The shower steamed around you, the steady rhythm of water drowning out everything else. The warmth relaxed your body, your mind lulled into a haze as you basked in the quiet. The house was still. Empty, you thought.

Until you felt arms snake lazily around your waist from behind.

A low sigh brushed your ear, followed by a sleepy, velvet voice. “Mmm… warm and alone. You’re practically inviting me in.”

You startled, eyes widening as you turned your head to find Belphegor nestled against your back, damp hair sticking to his face, his half-lidded eyes gleaming with amusement. He looked utterly relaxed—yet there was something possessive in the way he held you, like he had no intention of letting go.

“Don’t give me that look,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the back of your neck. “You left the door open… I couldn’t resist.”

His hands, deceptively slow, roamed across your slick skin—tracing every curve, every line, like he was memorizing you through touch alone. “You always smell good,” he muttered, voice growing rougher as he dragged his lips along your shoulder. “But in here? Surrounded by steam and soap and you? It’s addictive.”

You felt his teeth graze your skin, playful yet sharp enough to send a jolt through you.

“You know I don’t like moving unless I have a reason,” he whispered. “And you? You’re a damn good reason.”

His grip tightened slightly, pulling your body closer until there wasn’t a breath of space between you. His hips pressed against yours, his breath heavier now, hotter.

“I could fall asleep like this… or maybe,” he said, brushing his lips against your jaw, “I’ll just make you beg for rest instead.”

He leaned in fully, his kiss deep, lazy, but filled with a smoldering hunger that left no doubt: the Avatar of Sloth had found his favorite place to rest—against you.