. I love you, I love you.”

After a moment of reprieve, Barbatos pushed himself up to sit, his twitching cock still nestled inside you, his hands on your hips.

You had expected to feel his soft touch along your sides, your hips, your thighs, massaging your tender muscles as he always did after your time together. 

But the touches never came.

You opened your eyes worriedly to see him staring down at your body wide-eyed, his flushed features washed pale.

A sense of alarm stole the remnants of peace from your veins. 

“What?” you asked. “What is it??”

Had you done something wrong?  Was the pact incomplete?  Damaged? Had you hurt him in some way? You stared down at your own body where you’d felt the magic of the pact weave itself.  It was then that you noticed it.

Barbatos’s pact stood out beautifully against your skin, a proud, intricate pattern that rested at the center of your body.

But beneath that, where the pact of Gluttony had been, was... nothing.

It was gone. Your pact with Beel was gone.

And so was the pact with Asmodeus.

And Mammon.

And Leviathan.

You stared at your naked body.  Barbatos’s bruises were still there, a collection of brands upon your skin.  But the pact marks... your connection to the fallen brothers... was gone.

“Barbatos...” you whispered, as numbness began to overtake you.  “What have you done?”

Usually the greenhouse is a bustle of student activity, with botany classes often perusing the aisles with their notebooks and art students lingering with their sketchbooks.  But classes had long since ended, the busy chaos of academia ushered away by the sinking of the large Devildom moon, bringing with it night within night.

You need this.  You need the silence, the privacy, the darkness.  The House of Lamentation doesn’t offer it.  The Demon Lord’s castle is also not an option as you don’t want to impose purely for the sake of self-isolation.

No, this is perfect.  It is safe, safer than losing yourself in the real forests that press against the outskirts of the Devildom.  It is a place for hiding, a place for becoming invisible.  It is a place that makes you feel small, from the tightly clustered plants around you to the vast starry sky that slowly rotates high beyond the confines of the glass ceiling.  You could almost pretend you’re a bug, an insect, or some other small life form who’s only purpose is to exist in the here and now, moment to moment. 

Maybe then you could find peace in your mind; maybe that voice of sickness and lies that whispered louder than any demon would fall silent.

Not all days were this bad.  But the added stress, the fatigue.... you knew it was only a matter of time before you found yourself dangerously close to that pitch black rock bottom. You felt it encroaching, a shadow teasing the edges of your mind, and you knew... you knew you had to find somewhere to gather yourself, to work through it without interruption or curious eyes.

This helps.  A place of quiet, of privacy, of nature, even if the nature isn’t your own.  In its own alien way, it’s perfect.

Perfect, but also lonely. You both love and hate it, glad to be unnoticed for once but vulnerable against the rare isolation.  Rare, but not unfamiliar.  You sit with it; let it soak into your bones.  Like putting on old shoes that still fit, worn soles perfectly conformed to your feet, your mind eases into accepting that familiar ache, a feeling not often experienced anymore, but still deeply rooted in old memories and dreams.  The old loneliness hollows you out, slows the blood rushing through your veins as your mind eventually quiets to a low hum of white noise.  It brings its own twisted kind of peace; not the healthy kind that heals and rejuvenates, but the broken kind that separates you from yourself, an act of cutting rather than mending.

If you could turn to stone in this moment, you would.

But not even this will last forever, your quiet reverie interrupted by the sound of the door to the greenhouse opening and closing.  The sound of the click and the creak of the hinge is startling against the endless quiet, and it makes you jolt.  You fight the irrational urge to hide within the surrounding shrubbery, as if such an act would truly hide you at all, and instead curl in on yourself with arms and legs crossed on the stone bench where you sit.

Whoever it is, is as silent as a ghost; you hear no footsteps, nor sounds of breath.  Whoever it is does not speak, so you know instantly it is not any of the brothers or even Diavolo.  But you feel their presence, and you know they feel yours.  There is an awareness in the air that wasn’t present before, the atmosphere going from one of empty quiet, to buzzing consciousness.

A moment later, a familiar pair of polished black shoes come into your field of view, attached to a familiar set of legs that stand formally in a way that only a royal butler could accomplish.

You look up and your eyes meet Barbatos, who stares down at you with a calm, curious expression and a slight tilt of his head.  He’s still dressed in his RAD uniform, but his white gloves are removed, likely tucked into the interior chest pocket of his tailcoat.

“MC,” he says gently.  “I did not expect you to be here. You do know that the RAD campus is closed, yes?”

“I know,” you reply. 

Even so, you make no motion to move, your body still curled within itself protectively.  It isn’t so much to protect against him, but to hold onto that feeling of smallness that helps to separate you from the ache in your chest and the cacophony of your mind. 

“Why are you here?” you ask.

“Some of the flora require care after school hours, so I tend to them prior to locking up for the evening.”

“Ah.” Your sour mood strips you of your warmth, your words fading away as you retreat back into yourself.

Barbatos stares at you for a moment longer, before gesturing to the bench. “May I?”

You return his stare with your own before moving over just enough to make room for him.  The bench is small, comfortable for one, a slight squeeze for two, but he sits nonetheless, seemingly unbothered.  The proximity of him is a brand and a blessing, the heat of him surprisingly comforting while your heart thuds harder in your chest.  You’re rarely ever this close to him, any prior instances of physical contact occurring out of necessity rather than choice.

You both sit in silence for a long time.  You aren’t sure if he is expecting an explanation from you, but you couldn’t give one even if you wanted to, the struggles within yourself too tangled to fully unravel, especially with how weathered you feel.

Finally, after a few minutes, he is the one to break the silence, the smooth richness of his voice breaking the quiet that sits like a bridge between you.

“I often find the Devildom flora more beautiful in the dark.”

It is an olive branch, and you take it, a small smile curling the corners of your lips.

“Me too,” you reply.  “It feels more natural this way. When the lights are on, it feels like we’re trying to force the plants and flowers to be something they’re not.”

Barbatos stares at you for a long, quiet moment before returning his gaze ahead of him.  “Indeed. Things are more beautiful when they are allowed to be themselves.”

A sentiment you share, and yet it isn’t one you can extend to yourself, and it cuts you.

“I wish that were always true...” you mutter.

It’s a thought whispered past private lips, and you regret them instantly when his keen, green eyes, nearly black in the darkness, flick back to you.

“Why would it not be?” he asks.

You shift uncomfortably and swallow the lump that suddenly manifests where your voice is supposed to be.

“I don’t know...” you finally mutter evasively.

You feel his eyes lingering on you, and it feels as if he can read the dark thoughts that live there, shadow where sunlight should be.  But if he can read your mind, he doesn’t say so, and he doesn’t pry further.

Instead, Barbatos does something that you do not expect.  His hand covers yours, untangling your fingers from your tightly clasped palms that sit in your lap.  His touch is warm, warmer than you thought it’d be, and you can’t help but wonder how different his body really is from yours when it feels so human.

You watch as Barbatos twines his fingers with yours, a simple but shockingly intimate action.  It’s surprisingly comforting, fulfilling a longing within you that you didn’t even realize you carried so heavily until just now; an anchor of companionship, unwavering in its simplicity, gentle in its unassuming nature.  There’s a lack of expectation in Barbatos’s touch, a quiet acceptance of the here and now, of the you of this moment, rather than the ‘you’ that you always present to others, or the ‘you’ that others expect of you.

It makes something within you surrender.  It forces the dissociation from your mind, pulling you instantly back into reality, into your body. Barbatos’s tenderness, given freely without price, carves a space for itself within your chest, and it hurts, the sudden sharpness of vulnerability an open wound.  That vulnerability is unfamiliar, raw, terrifying. It calls forth your fears, makes the voices of wrongness sing louder than ever, listing all of the ways you are undeserving of this moment.  And you’re angry, angry at their presence, and their ability to ruin even this for you, to taint something peaceful and beautiful with something so ugly.

The tears finally come, blurring your vision and spilling over silently onto your cheeks.  More come immediately after, and you sniff, your nose starting to run as you wipe at your face.  A handkerchief appears within your view, and you take it, your heart too shy and embarrassed to look at Barbatos properly or even offer him a mumbled thank you.  But he shows no discomfort or disdain for your tears or lack of manners. Instead, he sits quietly with you, waiting patiently as he holds your hand securely within his own, his thumb rubbing soothing strokes on the soft skin between your thumb and index finger.

Quietly you cry, and quietly he waits.  Each second longer that you cry is a confession of your imperfection, your brokenness, and each second longer that Barbatos stays by your side is an acceptance, a forgiveness.  And so, without even speaking to one another, the very act of this shared moment provides a cleansing of your heart that you’d never felt before.  Each drop of salty water is a purge, a release.  There’s an amusing irony to it; an exorcism of sorts in a place where God isn’t welcome, supported by a creature who’s existence came from darkness.

The catharsis brings release, and the release brings fatigue.  The rigidness of your spine gives way to something more pliable, and you lean your head against his shoulder as you continue to weep, albeit gentler now that the worst of it has passed.  Barbatos lets you, his thumb barely missing a beat in its strokes against your hand.  He makes no effort to increase his physical reassurance; no arm around your shoulder, no leaning of his head against the crown of yours.  You’re grateful for it, not quite ready to be touched so completely.  Maybe soon... after all, the thought does entice you... but not yet. Not when your heart is still raw and tender.

No, this is perfect. It’s just enough.

Finally, the floodwaters of your heart recede, and you wipe away the last traces of wetness from your cheeks with his silk handkerchief. It’s damp with tears and snot now, and you know you’ll have to wash it before returning it to him.  You fiddle with it with your free hand, your thumb tracing along the cursive B that is sewn into its corner with dark thread, the color muted to black in the dark.

Your hands are still intertwined with each other, your head still resting against his shoulder, and you’re grateful for it as you find the courage to finally speak, your eyes still trained on that cursive B.

Your voice is quiet, hushed by hesitancy.  “Barbatos...I have a question...”

“Hm?”

“When I die, and my soul leaves my body.... does.... does that mean that the mental illness won’t be there anymore?  Does that part get left behind?”

“Ah,” Barbatos says softly, his voice rich with understanding. “I see.”

You sit up, although his hand still holds yours; after all, you haven’t pulled away yet.  But your eyes... your eyes are downcast, the shame of your breakdown too heavy regardless of Barbatos’s tenderness.

Now that you’ve finally confessed your fear it becomes easier to speak, and the words come more freely.  “I’m just... I’m tired of being this way.  Feeling this way, thinking this way.  It’s always there, like this big, lurking monster that I can’t escape from. Except it’s a part of me. I don’t know who I am without it. And I’m—” tears choke your words, but you force yourself to continue even as your eyes once again brim and sting.  “I’m just so afraid that it’ll never go away. Even when I die, and my soul is separated from this broken fucking body—”

A long, slender finger covers your lips, halting your impending tirade of self-loathing.  It forces you to finally look at him, and you’re surprised to see how deep the concern goes within his dark gaze.

“Shh,” he says.  “Don’t say such things.  It does the richness of all that you are a disservice.”

His words stun you into silence, and you stare at him wide-eyed.  He holds your gaze for a moment longer before taking the handkerchief from your clenched fist.  You start to protest, embarrassed at the state of it, but he ignores your concerns and uses a relatively clean spot to wipe away your new tears.

You fall silent as he cares for you, and in that silence, he begins to speak.

“You humans so often like to label and categorize things, an attempt at making sense of the world around you when you’re forever doomed to know so little. Lines of comparison drawn on a beach, not realizing that in the end, it’s all made of sand.”

You frown. “I don’t understand.”

“What you’re speaking of is a sickness of the mind, correct?”

“Yes, that’s one way to put it...”

Barbatos takes your palm in his hand and turns it face up.  “I’ve heard you humans often use the term ‘mind, body, and soul’ as if they are all separate.  Back when I spent time in the human realm, humans treated the soul as synonymous with the heart and the mind as synonymous with the brain, both housed within the body.”  With his finger, he draws one large circle, and within it, places two dots vertically spaced from each other.

You stare at your palm as you ponder his words.  “Yes,” you say, “that idea still lingers... sort of...”

 You take his hand in yours, and draw your own circles – a small, a medium, and a large, all inset within each other like a target.

“I think... I see the soul and mind as synonymous of each other, in way, that they depend on each other. Or...”

 You hesitate, your fears surfacing again as you stare at Barbatos’s open palm.

 “I think...” you continue slowly, “I think I’m afraid that they’re the same thing. That the soul only exists because of the mind. If that’s true, then if my mind is broken, then so is my soul, and I’ll be carrying that brokenness with me forever.  It’s like... trying to forge something using a metal riddled with impurities.  The integrity will always be compromised, no matter how beautiful the shape in the end.”

