Chapter Text
You groggily open your eyes, letting them adjust to the shadowy light in the attic room. The familiar warmth at your back is gone, so you know Beel has already gone down for breakfast; he was never late. You smile to yourself, vaguely remembering his low whisper and his large hand ruffling your hair earlier that morning before he left. You must’ve fallen immediately back asleep, and who could blame you? You, Beel, and Belphie hadn’t planned on staying up all night watching the latest crime-solving series recommended by Satan, but the mystery got the best of you, and it was easily 3am before you three dozed off, huddled together.
Yawning, you sit up in bed, stretching your arms and resting your back against the headboard and pillows.
“Good morning, sleepyhead.” Belphie’s quiet voice comes from the other end of the room where he sits in a nest of pillows, looking at his D.D.D. He’s still in his pajamas, no hoodie. Frankly, you’re surprised to see him out of bed already.
“Morning, Belphie. Well, I’d better get dressed and head down before the food is gone.” You say, glancing around for the outer clothes you had discarded sometime around midnight, when Beel’s warmth had nearly melted you as you snuggled up to him under the covers. Now, your thin undershirt is no match for the faint morning chill, and you shiver slightly, reaching down for your pants that had fallen on the floor.
“Beel said he’d bring us something, remember?” Belphie looks up from his D.D.D. “No need to rush out.” He says, walking over. You feel the mattress dip at his weight as he sits on the foot of the bed near you. He watches you fish your shirt out from among the blankets.
“Honestly,” you say, looking around for your socks, “I was hoping to get a head start to RAD today so I could grab a couple books from the library before class.” You avoid his gaze, hastily pulling on the socks you found. “And I’m already behind, so I really need to get going—” Belphie clears his throat, and you see that he’s found your bra somewhere near the foot of the bed and is holding it out for you. “Thanks.” You quickly take the undergarment, blushing. Why does Beel have to be so warm all the time? Next time you’ll have to plan ahead and bring some more appropriate sleepwear. Belphie watches you for a few more seconds, his face impassive. “MC, it’s Saturday. There’s no class today.”
“Oh,” You pause, your bra still in your hands, and feel the red creep into your cheeks. “Well then, I-I guess I can just wait for Beel here. If that’s okay with you.” Belphie looks at you through his bangs, his usual melancholy somehow darker than usual. He studies you, and you shift awkwardly under his gaze. Finally, he speaks. “You’re uncomfortable around me.”
“I- What? No!” His statement catches you off guard, but you can feel your cheeks grow warmer as you keep fussing with your clothes. Belphie sits cross-legged on the bed, facing you, eyes never leaving your face. “You think I don’t notice? You don’t flinch when Asmo surprises you with a hug from behind. When Satan asks if want to grab a coffee, you don’t invite someone else along, too.” He’s right. “And every time you spend the night here, you make sure Beel sleeps between us.”
“Belphie, I…” You’re not sure what to say. You decide to address his last comment first: “You know how I feel about Beel.” It’s not quite a change of topic, but you aren’t going to get away with an easy excuse; Belphie has made up his mind to have this conversation here, now.
“You said you forgave me.” Belphie states. Under his monotone, you detect pain in his voice.
“I-I did!” You stutter at his forwardness and stop dressing. “I- We’re here, aren’t we?” You gesture at the attic, at the both of you on the bed the three of you slept in last night.
“Are we, MC? Are you here with me!?” Belphie’s voice rises with his emotion – he won’t let you talk yourself out of this one. “Because every time I look over, you’re looking for a chance to escape!” Belphie shouts his last sentence, the pain in his voice echoed in his violet eyes. You haven’t heard him yell like this since… The angry edge in his voice is setting off alarm bells in your head. You become very aware of the headboard at your back. He notices you shrink against the bed and he laughs bitterly. “You said you forgave me, but you didn’t, did you? You’re just playing along so you can spend more time with my brothers. With Beel.” There’s some truth in what he says about his brothers, you know. But he’s wrong. He doesn’t understand.
