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You wait in the shared room for Diavolo, standing in front of a mirror, the glass clean without so much as a speck of dust allowing you to fully look at yourself without having your gaze torn away by something so small. A part of you is grateful, allowing you to admire yourself while the other part regrets it, hating that you have to focus on your bare skin, the way that the nightgown falls onto your body, the fabric thin enough to see the skin that should be hidden. You tug at the hem of the nightgown, trying to cover more of yourself only to have your chest exposed, the soft, supple skin heated with anxiety. Your heart beats with vigor, every beat an ache in your bones and making your mouth feel as if it were stuffed with cotton.
“It’s fine,” you murmur to yourself, your fingers playing with the lace at the bottom edge of the gown. “It’s just our first night together and that’s all it is.” You force saliva to form in your mouth, only to come up short when nothing comes out. “Virginity isn’t a big deal, it’s a made up thing and-” your voice cracks, stomach flipping with anxiety as you fret nervously waving your hands in front of you. “It’s Dia,” you tell yourself, “I know him. He’s my partner and I’m his and it’s going to be alright.” You sick in a breath through pursed lips, your nerves calming for a second. “All I need to do is just say the words and-” you suck in a deep breath, already breathless before anything has happened- “and I’ll enjoy myself.”
You give a final look at yourself, eyes fluttering to where the hem barely covers past your underwear, the matching underwear pulled tight against your hips. Your hand goes to cup your breast, the cups of the gown only barely covering your nipples, the lace of it, threatening to expose more than you would like so early on. You pull your fingers to straighten the small bow, between the cups. With an encouraging nod given to the mirror, you go to rest yourself on the bed, your legs pinched together, fingertips tapping on your thighs. The clock in the room chimes at the hour, a soft tune that rings into the air. You’re tempted to spray more perfume on you, but you falter, your legs stiff as you contemplate wondering if it’ll only overwhelm him.
Ever present and ever moving, the clock continues, minute passing after minute, until just one is left. It hadn’t taken you long to figure out that Diavolo is precise in his timing; whether it be because of Barbatos or because as a future king, he’d have to be precise, you still have yet to ask. But you do know that he comes to the room at eight minutes after the hour, every day without fail, unless a meeting happens to run long but even then, he’s messaged you long before the hour has even neared. Now, you wait, the minutes ticking by and never have you felt time more slow, excruciating as you wait for him to arrive and every second that passes, your nerves start to build. You can’t seem to trust the clock, wondering if it’s been messed with, you reach for your D.D.D., the screen flickering on with the time displayed only for the door to open. You drop the item, returning it to its place, as you stand. Your hands straighten out the nightgown, the lace unruffled and returned to it’s delicate position.
He takes a step inside, his eyes immediately finding you. Your fingers fiddle with the hem, only to pull them away when you decide that you want to be seen as someone with confidence rather than a nervous wreck when trying to initiate something past just teasing touches and kisses. He closes the door behind him, carefully removing his suit jacket and hooking it over his forearm. His smile is ever growing, eyes flickering to your frame, resting at your breasts before rising to meet your gaze.
“What do I owe this surprise?” He asks, removing his shoes, eyes off of you for a moment. You smile nervously, interlacing your hands together to avoid them from touching your gown once more. He walks to stand before you, his hands gripping at the jacket and with him being so close you can see the glint in his eyes. “Cat got your tongue?”
You chuckle nervously, breaking your gaze from him. “You’re getting better at human phrases,” you say in a whisper, your gaze locked at the corner leg of the nightstand.
“Is this my reward for learning more about human culture? I must say, if this is what I get to have as a prize, I’ll be more committed to my studying.” His hands go to hold you by the hips, thumbs rubbing circles around the fabric, a small smile on his lips when you let out a quiet yelp. “Now, while I’m not saying I don’t trust you, I don’t believe my understanding of idioms is something that’s encouraged this presentation of yourself to me.” He takes a small step closer to you, his chest flushed against yours, his hands circling to your lower back. You can feel the warmth of his hands through the thin fabric. It’s comforting, his arms around you remind you of being hugged by a blanket fresh from the dryer- safe and warm. You still look at the chipping wood, your gaze focused, a frown playing at your lips when a hand leaves your back, coming to cup at your face, turning you to look at him. “Sweetheart? Is something the matter?”
Your hand comes to hold his hand, sliding your face downward until your mouth is covered by your hand, your face burning under his grasp. Your lips brush along his palm as you speak in a quiet whisper. “I want to have sex.” There’s a gentle squish against your face, his fingers pressing lightly into the fat of your cheeks, your eyes flickering upwards to his that are wide with shock. Staring into his, you press further. “Is that okay?”