Barbatos’s open hand closes around yours, cradling your fingertips that still rest against his skin. He turns your hand over palm up again.

“Imagine this” – he draws a large circle – “is your body. And this” – he draws a smaller circle within it – “is your mind.”

You wait for the third circle, but it never comes.  You frown.

“Where is the soul?”

“Everywhere,” he says.

Your gaze lifts from your open hand to his eyes.  He smiles back at you in quiet mirth, then drops his gaze back to your hand.  His fingers retrace over the larger circle he’d first drawn into your palm.

“Your soul,” he repeats, “is everywhere.”

Confusion once again surfaces in the contours of your face. Barbatos stares at you for a moment as he searches for the words in a way that you can understand.  His eyes sink deep beneath the surface of you, and it makes you shift beneath his gaze.  After a moment he blinks, his amusement returning.

“Perhaps it is my choice of words that is unclear,” he says. “Allow me to try again.” 

He pokes your forehead with his index finger.  “Your mind is not the same as your soul the way you fear.  It is simply consciousness, self-awareness provided you by your biology,” he explains.

“You mean my brain.”

“Yes.”

“So my mind is just another part of my body.”

“Precisely.  Your body is merely the medium through which you experience this life, whether it’s through your senses, such as sight and touch, or through your consciousness.”

He returns to your hand, his fingers tracing the invisible large circle for a third time.

“Your soul, on the other hand, is a different thing entirely.  It isn’t something that can be contained to one organ within you.  Not your heart, not your brain.  It’s deeper than that, richer,” he says quietly, as if sharing a secret.

His touch travels, his fingertips gliding feather-light across your palm, up your wrist, following the tendons and veins to your forearm where goosebumps begin to awaken across your sensitive skin.

“It’s energy.  It’s life,” he continues. “It’s eternal, and it’s woven into every fiber of your being, a golden thread holding you together like the universe’s most exquisite tapestry.”

Your breath catches in your throat as his fingers curve around your forearm until he holds it within his hand, his thumb rubbing gently against the soft skin where your veins rest beneath. His words enrapture you, his touch enthralls you. If there was ever a moment in your life you could stay trapped in forever, it would be this one.

But the moment is short-lived.  Barbatos’s soothing touch halts mid-motion, his expression turning blank, as if he suddenly remembers himself and realizes the growing intimacy of the exchange.  He withdraws his hand, and it leaves a cold emptiness where his warmth had been.

You ponder his words, but it only leads to more questions.

“My soul is everywhere...” you mutter.  “But Barbatos... if it’s woven into my body, then how...?”

“How does your soul pass on after you die?”

You nod.

Barbatos holds his chin in his fingers thoughtfully.  “You are thinking too literally.  Perhaps it is my own failure to find the right words.  Human speech doesn’t offer enough nuance to fully describe something your kind still struggles to understand.”

He ponders a moment longer, his brow knit together in concentration.  Finally his head lifts and his gaze meets yours.  “Ah.  Perhaps we can describe it as such.  Your body is made of matter, correct? And if you look deep enough, you know that all matter is made up of atoms.  But not even atoms ever completely touch.” He takes your hand in one of his and holds it up, your palm facing him, as he brings his other hand within a hair’s breadth; close enough to feel the heat emanating off of him, but not actually touching.  “There’s a negative space, ever present yet so infinitesimal that you’d never know it’s there.”  His hand finally touches yours, his fingers aligned with yours as he splays them out.  “It is this space that your soul exists, interwoven, encapsulating every atom of what you are.”

You’re staring at your touching hands, wide-eyed now, as you take in what he’s told you.  The scope of it feels nearly too vast to properly comprehend, despite how hard you try.

“It’s all very... complicated...” you mutter as you finally lower your hand back to your lap.

“Hm, is it?” Barbatos replies with a curious tilt of his head.  “Here then, another example, but simpler.  If you were to lose a limb, would it damage your soul?”

“No, of course not.”

“Why not?”

“Because they’re separate.”

And finally, it clicks for you. 

Barbatos smiles.  “Precisely.  So, if a lost limb will not damage your soul, then why should a damaged mind?”

The weightlessness of relief begins to spread from the center of your chest, and you release a long, deep breath.

“I see,” you say.  “So when I die...”

“When you die, your soul continues on, transformed, as your body decays.”

The balloon of relief breaks and you do a doubletake.  “...transformed?”

Barbatos nods.  “Yes, by your experiences and choices in this life.”

Once again that despair rears, the dark void opening beneath your feet as you cling to your dwindling hope. You once again wrap your arms around yourself protectively, as if you are the only one who can keep yourself from falling, despite the presence of the demon directly in front of you.

“But... Barbatos,” you protest, “sometimes mental illnesses can cause people to make bad choices.  Wrong choices.  Hurtful choices.  If those can impact the soul, then wouldn’t that mean the soul does get damaged? Or tainted?”

Barbatos falls silent for a long moment, and you avoid looking into his eyes, your gaze downcast.  His hand reaches out and covers your forearm reassuringly, but your arms remain crossed.

“As a demon, I cannot attest to how just the Celestial Realm’s rules are.  I, for one, find them to be rather suffocating and arbitrary, lacking in nuance.  But even I would be shocked if such things weren’t taken into consideration when it is time for a soul to be set upon the scales of judgment.”

Scales of judgment... the idea makes you nauseous.

Barbatos’s touch to your forearm is replaced by both of his hands on your arms just below the shoulders.  You can tell from the way he moves that he is ducking his head lower in an attempt to catch your avoiding eyes, but you keep  yourself hidden lest your tears return.

“MC....” he says softly,  “are you worried that you will be judged unfairly when your time comes?”

It takes a moment for you to find your voice, and when you do it’s thicker, heavy under the weight of emotions.  “Maybe... or maybe I’m worried I’ll be judged fairly.”

“If you do not go to heaven when your time comes, then the Celestial Realm truly is run by fools.”

His words surprise you, and you finally catch his gaze, amusement beneath a raised, sarcastic brow.  Your skin grows hot and you avert your eyes for a different reason, your shoulders lifting slightly in subtle retreat.

“Well,” you continue, “you said yourself that the soul gets transformed during this life.  I’ve made some not-so-great choices, so far.  I’ve done things I regret; hurt people I’ve loved and even people I didn’t.  What if my soul is not as good as I hope?”

Barbatos gives a soft scoff of amusement, his brows pinching up in the center as he stares at you in wry amusement.  “My dear, the very idea that your soul is anything but good is quite literally an impossibility.”

Your tension loosens slightly. “How do you know?”

The corner of one side of his mouth quirks up slightly. “Well, to start, I am a demon. And as one of the oldest demons, I have devoured countless souls across my lifetime.  If anyone is to be an expert on the quality of a soul it would be me.”

Something about the way he talks so simply about his violence, combined with his intimate kindness, makes you feel lightheaded.

It takes an extra heartbeat for you to find enough air in your lungs to speak.  “And, uh...what does a demon such as yourself consider high quality?”

Barbatos stares distantly, and for a moment he feels ancient.  When he speaks, his voice seems almost otherworldly, holding a resonance to it that wasn’t there before.  “It varies from demon to demon.  Some enjoy the flavor of corruption upon a soul, some prefer the sweet, crisp freshness of innocence and purity... but all human souls possess something that ours lack, something that makes us crave.  We’re drawn to it, in the way your human realm plants are drawn to sunlight.” He pauses and shakes his head.  “No, perhaps that analogy is too mild.  It is more how the Devildom’s Succubus’s Kiss lures its victims into its choking vines with the sweet promise of fruit.”

You swallow for a moment, your throat suddenly dry as you stare at your now empty palms where your longing for him sits abandoned.

“You make it sound as if humans are the dangerous ones,” you chide.

A half-hearted attempt at a joke, but Barbatos chuckles nonetheless.

“Yes; perhaps you are.”

You can’t tell in this moment if he’s referring to ‘you’ as in humanity, or ‘you’ as in something far more personal.  It only makes the curiosity sharper, honed on the whetstone of your pining.

“And my soul...” you continue, “what do you sense, Barbatos?”

Dread immediately follows your bold and vulnerable question, fearing what he must inevitably see in you.  Is Barbatos the type to enjoy the flavor of corruption, to find value in broken things?  Or is he more of a purist, always a keen eye for perfection?  You fear you already know the answer as you take in his crisp RAD uniform, his perfectly smooth features.  Your gaze falls downward, an attempt to hide what you’re sure he already knows.

One heartbeat, two.  Then your chin is being tilted up by his thumb and forefinger until your eyes are forced to meet his.  There’s a hint of luminescence in them, the green noticeable now where it wasn’t before, pushing against the dark monotone of night that previously washed his irises in near-black. His eyes are searching, seeking, finding, and you can feel the magic, the power that unravels every defense, every barrier.  Finally, his gaze settles, the green quiets to a deep, sleeping forest of pine in winter.  It’s peaceful; soothing.

If Barbatos’s earlier release of your arm was to provide distance from the growing intimacy between you, then the attempt was in vain.  Because now the affection in his gaze is unmistakable, the deep shadowy green cradling you the way his fingers cradle your chin. It weakens you, makes you feel like putty in his touch.

“You glow,” Barbatos whispers, “like sunlight trapped in ripples. It’s blinding, and yet so beautiful I find it impossible to look away.  I can feel it in you, emanating like heat from a hearth, and it makes me long for a home I’ve never had.”

The hum of his voice makes you shiver, goosebumps forming across your skin.  The adoration in his eyes falters briefly, the lingering green fading to black, giving way to a dark, ancient sorrow.

“I think,” he continues, “it’s a glimpse of what heaven must feel like.  A small piece of divinity passed down to you from your ancestor.”

His fingers release your chin, but the vulnerability remains, if not slightly muted due to the distance imposed by the lack of physical contact.

“I am different from Lucifer and his brothers in that I was never an angel.  I came into existence exactly as I am, and as such I’ve never known divinity.  And yet... despite never knowing it, there is still a strange... hunger for it.  It is a peculiar thing to miss something you’ve never known.”

“You... long for Heaven?” you ask him.

Barbatos tilts his head thoughtfully, his gaze absent somewhere past your shoulder. “Not so much Heaven the place. It’s more so the purity, the grace, to feel that sense of wholeness that the divine offers. It’s why we are drawn to human souls.  Angels, you see, are far too potent. Too much divinity hurts a demon; it can even kill them.  But you... you humans have just enough of both worlds within you to allow us a taste.  It can be rather addictive, especially for younger demons who have not yet had enough millennia to control their hunger.”

His pupils dilate in the dark as he refocuses his gaze.  His eyes meet yours and linger for a moment before slowly drawing down to your parted lips.  “You are a rare case indeed.  More potent in your divinity than the average human, but not enough to hurt.”

You quirk a smile at him.  “Barbatos, are you saying I’m irresistible?”

It is a joke, one you feel comfortable making because of its ridiculousness.  But then he gives you a smile you’ve never seen before that makes your stomach drop and your body awash with heat.  There’s a directness in it, a challenge presented in a wry upward turn of the lips and the glint of teeth in the faint starlight.

“Perhaps,” he says.

You try to brush him off with a scoff and break eye contact, feigning interest in the shape of the black leaves that arch over the both of you in the darkness.

“Now you’re just teasing me,” you mutter.

“Oh? You don’t believe me,” he comments. “Perhaps there is more I can do to convince you then.”

Your heartbeat falters, tripped by hope, and you keep your eyes above and around lest you combust right in front of him. 

“Convince me?” you question.

You’re attempting to feign indifference, to protect yourself from the inevitable rejection you know is coming, because surely he’s not... he doesn’t mean.... he wouldn’t... that look in his eyes earlier... affection yes, but that can mean anything...

Barbatos takes your chin in his fingers and pulls gently until you have nowhere else to look but directly at him. Your breath catches in your throat as you stare at him, into him.  There’s a flicker there, a glow of swirling green, like nebulae trapped within his vastness.

“Indeed,” he whispers, the warmth of his breath upon your parted lips.  You realize he’s closer than you anticipated, closer than ever before.

 Your lightheadedness is returning, and your genuinely afraid you’ll faint, so you force yourself to keep speaking.

“What kind of convincing?” you ask.

He smiles that smile again, the one that turns your insides molten.  “The kind that doesn’t require words, since you seem to doubt them so fervently.” 

His thumb draws gently across your lower lip, his half-lidded gaze transfixed.  “Would you like to be convinced?” he mutters.