“Belphie, I did forgive you!” Your voice thickens with emotion against your will. “I forgave you because I understood…” Hot tears prick your eyelids. You struggle with want you want to say, with what you’ve needed to say for so long. “But you, you hurt me, Belphie! You… hurt me.” Your voice breaks as you struggle to keep your tears from spilling over. The words are simple, but they express the feelings you’ve been holding in, the pain you haven’t felt free to voice. Belphie and his brothers had seemed to move on so quickly, and you had tried to do the same. You take a shuddering breath and muster just enough composure to explain. “I trusted you, Belphie, I tried to help you.” Belphie’s eyes narrow and you feel the heat of his gaze like an accusation.
“Don’t pretend you actually cared about me, MC.” Belphie’s voice is low and dangerous. “You thought I was interesting because I was one of Lucifer’s secrets. This was about him. About all of them. It was never about me.” You look away from him, but you know that what he says is only a half-truth. At first it was about the mystery, the challenge, even. But as you got to know his brothers, as you learned about Belphie through them, it became more than that. With each day that passed, you thought more about the demon boy trapped in the attic. With every sad sigh from Beel that broke your heart, you became more committed to rescuing his twin. “Yes, it was about them at first, Belphie,” You feel a tear burn your cheek. “But this,” you gesture at yourself, at the tears that were finally starting to fall freely. “This is about you and me. About what you did to me and about how I feel.”
“And how do you feel, MC?” Belphie growls, moving towards you on the bed, stopping when his face is less than a foot from your own. There’s something desperate emanating from him. Taken aback by his intensity, you stutter your reply. “I-I…I’m angry.” Finally, you admit it, and now the words come with a rush, the hurt inside you bursting out with every word. “Belphie, I’m angry! No one cares what happened. No one remembers. They’re all just so thrilled that you’re back, that we’re all together as one happy family.” You can taste the bitterness in your voice. “I’m angry because I can’t trust you anymore. I’m angry that you expect me to,” Belphie parts his lips as if to protest, but you don’t give him time. “And that’s your fault, Belphie,” You shove him in his chest. “It’s your fault that things are like this between us!” You shove him once again for good measure, but he doesn’t even flinch. Frustrated, you make fists and pound his chest. Once, twice, three times before the demon catches your wrists in midair. His grip is firm, and you gasp in discomfort as he tightens his hold when you attempt to wrestle free of his grip.
“Don’t.” He says like a warning, his breath hissing between his teeth. “Tell me, MC, how am I supposed to make it up to you? How does anyone cover a sin that big? Heal a wound that deep?” His gaze is piercing. “MC, what could I do that would seriously convince you to trust me?” You are unable to answer, and he continues, his grip still tight on your wrists. “What you’re asking is impossible. I can’t earn your trust after what I did. It’s cruel of you to even ask me to try.” His voice and his hold are hard, vice-like. “You’re doing this to us, too. You’re not giving me a chance. If you want something different, something better between us, you have to put in some effort of your own.”
Belphie stops speaking, his body now almost bending over you, and you realize that he’s gotten closer to you with every word. His dark hair covers his eyes, now burning with emotion. He holds your fists against his chest, and you can feel the heat of his skin beneath the thin fabric. Maybe he’s right. “I just…” Your words falter as Belphie stares you down. You know he’s been trying. You haven’t really done the same. And you haven’t really opened up to his friendship, afraid to be hurt again, afraid that this is just another trick, another betrayal – even if an unintentional one.
“Dammit, MC!” Belphie yells suddenly, slamming his hand into the headboard behind you, making you jump. “How can I show you? How can I make you believe me?” His shoulders rise and fall heavily with his breathing. “What are you looking for? What do you need?” His eyes burn cold purple flames, boring into you, demanding an answer.
“I don’t know!” It’s your turn to raise your voice. “I need you to do more than say sorry! I need you to understand how I felt, how I feel—" Your feel the pinprick of tears starting again. Belphie’s hand behind you curls into a fist, and he cuts you off “—You’re angry. I know!” He shouts, once again pounding the headboard, sprouting a crack in the wood that travels down to the bed frame. “I’m angry too, MC! I hate myself for what I did to you!”
