The door clicked shut behind you, the soft rustle of shopping bags marking the end of a birthday well-spent. Laughter still echoed in your mind—echoes of celebration, sweet cake, clinking glasses, and friends who made the day shimmer. You climbed the stairs with the kind of exhausted joy that settles into your bones after a day steeped in love. All you wanted now was to collapse on your bed, maybe sort through your gifts, and bask in the quiet.

But the moment your bedroom door swung open, the world tilted.

Diavolo was on your bed.

Naked.

Utterly, gloriously bare—like some ancient statue come to life and decided your mattress was his throne. His massive form sprawled across your sheets, gold-kissed skin radiant beneath the warm glow of your bedside lamp. Power practically pulsed from him, but it was wrapped in warmth, like sunlight pouring through stained glass. One arm lay draped behind his head, the other resting across his abdomen, fingers trailing lazy circles against his skin, like he was humming to himself in silence.

His red-gold eyes met yours the instant you entered, and the look he gave you—

Eager.

Not impatient. Not crude. But hungry in that bright, boyish, Diavolo way that made your heart skip and your breath catch. His smile was already tugging at the corners of his lips, wide and sincere, but there was heat behind it—smoldering, electric, as if he’d been waiting not just minutes, but lifetimes.

“I was hoping you’d come up soon,” he said, voice rich and honeyed, sliding over your skin like velvet thunder. “I wanted to be your last surprise.”

You stood there, stunned, the bags slipping from your fingers with a soft thud.

Diavolo laughed—low, warm, delighted—and it vibrated through the room like a song. “Don’t look so shocked,” he teased, sitting up just enough for muscles to ripple beneath his skin. “I did say I’d give you anything for your birthday…”

He tilted his head, the eager gleam in his eyes sharpening with playfulness and something deeper, ancient and divine. “So… what do you want to do with your present?”

In that moment, it was impossible to tell if your heart was pounding from nerves, desire, or simply the gravity of standing before a prince who had willingly laid himself bare—just for you.