You swallow and answer honestly. 

“Yes.”

Barbatos’s eyes return to yours and his lips curl into a soft, genuine smile.  He closes what’s left of the distance, his warm lips capturing yours as his fingers release your chin in favor of gently cupping your jawline.

You close your eyes and reciprocate, your hand resting against his chest.

It’s gentle, soft, and for all of his heavy flirting just a moment ago, it is as unassuming as when he’d first held your hand.  It washes away the last dredges of worry, calms the ever-present unease that always lingers.  The clouds of your mind finally part, even if just for this moment, and for the first time in a long while, you feel feather-light as a peaceful warmth spreads from head to toe to the tips of your fingers.

When your lips part, Barbatos keeps his hand on your cheek and plants a gentle peck to your forehead.

“Now, believe me when I say you are beautiful.  Believe me when I say that you are good.  And most importantly, believe me when I say that I am always here for you.”

Your choked by emotion, your eyes once again burning, but this time for a different reason entirely.

“Even when I’m being sad and pathetic?” you ask, your voice cracking slightly.

Barbatos  puts his forehead against yours as his lips curve into a tender smile.

Barbatos was kind, polite, and witty; he was caring and doting, a perfectionist, and by far one of the most mature demons you’d had the pleasure of getting to know.  However, despite all of that, Barbatos was also a private individual, even when he freely provided facts about himself and his interests, and was forthcoming with his motivations.  No matter how much he exposed, there always seemed to be far more lurking beneath the surface that was left unsaid.  Add in the fact that he took his job as Lord Diavolo’s private butler so seriously, and it sometimes made it difficult to distinguish his acts of kindness as obligation versus personal desire.  No matter how kind or sweet his words were, no matter how close you felt with him at any given moment, you were always, always aware that he kept himself at a distance.  It made your own affections for him feel one-sided, a heavy gift you held in shaky hands with nowhere to put it.

You’d always had the keen sense that he knew, of course; you weren’t exactly good at hiding it.  But he’d never acknowledged it, at least not out-right; even though you could have sworn there were times where you felt his eyes on you when you weren’t looking, or moments where he held your gaze for longer than necessary.  But each time, you’d written it off as wishful thinking, your heart desperately looking for patterns within the random coincidences of life.

But now, things were different.  They had been, ever since that moment he’d plucked that leaf out of your hair with soft affection in his eyes, followed by a quick stolen glance at your parted, stunned lips.  It was all the evidence you needed, and all the evidence that you’d likely get, to know that Barbatos was harboring a flame of his own.  After all, you’d only seen it because he’d let you see it.  You had acted on it immediately, the invitation to dinner tumbling from your lips in place of a confession.  He had accepted with a smile, and you could still feel the elation weaved into your chest like a keepsake as you revisited the memory.

You were yanked from the heart-pounding past to the nerve-wracking present when Barbatos’s fingers intertwined with yours.  Your pulse quickened at the contact. The touch of his skin against yours was so intimate and new, that it felt foreign and strangely forbidden.

“I’m glad you were able to join me,” he said.  “I apologize that the invitation was so last minute. There were... complications.”

You gave a small, teasing laugh, more to trick your own nerves than anything else.  “You act as if we haven’t gone out together before. And I don’t mind last minute; spontaneity keeps things fun.”

Your words felt like lies, a feigned nonchalance in the face of what was so obviously a shift in your relationship with each other, a testing of deeper waters.

“True,” he said.  “But this time is different, isn’t it?”

It was so like him to say outright what was already in your mind. Yet he always managed to do it with such simplicity that it stripped away the anxiety while still leaving the importance.  You swallowed the dryness in your throat and gave a small nod.

He was correct, of course... this - whatever it was – was still very much new for the both of you.

“Besides,” he continued, his lips curving playfully, “it has been some time since we’ve had the pleasure of each other’s company.”

“Four weeks,” you blurted out. Then you clamped your lips shut in embarrassment.

He gave a soft laugh.  “Three weeks and six days, to be exact.”

You gave him a surprised glance.  “But who’s counting?” you teased.

Barbatos smiled. “I often find myself counting the time when we are apart.”

Your body grew hot at his confession, his words vibrating against your skin as they buried themselves into you, becoming a part of you.  No doubt you will be reflecting on that single line for days to come.

Barbatos watched the change in your expression with intrigue.

“However, it is hardly our fault, is it not?” he continued.  “The brothers have been keeping you plenty busy I hear, and the young master requires constant supervision to keep him from chasing his flights of fancy.”

It always amused you when Barbatos referred to the massive, muscular Prince as ‘young;’ it reminded you time and time again how ancient Barbatos really was.  He sounded like a tired uncle reigning in a toddler, and looked the part too, his eyes tired as he watched other demons pass by to take their seats.

“Speaking of Lord Diavolo,” you chimed, “wasn’t he the one who was supposed to join you for this?”

Barbatos returned his eyes to you, only to be met by a narrowed, mischievous gaze and grinning lips.  Barbatos’s smile reappeared deeper than before.

“Something tells me that he intentionally had me set this up and then abandoned it at the last minute in order to allow us this opportunity,” he confessed.

“How very generous of him,” you whispered as you bumped your shoulder against his playfully.

Barbatos drew his thumb over the soft pad of your hand where your thumb and finger joined.  The sensitive nerves tingled, sending goosebumps up your arm.

“Yes,” he agreed as his emerald eyes stared into yours. “Very generous.”

You leaned towards him slightly, your own thumb drawing along his hand in return, as your voice dropped to a whisper.  “It would be in ill taste if we did not maximize this opportunity that he’s provided.”

“Ill taste indeed,” he muttered as he glanced down at your lips.  His gaze lingered there for one heartbeat, two.  Just long enough to get you leaning slightly closer in hopeful anticipation.  Then he broke his gaze and stared ahead. “Lets us fully enjoy this performance then,” he stated.

You stared at him, mildly stunned by his reservedness, until you noticed the slightest hint of a smirk at the corner of his mouth.

He was toying with you.  On purpose.

Your lips turned downward into a pout and you gave a humph as you leaned back in your chair.  Beneath the hum of the audience settling in, you heard the faintest hint of a quiet chuckle in his chest.

You still had yet to kiss him.  The first date was very nice and sweet, a simple dinner at a restaurant you knew you both enjoyed.  You had wanted to keep the first date familiar and unassuming, to allow for the possibility that you’d been wrong, that he’d taken your invitation as a dinner between friends rather than love interests.  It wasn’t long before that worry was eliminated by the touch of his hand over yours at the table, followed by a long swipe of his thumb over your knuckles.

But of course, the private moment was short-lived, because wherever you were, a brother wasn’t far behind.  It was Asmo this time who’d spotted you, miffed at the realization that you were out with someone other than him, and looking dolled up to boot.  Which then, of course, led to him inviting himself to your very obvious one-on-one with Barbatos.  The demon had given you a look to silently inquire if such behavior was acceptable, and you were too kindhearted to give Asmo the boot, so you surrendered, folding like a deck of cards.

The regret and guilt still sat heavy on your mind.  You should have been firmer, set some boundaries. But boundary setting was always difficult when the brothers were involved.

Barbatos would have been able to do it; the look that he’d given you had made that clear enough.  He was a kind demon, yet firm if he needed to be.  And you had a keen sense that you never wanted to get on his bad side.  But he’d taken the intrusion gracefully, and parted ways later that evening without a hint of disappointment or disapproval.

Even so, you’d assumed you’d botched any future opportunities at a second date with him.  Sure, he may not have expressed disappointment in the moment, but you knew he was a master at disguising his true feelings when he wanted to.  So, it had taken you by surprise when he had texted you that he’d enjoyed himself and wanted to try again, albeit something that could be either more structured, or more private to prevent future interruptions.

It had taken far longer than expected to follow through, to the point that you’d almost lost hope.  But finally, here you sat with the apple of your eye looking delicious and refined in his black tuxedo, while you donned a simple strapped gown of your own.  The lights above dimmed, indicating the performance would be starting soon, as the orchestra completed the final checks on their instruments, ensuring everything was in tune.

Barbatos’s hand continued to hold yours, the action feeling almost possessive in nature, a warning to any who might see the two of you together.  A part of you wondered if any of the brothers had managed to sneak their way in and were watching from a distance, and if so, did Barbatos know.  There was no way to know for certain.  Either way, if they were out there somewhere, they couldn’t reach you now, not without causing a scene.

Now your seats made more sense. You had wondered why you weren’t located in one of the more private balcony boxes above; it certainly seemed like a place Barbatos would have preferred.  And had he come with Diavolo like originally intended, he very well might have.  You certainly couldn’t have the Lord of the Devildom sitting amongst the masses.

Which means Barbatos likely figured out a way to change the seating arrangement as soon as he learned of Diavolo’s little scheme.  This was clearly by design, a way to ensure your second date would not be interrupted like the first.  You let out a relaxed breath and reclined against the back of your seat as you prepared yourself to become immersed in the opera.

The lights overhead went black, leaving only the stage washed in a white glow.

“Y/N...” Barbatos started, his eyes on you.  “There’s something you should know about this performance...”

“Hm?” you replied distractedly with barely a glance.

But then the orchestral music began, and you shushed him with a pat on his arm.  Barbatos’s words died on his tongue, as his hand tightened around yours. 

The music started strong and then fell like cascading water into a flurry of notes.  You watched as the music played, as the singers entered the scene.

You had expected English, or one of the romance languages that you often associated with opera, or even an older, biblical language such as Hebrew. But instead, the language was like nothing you’d ever heard, notes sung in such a way that it felt entirely inhuman and beyond the realm of possibility.  You stared, bewildered, unable to understand any of it, even as the earth-shattering beauty of it crashed over you. There were no screens with subtitles framing the stage, no form of translation at all.  There was nothing; just your eyes and the music to try to decipher the story that was unfolding.  It was clear it had to do with angels and demons, and that there was a forbidden love story between them, which, you could deduce would lead to conflict.  But the details were lost as soon as they had opened their mouths.

Barbatos watched you in silent observation as your emotions transformed and danced across your face from confusion, to wonder, to awe, to fear, and back again.

His hand squeezed yours, a tether keeping you from losing yourself in the panic of your mortal brain trying to make sense of something beyond its understanding.

“Are you alright?” he whispered, his tone laced with concern. Your wide eyes shot over to him; it took a moment for recognition to register in your gaze.

“Y-Yeah.  But I don’t understand them at all. What language is this??”

“It’s the Divine Language,” he replied. He watched and waited for your brain to process.

“...wait.  What?”

“It’s the Divine Language,” he repeated.  “The language of God, spoken by angels and demons. It’s no surprise you don’t understand it, you’re not meant to unless it’s directly intended for you.”

You didn’t know how to put into words that it felt like you simultaneously understood yet didn’t. The language didn’t sound like words, and yet it left imprints upon you, feelings and emotions stamped upon your soul that you could only vaguely understand.

Barbatos continued as you stared back at the stage in shock.  “Many of the operas composed here are done so in the Divine Language as it withholds the purest meaning and form, and the notes cannot be duplicated in mortal speech.  Had I known you were joining me tonight instead of the young master, I might have selected a more appropriate performance.”

He watched you as you grimaced against a particularly moving crescendo.

“Why does it feel like it’s in my head?” you whispered.

“Because it is,” he whispered back.  “You are fortunate that you have Angelic ancestry in you.”

You gave him a confused look.  “Why?”

“Because if you didn’t, you’d be bleeding out your ears.”

“What??” your voice raised in panic, and multiple demons seated near you shushed you.  You lowered your voice again, but the panic was still there.  “Barbatos!”

Barbatos gave a quiet chuckle as he pulled something small from his pocket.  “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine.  Just put these in your ears. It will lessen the impact.”

You took the small black box from his hand and opened it to see a set of ear plugs.  You wasted no time in putting them in.  Immediately, the panic and chaos you felt eased, the thrumming reduced to a hum.

“Why didn’t you give me these earlier?  A warning would have been nice,” you quietly seethed.

Barbatos almost rebutted that he’d tried when the lights went down, but decided against it when he saw you fold your hands protectively in your lap.  You were angry.  He gently pried your hands apart gently with his and twined his fingers with yours in a soft hold. You didn’t fight him, but you didn’t look at him either.

“I promise you weren’t in any danger,” he whispered close to your ear.  “I would not have brought you here if it wasn’t safe.”

Your body remained stiff, but you finally looked at him.  “It felt intentional,” you replied.  “Like it’s something Diavolo would have you do to test me.  Tell me, Barbatos... are you here for work or pleasure?”