As if surprised at his own explosive emotions, Belphie sits back, panting slightly, wild eyes hiding behind his messy hair. He shakes his head, as if to clear it, and looks at you huddled against the pillows. He lowers his voice to a growl. “If you want us to just keep being angry, that’s fine, but I promise you, I will win that game.” You try to look away, but Belphie grabs you roughly by your chin, forcing you to look him in the eye. Your heart leaps in your throat at the intensity on his face. You try to wrest your face out of Belphie’s grasp, and he lets you. You feel a slight tug of – disappointment? – at the loss of his touch. This isn’t what you want, to be angry at each other forever. “No,” you manage weakly. Belphie leans in to catch your words. “No, that’s not what I want.” You lift your eyes to meet his gaze, feeling your pulse jumping heavily to find his face so near to your own. “I know.” Belphie says quietly, taking your hands in his. Your hands look small in his palms. “MC, I love you.” He confesses, watching your face for a reaction.
There. He’s said it. This lie, the one that cuts deeper, even, than his plotted deception, more sharply than the hate he once had for you. The one lie you can’t bear to hear… because it’s exactly what you want him to say. This is why it can’t be fixed between you. “Belphie,” Your voice is small, and your pain is written all over your face. Quiet tears run down your cheeks. “I’m not her. I’m not Lilith.”
The room goes silent as the demon processes your words. Your heart thuds in the interim. After what feels like minutes, but is only several seconds, Belphie speaks. “You think I care about you… because of Lilith?” He lets go of you in surprise, letting your hands fall to your lap, all tension gone from his body. He blinks at you, brow knitted in disbelief, looking at your tear-stained face, your quivering bottom lip. So, this is what hurts you most: the belief that his affection isn't genuine. “MC,” Belphie whispers, voice hoarse. He reaches out to touch your face and wipes away a tear with his thumb. You hold your breath, staying perfectly still, saying nothing. He drops his hand, and you breathe again.
Suddenly, without warning, Belphie closes the short distance between you both and crashes his mouth into yours, roughly. You pull back in surprise, breaking away from his kiss to catch your breath. “Belphie!” You cry out in shock. He presses his body closer to your own, almost pinning you against the headboard. His nearness causes your already quickened pulse to beat feverishly. Your body is warming rabidly, the chill morning no longer an issue.
“Don’t pretend you don’t want this,” He says, noting your flushed cheeks and parted lips. “I want it to. You just won’t let us have it.” Belphie observes your heaving chest, your nipples barely visible through your thing shirt. He can smell Beel’s scent on you, still lingering from the night before. It isn’t fair. He loves you too, dammit. “MC, I want you to trust me,” He whispers in your ear. “Trust me like you trust my brothers.” The tickle of his lips and his breath on your skin makes you shiver. His weight pressing down on you feels so good, and you’re hungry for more of the taste he’s left on your tongue. The air between you vibrates with tension, emotion, and expectation.
“I-I do. I want to. I—ohh!” Belphie moves his mouth to your neck, growling, cutting you off mid-sentence. He sucks at the soft spot under your jaw, and you moan in spite of yourself as his teeth graze your sensitive skin. His hands find the hem of your shirt, and you gasp as he reaches up to tease your stiff nipples. Belphie continues to work his lips along your jawline until he once again meets your mouth. You greet his tongue with your own, pushing back against the violence of his passion with equal fervor. Reaching out, you wrap your arms as far around the demon as you can, aching to hold him close to you, to feel his body against you. Belphie groans as your hands reach the back of his head and you slide your fingers through his hair. You tug softly as he bites your lip. “I’ve wanted this for so long.” Belphie says, pulling back to look into your eyes.
You pull on his hair teasingly, trying to bring his mouth back to your own. He smirks at your candor. Frustrated by his lack of compliance, you pull harder, eliciting a wince and a growl from the demon. Retaliating, he pinches your nipples hard, sending electricity through your body, making you whimper. “You’re trusting me, remember?” He chides you softly. “And if you’re good – and I mean, very good – I’ll give you what you want.” His words send an aching wave through your body, equal parts embarrassment and excitement.
You release your hold on Belphie’s hair, and the demon lifts your shirt off over your head before removing his own. His animal print birthmarks decorate the right half of his body. You reach out, drawn to the beautiful contrast the marks make on his pale skin, but Belphie catches your hand before you can touch him. “Here,” he says, guiding your hand downward towards his sweatpants. Gently, he places your hand on his growing bulge. Shyly, you trace your fingers down his stiffening length as well as you can through the fabric. Belphie moans in response to your touch, his member throbbing as you tease. The sound he makes moves you to action.
