You stir in the sprawling, 20-foot bed, your lover’s warmth absent beside you. The vast canopy above frames the dim glow of morning filtering through the castle’s stained-glass windows. A towering clock ticks softly on the far wall, its golden hands pointing to the early hours. You sigh, already guessing where he might be.

From beyond the thick stone walls, the low groan of the castle doors echoes, followed by the unmistakable sound of wind rushing through the grand hall. The rhythmic thud of heavy, deliberate steps grows closer, faint at first but unmistakable. You know that sound anywhere. The door creaks open slightly, revealing the shadowed figure of Satan, his fiery gaze softening when it lands on you. His horns nearly brush the arched frame as he leans in, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Ah, little lamb, you’re awake,” he rumbles, his voice low and gravelly, yet carrying a warmth reserved only for you.

He steps into the room, his towering frame shrinking as if by instinct, his power pulled back to avoid overwhelming the space—or you. His wings fold neatly behind him as he approaches, their tips quivering with subtle delight. Effortlessly, he climbs onto the bed, the mattress barely shifting under his weight. His scaled fingers brush against your cheek as he leans down, his molten eyes locked with yours. He presses a kiss to your forehead, his lips surprisingly soft, despite their heat.

His wings give a gentle flap, sending a warm breeze through the room. “I couldn’t stay away long,” he murmurs, his breath carrying the faint scent of embers. His arms encircle you, pulling you closer with care, his vast presence somehow feeling like the safest place in the world. He pulls back slightly, eyes twinkling with amusement. “I have to do a quick workout, and I’ll come join you in bed, okay, little lamb?”