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As consciousness returned to you slowly, feeling returning to your limbs, your eyes struggling heavily to open once more, you thought to yourself that maybe... just maybe... you should have taken Solomon a little more seriously when he'd tried to warn you. You'd been so sure, though, so certain that you already knew everything you needed to know. Asmodeus himself had given you the talk when it came to light that the time for your mate's rut was almost upon you. The Avatar of Lust had reminded you that demon ruts were different than human ones- that Diavolo's rut, given how immensely powerful he was, was going to be more intense than anything you could have ever imagined back in the human realm. He'd even given you a little pamphlet to study, and then quizzed you on it later! And you'd aced the quiz! So when Solomon had tried to pull you aside on your way to the castle, to speak privately with you about what you were going into, you'd brushed him aside easily. You knew everything you needed to know, and your mate was waiting for you to arrive.
That, you had a sinking feeling, might have been a mistake. Because you were starting to realize that the reason you couldn't open your eyes wasn't because of how heavy they were- which they were, fuck were they heavy, feeling weighted down by whatever had knocked you out and still had you feeling sluggish- but because there was something pressed down against your closed eyelids. You were also realizing that- that it wasn't just sluggishness keeping your arms and legs from responding, but that you could feel something wrapped around them. Something soft, yet firm, holding them in place, holding you in place- and not in the most comfortable of positions.
You were on your back, on a soft surface- a bed, perhaps? You hoped?- with a large wedge-shaped pillow tucked beneath your back and butt; your wrists were engulfed in what felt like some sort of soft cuffs, and as you sluggishly tried to pull at them, you could tell they were attached to the pillow tucked beneath you; your legs were bent back over your chest, soft cuffs wrapped around your ankles that attached to some point over your head; you were naked, and utterly exposed by the pose, your ass propped up and your most intimate of parts wide open and accessible. And, as your thoughts moved faster and faster, picking up speed as whatever had been used to knock you out continued to wear off, you realized you knew the pose you were held in. It had been in the pamphlet Asmo had given you, diagrammed out in all its glory; it had made you blush then, and again during the quiz when you had to identify it for the lusty demon- the mating press. An ideal position, or so the pamphlet had informed you, to keep a demon’s mate in to ensure the mating took…
You swallowed thickly at the realization, and tried to comfort yourself. Considering the situation, the position you were in, where you last remembered being… this had to be because of his rut, right? Because the last thing you remembered… the last thing you remembered was… Barbatos offering you a drink while you waited for your mate. You’d sipped at it slowly, and then… nothing. Your memory of anything after sipping at the drink was a black hole until waking up here, tied up and bound. It was, to put it mildly, alarming, even as you tried to reassure yourself that it had to be related to his rut. That you had to be safe, probably in your mate’s room, that there was no other explanation other than- than-
Than what? What explanation could possibly exist for the fact that you’d so clearly been drugged, then tied up and bound and left like that? What could they possibly-
You heard a door swing open slowly, and your churning thoughts froze. Not just your thoughts- all of you froze. You heard the clack of clawed feet moving across stone flooring and you strained your ears, strained your thoughts, to see if you could place the gait as they moved across the room, as they came closer and closer. Was it your mate, come to rescue you? Was it your mate, come to take you? Did you mind, either way, given that you’d come to the palace for that exact purpose?
“D- Diavolo?” you finally called out, and you prayed- prayed- that his voice would answer, that you weren’t wrong, that this was something gone horribly awry with his rut. You- you thought you could handle that, if that’s all it was, thought you could excuse being drugged and tied and bound, if only it meant that it was indeed your mate coming into the room where you were so prominently on display and accessible to any who might venture in.
“My love, you’re awake!” It was, indeed, your mate’s voice that answered, and you felt relief flood through you, a palpable feeling that felt like you could suddenly breathe after being half unable to since waking up like this. The clack of clawed feet sped, and then you felt the bed dip to one side- although your pillow beneath you didn’t move, nor did you move. You felt a shift of air, before a hand reached to raise the blindfold blocking your vision, and suddenly you could see again!
The first thing you saw was Diavolo himself, looming over you in a darkened room, and again, you felt another wave of relief. It didn’t just sound like your mate, it was your mate, and he seemed to be okay. As you took in the room around him- his bedroom, from what you could see- he reached one large, clawed hand out to cup your cheek, and you leaned into his touch; his hand was hot, hotter than normal, and you remembered that was a side effect of his rut, that he would radiate heat until he’d burned through it all. It was another reminder of why you’d come to the castle. You pulled uselessly at the cuffs that held your wrists, wanting to reach out to him in return, but fully trapped, unable to. The movement seemed to catch his eye, though, and he reached with his free hand to take your bound hand in his, lacing your fingers together as he looked down upon you.
“Don’t worry, my love; I’m here.” He squeezed your hand, ever so carefully, given his raw strength, and you noticed that his voice… his voice was deeper than usual, each word rumbling through his chest in a way it didn’t usually. His eyes, as he looked down at you in the dimness of the room, seemed to be almost glowing, and he was in his demon form, the gold he wore jingling softly with his movement, and glinting in the low light of the room.
“I- Diavolo I don’t- understand?” you managed to get out, torn between your confusion over what they’d done to you, and what you’d come to the castle to do. You’d come willingly, more than ready to help your mate through his rut, so why had they drugged and bound you? Diavolo’s glowing eyes seemed to soften, and he squeezed your hand again, continuing to cup your face with his other hand as he answered,
“I’m sorry, little one. We didn’t expect the fertility tea to hit you quite that hard; it was originally formulated for demon physiology, and we misjudged its reaction to your human body.”