“Of-” his voice catches and he clears his throat, turning away for a moment, returning with a flushed face. “Of course it is. I’m- Are you sure? I’m happy with our arrangement as is, we don’t have to rush if you don't’-”
You pull his hand downwards, letting it go once it passes your chin. His hand falls and rests on your chest, over your beating heart. “Dia?” He closes his mouth, brows raising in a questioning expression. “I really want to do this, please.” He nods excitedly, lowering himself, his hands brushing against your breasts as they return to your hips. His lips ghost above yours, his breath sweet and hands holding onto you tightly. Your hands rest against the swell of his chest, hands gripping onto the tie, pulling him lower to you. “Just, be gentle, okay?”
He lets out an amused scoff, nodding his head, eyes fluttering close. With a guiding hand, he pushes you gently, until the back of your legs hit at the edge of the bed. “Of course, my love,” he mutters, pressing his lips against yours.
You whine, tugging on his tie, a silent request for him to remove his clothing before you both rest on the bed. He nods into the kiss, briefly pulling away from you to loosen his tie and toss it backwards to the couch that is pressed against the wall. As he undresses, your hands come to the hem, tracing the lace underneath your fingertips, as before you can pull it off, his hands grab at your wrists.
“Forgive me,” he mutters, his tongue peeking out to wet his lips and despite him being so close to you, you miss him pressed against you. “But I wish to be the one to remove your gown.” He kisses you, his tongue teasing at your bottom lip, pulling away, a smile on his face when he sees your pout. “Will you do me the honor of being allowed to see you?”
You swallow nervously, nodding at his question. “Of course.” You kiss him once more, his hands teasing at the bottom lace of your gown and arousal begins to leak, thin and sweet as it pools onto your underwear, staining the cotton. Your hands rest against his shoulders, feeling the warmth and softness of his skin, eyes flickering to see faint scars curve against him.
You mutter his name between your lips, his hands rising to fiddle with the straps of the gown, letting them fall past your shoulders. A rush of adrenaline spikes throughout your body and you press yourself further into him and the kiss, desperate to feel him. He kisses you feverishly, pulling your hands away from you, a silent nod to lift your arms. The thin fabric flutters above you like a kiss from a phantom, your body covered in pricks as a shiver runs down your body. The lace touches against your nipples, the soft buds beginning to harden under the light touch.
Diavolo kneels before you, his breath hot against your breasts, your body burning as your mind clicks together as what he’s about to do. His lips latch onto a breast, the nipple sucked into his mouth. You let out a noise of surprise, your brows knitted together as his hands go to hold the breasts- one hand fondling at the breast that isn’t in his mouth while the other holds the breast closer to him, finger pads digging into the fat of the skin. His tongue is coarse, the wet muscle teasing at your sensitive bud, cheeks hollowing as he nurses on your teat. When he pulls away, a string of spit connects his mouth to your puffy nipple, his face flushed and your legs pinched together, hands tight on his shoulders to avoid you from touching yourself. He goes to the other dry breast, quickly latching on and sucking, letting the tip of his tongue nudge at your pebbled bud. Your hips stutter, your hands going to cover your mouth as your chest rises and dips with heavy breaths, a surprising high approaching from the sheer touch and play of his mouth with your breasts. You whimper his name under your touch, but he remains fixated on your breasts, his hand sliding down and grabbing at his member, his arm moving in slow and steady motions, his moans vibrating against your bud. Spit dribbles down the soft curve of your breasts, latching onto your abdomen and slipping to your tummy, your hands trembling as you peel them off of your face and go to cradle the back of his head.
“It feels so good, Dia,” you murmur, shuffling your legs bit by bit, desperate to gain any sort of friction. “It feels too good,” you whine, tears beading at the corners of your eyes, face heavy with a burning heat with your lower belly strains with a knot pulled tight. You muffle a whine with your hand, feeling a heavy discharge leak past your virgin entrance. “Please,” you croak out, heavy with lust, “just touch me already.”
He pulls away with a smack, his eyes drooping heavy, and his hand stopping its movements. “Would you like for me to touch you?” His eyes glance down to your spit coated breasts, a smile on his lips as he returns his gaze to you. “More than I already have?” You nod, grabbing his arm and trying to edge it closer to you. “Ah, ah,” he tsks, pulling his hand away. “I want to hear you say the words.” He smiles at your reaction, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. “Humor me, and I’ll promise it’ll be worth your while.”
You stand straighter, forcing confidence to form in your nervous body. “Diavolo-” his smile turns wicked at the use of his full name- “please touch me. I want you to touch me before anyone else.”
He gives you a quick nod. “As you wish, my love.” He pushes you to lay down on the bed while he crawls between your legs, his eyes focused on your hidden cunt.