Surprise flashed across his face, followed by the return of his gentle smile.  He leaned even closer to your ear until his lips ghosted over your pinna. “Pleasure,” he whispered, his voice low.  His hand squeezed yours reassuringly.  “Definitely pleasure. I assure you there were no ulterior motives.”

The way his voice alone nearly unraveled you... your thighs tightened against their impact and you swallowed as you stared ahead at the stage, struggling to follow the story that you were missing.

But you could be horny and angry at the same time.  You set your jaw stubbornly.

“You swear?” you asked as you kept your eyes on the stage.

He took your chin in his hand and turned your face to look at him, his expression serious. 

“I swear,” he replied.

Then he placed as soft brush of lips to your forehead. It stole your breath as a shiver passed through every nerve.

Your anger finally dimmed, soothed by the genuineness of his words and the reassurance of his affection. Your fingers finally closed around his in reciprocity, and Barbatos returned his green eyes to the stage.

A long moment passed as you both watched the performance.  The impact of the Divine Language continued to wash over you, dragging vague meaningful pictures to your mind as your emotions danced like puppets.  The earplugs helped, keeping you from feeling like your head was splitting open.  But you still felt lost in it, carried away on a foreign tide.

Barbatos noticed.  He leaned close and whispered.  “Would you like me to translate for you?”

His breath tickled your ear and your chest tightened as your heart tried to grow wings and escape.  You angled your head to him slightly; your eyes breaking from the stage briefly. 

“Please,” you whispered.

And so, he quietly summarized the plot and dialogue into your ear as his eyes watched.  The male and female lead sang to each other, their voices rich with emotion, their body language communicating their love.

“They are of two different worlds,” he explained.  “Yet they love each other unequivocally.”

You smiled softly. “Romantic...”

“Very,” he agreed.  “She is expressing worry that heaven will cast her out for falling for him.  And he is promising to never leave her.”

The music rose in crescendo.  It filled you, and your chest tightened like a balloon about to burst. You took deep breaths to allow the sensations to pass through you.

You had anticipated appreciating the music, being impressed by the vocal gymnastics.  But this was proving to be so much more, a visceral experience that would leave you reeling by the time it was over.

As you watched, Barbatos continued to translate.  The angel was cast out as predicted and was cursed to walk the earth and live her life as a human.  This allowed them to continue their romance without judgment and they rejoiced.  But shortly after, things took a turn for the worst, as they often did in operas.

“She’s sick...” you commented quietly as you watched the performance.

Barbatos glanced at you briefly from the corner of his eye.  “She’s mortal.”

Something inside your chest twisted, a stirring of something heavy that you’d been struggling to ignore ever since you committed to staying in the Devildom.  You tried to push it back down, to watch the story continue.

But maybe it was the way that it hit too close to home; or maybe it was the way the Divine Language seemed to invade every crevice of you like a living thing, forcing your body to experience something beyond what it was built for.  Either way, it brought forth every worry, every fear that plagued you late at night when you were alone in your bed. It was the way the loneliness that you struggled to ignore within yourself began to gain weight, a black hole pulling you into its relentless gravity.  It was the type of loneliness that came with the sense of otherness, of being separate; the awareness of being where one did not truly belong no matter how badly you wanted to.

Your eyes brimmed with tears as you stared at Barbatos’s hand holding your own.  Suddenly, this – all of this – felt foolish.  So foolish.  What were you doing, going on a date with a demon?  Allowing yourself to open your heart for someone who would outlive you ten times over? The time would be gone in a blink, your mortal life small and insignificant.

Your tear-rimmed eyes looked back to the stage.  You watched as the female lead died, succumbing to her illness, and her partner mourned her.

Would Barbatos mourn you in such a way? Would he watch you grow old and feeble while he stayed young and flawless?  Did demons and angels even love the same way that humans did? How much could one human life really matter anyway, to someone who was essentially immortal? You were a blip in his life, a small blink of time that would come and go, a nice little hobby to pass the time.  Whereas for you, he would be your entire world, your entire life if things panned out the way your foolish heart hoped they would.

Because there was no one else you wanted.  No one else that even came close.

The thoughts shook you to your core until it felt as if you were being split in two, a great chasm running right down the center of you between what your heart longed for and what your head knew to be true. It made you begin the grieving process of what you would inevitably lose before you’d ever had a chance to even have it.  The pain was a wild beast in your chest, threatening to break free, to rip open your rib cage and let your heart bleed out in front of everyone.  You wanted to cry. You wanted to scream.

You wanted to leave.

You unlatched your hand from Barbatos’s, avoiding his eyes as you grabbed your purse from the floor.

“I-I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice cracking.  “Excuse me...”

You made your way past the few seated individuals that blocked you from the aisle. As soon as you’d freed yourself, you walked quickly towards the exit, a race against time between the sobs in your throat that were rising to the back of your tongue and your proximity to the door.

You crossed the threshold with your hand over your mouth.  Already, you felt the wet tears sliding down your cheeks, your makeup effectively ruined.

And so was your date, you were certain.  The way you’d bolted from Barbatos without a second thought, without explanation... If you hadn’t offended him before on your first date, then you certainly did now.

You removed the earplugs from your ears and stuffed them into your purse.

You could still hear the music, could still hear the anguish in the male demon’s notes as he mourned the loss of his love.  Even from here, the Divine Language found you, gripped you, choked you.  You practically ran out of the opera house into the cold, wet evening of the devildom, and with it came silence – blessed, sweet silence.  A soft rain was falling, coating everything until it shined wet.

You quietly walked out from the covered entryway, past the great pillars that held up the grand architecture.  You turned your face up to the sky with closed eyes and let the water mist your skin.  Then you sat down on the steps and put your head in your arms and cried.

It wasn’t long before you heard the familiar soft steps of Barbatos’s polished black shoes on the wet stone.  A moment later, the rain above you stopped and the sound of pitter-pattering on fabric met your ears.  Still, you didn’t look up, your shame too heavy to lift your head.

You felt the presence of him, felt him as he circled around to your front.  You peeked through your arms just in time to see him kneel in front of you on the steps.

“I’m sorry,” you confessed through sniffles.

“What happened?” he asked calmly.

“I don’t know, I just...”

More tears welled up as your words caught in your throat.  You wiped at your eyes in an attempt to make them stop, but more took their place.  Barbatos took a handkerchief from his coat pocket and handed it to you.  You took it and held it in your hands, your fingers rubbing across the soft silk.

“Did you not like the performance?” he asked, his tone laced with worry.  “Perhaps the earplugs were not enough.”

You couldn’t help but give a sad, soft laugh. “No, I did.  I did like it. It’s just...”

Again, your words faltered.  Why was it so difficult to say? It was as if the emotions you felt were too large, unable to fit into the neat little boxes that human language provided.  If only you could speak the language of angels and demons...

“Barbatos...” you started softly, “why did you ask me out?”

His veridian eyes widened slightly in surprise.  “You mean to the opera?”

“No, I mean ask me out.  On a date.”

His gaze softened, although the confusion in them remained.  “Because I care for you. I had thought that years of mutual pining and silent eye contact every time we were in the same room together made that obvious.”

You half chuckled.  It wasn’t as obvious as he thought it was...

He tilted his head slightly, and he wasn’t quite quick enough to hide the sadness that flitted across his face.

“Do you not feel the same?” he asked.  “Perhaps I have misunderstood-“

“No! No, that’s not it,” you protested, your hands reaching out to grasp his.

Not that.  Anything but that...

You kept his free hand in yours, your fingers following his knuckles from one finger to the next. 

“What I mean is, why me?”

Barbatos’s fingers wrapped around your own.  “Why not you?”

“Because. I’m mortal.” Your voice cracked, and Barbatos straightened slightly.

“Ah. I see.”

“I can’t help but feel like I’m making a mistake.  Like I’m not supposed to feel this way.”

“Feel what way?”

More tears fell from your lashes as a sob escaped your throat.  “Happy.”

You released your hold on him and buried your face in your hands.

Barbatos touched your arm, his fingers wrapping around it gently.  You felt the rain suddenly return followed immediately by the sound of the umbrella touching the stone steps. You looked at it slightly confused, just in time for Barbatos’s other hand to take your chin and tilt your face up until you were looking at him.

“And why shouldn’t you be happy?” he asked.

You stared at him, watching as his hair flattened in the rain, running rivulets down his pale skin.

“Because my time here will be so brief compared to you, to everyone.  I’ll keep changing and grow old, and you’ll all stay the same.”

Barbatos stared at you for a long moment, his expression soft yet neutral.  He cocked his head slightly and released your arm to wipe your wet hair from your face before trailing his fingers along your cheek to your jaw line.

“What makes you think your longevity will be brief?”

You furrowed your brow.  “Because I’m human...?”

“So is Solomon...”

He had a point there. But...

“But Solomon is a powerful sorcerer.”

“And you’re not?”

“Not like him... I’m just barely beginning to grasp the things he’s teaching me.”

“Do not mistake knowledge for power,” Barbatos said.

“I thought knowledge was power,” you teased, the first hint of a smile on your lips.

Barbatos smirked at your cheekiness. “I stand corrected.  However, the point I’m trying to make is this: your power is your own and always will be. And trust me when I say that your power is vast.  Already you’ve been able to wield it in ways that Solomon could only dream.  All that you require now is the knowledge, and that will come with time.”

“But my time is limited.”

“So it is for all of us, one way or another,” Barbatos replied.  “Do not let a little thing called Time stop you.  You will have plenty enough of it to figure out how to bend its effects to your will just as Solomon has.”

“Is that what your visions of the future show you?” you teased.

Barbatos’s soft smile tightened slightly. “I don’t know. I don’t look into the future unless Lord Diavolo instructs me to.  But even if I could, I wouldn’t look at yours.”

Your brows furrowed.  “Why not?”

Barbatos stared down at the ground, his lashes hiding his eyes. “Because no good could come of it.  Despite my age, I am not immune to the impact of loss. And witnessing the loss of you in the future would only taint what time I have with you in the present.”

A silence fell between you as you thought upon his words.  They brought a warmth into your chest at the realization of how much you meant to him.  And yet... it only made your concerns feel that much more valid.

You didn’t want to hurt him. Not in the present, and not in the future.  Even if it was due to circumstances beyond your control.

“What if... what if I can’t do what Solomon does? What if I can’t figure it all out? The lifespan of a human seems so short...”

Barbatos looked back up at you, a sad smile on his lips.

“If your time is to be so short, then perhaps it is best to enjoy the time that you do have, freely without the burden of guilt.  You deserve happiness, in whatever way you can find it. Don’t let your fears taint what your heart wants.”  His hand found yours, and he stared at it as his thumb brushed over your fingers. “And... if I may be a little bit selfish... let me have this time with you now, if you’ll have me. I will feel your absence regardless, and I’d rather be able to look upon the past with fondness instead of regret.”

“Barbatos...” you whispered.   Your hand came up and brushed his long locks back, tucking them behind his left ear.  “Of course I’ll have you.”

He smiled softly at you.  “Nothing pleases me more.”

A thought still bothered you though, a question itching at the back of your mind, springing up more worry.  It made your gaze distant, distracted.

“Barbatos... what happened at the end of the story?” you asked.

“Hm? You mean the opera?” he replied.  You nodded.  His smile grew.  “When the female lead dies, her soul is unable to ascend to heaven due to being cast out. So, there is only one place left for her to go.”

Your eyes widened.  “She went to hell.  She got to be with him in the end.”

Barbatos’s smile filled his face, his eyes crinkling and perfect white teeth showing.  He was so beautiful it made your chest ache.  “She did.”

Your gaze became distant again with thought.  “When I die.... where do you think I’ll go?”

“Hmmm,” Barbatos pondered, his fingers on his chin.  “Well, to be honest, it’s anyone’s guess.  Although as the keeper of the Seven Deadly Sins, it may tip the scales more in favor of here.  Relations between heaven and hell have been improving, but there are still rules that must be followed. And any who support demons usually end up coming here.”

“Wait, so I’m going to go to hell??” you said indignantly as mirth danced in your eyes.

Barbatos grinned.  “As if I’d ever let my girl go to such a place.  No, I would bring you here to the Devildom.”

Your body flushed hot at his words.  “Your girl...”

Barbatos took your chin in his fingers, his thumb brushing against your lower lip gently. “My girl,” he affirmed.

Then he leaned forward and kissed you, his lips cool and soft against yours in the cold of night. You leaned into it, your hands coming up instinctually to cup his chilled face as you reciprocated his affection.

