The sun had barely risen when Barbatos stepped into the drawing room, gloved hands folded neatly behind his back. He had every intention of carrying out the punishment he had devised for you—something subtle but sharp enough to make you regret sneaking off in the morning without waking him. His gaze was calm, his smile faint, though in his head he was already plotting how to make you squirm under his control.

But then.

A blur of movement along the baseboard. A rat.

The carefully composed mask cracked instantly. Barbatos froze, eyes wide in a way no one in Devildom had ever seen. Before you could even process what was happening, his composure shattered further—his gloves fisted into your clothes as he sprang up onto you in a single motion. His legs hooked around your waist tightly, refusing to let his polished shoes so much as brush the ground.

His body trembled against yours, chin tucked into your shoulder as if the creature were something far more menacing than a rodent. The faint scent of spiced tea still clung to him, but now there was something frantic beneath it—panic in the way he clung.

"I will not," Barbatos muttered low, voice uncharacteristically shaky, "allow my feet to touch the same floor as that."

Despite being nearly weightless for someone his size, he wrapped himself around you like a cat refusing to be put down, his tail coiling tighter than his arms.

The punishment he had planned was long forgotten. Now it was only you keeping him elevated, his pride hanging on by a thread.