His mouth presses against your covered cunt, tongue running flat against your leaking slit. Your legs kick, your hands going to clutch at the covers, when your arousal leaks in heavy discharge, sliding out of your cunt. You can feel his lips suck against the fabric, teeth at the cloth carefully and slip his tongue out to taste your essence that has seeped into your underwear. It’s teasingly slow, as he tastes your cunt, slurping heavily on you, his hands tugging on the waistband. He slides your underwear past your thighs, your cunt still leaking and shining against your inner thighs, the fabric is heavy with your scent, pulled down your legs and against your ankle, and finally you are bare in front of him. Your body is heated, flushed with flames and excitement, burning your from the inside. He stares at your exposed sex and out of instinct, you go to close them, only to be stopped by his hands.
Diavolo murmurs something too low for you, his lips against your legs, peppering kisses upwards, until his breath is fanning against your sex. You wait with bated breath, legs slowly coming up to a bend. He takes a hesitant lick, running from your slit to your clit, your hands bunching the covers under you. Your arousal is thick, slipping onto his tongue, sweet like honey, and thick like molasses. His tongue invades your sex, his hands going to grab your hips, holding you down to the bed. You whine, bucking your heat into his face, desperate to feel the heavy weight of his tongue, the harsh feeling of it that tugs against your pulsing clit. His lips wrap around the sensitive bud, sucking it gently into his mouth, akin to how he suckled on your breasts just minutes ago. He holds you close to him, never seeming to take breaths as he ravages your cunt, leaving it wet with spit and cream. His tongue is rough, the muscle larger than any that you have seen, teeth sharp and yet they avoid your delicate cunt. He takes his time, patient with no real motive to pick up the pace, no matter how much you beg, the hold on your hips steady when you begin to buck your hips, desperate for more of him and the pleasure that he’s giving to you so freely.
The more that he continues, the deeper that his tongue pushes, the more that you can feel the knot in your lower belly start to tighten, a building pressure that presses against your body. His hands finally let your hips go, two thick fingers rubbing lightly against your clit, nothing more than a ghost over you, touching and loving your body in such a teasing way that the edge of your orgasm seems to mock you. His tongue is inside, the muscle squished by your virgin walls, the feeling of his tongue so deep in you awkward and welcomed. He curls himself inside of you, his fingers rubbing in circular motions, only to replace his tongue inside of your sex.
His fingers are thick, deep inside of you. They stretch you in a sharp pinch of pain, your eyes watering and hands going to tug at his rust colored hair. You pant his name, so desperate to have him push himself further inside of you. His tongue circles around you, flicking at the bud that twitches; slick with arousal, creamy and warm sliding onto his fingers. Your body tense, your eyes pinched closed as the knot in your stomach snaps, waves of pleasure washing across your body. Your moans are loud and broken, sung unto the room of his, only for his ears as he keeps a steady pace, only to remove his fingers at the last second to replace with his tongue. You taste sweet, slipping down his throat in syrupy strands until his belly is full. He suckles in your slick admiring at how it slips down his throat easily, every bit of it better than anything he’s ever tasted and he wishes for this to be his meal, to have the taste replicated until he’s drunk off of it, the toxin so imbedded into his body, that he is unable to live without it.
He rises above you, his chin glistening with your orgasm, pupils dilated and there’s sparks in the air, his eyes hungers and tongue out as he pants, heavy drops of drool that stick to his tongue and drip slowly onto your chest. “Did I do good?” You nod your head, gasping for breath, your eyes fluttering to a close. He hums in satisfaction, his lips against yours and you can taste yourself on his tongue. “We’re not done yet.” You slowly open your eyes, coming to rise on your elbows, him peeling away from you, sweat thin on your body. “I’d think we’d both enjoy it if you took over for a bit, hm?” he lifts you to your knees, laying back down, his arms bent behind his head, looking up at you with a kittenish smile, his erection beading out with pearly buds. “You’re free to go at your own pace.”
You’re slow to rise above him, your body weak and shaking with post-orgasm waves, and you’re sure that he hadn’t expected for you to move given his wide eyes. You perch yourself on his lap, arousal leaking and staining your inner thighs and his outer thighs. You look at his cock, seeing it much larger and thicker than what you’ve witnessed in the media. You swallow nervously, hands going to wrap around his cock. The head of it ends in texture bumping around, flaring it at the end ever-so-slightly. The shaft of the cock is layered in thick ridges, plump veins that run across his cock, the member hot in your hands, pulsing as beads of pre-ejaculate slide down and stick to the side of your index.
“Dia, love, I don’t know if it’ll fit,” you murmur truthfully, examining the cock in your hand, giving it a slight pump, your lips parted as it twitches in your hand. “It’s er, a lot bigger than what I had imagined.”