He pulled away slightly, just enough to look into your eyes, before returning for a second kiss, his lips firmer, warmer.  You opened your mouth to him, every part of you aching for more of him until he filled you, surrounded you, until your head couldn’t think anymore and all that mattered was him, you, this moment.  Barbatos’s grip on you tightened as his warm tongue found yours, tasting you, claiming you.

He pulled away just a fraction again, his eyes shining as the bony wings framing his head flickered and vanished.  His grip on you was strong, one hand holding you by the curve of your jawline, and the other gripping your waist.  You had the keen sense that in that moment, he was torn between behaving like the gentleman he felt you deserved, versus taking you right there on the cold, wet steps in the empty street.

The evidence of Barbatos’s desire for you shocked you.  He was always so reserved, so in control, that seeing him grapple with his lesser instincts because of you made your own instincts want to respond in kind, to lure him out of his carefully crafted persona.  You’d been so starved for his affection for so long, that now even the smallest crumbs of his desire felt like a feast.

But of course, his reason won out.  Slowly he stood, his hand holding yours as he helped you to your feet.

“Perhaps we should get you home,” he stated, even as his eyes remained locked on your lips.

Numb with need, your body buzzing, you nodded silently.

Barbatos picked up the umbrella and shook the water off it before placing it over the two of you.  Then he offered his arm and you hooked yours with his as he led you to the car.

The ride back was silent, although you continued to hold his hand in your lap for the entire duration.  The drive felt far too short for your liking. A sense of dread filled the pit in your stomach as the House of Lamentation came into view and it didn’t leave even as Barbatos released your hand with a kiss and exited the vehicle to open your door for you.  You took his offered hand and stepped out, your gaze locked on the many windows that stared back like countless eyes. You could feel them on your back as you turned around at the gate to face Barbatos to begin your goodnights.

Barbatos could sense your unease. 

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Yeah, I just... I don’t think I’m ready to go in yet. I’d like to spend more time with you.” Your eyes were downcast bashfully as you stared at the buttons of his white shirt, the black bow tie at his neck.

He gave a gentle laugh.  “I don’t want the night to end either.  It is far too early to be saying goodbye.  Where would you like to go?”

You glanced up at him as you felt heat roll across your body, the memory of your kiss still fresh in your mind.  “Some place quiet... and private.”

Barbatos fell silent for a moment as he stared down at you.  “I know just the place,” he finally said.

He led you back to the car, and with a final glance back at the mansion, you sat down in the passenger seat. He closed your door, and soon you were on the road again.  It wasn’t long before he pulled the car up through the lavish, scroll-decorated iron gates of Lord Diavolo’s castle.  Your eyes widened in slight surprise.

“Here?”

Barbatos glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. “You said you wanted private.  This is the only place I can guarantee for sure that no one else will find you.”

“I would have thought it’d be the first place they’d look,” you replied as you stared up at the great, towering spires.

“Oh, they most certainly will.  But as you know, the castle in vast, with many rooms and dangers.  And there is one room they will never be able to enter without explicit invitation.”

You gave him a questioning look.

“Mine,” he stated with a small smirk.

A giddy dizziness clouded your mind as he got out of the car and came around to assist you.

As you stepped out, he continued.  “Due to the dangerous nature of my room, there are many wards and spells that keep unwelcome guests from entering.  You’re welcome to stay for as long as you like, and then I will take you home when you’re ready.”

You realized Barbatos was referring to the many doors that led to infinite pasts and futures.

“I’ve been to your room before; I don’t recall it being very... comfortable,” you confessed.

Barbatos laughed as he led you up the steps. “That’s because you only entered the part I wanted you to enter. My personal space has far better amenities than just stairs and doors.  Did you think I just hung like a bat from the ceiling while I slept?” he teased.

You chuckled.  “The thought had crossed my mind...”

Up the stairs and down the winding, complex halls he led you, taking sharp turns and walking around blank spaces of floor to avoid hidden dangers.  Finally, you were outside his door.  With his hand holding yours, he opened it to reveal a pristine bedroom with an ornate four post bed with a canopy.  A large fireplace sat to the right, already lit, an ornate rug and sofa sitting in front of it.  There was a sitting area near the tall glass doors that opened onto a balcony with a tea cart close by.  It was simple in its elegance, the room cast in a warm yellow-orangish glow from the fire.  Not a speck of dirt was present, and suddenly you felt very unclean, your dress and hair still wet from earlier.

“May I use your bathroom?” you asked.

“Of course, right through there.” Barbatos motioned to the double doors to the left as he made his way to his tea cart. “I will fix us something to drink.”

You stepped into his bathroom and shut the door. It was incredibly spacious.  Not as grand as Asmo’s of course, but it most certainly had every necessary amenity and then some.  You checked yourself in the mirror and nearly gasped at the state of your makeup and your hair. 

To think he kissed you while you looked like this... twice, in fact.

You did what you could to clean yourself up, removing the washed-out makeup and letting down your hair to run your fingers through the damp strands.  Once there was nothing more you could do, you stepped back out.

The delicious smell of tea was fragrant in the air, carried on the warmth of the fire.  Barbatos had set the tea out on the small round table of the sitting area and turned when you entered.  He was still fully dressed in his wet formal wear, and you realized with amusement that he’d gotten engrossed in ensuring the tea and setup were perfect.  The porcelain cups and saucers were delicate and beautiful, with floral designs and golden rims.  The spoons were made of silver, polished to shine in the firelight.

“Welcome back,” he replied with a smile.

You smiled in return.  “What’s all this?”

“What does it look like? I thought we could talk over a cup of tea, let our bones warm a little,” he replied as he made final touches to the setup, adjusting the napkins ever so slightly, turning the teapot just so.

“Barbatos...” you chided playfully. “Is this Barbatos the demon, or Barbatos the butler?”

He stared at you for a moment, stunned, and then gave an embarrassed laugh. “Haha, I suppose you’re right... old habits, as they say...” His laugh left his eyes and he stared at you.  “I just want you to feel comfortable.  I know we’ve known each other for some time; however, it is only our second date.”

“I am comfortable,” you said softly. “More comfortable than I’ve ever been since I first arrived here.”  You stepped closer towards him until you were less than a foot apart.  “I always feel safe with you, Barbatos.”

Barbatos smiled in return, warm and soft as his eyes drank you in.  “You don’t know how much it pleases me to hear you say that.”

You rested your hand against his chest.  “Your coat is still wet,” you commented.

“Yes,” he replied as he began to undo the buttons.  He removed it and you watched as the muscles of his shoulders rolled beneath his white shirt.  He laid it carefully over the back of his chair.  “It will dry by the fire soon enough.”

He began to undo his bowtie, but your hands came up to stop him.

“Please… allow me,” you said softly, even as your heart pounded wildly in your chest.

Barbatos swallowed slightly, but let his hands fall until they found their place on your hips, gentle and unassuming.

Slowly, carefully, you began to undo his tie for him as the air warmed between you with each shaky breath.  Once it was loose, you gently pulled on the black material, watching as it slid along his collar before falling off. 

Your eyes locked with his.

It was enough to make the last of his gentlemanly resolve vanish, and he kissed you, his lips capturing yours needily. The tie fell from your grip to land in a careless pile on the floor as your arms went up around his neck to pull him closer. His hands tightened around you in return, fingers spread wide as they traveled across your back.  The warmth of him, the firmness of his body beneath the soft fabrics of his clothes... it was better than every fantasy you’d ever had, dreams paling beneath the shadow of the very real demon in front of you.

Barbatos’s hands shifted from your body to your jaw, cupping your face in a delicate hold.  Once again you opened your mouth to him, eager to revisit that sinful moment on the steps of the opera house, as your fingers tangled into his hair at the base of his neck.  The strands were soft between your fingers, his tongue sweet with the hint of tea.  He must have tasted it before you emerged from the bathroom earlier, no doubt to ensure its perfection.

But now it sat abandoned as your fingers began to undo the buttons of his shirt, starting at the one high on his neck.  As soon as the smooth skin of his chest was exposed, you abandoned your task to run your palms up his chest and back to his neck as you clung tightly to him, your body slotting against his.

He chuckled against your lips as his hands returned to caressing your curves.  “What about the tea?” he teased.

You nibbled on his lip, pulling back with your teeth until it released with a pop, earning a growl from the usually reserved demon.  “No offense, but screw the tea.”

Barbatos’s eyes widened, his eyebrow raising in judgment.  “No offense she says, and yet she wounds me in the same breath.”

You chuckled and planted a kiss on his lips.  “Forgive me… but perhaps we can enjoy it after?”

“After?” Barbatos echoed, his eyebrow raising ever higher as the corner of his mouth curled up. His hands slid from the curve of your back to the plush of your ass and squeezed. “After what exactly? What expectations have you brought with you tonight?”

Your breath hitched at his bold touch, yet your eyes narrowed at his obvious teasing.  Two could play that game.

You widened your eyes innocently.  “Expectations? None.”  You looked at the tea setting. “Perhaps we should enjoy a cup now, before it gets cold…”

You began to disentangle from his hold and turn your body toward the seats, but Barbatos’s strong arm wrapped around your waist, blocking you.  When you turned to look up at him, he was staring down at you with darkened eyes, his smile gone.

“You know… your dress is wet too...” he hummed as he pulled you back against him. 

Checkmate.

Your arms returned around his neck.  “Is it now?”

Barbatos’s hands once again moved along the curve of your back. “Perhaps we should slip you into something more comfortable?”

As he spoke, his fingers gently traced the line of your spine until he reached the top of the zipper.  Slowly he pulled it down, the material relaxing around you, every soft bit of your skin freed from restraint.  His fingers traced back up along your now naked spine as his lips gently brushed yours, the tip of his tongue teasing your mouth open.  It pulled a wanton moan from your throat, a sound that would have made you falter in embarrassment in any other moment... except his touch was far too distracting to care anymore, his chest echoing your own in a low, satisfied hum.  The delicacy of his long, slender fingers skated across your shoulder blades to catch beneath the straps of your dress and slid it off your shoulders. You removed your arms from the falling straps, and Barbatos’s hands helped the dress the rest of the way over your hips until it fell to a puddle around your feet.

He withheld his kisses for a moment to allow his eyes to drink you in from head to toe as his hands followed your silhouette.

“Did you match for me?” he mused as he stared at your matching bra and panties.  “A bit hopeful tonight, were you?” he grinned as he nuzzled your jawline with his nose. “Expectations indeed.”

“Better safe than sorry,” you replied. “And yes, a little bit hopeful...”

His nose continued to follow the curve of your neck then your shoulder as he talked, his breath coating your skin.  “Then I’ll consider this a fortunate turn of events.  I typically don’t expect such intimacy on the second date, but for you I’m more than happy to make an exception.”

Barbatos’s teeth caught on the strap of your bra as his eyes stared over your shoulder to observe the tantalizing view of his hand caressing the curve of your lace-covered ass.  It made your stomach flip, your head spin, and your heat grow between your legs, the slick already building thick within your thin panties.  You were eager; you wanted nothing more than for him to take you right this instant, in any which way.  But Barbatos was the opposite; he took his time and savored.  It was driving you mad.  You shifted your stance just slightly in impatience, the sound of your shoes clicking on the stone floor of his room.

It was enough to catch his attention, to release your bra strap from his pearly white teeth and look down at your heels.  “Hm, perhaps we should remove those shoes of yours...” he smiled against your lips.

Before you could protest, he bent just enough to wrap his arms around your thighs and hoisted you up in his arms, your body pressed against his.  It shocked you how easily he lifted you, as if you weighed practically nothing, his lean muscular figure disguising his demonic strength.

Slowly he walked you back towards his bed as his mouth began to leave kisses in your cleavage, his tongue flicking out occasionally to lick and taste. It made your breaths come out in pants, made your body squirm slightly in his hold, and yet he held you steadily until he reached his destination.

You had thought he would have tossed you onto his bed, following with his body. Or at least that was what you had hoped for.  However, Barbatos always managed to surprise you with the unexpected.  Instead, he set you gently back down on your feet.

“Sit,” he ordered. His tone was soft and not at all overbearing or firm, yet you found yourself following the command instantly.

Then he kneeled before you and gently lifted your left foot. His hands carefully removed your shoe followed by a trail of gentle kisses up your ankle to your calf.  Then he set down your left foot and repeated the action with your right, once again removing the shoe carefully and following it up with kisses.

