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You’d been tasked with “supervising” all the snow projects being undertaken for the Devildom Christmas celebrations, and it was no surprise that certain groups had asked you to spy on the others. Even though this was not a contest (despite Mammon wanting it to be, so he’d have a chance to win and have you all to himself for Christmas,) there was still quite a bit of competitive spirit going around.
You followed Satan, Asmo, and Diavolo to Satan’s room and tried to repress a sigh as they “suggested” that you get back to them regularly with updates on how the other teams were doing.
Satan headed off to the library to research snow sculpting techniques, Asmo disappeared to find accessories for the sculpture, and you stayed behind with Diavolo to look over the plans and sketches they’d made so far for their giant Lucifer. Why they had chosen this as their offering was beyond you, but after all this time in the Devildom, you’d learned that sometimes there are questions you’re better off not asking.
There were scads of papers. All had been kept, regardless of whether they’d be used for the final project. You giggled at the sight of Asmo’s lipstick prints on the ones he’d decided he liked best. Satan had managed to doodle some derisive cartoons of his oldest brother in the corner of some. Diavolo was oblivious to the commentary the other two demons had left on the sketches in his quest for the final plans.
At last he found it. This page had Asmo’s seal of approval, and Satan had apparently found his old stash of sticker pages, and there was a Lucifer riding a unicorn in the upper right from him. Diavolo’s neat handwriting covered most of the rest of the white space, showing his determination to make the sculpture something impressive.
“It looks quite good, don’t you think?” Diavolo asked.
You’d leaned your elbows on the table and rested your chin in your hands to give it a careful perusal. The notes made it clear that a lot of thought had gone into it, from all three of them, but you were distracted by the strange sensation that Diavolo was staring at you.
You turned your head, and realized that his eyes were laser-focused on your outthrust buttocks. You stood up, taking him by surprise, and pulled him in close by his impeccable white tie.
“Like what you see, My Lord?”
“How could you think otherwise?”
You took a couple of tiny steps towards him and gave him that “come hither” look that never failed to get him to come hither.
His voice was deeper than usual when he informed you, “If you insist on being this close, I’ll have a hard time stopping myself from kissing you.”
“How about if I get even closer?”
You got closer.
“Now I absolutely can’t stop myself from kissing you.”
He kissed you.
You put your arms around his waist, now as close as you could possibly be, and he couldn’t stop himself from kissing you more. And when your tongue slipped past his lips, he couldn’t stop himself from holding you tightly, then from letting his hands test the texture of all the curves of your body.
He broke the kiss to taste the skin of your neck, pulling aside your uniform shirt to work his lips down to your collarbone. There was only so far the fabric could be moved out of the way, but you were still disappointed, wanting more, when he stopped.
Diavolo looked at your face, your eyes half-lidded with pleasure, lips slightly parted, a flush on your cheeks. He spoke so close to you that his breath fluttered your lashes. “I love that look. You’re absolutely delightful.”
“I can’t help it, Diavolo. You bring out the worst in me.”
“By worst, you mean best, of course.”
“Of course,” you breathed.
You barely managed to break apart as Satan re-entered the room.
“Oi! Can’t I leave you two alone for a minute? Were you really going to do that in my room?”
Diavolo let out a hearty laugh. “Nonsense, Satan. The idea never occurred to us!” Turning to you, he whispered, “Dinner at the castle and then…my room?”
You smiled and nodded your agreement. The waiting would make it even more delicious.