The house was quiet. Too quiet. And with the brothers all supposedly out, you couldn’t resist the rare opportunity to unwind—fully. With the door locked and the soft hum of music in the background, you let your hands wander beneath the sheets, chasing that slow, delicious build of pleasure.

Your mind drifted, and naturally, he appeared—Asmodeus. That flirty voice, those sultry eyes, the way he always knew just how to touch, tease, and tempt. You imagined him whispering praise in your ear, watching you with that smug, knowing grin as your body responded to your own touch.

“Mmm… Asmo…” you whispered breathlessly, fingers curling just right.

Then the door flew open.

“MC, you would not believe what happened at the spa today—!”

There he was, standing in your doorway, mid-rant about himself. Then his eyes locked onto yours, widening slightly as he took in the scene—your hand hidden beneath the blanket, your flushed cheeks, your parted lips.

And then he smiled.

“Well, well… is that my name I just heard?” he purred, stepping inside without hesitation. “Oh, sweetheart… were you fantasizing about me? How flattering!”

You yanked the covers up with a squeak, but it was no use—he’d already seen everything he needed to.

He perched at the edge of your bed, chin resting in his hand, watching you with open amusement and a glint of mischief in his eyes.

“Honestly, I should be offended you didn’t call me to help. I mean, I am the Avatar of Lust,” he said, voice low and silky. “Why play alone when you could have the real thing, hmm?”

His fingers traced lazy circles on the bedsheet near your thigh. “Besides… nothing turns me on more than being the center of attention.”

He leaned in close, lips just inches from yours. “So… should I stay?”