However, this time, the kisses didn’t stop at your calf. His lips kept traveling.  Past the knee, up the inside of the thigh... your legs parted willingly as your breaths began to quicken, your clit pulsing heavily for him in anticipation.  As he got closer, he pushed your legs wider still, his palm firm against the inside of your knee, and pulled you closer to him until your ass was barely on the edge of his soft, plush mattress.

He paused once he was between your legs, and inhaled through his nose, his eyes closing as if he were savoring a rich, herbal tea.

“I love your scent,” he whispered. 

His eyes opened and you gasped as his green irises glowed, his canines slightly sharper and longer.  The human illusion faded away like a mirage and now you could see the small, bony wings in place of horns, could see the long, double-ended serpentine tail curling and twitching behind him, shining wet.  He still wore his clothes from the evening, his shirt half unbuttoned.

Barbatos watched you with an unreadable gaze.  “Are you afraid?” he asked.

You shook your head vigorously.  “No,” you breathed.  “Just amazed at how beautiful you are.”

Barbatos chuckled, low and deep, ending on a soft hum.  “She says with her legs spread wide for me...” His finger trailed the shape of you through your panties and your body twitched as you bit your lip.  “Trust me when I say you are the beautiful one.”

Then he leaned forward and kissed your core, right on that tight bundle of nerves through the delicate fabric.  You gasped against it, a moan bursting from your chest as you leaned back further, bracing your weight on your hands.  Barbatos’s eyes flashed up at you, brows low and pupils blown wide with lust. He kissed you again, firmer this time.  Again, you whined for him, your thighs tensing as pleasure tickled your nerves from the epicenter of his touch.

On his third return, his tongue flicked out to lick you through the fabric, followed by the press of his lips as his mouth closed over your clit.

You were panting heavily now, your heart pounding against your ribs in desperation.  Again, he licked and kissed.  And again.  Slowly, steadily, with more pressure than before.  His fingers began to stroke your entrance through the fabric, his long fingers drawing up and down.

As his mouth worked you higher and higher through your panties, you felt the warm wetness of his tail wrap itself around your leg and slowly slither up in a spiraling, winding trail.  It was foreign, stimulating, and entirely erotic.  As the tips of his tail reached the height of your inner thigh, they slipped beneath your panties, gliding against your lips and teasing your entrance, causing it to spasm.  Then the tail hooked around the sopping wet fabric and pulled it aside, allowing Barbatos unimpeded access to your cunt as his hands remained firm against the inside of your knees, keeping you spread so wide that the hamstrings of your thighs burned.

“Beautiful...” he murmured as he stared at your pussy with heavy lidded eyes.

Then his mouth was on you, tongue dipping, lips pressing, sucking. You cried out, your head falling back as your back arched.  The arousal tightened, sharpened, until you were sure you would cut yourself on it, bleed out all the desire in a gush. Your breaths grew heavier, faster.  Your hips began to rock, your legs tremble.

But just as you were about to reach your zenith, Barbatos pulled away.

“W-what??” you protested. “Hey!”

Barbatos chuckled as he wiped his shining wet lips with his thumb.  “My apologies. I am not usually one to leave a duty unfinished. However...” his gaze on you grew dark as he stood and began unbuttoning the rest of his shirt.  “I made a promise to myself a long time ago.”

You narrowed your eyes at him suspiciously.  You were still salty he’d stopped, stealing your orgasm from you.  “What promise?”

With his shirt unbuttoned and removed, he began to undo the buckle of his pants.  He pulled the belt from the loops around his waist, then continued to unbutton the top of his slacks.  His pants loosened, sagging to catch on his hips and the hard cock that tented his pants.

You swallowed as you stared at him, your eyes following the curves of his iliac crests, the muscles of his abdomen in soft relief against the firelight.  The soft tuft of dark hair below his navel gave way to the base of his cock, still barely hidden beneath his slacks.

A realization hit you.  Barbatos didn’t wear underwear. No boxers, no briefs, nothing.  Nothing but the thin black fabric of his slacks between his cock and the world.

Your hands reached out, grabbing onto the fabric to tug it down and free him as he watched you with amusement in his eyes.  His cock sprang free, perfect and beautiful.  Your hand wrapped around it, feeling the warmth of it, the smoothness of the skin, the veins that trekked along its sides...

Barbatos’s finger tucked beneath your chin and forced your eyes to look up at him.

“I promised myself,” he continued, “that the first time I make you cum, it’ll be on my cock.”

Your eyes widened and you swallowed. His smirk turned into a devilish grin as he dipped his head down and captured your mouth with his, the scent of you still on his lips.  As his tongue forced its way past your lips, his body invaded you, bearing down on you, forcing you to back further into the bed that smelled entirely of him.

He kissed you hungrily as his hand quickly undid the clasp of your bra before hooking his fingers into your panties and pulling them down off your legs, the clinging wet strings of arousal stretching and snapping as the material left your throbbing cunt. Then he was over you again, surrounding you, caging you with his body as his thighs pushed your legs open for him, the head of his cock nestled against your entrance.

“Please...” you begged, your body taut with need.

He stared at you, the affection heavy in his gaze and written in the flush of his cheeks like paint on paper.

“You will tell me if it’s too much, yes?” he said softly.  “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I promise,” you whispered.

You hooked your legs around the back of his thighs and pressed, and he obliged, the leaking head of his cock pushing into your wet heat as his lips parted in a silent breath. You inhaled, your ribcage expanding and your back arching as his cock dragged across every awakened nerve within you, causing your walls to clench tightly around his girth.  He was long, and he filled every inch of you and then some, pushing you past your limits as you gasped in a short cry.

Barbatos froze for a moment, concern in his veridian eyes.  But your body quieted, your expression one of bliss rather than pain, and he breathed as he pulled out and entered you again slowly, feeling the way your body greeted him, took him, made a home for him.  Every inch of you was trembling; the air leaving your lungs on shaky breaths, your thighs practically vibrating, your walls fluttering.

Barbatos’s hand cupped your cheek and he pressed his forehead to yours as you looked at him through half-open, lust-blown eyes.

“My pretty girl...” he whispered tenderly.  “My pretty little human.  So fragile, so beautiful.  Look at you, laid out before me, shaking like a leaf.” He pulled out slowly and pushed in again, the muscles of his biceps shaking with restraint.  “You don’t know how long I’ve dreamed of this moment...”

You smiled and gave a breathy laugh that ended in a hitch as he bottomed out in you.  “At least as long as I have, I hope...”

Barbatos smiled against your lips. “Longer,” he promised, followed by a stolen kiss.

But words could only last for as long as you both had focus, and it quickly waned in favor of the pleasure that washed over you with each thrust, your body and mind immersed in the feel of him.  With your body fully acclimated and pliable beneath his touch, his thrusts quickened as speech gave way to sounds of pleasure; of grunts and groans, gasps and pants.

Barbatos’s knowledge of the human body was not to be underestimated. With each dip of his hips, his cock rubbed against your most sensitive parts, each thrust ending in a grind of his groin to roll your swollen, sensitive clit against him.  His hand caressed your body, pinching and rolling your nipple between his fingers, before sliding down to grip your thigh against him as his mouth devoured yours.

Your body shifted, your breaths quickened, catching in your chest as the arousal swelled, nerves on fire. “Please...” you begged as you clung to him, your nails digging into his shoulders.  “Please, I’m so close...”

He sat up, adjusting his angle to allow his cock to press harder against the top of your walls where you were most sensitive.  The change position allowed him the full freedom of his hands, and he took full advantage.  He held your right leg over his shoulder while his other hand drew fast, steady circles over your swollen clit with his thumb.  He quickened his thrusts for you, spurred by your pleas, your confessions of pleasure.  He watched in rapture as your eyes glazed over then widened, as your back arched when your orgasm piqued, igniting across your nerves.  Over and over, it crashed over you, drowning you, stealing your voice in favor of gasps of air and primal moans.

Barbatos relished the sight, the way you broke before him, because of him.  He relished in the feel of you tight around his cock, your walls pulsing, sucking him in.  He released your leg from his grip and leaned over you again, his lips stealing yours as he pistoned even faster, now that he was able to finally chase his own release.  He buried himself in you with each thrust, the ‘pap’ ‘pap’ of skin hitting skin loud in his ears.  You cried out against him with each thrust, your teeth digging into his shoulder.  If it weren’t for your legs tightening in an iron grip around him, he would have stopped, checked you for injuries.  But instead, you clung to him, your body beyond words, beyond control.

Were you going to cum again? So soon?

The thought alone was enough to send Barbatos over the edge, hot cum spilling from his cock with a groan as he rode out the burning wave of pleasure that washed over him.  With each release of his load into you, a new wave followed, and he chased it relentlessly, savoring every second of you pinned beneath him, wrapped around him...

Your body spasmed against him and you half moaned, half cried into his shoulder, your arms tight around his neck as your hips rolled and bucked, your breaths forced out on a parched, hot tongue and burning lungs. It only added to his own pleasure; not just the fresh spasming of your cunt around him, milking the last of what he had to offer, but the way you moaned for him, clung to him, needed him, as if you’d shatter if every inch of you weren’t touching.

With the majority of his orgasm already falling to the wayside, he kept his pace until he was sure you had finished, when your death grip on his neck finally loosened and your head fell back damp with sweat into his rich bedsheets, panting heavily for air.

Barbatos was less winded of course, thanks to his superior strength and stamina.  It allowed him the opportunity to lift himself on his arms and stare down at you, memorizing every detail.

As your breaths finally eased, your eyes fluttered open.  As soon as you saw him staring down at you, you covered your face with a giggle.  Barbatos smiled and grabbed your hand in his, pulling it off your face and pinning it above your head.  He kissed you with smiling lips, and you returned it in kind, your free hand wrapping lazily around his neck, your fingers gently threading through his sweaty strands.  He kissed you again, and again, moving from your lips to your cheek, to your jaw. You giggled against it, and he smiled against your skin as he buried his face into your neck and allowed himself to rest some of his weight onto you.

“Are you alright?” he finally asked.  His voice was low and reverberated into your chest.

Your fingers lightly grazed back and forth along the back of his neck absently.

“Yeah,” you replied drowsily.  “You?”

“Hm, yes.” he confirmed.  “Very much so.”

After a long quiet moment, you spoke again, your eyes staring at the ceiling.  “That was... wow.”

Barbatos pulled back sightly to look at you.  “Do you regret it? Was it too soon?”

You looked at him in confusion and gave an amused laugh. “Definitely not. I’ve been wanting for that forever.” A pause.  “How about you? Do you regret it?”

Barbatos smiled as he allowed the tips of his fingers to trace your body.  He followed your neck, your shoulder, the curve of your breast.  His smile widened as your nipple perked and hardened under his touch. 

“No,” he replied.  “It happened sooner than I expected, but trust me when I say I have zero regrets. Had I known it would be like this, I would have claimed you sooner.”

You stared at him with poorly masked surprise. Barbatos gave a soft chuckle as his fingers continued their trek down along your hip to your thigh.

“I meant what I said earlier this evening...” he said as he watched his hand travel. “I do not look into your future.  I did not know this would happen.” His hand trailed back up your side to visit the gentle slopes of your arm, following the lines to your sensitive palm.  His fingers twined with yours and he looked back at your eyes.  “And I’m glad.  Seeing this future would have dulled the experience. It was meant to happen like this; unexpected and perfect.”

Tears stung the corners of your eyes, and you pulled him against you as you kissed him tenderly. When your lips parted again, amusement colored your expression.

“I think I’m ready for that tea now.”

Barbatos grinned down at you.  “Absolutely not.  I will make us fresh tea.” He glanced down pointedly at where your bodies were still joined, although his white, sticky cum had long since begun to leak out onto the bedding.  “But first, perhaps a bath.”

You laughed as you followed his gaze.  “Yes, a bath would be nice.”

You had expected him to pull out of you, to help you stand and walk with you.  You were prepared for the walk of shame, the humorous waddle of cupping your hand between your legs to catch any remaining drops of Barbatos’s gift that would inevitably leak out on your journey to the bathroom.  But instead, his tail slithered its way between your back and the mattress and wrapped around your waist, as his hands gripped the globes of your butt.

“Hold on,” he ordered.

“What’re you—AH!”

He hoisted you up in his arms, your body securely pressed against his.  You giggled into his shoulder as he carried you to the bathroom, his tail loosening around your waist in order to open the door while he continued to support your weight easily with his palms.

He set you down near the toilet.  “If my memory of human anatomy is still correct, you should pee.”