You work quickly, pulling the band of his pants until his erection springs free. He is bigger than you would have thought, and you squirm as you feel yourself becoming wet with anticipation. You need to touch it. You carefully spit into one hand for lubrication and begin to slowly stroke his length, though you’re unable to wrap your fingers entirely around his girth. Belphie sucks in his breath sharply as you tighten your grip, and you feel his cock twitch in your hand. You look up to see him watching you, his eyes dark with desire. Seeing you do such a thing to him, as you lay there in your panties, drenched in the scent of your arousal... He grabs onto the headboard behind you with both hands, his fingers digging into the already damaged wood as he tries to not be overwhelmed by your rhythmic strokes.
“MC,” Belphie says huskily, looking down at you, “Touch yourself for me.” His command thrills you unexpectedly, flaming the fire already burning at your center. You reach with your free hand down into your panties, and your face grows hot when you realize just how wet you are. Belphie notices your blush, “Don’t be shy,” he whispers, watching you as you start to move your fingers between your slick folds. Your hand on his cock falters as you slowly please yourself, shallowly inserting a couple fingers. The demon groans, his eyes torn between watching your face and the gentle movements of your hand under the thin fabric. You can feel Belphie’s cock getting harder, and you pump him faster.
Belphie growls as he nears his breaking point, determined to not let things end before he’s even had a proper taste of you. With both hands, he reaches forward and lifts your ass off the bed, pulling your panties all the way off. Just as quickly, he removes his own remaining clothing. “Stand up.” He orders. The bed lurches as he stands, waiting for you to obey. You scoot slowly to the edge of the bed. Belphie grabs you by the nape of your neck, tangling his fingers in your hair, and leans down to kiss you, hard. “I said stand up.” He whispers, tugging you upwards to your feet, hand still buried in your hair, making you whimper. He kisses you deeply once more, pulling your naked body tight against his. “Good girl.” He says. “Now bend over.”
Belphie’s command is like a whip, urging you into motion. You bend over the bed, your arms resting on the mattress for support, your bare ass facing the demon who stands behind you. With a firm hand on your back, Belphie pushes you lower, forcing you down until your chest is resting on the blankets. He stops to admire the view. From this angle he can see the sheen of slickness between your legs. The embarrassment of being on display for him seems to turn you on, he notes; you’re practically dripping. Grabbing your hips roughly, Belphie lines up at your entrance. You gasp as the tip of his cock teases your folds, sliding easily between them. “B-Belphie!” You close your eyes, burying your face in the blankets, stifling a moan. You rock your body against him, aching for him to enter you fully. Your body shudders as he teases you, rubbing his length along your wetness. “Tell me you trust me, MC.” The demon’s voice is thick with lust. “Tell me to fuck you.”
Your face reddens, but you do as your told. “I-I trust you, Belphie. Please, fuck me!” The words have barely left your mouth when Belphie enters you, quickly filling you with his entire length. You both moan at the sudden sensation of being one, your walls tight around his impressive girth. You whimper into the mattress as he leans into you, burying himself in your wet heat. He stretches you perfectly, and your legs tremble as your body adjusts to the sudden shape of him. Your quick breaths punctuate the air. “Mm—you feel amazing.” Belphie purrs, slowly pulling in and out of you, watching your hands clutch the blankets with each agonizingly slow stroke.
You squirm, trying to meet Belphie’s slow movements, to increase the speed and friction between you. In response, he thrusts himself suddenly, forcefully, deeply into you, making you cry out. “Is that what you want?” He asks, smirking. He slaps your ass, hard, and you whine at the unexpected mix of pleasure and pain. He spanks you a second time, carefully calculating his force so as not to cause any real harm to your human body. He’s rewarded by your cry of delight. “You should have told me right away if you wanted to play these kind of games, MC.” Belphie says, smirking at the redness blooming on the curve of your ass.
Bending over you from behind, cock buried deep inside you, Belphie reaches around with one hand until he’s found your throat. His fingers gently wrap around the curve of your neck, just below your jaw. He tightens his fingers slowly, testing the give of your soft flesh. You try to turn to look at him, but he tilts your head back to get a firmer grip. His chokehold restricts your airflow, but not enough to be dangerous – just enough to give him control. “Do you trust me?” Belphie whispers behind your ear. “Yes,” you moan weakly, unable to nod your head.