He rises to his elbows, and you meet his golden eyes. There’s a smile on his lips, playful and eyes sparkling like the sun that you miss. “So you’ve thought about me before?” He lets out a laugh when you frown. “I’ve stretched you with my fingers so there shouldn’t be that much of a pinch. Just take what you can princess, I know you’ll do a good job either way.”
You rise above him, the tip of his cock, pressed against your entrance. You can feel the weight of it, pressed so close to you. You slowly slip yourself down, eyes brimming with tears, the cockhead stretching past what his fingers had. The ridges and small bumps that flare against his cockhead add waves of pleasure to you, the bumps presing close to your walls and molding your walls to your shape. He curves mid way, a soft curve that is barely distinct, but able to feel as it’s inside of you. You let out a hiss, clenching tight around him, your hands on his abdomen, digging into his skin.
“It’s okay, you’re okay. You feel so good. You’re almost halfway in, love. Come on, keep going.” His hands grapes your thighs, nails pressing against the skin, as you sink lower, a cry escaping past your lips when you reach the swell of his cock. You lean down, hands sliding to grab onto his chest, nipples hardened under your touch. “That’s my good girl,” he murmurs, rubbing his thumbs over your thighs in arches. “Keep going, let me see you with my cock inside of you.” You can feel every inch of him inside of your body, pulsing and squishing against your velvety walls.
You whine, gripping onto his breasts, his nipples, pressed against your palm. You slip to his base, moaning at the feeling of him inside. You lower your head, moving your hips pitifully against him. “Fu- Full,” you murmur, your hands loosening their grip on his chest. “I feel full, Dia.” Tears curve down your face, your cunt clenching around him. You feel as if he’s invading your body, pressed against everything inside of you.
“Then allow me.” His hands are on your hips, raising you and letting you drop back onto his cock. You whine loudly, calling his name and letting your head loll forward. “I wish you could see how cute you looked right now.” You whimper at his words, your breasts bouncing at the movement, but you are too weak to cover them. “So completely fucked out of your mind and I’ve only started.” You clench around him when he thrusts his hips upwards, burying himself deep in you. “You’ve taken my entire cock despite only being a virgin-” his eyes flicker downward, and he glances upwards- “I hope it isn’t too painful, love.” You shake your head, rolling your bottom lip into your mouth. “What a good girl, you are. Taking me entirely without a complaint, truly something to be proud of. It’s quite a sight to marvel seeing you like this. How long would it take you to be fucked silly, hm? To have you drooling over the thought of my cock, to have you beg for my seed?” Every word is met with a thrust deep into you, your cunt clenching and seeping down with arousal, another wave of pleasure riding throughout your body. Your cunt quivers, clenching tight around him as you spill. “So darn cute, it really should be a crime.” He situates himself, sitting up right, pulling you close to him in a lover’s embrace. “Thank goodness, you’re fucking the Lord, huh?” You can hear the smile on his voice and you retaliate by biting his shoulder, resulting in a chuckle.
He wastes no time, fucking you deep and hard, loud clicking echoing in the room, the bright light of the lamp illumiinating your body. For a brief moment, he wished this were on the beach, where his sun would shine against your body, everything that is surrounding your body and giving you warmth all at once. But for now, He has you in his private chambers, held close as he takes his time, feeling every way that your cunt closes and wraps around him. You’re so soft, so cute and small compared to him that it’s almost as if he were with something so delicate, so pure and untouched that he shouldn’t even be here in this position. But you call his name, pleading and begging for him, so close to him that he can feel your heart.
He spills inside of you, thick and creamy. It fills your body, swelling ever so slightly, pudging with his seed as he stays buried inside of you, hands held tightly onto you, nails that threaten to turn into claws are restrained, hoping that no skin breaks. Bruises are left, large and in place of his fingertips and he holds you still. He keeps himself inside, pulling out when he’s drained for the moment, and instantly, everything inside of you, gushes out. It’s frothy, spilling out in copious amounts, his cock still erect and resting against your belly. You spill his seed onto the bed covers, a frown on his lips at the waste of it. Nonetheless, he keeps you close, watching as you gasp for breath, your hands going cup your stomach. He peppers your face with kisses as everything spills out of you.
You can feel your body lowered, shifted and turned, pressed and covered by something warm. Diavolo asks, holding you close in his arms, your body limp above him. “Are you okay? Do you need anything?” He presses his face against the soft curve of your neck, kissing at the exposed skin, suckling softly until marks are left in his wake. You murmur a soft “no”, pulling yourself closer to him, laying beside him. “Do you want to take a shower?” Your words are slurred together and he chuckles, turning his body to welcome you into his arms. You bury your head into his chest, wrapping your arms around him- as much as you can. “How about I wake you up when you’ve gotten proper rest?” He can feel you nod, your movements slower and heavier than moments before. His lips peck at the top of your head, eyes gleaming like gold smiling down at your sleeping frame.