You sat on the toilet to do as he asked, and watched as he began to fill the very large bathtub with hot water. The sight of him nude in front of you was both arousing and odd.  He always kept himself covered from head to toe, so much so that even the slightest hint of arm or shoulder had been enough to make your blood run hot and your thighs squeeze together on more than one occasion.  But now, you could see every inch of him, and you realized what an absolute insult it was to have his figure covered up at all times.

He looked up to catch you staring at him and you averted your eyes quickly. He smirked.

“Are you finished?” he asked.

You nodded as you cleaned yourself.

He held out his hand to you.  “Then come join me.”

You did, stepping into the bathwater with his body behind you. You sighed as you leaned back against him, the water coming up to barely cover your breasts.  His hands caressed your arms, your legs; any part of you he could easily touch.

It was a soft silence, a gentle togetherness where words had no place.  There was no need for them.  They were too loud, too plain... there was no way to capture what either of you felt, and there was no need to define or label, to announce or question.  Before the two of you were not, and now you were. The transition into togetherness came with ease, forged through intimacy and surrender, through the carefully laid bricks of friendship and time.

Barbatos washed your hair for you, planting a kiss to your forehead as you tilted your head back to rinse.   He washed your back too, and your arms, the soft washcloth trailing over every inch of skin.  Your knees, your thighs...  But then the washcloth was abandoned in favor of his fingers between your legs, parting your lips beneath the warm, sudsy water to find the pearl of nerves nestled protectively at the apex of your folds.

“Barbatos...” you moaned as you felt that familiar heat reignite. He planted a silent kiss to your temple as he began to move his first two fingers in small circles.  Your legs spread as far as they could within the tub, and he took that as an invitation to increase his pace as his other hand cupped and massaged your breast, rolling the nipple between his fingers with small pinches.

He worked you quickly and with ease.  Within a minute, your head was tilted back against his shoulder as he watched his hand work you beneath the water, your body tensing and flexing each time he passed the pads of his fingers over you.  Quicker and quicker he circled, increasing the pressure until that familiar sound of your heavy panting greeted his ears and your hips rocked, causing your back to press against his hard cock.  He pressed kisses against your jaw line, your neck, and he watched your face as your eyes fluttered closed and your brows drew together, your mouth slightly parted.

You came with a groan, your back arching against him, and he maintained his pace, his digits circling vigorously as he whispered soft praises into your ear.

“Good girl.  My beautiful girl...”

As the pleasure receded to a low hum across your skin, you slumped against him with a sigh and closed eyes.  After a moment, you opened your eyes and looked at him. He smiled and kissed you.

“What was that for?” you asked.

“Do I need a reason?” he replied.  His hands caressed your shoulders as his lips grazed the curve of your ear.  “Because I wanted to,” he whispered.

You turned as best you could in the tub and kissed him tenderly.

You wanted to reciprocate, to run your fingers through his dark green hair as you washed it, to cleanse his pale skin with soap on your palms and affection in your touch.  You wanted to make him feel as good as you felt, to know the weight of him in your hand, your mouth...

But he spoke first.

“Come,” he ordered. 

Before you could protest, Barbatos disentangled himself from you and stepped lithely out of the tub. He grabbed one towel and wrapped it around his lean frame.  Then he grabbed a second towel for you and held it open in quiet invitation.  Unable to say no, you stood and stepped out of the tub, the cool air of the bathroom kissing your skin for only a moment as turned your back to him.  He wrapped the soft cloth around you, his arms wrapping around you as he did so.  He pulled you close against him until his chin rested on your shoulder.

“There is a spare robe on the rack by the door,” he explained. “And you may borrow any of my clothes if you so wish. I will make us a fresh batch of tea.”

With a kiss planted against your wet hair, he stepped away. You watched as he abandoned his towel and grabbed his other robe, pulling his arms through the sleeves before crossing the fabric over his nudity and tying the sash.  With a brief glance and a small smile, he stepped out and closed the door, as if to give you privacy you no longer needed.

You breathed a heavy breath slowly from your lungs, allowing the release to steady you as you processed the reality of all that had transpired thus far.

The mellow acceptance you’d felt earlier when Barbatos was with you gave way to a mixture of elation and shock that hummed through your body and mind, reverberating against your isolation within the bathroom.  It felt as if your heart would explode, the beating muscle unable to keep up with the demands of the emotions that swirled inside of you like a vortex. You felt up-ended, chaotic, yet free.

This wasn’t at all how you thought this would happen. You had always pictured the process as slow, requiring a level of patience you weren’t entirely sure you possessed.  You’d ease into it, learn how to navigate Barbatos’s complexity on a level that you had yet to explore or fully understand, like learning to sail for the first time in uncharted waters.

Instead, the tether of caution, of safety, had been snapped from its mooring, and now you felt you were spinning, drifting, carried out on a heavy tide with no knowledge of where it led or how to navigate it; a small boat in deep waters, large waves, and not a paddle to be found. 

You wanted to trust in it. To trust in him.  To trust the softness of his touch, the delicacy of his kisses, the honesty of his words.

You wanted to trust that you would be kept safe, protected; that your small little boat would not be capsized by the weight of all that he was – an ancient, timeless, a creature beyond human understanding.  You wanted to trust that he would not let you drown, would not let you sink into the bottomless black, dragged deep by the limits of your mortality and understanding.

To trust your heart to him, your soul... it was like trusting the ocean to be kind to you, as if the ocean were anything but indifferent.

But Barbatos was not indifferent. In fact, he was far from it.  But he wasn’t human, either.  His view of life, death, the world... it went far beyond your own comprehension, and you couldn’t help but wonder how you, in all of your insignificance, had managed to even catch his attention to begin with, let alone hold his eye.

You began to gather yourself, your movements slow and sluggish as you dried your body.  Your thighs and your cunt ached, but it was pleasurable, a soft reminder of the intimacy you’d shared. It helped root you to the present, to tear your eyes away from that distant, unknown horizon and focus on the sand beneath your feet.

You stepped out of the bathroom to the smell of a sweet, floral fragrance.  You quickly noticed the new bedding on his bed, and wondered if you’d lost track of time, or if he’d used magic to quickly change them.  Either way, it looked ready to sleep in.

Barbatos was by the small table with a fresh pot of tea, the arrangement prepared.  He was still in his robe, the silky fabric loosely open towards the top providing a pleasant view of his chest.  He looked up from when you entered and smiled as his eyes raked over your figure.

“Perhaps I should let you keep that,” he said.

You looked down at the robe.  “If I did, then it’d have to come back with me to the House of Lamentation,” you teased as you walked towards him.

Barbatos narrowed his eyes.  “Then, perhaps not.  Such beauty should be for my eyes only.”

He took you into his arms as soon as you were within reach and kissed you. Then he motioned to the table and chairs.

“Tea?” he offered.

You laughed.  “Yes.”

You both sat, the air between you warm and comfortable, the conversation between you flowing easily.  It eased your nerves and quieted your fears.  In private moments like this, it didn’t matter that you were a human, and he was a demon.  What mattered was the happiness, the laughs, the comfort it brought you to be in his presence.  The foundation of the two of you remained, and yet there was a newness that coated it, a novelty and open curiosity.  Your feet played with his under the table; his tail teased your leg.  And the looks shared were a newly opened secret, an invitation to explore each other’s hearts, while sensitive hands itched to explore each other’s bodies.

Once the tea was gone, the conversation moved to the couch in front of the fire.  You curled yourself up against Barbatos’s side as your eyes watched the flames dance.

“How come I’ve never heard the Divine Language before?” you asked, your brow furrowed. “I talk to you and all the other demons and angels just fine.”

Barbatos gave a small smile.  “That’s because we are naturally fluent in every language. We speak to you in your language because we have to.”

Your head lifted from his shoulder.  “Really? I mean, I guess that makes sense...I just...huh. Never really thought about it.”

Your head went back to its resting place.

“I did mean it, earlier…” he said softly.  “You were safe at the opera.”

You were silent for a long moment.  “I believe you.  But for me, as a mortal, even the slightest possibility of not being safe was terrifying.”

Barbatos’s arm tightened around you.  “I assure you; I had multiple failsafes in place in the highly unlikely possibility that I was incorrect.”

You lifted your head again to look at him.  “Like what?”

He glanced at you and returned his gaze to the fire.  “In the worst-case scenario, I was prepared to teleport you instantly.”

“But that’s not the worst-case…” you said softly.  “Worst-case would be if teleporting is too late.”

Barbatos was silent for a long moment, his expression locked in stillness.  “If such a thing happened, then I would be forced to use my ability.”

“With Lord Diavolo’s permission…”

A muscle twitched in his jaw.  “Yes, of course.”

You didn’t feel entirely convinced by his response, which alarmed you.  Barbatos was always absolute in not using his time travel ability without the Prince’s explicit permission or instruction. Even the hint of possibility that his commitment to that single, most important rule would potentially falter... because of you...

“However,” he continued, his gentle smile returning, “even average humans can withstand the power of the Divine Language for at least a few minutes.”

Relief filled you.  “Really?”

“How do you think God and his angels talked to the prophets?” He grinned.  “So, I will tell you again, you were safe.”

You smiled appreciatively at his reassurances, but it dissipated as you had another curious thought.

“If you were so worried about the risks and had so many plans in place, why didn’t you just... not invite me?  Or maybe take me somewhere else?”

Barbatos gave a small, embarrassed laugh.  “Yes, I did consider that option first.  However, we’d already been struggling to find time for each other recently.  And I did not want the young master’s efforts to go to waste, even though he hadn’t considered the concerns regarding the Divine Language.”  He tilted his head slightly as he watched the flames.  “Besides, I thought the love story was somewhat... fitting.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle. In a strange way, it was.  You snuggled tighter against him.

An idea popped into your head.

“Can you speak the Divine Language?” you asked.

“Of course, I can. I am a demon after all.”

You looked up at him again, your eyes shining. “Say something to me.”

Barbatos stared down at you with wide eyes.  “Like what?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know... Whatever you want.”

Barbatos stared at you as he thought.  Then he took a hesitant breath and spoke.

The sounds were a melody, a chorus of voice tuned to his deep tone.  It washed over you gently, blanketing you until every inch of you felt warm and safe.  It chased away your fears of death and loss, and instead, it made you want to trust him with your life.  His finger gently traced the line of your jaw as he spoke, a gentle smile on his lips. It was short, lasting mere seconds, yet it somehow felt longer.

Silence fell between you as your mind gradually cleared.

“Did you understand it that time?” he asked curiously.

“I... I don’t know. Was I supposed to?”

“It was directed at you, so I had hoped you would.”

“It wasn’t so much words, but more of a... feeling?”

“What did it feel like?”

“Being safe... and warm... Is that how it works? Through feelings and pictures?”

“I don’t know,” he confessed. “I’ve never been human.”

You made a face. “Eh, that’s okay. It’s overrated.”

He laughed deep and rich, and the sound of it made you laugh too, the joy contagious.  Then his smile faded, and he tilted his head at you.

“So, what did you say?” you asked.

Barbatos was silent for a moment, as if debating with himself.  Finally, he spoke quietly, his voice solemn.  “I told you I will always protect you.”

Your stared at him with parted lips, hoping to find the words that could equal his own, but there were none.  Instead, you kissed him gently, your hand cupping his jaw.  He reciprocated, his hand covering yours as his arm tightened around you.  It made the latent desire in you reawaken, and you deepened the kiss with your tongue.  Barbatos welcomed you, his mouth opening with yours, his warm tongue swiping and tasting. 

You hummed and crawled into his lap, your legs straddling him.  The action forced your robe to part below the sash, exposing yourself to him.  The sight brought a pleased hum into the back of his throat, and his kisses deepened, battling your tongue for supremacy.  His grip on you tightened, his fingers digging into the fat of your hips through the fabric to pull you closer against him.

His cock awakened within seconds, hard and hot, and you pressed your wet cunt against the length of it.  You rolled your hips until your clit rubbed against him, and moaned into his mouth. He swallowed the sound with his tongue swiping along yours as his hands forced your hips to roll on him again.  Your hands began to untie the sash of his robe and he chuckled against your lips.

“Again?” he teased.

The sash gave way, and you pushed the edges of his robe aside to expose the length of his body beneath you.   “Shut up,” you replied playfully as you savored the feel of his chest with your hands.

Barbatos’s cock twitched beneath you, and he began untying your robe in return.  “You lose your manners when you’re horny,” he grinned. “My impatient little human.”

He pushed the robe off your shoulders, and it dropped behind you off the couch.  He started at your silhouette in the firelight, his hands caressing your curves.

Your hand wrapped around the shaft of him and gave him a couple of languid strokes, teasing the flushed head with your thumb. Barbatos closed his eyes and hummed.

