In your eyes, he was a normal human. Mischievous and bad at cooking, sure. The most powerful mage alive, too. But the rumors you heard about him; how he was dangerous and shady, and horrible, were all wrong. Instead of fear, you grew to enjoy his company during the exchange program as the only human here.

He was sweet. His laughter was infectious. When he smiled, his eyes twinkled with a soft light that left you giddy. And his hugs, you've found, were so comforting, even more after a tiring day.

"Why is the sheep afraid of the wolf, if not because it knows it can't control it's fate? Will it escape or will it be eaten?" He answered back, serene, talking in his riddles as usual. Though, the subtle changes on his expression was the first thing you've noticed.

"What do you think, MC?" You shrugged at his questions.

"If the Bible is right, because you made a lot of them work to build your temple. And I guess they're bitter about it to this day." Solomon considered your answer for a second, head tilted to the side as he smiled that smile of his that you loved. Though, your gut feeling told you something was wrong.

Humming, he let a little giggle. "I made all sort of things with them. Trapping, kidnapping, torturing, banishing. I didn't killed them, because what would be the point? But also because I couldn't."

That... was a little unsettling. You expected a different response or for him to crack a joke or two about these rumors. Yet, just as serenely, he was admitting things you hadn't considered or thought about. He speak of killing as he speaks about the weather.

Maybe Lucifer was right and you should be careful around him.

"Um... well, how abou–" you tried to redirect the topic to something else, but he cut you off, gently.

"Everything I did, I did for humans, MC. You can stop looking at me like this." His hand searched for yours, and despite you not wanting it right now, you let him hold it. His touch was smooth like silk, almost as if he wanted to calm you. "I'd never hurt you, or another human."

Somehow, you weren't sure you believed him. But ultimately you nodded, now seeing him through new lens.

You were perched between them, the soft Devildom sheets bunching around your legs, all too aware of how close they were to you - and the distance they kept from each other.

You cleared your throat, "I'm right here, you know.”

Solomon’s eyes snapped to you immediately - possessive and bright, "Sorry, sweetheart. I'm afraid I can only think about you.”

Barbatos’s voice dropped a half-step. “Likewise. I merely prefer to do it in silence, rather than announce it like some people.”

Solomon hummed, preparing to fire back. Before he could, you pressed your palms to their chests at once - one hand on each of them - to stop the gathering tension. It didn’t work.

Both of them froze, then breathed in deep. You felt it - Solomon’s heartbeat, erratic and eager beneath your fingers. Barbatos’ steady and deep, but accelerating - like he’d decided something and was already acting on it.

“You’re playing with fire,” Solomon murmured, his hand gliding up to cover yours, trapping it against him.

“Well... then we should ensure they are not burned,” Barbatos replied, also covering your hand with his own gloved one, thumb pressing slowly against your knuckles.

The air between them crackled. Literally, in Solomon’s case. You saw (and felt) a little spark dance across his fingers where they covered yours.

Barbatos’s eyes narrowed, "Do not cast anything in my presence that you have not tested thoroughly.”

“I have tested it,” Solomon said lightly, “Just not on you.”

You twisted your hand into Solomon’s shirt and yanked, dragging him closer. “No spells.”

His attention cut to you so fast it was dizzying, "For you,” he whispered, voice suddenly softer, “I’ll behave.”

The lie was obvious. But, the way he looked at you as he leaned in made it very hard to care.

His mouth met yours - the kiss immediately hungry - like he wanted to consume every sound you might make, every breath you took as he explored your mouth. His hand cupped the back of your neck, angling you just the way he wanted, as his thumb slid under your jaw. There was a low, satisfied noise in his chest when you parted your lips for him.

You barely registered the mattress dipping behind you until gloved fingers brushed the side of your throat.

Barbatos’s touch was the polar opposite of Solomon’s - measured, unhurried, and pointed. He tilted your head with two fingers, baring more of your throat to him, and you felt his breath first - cool from tea, then warm against your pulse. His lips pressed just below your ear - a slow, lingering kiss that made your spine arch.