Belphie resumes his slow rhythm, pulling his length in and out while his fingers are tight around your throat. He moves slowly, at first, careful to watch for any sign that you aren’t able to handle your new, vulnerable position. When he is assured you can take it, he rams into you harder, faster, plunging easily into your slickness. The sound of your ragged breathing fills the room as he fucks you from behind, making your knees go weak with each hard thrust. Belphie tightens his hand, making you gasp for air. Your mind goes numb as your senses are overrun with only the feeling of him entering you over and over, penetrating you fully, deeply. Your ears start to ring, and you close your eyes as mindless, burning ecstasy overtakes your body.
“Breathe, MC!” Belphie demands, easing his grip on your throat. You take a deep gulp of air and resume breathing, shocked to discover you had stopped doing so. Belphie releases his hold on your neck, but moves his hand to your mouth, shoving two long fingers inside. Instinctively, you suck on his fingers hungrily, making the demon moan. He shoves them further down your throat. “Fuck—” He groans, relishing how your mouth mirrors the way your wet slit clenches around his cock.
Before you can warn him, your climax crashes over you, dizzying in its intensity. Your cry out in pleasure, unable to support yourself on your trembling legs. Belphie wraps one arm around you as your knees give out, holding you up effortlessly as you whimper through the waves of ecstasy that overwhelm your body. It takes Belphie every ounce of strength he has to keep from cumming with you, but he has other plans.
Pulling out of you, his member wet with your climax, Belphie gives you a second to collect yourself before he states his intentions. “I want you to taste me, MC.” He says, slowly stroking his aching length. His face is pink, his breath heavy, and you know he doesn’t have long. Scrambling off of the bed where you’d collapsed, you drop to your knees on the hard wood floor of the attic. You’re not quite the right height to do it properly, but you push his hand aside in order to take as much of his cock in your mouth as possible. Belphie grunts and pushes your head further down his length, so far you can hardly breathe. You nearly gag as he hits the back of your throat. Belphie wants to take his time, but the feeling of your tongue struggling to taste every inch of him and the noises you make as he fucks your throat are too much. He wants to draw this out and enjoy the feeling of your lips around him, but he’s unable to hold back. He makes a conscious effort not to hurt you as he forces himself down your throat with one last thrust.
With a final groan, Belphie reaches his release, filling your mouth with his hot seed. You desperately try to swallow every drop he gives you as it trickles down your throat, but a dribble of his cum leaks from your lips. As he pulls away, Belphie looks down at your face, which is still glowing with the aftershock of your own pleasure. He’s never seen anything so beautiful. He reaches out and touches your cheek gently. You close your eyes as he cups your face, turning to catch his thumb in a soft kiss.
Belphie helps you off your knees, and you carefully perch yourself on the edge of the bed. He leans down to kiss you tenderly, his tongue warm and soft in your mouth, his hand cupping your chin. You melt into his kiss, barely feeling the tickle of his bangs on your forehead. Somehow, this slow, sweet kiss feels like the most intimate act of all.
“Breakfast is served! Wha—?”
Beel’s unexpected announcement sends you diving under the covers. “Can’t you knock, Beel?!” Belphie chastises his brother as he quickly slips on his sweatpants. “Sorry,” Beel says sheepishly. “I thought you’d still be sleeping. It’s the weekend.” He stands in the doorway, eyes averted, shifting his feet, a tray full of various muffins, pastries, and fresh fruit in his hands. “It’s fine, Beel. MC and I were just… we had some things to work out.” Belphie takes the tray from Beel and brings it over to you on the bed. You throw on the shirt you were able to dig out of the blankets and smooth your hair self-consciously. “Eh, here, Beel.” You say, patting the spot next to you on the bed. “Someone has to help us eat all of these muffins.”
The three of you eat your breakfast (Beel’s second breakfast) quietly. You’re slightly worried about how Beel is taking it all, but his warm presence beside you, close as ever, reassures you that he is not bothered by this new side of your relationship with Belphie. In fact, he doesn’t seem to be thinking about it at all. His eyes are fixed thoughtfully on the gramophone across the room. “You know,” he says around bites of muffin, “Sometimes I forget that this is really Lucifer’s private room.” You cough, choking briefly on your bite of muffin before swallowing. You, too, had forgotten. You glance up just in time to catch a devilish grin on Belphie’s face before he replies. “Oh yeah, how about that?”