You tutted at him.  “Yes, well this impatient little human is going to ride your very big demon cock,” you breathed lustfully.

He growled low, and when he opened his eyes, they glowed like emeralds caught in sunlight.  “You should be careful what you say to a demon, my dear.” He watched through heavy-lidded eyes as you lined yourself up with him, your dripping cunt hovering over his cock head. “I have more control than most, but even I have my limits.”

His grip on your hips tightened, fingernails digging into soft flesh, as you lowered yourself onto him slowly, your gaze hazy and lovesick.  Your eyes rolled back, your lids closing, as you reached the base of his cock, taking every inch, his tip pressing deep into you.  It ached, your body still sore from earlier.  It blended with the burning pleasure as he stretched you, creating a sweet harmony of love and pain, pleasure and danger.  You rocked your hips slightly, then slid back up, only to come back down again with a slowness that even rivaled Barbatos’s patience.

“Then again…” he muttered as his eyes watched his cock disappear into you, “perhaps I made you wait too long.”

You moaned softly, your head nodding in hazy affirmation as you slid up and down his cock again. Barbatos’s hands began to move your hips, forcing you to rub your clit against him with each descent.  The pressure of his hands forced you to quicken your pace.

“Humans…” he continued teasingly as he watched your breasts start to bounce deliciously. “You always want everything now, now, now.”

Your eyes were closed in ecstasy, your head lolling back.  Your lips curled into a grin.  “Are you saying I’m spoiled?” you breathed.

He forced you down harder onto his cock and you moaned as your cunt tightened.  Fresh arousal coated his shining shaft, dripping slowly down his balls.

“Not yet, my sweet girl.  But you will be.”

Then Barbatos wrapped his arms around your waist and held you close against him as he snapped his hips up to meet yours, his cock slamming into you. You yelped and clung to him, your face buried into his neck. He did it again. And again. Each time, he pushed your hips down to meet his as he thrusted. Each time you cried out in high pitched whines as your breaths were knocked from your lungs. And each time, his cock grew harder and harder as he felt his own pleasure rapidly rising. Your body caught his fast rhythm, your thighs and your hips working yourself frantically on his cock as you rode him.  Your breasts were pressed against him, his teeth digging into your collarbone as you panted, your whines rising in pitch with each hit of your sensitive walls.  Your hands gripped the couch on either side of his head, your brows drawn together as you chased the release you so desperately craved.

Barbatos looked up at you, watched the curve of your neck, your jaw.  Watched every little way your muscles and tendons twitched and spasmed as the tension built within you.  His own pleasure was building swiftly, and he was determined to have you cum with him while he spilled himself inside your sensitive walls.  His thick tail wrapped around your waist, the tips of it dipping between your legs.  The tips were dexterous, wet and warm, and they tickled your clit, pressing against it, pinching, swiping.  With your eyes squeezed shut it nearly felt like being eaten out while being fucked.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck!” you cried.

He timed it perfectly, your orgasm cascading over you just as his crested, his load filling you as you rode him. He couldn’t suppress the grunts and groans that overtook him, couldn’t fight the way his strong hands forced you down onto him over and over again with brutal intensity as his tail tightened around you.  You cried his name, wrapped in moans of pleasure as the tears in your eyes finally spilled over, leaving wet tracks on your cheeks that dripped onto his shoulder.

He felt them, cold, wet drops landing on his hot skin.  He took your face in his hands and kissed you passionately as his tail kept you in place, helping your body to rut against him through the final stretch of your shared orgasm, his cock twitching the last drops into your cunt.

Finally, his tail relaxed around your waist, and you collapsed against him with your arms around his neck and your face buried into his shoulder.  Your entire body heaved as your lungs gasped for air. The elation pumping through your veins faded away to reveal the pain waiting beneath it in the form of burning thighs, fiery lungs, and a cunt that felt bruised and battered.

Barbatos’s hands gently caressed your back as he waited for you to recover. Once your breaths steadied and your heart no longer pounded loud enough for Barbatos to hear it, he spoke.

“Are you alright?” he asked softly.

There was a pause that worried him, and then you nodded your head against his shoulder.

But you didn’t speak yet, and so he continued.  “Was I too rough?”

Your response was quicker this time, your head shaking in denial.

He gave a soft, worried chuckle.  “Can you talk?”

You giggled softly and forced yourself to sit up just enough to look at him. Your face was shining with sweat, and your eyes looked tired.  “I’m okay, I promise,” you finally said.  Then you laid against him again, your body feeling like stretched out rubber.

He tightened his arms around your waist and kissed your shoulder.  “Do you feel satisfied yet?” he asked.

You laughed against him, even though the action made your ribs ache.  The richness of it warmed him, pushing his lingering worries back to the distant horizon of his mind. 

“Yes, very much so,” you replied.  “But I probably won’t be able to do that again tonight.”

Barbatos sat up slightly from his slouched position, and the action made you wince, his soft cock still nestled inside you.

He paused for a moment before making you sit up enough to look at him.

“You’re hurt,” he commented, his brow furrowed.

“I’m sore, there’s a difference,” you replied with a grin.  “Don’t worry, I promise I’m fine. I’m just... gonna move real slow for a while.”

“You will not move at all until you’re well again,” he replied firmly.

You put your forehead to his, a playful grin on your lips.  “Hmm, does that mean I get to stay in your bed while you dote on me?”

Barbatos smirked and he kissed you with a peck.  “Perhaps...”

“Then yes,” you replied. “I’m sore. So sore.  Suffering, even.  I don’t think I’ll be able to move for a week.”

“And what makes you think you’ll be able to recover so quickly if you’re in my bed?” he replied mischievously as his hands lightly squeezed your ass.

“Barbatos,” you scolded mockingly, “are you telling me that you would take advantage of me in my weakened state?  That’s not very gentlemanly of you.”

Barbatos chuckled.  “I’m a demon, not an angel,” he replied.  “I told you earlier even I have my limits.”  He kissed you softly.  “But... I promise to be gentle.”

You kissed him softly in return.  Then he wrapped his arms and tail around you, and this time you were prepared as he lifted you up again and carried you once more to the bathroom.

He was dutiful in his care, his touches gentle and patient.  And when you were both clean again, he picked you up in his arms again and carried you to his bed, a gesture you were quickly growing accustomed to.  He set you gently into the plush bedding and followed after you, pulling his thick, clean covers over the both of you.  As soon as your head hit his pillow, sleep claimed you, your eyes drifting shut as you drank in the warmth of his skin against yours. They would not open again until the morning.

And as you slept, Barbatos stared at you in the dying firelight of the late night.  His fingers absently danced along your arm, your hair, your back. And as he touched you gently, the time passed, seconds into minutes, and minutes into hours.  The embers turned to ash, the room pitched into blackness, and Barbatos still could not sleep, as he battled within himself.  Finally, in defeat, he allowed himself one confession, to be spoken barely at a whisper in a language your soul would feel but your brain would not understand. The lilting, singing words spoken on a divine, immortal tongue drifted past his lips, unable to be recalled or undone.

"Satan?"

a sharp swear hits your ears as strong hands catch you, gripping your shoulders with startling intensity as he somewhat forcibly props you back onto your own two feet.

satan's cheeks are flushed as he looks you up and down once more to make sure you're alright. his fingers find your shirt and dust you off once more for good measure.

"are you alright?"

"i'm okay," you answer, now secure in your own footing. "thank you for catching me."

"sorry for running into you in the first place."

there's a gap of silence. he shifts awkwardly on his feet, eyes flickering up above your heads to the top of the doorframe.

"is there something up there?" you ask. your gaze flits up above you to find a leafy sprig adorning the doorframe.

"if i'm not mistaken," satan says lowly, cheeks aflame and eyes darting from yours, "that's mistletoe. there's a human tradition where two people kiss if they're caught under it together-- i assume you've heard it?"

"i have."

there's another beat of silence where satan looks hesitant-- his body is angled towards yours, leaned in ever so slightly in interest, but his mouth doesn't move. the words won't come out. you can tell he's interested in the tradition, but he doesn't want to pressure you because of the tumble you almost took. you'd find it more endearing if it wasn't so silly.

"... do you want to give it a try? 'tis the season and all."

he lets out a breath you had noticed him holding and nods, scarlet in the cheeks as his fingers brush against yours. satan's lips find yours-- soft, grateful, melting into your touch as voices of your friends and family fade into the background.

"Asmo?"

"oh!"

two arms wind around your body, pressing you against him as the two of you fumble together lightly. you eventually find yourself unscathed and on your feet once more.

"sorry, hon, i didn't see you coming," asmo murmurs, fingers flitting over your form to help fix your hair and crumpled outfit.

"i'm sorry, too. i wasn't paying attention when i came around that corner. are you okay?"

"i'll be okay. now that i've got you alone, actually, i've been meaning to ask you about something."

a delighted little smile crosses his lips, and he takes your hands in his to coax you closer.

"anything, asmo. what's on your mind?"

"this whole mistletoe tradition solomon was telling me about, is it true? you really make out with someone under this plant? it sounds to me like one of the best human traditions i've heard in awhile."

"it's more of a kiss than a full make-out, but yes, sure, i do suppose it's an interesting tradition."

"and what's the plant look like?"

"uh, it's this leafy green little thing, usually tied up somewhere on the ceiling or in doorframes."

"like that?" asmo lifts a finger from your intertwined hands to point up with a devious grin. sure enough, above your head, you spot a sprig of mistletoe.

"you knew that was there, didn't you?"

"well i wanted to try out the tradition myself. and there's no one i'd rather do it with than you! so maybe i bumped into you on purpose to get you under here with me. is that so bad?"

as you find yourself leaning in to ring in the holiday season, you can't help but think maybe bumping into asmo under the mistletoe was a gift itself, even if it was a silly plot on his part.

"Solomon?"

"mc!"

your bodies bump together uncomfortably, and the two of you fumble together to stay standing. solomon's boyish laugh rings through the area, and you can't help but laugh a little yourself at the absurdity of almost bowling each other down on your way through the doorframe.

"are you alright?" he asks, giggles subsiding into a softness as his eyes scan you for any minor bruises or bumps.

"I'm alright. are you?"

"i am. better now that i have you alone."

"oh? and what is that supposed to mean?"

"did you happen to notice the mistletoe above us as you were walking this way?" solomon asks. your eyes drift upwards with his to see the plant hanging above your heads-- probably mistletoe, considering it's decorating the castle for the party, but honestly you'd never been close enough to know what it's really supposed to look like.

"not until now. assuming that's what that is."

"you think i'd lie about that?" he teases.

"oh, for sure. anything to get a kiss."

"ouch," solomon whines, pressing his hand against his chest to cover the emotional wound your words left. "i would never go so far as to deceive you. if i wanted a kiss, all i'd have to do is ask."

"that's true," you murmur, leaning in as he brushes his knuckles against your cheek.

silence.

"anyways," solomon starts, pulling away with a chesire grin and turning on his heel.

"solomon! you bastard! i thought you were gonna--!"

before you can protest further, his lips are on yours, grinning and kissing you senseless as he backs you up against that very doorframe-- to ensure you stay caught under the mistletoe, of course.

"Simeon?"

a gasp comes from the body you collide with, as sharp and unexpected as the collision you found yourself in. the body bumps into the doorframe with a muffled noise of surprise.

"oh, i'm so sorry! i didn't see you coming!" the apology is out of your mouth before simeon's fully steadied himself on his feet, but he's already chuckling jovially and reaching out to comfort you despite nearly tumbling to the ground.

"i'm sorry," he replies. "i should have been paying more attention."

he reaches behind him to adjust his cape, but his gloved fingers brush something caught in his hair and he frowns. you pull it out for him-- it's a decoration. leafy, green, christmas-y. you look above you to see the hook from which it hung in the doorframe now swinging empty after your collision.

"did i knock that over? i'll have to apologize to barbatos." simeon mutters. then, after a moment, "what is that?"

"mistletoe, i think."

"mistletoe?"

"it's a human realm plant," you tell the angel, twirling it in your fingers. "we hang it up around christmas time. it's for couples. when you stand underneath it together, you're supposed to kiss."

"oh," simeon answers quietly, cheeks heating up at your simple explanation. he looks pensive for a moment. "should i hang it back up?"

"huh?"

"well it sounds like a good excuse to kiss you, and i'm not one to let that chance pass me by. or can we just--?"

he gingerly slips the mistletoe from your fingers and holds it up above you, grinning bashfully. no more words are needed-- you answer the angel with a sweet kiss to mark the occasion.