Solomon broke the kiss with a hiss when you involuntarily leaned back toward Barbatos.

“Hey,” Solomon murmured - thumb dragging over your lower lip - trying to reclaim your attention, “Eyes on me, love.”

You tried, you really did. But Barbatos' mouth was following a deliberate path down your neck, each kiss slightly firmer than the last, the faint graze of teeth just enough to make your fingers curl in the sheets.

“They’re not property for you to command, Solomon,” Barbatos spoke quietly against your skin. His voice vibrated against your throat, going straight to your core, “They may look wherever they wish.”

“They’re the one who called us both here,” Solomon shot back, “Clearly, they wanted to be commanded.”

“Or cherished,” Barbatos countered, "Which is not the same as possession.”

Solomon ended the bickering by claiming your mouth again - but slower this time, savoring the way you shivered against him. His hand slid under the hem of your clothes, warm and exploratory, the calluses of his fingers catching teasingly on your skin. Every touch felt like he was staking a claim. His fingers inched between Barbatos' chest and your back, eventually finding your bra. He hesitated just long enough for you to give him the okay before taking it - and your shirt - off in one go.

Solomon leaned back, taking in the view that was your body, as Barbatos let his mouth find your neck again. Two hands - one belonging to each of them - slid up your torso until they found your tits. Solomon's mouth was back on yours, tongues clashing together while Barbatos sucked small hickeys into your skin.

Barbatos shifted behind you, drawing you back against him so your body was perfectly bracketed between the two of them. You felt the solid weight of him pressed to your back, the way his arm wrapped around your middle, holding you in place with an unyielding force that said he had no intention of letting go.

“You’re trembling,” Barbatos murmured next to your ear, his lips brushing your earlobe, "Is Solomon frightening you, or is it anticipation?”

“I’m encouraged to hear you think I’m capable of that much,” Solomon replied without lifting his mouth fully from yours, the words ghosting against your lips. His hand worked at your nipple harshly, in stark contrast to Barbatos' gentle touches, "But, no. This is anticipation. Isn’t it?”

Your answer came out as a whimper rather than words, their hand free hands moving now, exploring the rest of you.

“Oh, right there,” Solomon purred when he firmly pressed his fingers to your clothed core. “You like that, don’t you?”

Barbatos’s hold on you tightened by a fraction as you gasped, "Careful,” he admonished - though you weren’t sure which of you he meant, "If you overwhelm them too quickly, this will be… shorter than any of us wish.”

“Jealous I got there first?” Solomon murmured against your mouth.

Barbatos’s voice cooled, "Jealousy is a human weakness, not a demonic one. I am… competitive.”

“Over them,” Solomon pressed on, slowly tugging down your pants. His smile against your lips was wicked, "Admit it.”

Barbatos’s reply didn’t come immediately. Instead, his gloves slipped away with small, decisive movements, before his cool fingers traced a path up and down your sides.

When he finally spoke, his tone had dropped, "Very well,” he conceded, voice a whisper against your pulse, "Over them, I am… greedy.”

Solomon stilled, just for a heartbeat. Then, his laugh was soft and dangerous, "Now that, I believe."

The air thickened as they made eye contact, your body still caught between them, their breathing rougher now - for reasons that had nothing to do with exertion.

You twisted slightly, forcing them both to refocus on you, “If either of you start a fight, I’m choosing the one who doesn’t.”

Incredible - how fast they fell silent.

Then, as if some unspoken truce passed between them, their grips on you changed. Barbatos' fingers gripped into your hips, while Solomon shoved his hand in your underwear to toy with your clit.

They started to compete in the only way you would tolerate; how well they could pull you apart.

Solomon kissed you like it was the last time he’d ever get to, murmurings of your name and half-formed praise tangled between the clashes of lips and teeth. Every noise you made seemed to fuel him, his fingers growing bolder, more insistent - moving down to poke at your entrance.

Barbatos countered with steady patience. Where Solomon rushed, he lingered. When Solomon provoked a sharp cry, Barbatos followed with a slow, burning touch that left you trembling. He praised you too - but in low, focused comments that made you feel like the center of a ritual, not just a moment.

