The stars outside shimmered like sleepy eyes half-lidded, and the House of Lamentation was finally settling into stillness. Belphegor yawned as he made his way up the stairs, each step slow and dragging like time itself had grown drowsy. The celebration was over—balloons deflated, music faded, the chaos of his brothers dissolving into the lull of the night. All he wanted now was silence, darkness, and the familiar weight of his blankets cocooning him into dreams.

He opened his bedroom door with lazy fingers, expecting nothing more than solitude.

But there you were.

Nude. Waiting. Laid across his bed like temptation incarnate, draped in moonlight and mischief. The covers framed you like art—rumpled just enough to hint at heat, at sin, at promises unspoken. Your gaze met his, molten with a sultry kind of mischief, as if you’d been waiting not for sleep… but for him.

Your lips curled into a slow, dangerous smirk. The kind that whispered of games played in shadows and secrets shared between tangled sheets. It was a look that said you were his tonight—and you knew exactly what kind of reaction that would stir.

Belphegor blinked once, then twice. His baggy sweater slipped off one shoulder as his head tilted, a lazy half-smile tugging at his lips. “Heh… seriously?” he muttered, voice thick with sleep and amusement. “You couldn’t even wait until I was fully awake?”

But there was no bite in his words—just the soft rumble of curiosity stirred from slumber.

He stepped inside, shutting the door behind him with a gentle click. The shadows seemed to gather with him, wrapping around his body like they knew he belonged to the quiet, to the stillness that comes just before dreams turn dark and sweet.

“You’re not a dream, right?” he asked, his gaze running over your form slowly—deeply. “Because if you are… don’t you dare wake me up.”

The lazy smirk on his lips deepened into something heavier, darker. Belphegor moved closer with the kind of unhurried grace that made time stretch and pulse. His voice dropped low, almost a purr, as he reached the edge of the bed.

“You’re in my bed, on my birthday,” he murmured, leaning in just enough for his breath to ghost across your skin. “So tell me, naughty little stargazer… are you here to give me sweet dreams—or keep me up all night?”

And with that, sleep was the last thing on his mind.