There were alarm bells going off in your head at his explanation. It had to be true, of course, you knew Diavolo didn’t lie, but- fertility tea? Barbatos had given you a drink to make you more fertile? You remembered reading about such things in the pamphlet Asmo had given you, but you hadn’t discussed using one with Diavolo. Yes, you knew that was what a Diavolo in rut would want, but- were you ready for a child? You hadn’t talked about it, had only discussed that you would be helping him through his rut, not that you were ready to get pregnant! Were you ready for such a thing? Did you have a choice right now, given the situation? Something like fear shivered through you as you pulled at the cuffs on your wrists, pulled at both of them, but it was just as useless as it had been before.
“I-” you started, and you weren’t even sure where to start, what to say, so you focused on the immediate worry, starting over, “O- okay, I- but then- why am I? Bound?”
“This position- it’s called the mating press. It’s to get you ready for our coupling,” he explained, and the hand on your cheek shifted to pet your head, over your hair, gently, soothingly. At least you thought that was his intent. It was hard to feel soothed with all the fear and worry thrilling through you. Your breath felt like it was caught in your throat, and you were starting to feel like it was getting more difficult to breath through it. Panic… you were starting to panic. You pulled again at the cuffs, this time not just the ones on your wrists, but the ones binding your legs too, and you felt your chest tighten when neither gave even the slightest bit.
“I don’t- I can’t- Diavolo I-” No, you couldn’t succumb to this panic, that- that wouldn’t end well, you thought. You needed to focus, needed to talk. If you could talk this through with him, maybe it would be okay… Maybe… You tried to breathe, tried to inhale deeply, trying to calm yourself, and he continued to pet your hair, over and over again, and you struggled to focus on that gentle touch, the one thing that seemed to remain of your gentle mate despite his rut. Eventually, you found words and tried again. “Would you- if I asked- would you… let me go?”
The look on his face, as he processed your words… he looked wounded. Even in the dim light of the room, you could see how hurt he looked by your question. Part of you wanted to take it back immediately, if it would banish that hurt look on his face, if it would destroy the fact that you’d somehow hurt him without meaning to. The rest of you was too busy trying to contain your panic to worry about his hurt right this moment, you were too concerned with your own. You needed to know the answer. Because, if the answer was ‘no’… If the answer was ‘no,’ you weren’t going to be able to control your own panic.
“I-” he started, and in just that one word, there was already sorrow. It both hurt your heart, and frightened you further. He paused, his hand freezing over your hair, seeming to gather himself, and then asked slowly, carefully, “Do you no longer wish to see me through my rut?”
It took all your willpower to keep from immediately responding with ‘no,’ but you managed. Instead, you forced yourself to repeat,
“I just- I need to know, Dia- if I asked… would you let me go?”
“Of course,” he answered, and then he was releasing your hand, your hair, both of his hands moving immediately to the cuffs binding your wrists. You felt suddenly like you could cry as he released first one wrist, then the next, before immediately moving on to the cuffs binding your ankles above your head. You immediately rolled over, off the wedge pillow and towards him, feeling like you could finally breathe free and clear again, and needing comfort as tears of relief stung at your eyes. He seemed surprised, as you turned to him, but when you reached for him, feeling ready to sob, he gathered you in his arms, pulling you in against his massive chest. When you did sob in relief finally, he kissed the top of your head, murmuring softly, his voice even deeper than before, “I’m so sorry, my love, I never meant to frighten you, or push you. I got so over-eager I- I made a mistake. I made several mistakes. Please, forgive me. I’ll- I’ll call Barbatos, and have him return your clothing and see you back home to the House of Lamentation.”
“No.” you said, before you’d even fully processed his words, tears still running down your cheeks. You clung to him, though, burrowed your face into his chest just shy of the golden dragon that joined together his fur mantle, and shook your head as you did process them. For all that he’d terrified you with his actions, with what had been done to you… given that as soon as you’d asked, he’d let you go- you were willing to forgive him for his mistakes. You’d come to the castle with a purpose, and that purpose still stood ready and waiting. Your mate still needed you.
“‘No?’” he echoed, and you could hear the confusion in his voice. He tried to pull you back, gently, trying to get a look at your face- and you let him, turning your head upwards to look into his eyes. They were still glowing as they had been, his skin was still hot to the touch, his voice still rumbled deeply through his chest when he continued, “But I-”
“You- you let me go when I asked,” you said, and reached up to wipe at the tears on your cheeks. Your panic had finally subsided, giving way to relief, and the knowledge that your mate still needed you. So you gathered yourself, staring up into his glowing golden gaze, and told him, “We’ll talk about the rest of it later, but- when I asked, you let me go. That’s what really matters. Despite your mistakes, you still let me go. And- you still need me. I can’t leave you when you need me.”
He stared down at you for a long moment, and you could see the indecision in his eyes. You leaned upwards to kiss him, gently, and oh how his lips almost burned against yours, yet another sign of his oncoming- ongoing already?- rut. As you pulled away from his lips, he asked softly,
“Are you sure? If you want to leave… I’ll understand.”
“I’m sure,” you told him, and offered him a tentative smile. “What kind of mate would I be to leave you to suffer through your rut alone? Just- let’s see if Barbatos has any contraceptives first. We can worry about children… next rut, okay?”
“Of course,” he answered, and this time when he kissed you, you deepened the kiss, wrapping your arms around your mate. Despite everything- you’d made your decision, and you were going to see him through his rut.