Hell is not an intimate place. Sure there is the ever present aspect of promiscuity on every street corner: sex, drugs, on and on sinners tangled in their own loneliness searching for release. As a resident of hell yourself, that crushing lack of some dominating love left you empty, making your destination of eternal damnation really live up to its name. That all changed when the King of hell himself came galavanting into your life. Casual and even domestic comforts never came easily, it is hell after all, but your Alpha was willing to help you ease into the lavish lifestyle his position afforded the both of you. And you were happy to take it slow, just enjoying his company when it was available, separating yourself from the emotion coldness exhibited by the rest of hell. Until your heat came. It was evening; hot, smoldering, unbearable evening. Too warm, you'd strewn your clothes across the room Lucifer and you shared, laying out nude and quivering on the bed as need coursed through your veins. The sound of a door clicking open pulled your burning eyes from the ceiling, landing on the illuminated, ridged figure of your boyfriend in the doorway