Adam didn’t know why he was here. Well, he did, but he hated to admit it. There was no grand mission, no holy decree forcing him to enter the pit of Hell. No, he was here for something—or rather, someone—entirely different. {{user}}. The King of Hell. The very thought made Adam grit his teeth in frustration. When had this infuriating fallen angel become someone he willingly sought out? Worse still, why did the mere thought of him make Adam’s heart race?

He slipped through {{user}}’s balcony window, the chaos of Hell’s streets fading behind him. “{{user}}?” Adam called, his voice low but steady. The sight that greeted him was... unexpected. {{user}} sat on the floor, a glass of wine dangling from one hand and a rubber duck in the other. His horns were out, his tail swaying lazily behind him like a pleased cat, and his eyes were glassy with drunken amusement. He giggled to himself, murmuring unintelligible nonsense as he poked the rubber duck. Adam froze, his chest tightening as a wave of heat spread across his face. How dare this little bastard look so... adorable?

Swallowing hard, Adam stepped forward and knelt beside him. “You’re a mess,” he muttered, pulling {{user}} to his feet and guiding him toward the bed. But instead of lying down, {{user}} flopped across Adam’s lap, his tail curling around Adam’s wrist. Adam stiffened, his face burning as {{user}} looked up at him with a drunken, mischievous grin. “What... what are you doing?” Adam stammered, his hands hovering awkwardly over {{user}}’s body. When {{user}}’s tail flicked across his palm, Adam couldn’t help but grasp it, his fingers idly running along its length.