“Breathe,” Barbatos reminded you softly when your head tipped back against his shoulder, Solomon's fingers relentless inside you, "You’re doing wonderfully.”

“Look at you,” Solomon whispered, pulling back just enough to take you in - eyes dark and hungry. His free found your tits again, “You’re so beautiful like this. For us.”

The room blurred into a rush of heat and hands and mouths, the two of them bracketing you completely - Solomon’s magic humming faintly in the air, reined in but restless, Barbatos’s demonic power controlled just under his skin. You felt them both everywhere - Solomon’s reckless adoration, and Barbatos’s meticulous worship.

At some point, you weren’t sure whose hands were where, only that every place they touched you burned in the best way. They moved you as if by mutual agreement, shifting you between them, beside them, under them, the mattress dipping and creaking with every change in position.

You caught fragments of their voices above you, around you;

“You’re holding them too tightly.”

“They’re clinging to me; I’m simply accommodating them.”

“Flatter yourself less. They’re shaking.”

“…Because of us.”

Your name, over and over, from both of them through it all. A litany. A plea.

By the time you were trembling on the edge, their rivalry had condensed into something razor-focused - not on each other, but on dragging you over that line.

Solomon pressed his forehead to yours, eyes blown wide, breath unsteady. “Let go,” he urged, voice rough with his own restraint, "It’s okay. We got you.”

Barbatos’s lips brushed your temple, his words a low command that felt like a spell all its own, "Yes. Fall. I will catch you.”

You did.

The world dissolved into white heat and fragments - their hands, their voices, the solid weight of them around you. You were dimly aware of both of them holding you through it, Solomon whispering praise in your ear, Barbatos grounding you with slow, steady strokes down your back, their bodies tense with their own barely-controlled desire.

When you finally came back to yourself, you were sprawled between them, breathing hard, skin damp with sweat. The room smelled like magic and tea and something darker underneath.

Solomon lay on his back beside you, one arm flung over his eyes, the other wrapped firmly around your waist as if daring Barbatos to try and move you. His chest rose and fell under your head.

Barbatos was propped on one elbow on your other side, his hair slightly mussed—an almost impossible sight. His gloves were nowhere to be seen, tossed somewhere with your shirt earlier. His eyes, when you turned your head to look at him, were softer than you’d ever seen them.

“Comfortable?” he asked, voice low.

You managed a nod, your throat too dry to answer properly.

Solomon dropped his arm to look at you, then at Barbatos. “Don’t get smug,” he said, though the usual sharpness was dulled by exhaustion and something warmer, “They’re here with me too.”

Barbatos’s gaze flicked pointedly to where Solomon’s fingers dug into your waist, “I am aware,” he almost spat, "I was here as well.”

You exhaled a weak laugh, “You’re seriously starting up again now?”

Both of them immediately focused on you instead of each other.

“No,” Solomon said hastily, "No. Truce. Temporary truce.”

“For tonight,” Barbatos agreed, inclining his head. His hand brushed a strand of damp hair from your forehead with exquisite care, "Their comfort takes precedence over my displeasure with you, sorcerer.”

“Generous of you,” Solomon muttered, but his arm around you tightened, pulling you a little closer.

You shifted, wriggling until you were properly wedged between them, your head pillowed on Solomon's shoulder, one leg tangled with Barbatos'. Both of them adjusted around you automatically - Barbatos tucking the blanket higher, Solomon muttering a small warming charm that made the air around the three of you pleasantly cozy.

“You know,” you murmured, eyes drifting shut, “if this is how you fight, I might let you argue more often.”

There was a pause.

Then, overlapped;

“I do not require encouragement.”

“Oh, I can absolutely work with that.”

You groaned softly, “I meant as long as it ends like this.”

Another beat of quiet. You felt, rather than saw, the look that passed between them over your head.

“It will,” Barbatos said at last, his hand resting lightly over your heart, "I will see to that.”

Solomon’s lips brushed the crown of your head in a fleeting kiss, "Count on it,” he murmured.