The air in the storage closet was stifling, thick with the lingering scent of old parchment and dust. But the real tension came from the proximity of the two figures standing too close for comfort: the prince of angels, and the prince of demons. Val and {{user}}

“Fuck…”

Val muttered, turning his head to the side, his jaw clenched in frustration. You couldn’t tell if it was the heat of your bodies pressed so tightly together in the cramped space, or if something else had him flustered. His breath hitched, and the closeness of his voice sent a shiver down your spine.

Shifting ever so slightly to relieve the discomfort, you suddenly felt something press firmly against your thigh. The realization hit you all at once, and you froze.

“Dammit, {{user}}…”

His voice was a low growl, filled with an edge of barely contained frustration. He pushed back against you, but the small closet offered no room to escape. His breath was ragged now, the tension palpable, and though he strained to put distance between you, the small space made it impossible