A Night to Remember
The Devil rarely left Hell for pleasure. He was its ruler, its master, bound to its endless torment and suffering. But tonight… tonight was different.
Tonight, King Dice had insisted.
"This is our fifth date," Dice had pointed out earlier with a smug grin. "And you still haven’t taken me anywhere above ground."
The Devil had rolled his eyes at the demand, but deep down, he found himself amused. No one ever asked him to leave Hell—no one ever wanted to be with him outside the shadows of the underworld. No one but Dice.
And so, he relented.
Now, they sat in one of the finest restaurants in the city, a place draped in velvet and gold, where chandeliers cast soft, flickering light upon pristine white tablecloths. The music was slow, elegant, setting the perfect atmosphere. It was the kind of place where people whispered instead of spoke, where wealth and status reigned.
The Devil, with his sharp grin and piercing eyes, was an enigma here. Out of place. Dangerous. And yet, with Dice beside him, he looked… content.
"Red or white?" Dice asked, holding up the wine list with a playful smirk.
The Devil chuckled, resting his chin on his hand as he gazed at his lover. "You already know the answer to that."
"Blood red it is."
Dice ordered the most expensive wine on the menu without hesitation. A deep, aged vintage that poured like liquid rubies into their glasses. The first sip was rich, smooth, laced with a fire that burned just enough to be intoxicating.
"Mm. Fancy," The Devil mused, swirling the glass. "You have expensive taste."
Dice winked. "Only the best for the King of Hell."
Their meals arrived next—The Devil’s steak was rare, practically bleeding, while Dice opted for something refined but flavorful, a dish laced with decadent spices. They ate leisurely, indulging in both the food and each other’s company.
For once, The Devil let himself enjoy the moment. The warmth of the wine, the way Dice’s eyes gleamed under the dim light, the quiet hum of conversation around them.
"You don’t do this often," Dice noted, watching him with interest.
The Devil raised a brow. "Do what?"
"Relax."
The corner of his lips twitched. "I do relax."
"Not like this," Dice countered, cutting into his steak. "Not without souls to torment, contracts to collect, or games to play. But here, right now, it’s just us."
Just us.
The Devil tilted his head slightly, considering those words. Just them. No Hell, no suffering, no obligations. It was strange. But he liked it.
They lingered at the table long after their plates were empty, sipping the last of the wine as conversation flowed effortlessly between them. Stories of the past, of the stars, of things unseen by mortal eyes. Dice listened, utterly absorbed, hanging onto every word.
And then, as the night deepened, they left the restaurant and wandered into the open air.
Dice led them to a secluded hill just outside the city, away from the glowing lights and the hum of people. Here, the sky stretched vast and endless, an ocean of stars shimmering in the darkness.
The Devil lay back on the grass, one arm behind his head, gazing upward with something close to nostalgia. Dice settled beside him, close enough that their shoulders touched.
"You know," Dice murmured, "I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look at something like this before."
The Devil chuckled. "Like what?"
"Like you miss it."
A pause. Then, quietly, The Devil replied, "Maybe I do."
The stars were ancient, older than time itself. He had watched them be born, watched them flicker and fade, had seen galaxies die and new ones take their place. And yet, they still held a quiet beauty that even he could not deny.
He raised a clawed hand and gestured toward the constellations. "That one there? Orion. The hunter. And over there—Canis Major, the great dog. Follow that line of stars, and you’ll find Sirius, the brightest in the sky."
Dice listened, entranced. Not by the stars—but by him. By the way his voice softened as he spoke, by the way his eyes reflected the light above them.
"You could name every star in the sky," Dice murmured, turning onto his side to look at him, "but to me, you outshine them all."
The Devil let out a breathless laugh, turning his gaze to Dice. "Flatterer."
Dice smirked. "Always."
The Devil didn’t hesitate. He knew this dance well—the rhythm, the hunger, the way Dice responded to his every touch. This wasn’t new, wasn’t uncertain. This was them, giving in to the fire that had consumed them so many times before.
Dice moaned against his lips, already tugging at the lapels of The Devil’s suit. "You’re slow tonight," he teased, breathless.
The Devil smirked against his throat. "Savoring the moment."
"Liar."
A growl rumbled deep in his chest, and in one swift motion, The Devil pinned Dice beneath him, their bodies flush together. His extra hands reappeared—grasping, claiming, owning.
Dice let out a sharp gasp, his fingers curling into The Devil’s shoulders. "Took you long enough."
The Devil’s chuckle was dark, low. "Let’s see if you can still walk after this, my dear Dice."
The night stretched on with no need for restraint—only heat, only pleasure, only them. The moon bore silent witness to their passion, the stars flickering in rhythm to their fire.
They had done this before. But no matter how many times, no matter how much had passed between them, it never lost its intensity. Never lost its fire.
And when it was over, when they lay tangled together in the grass, catching their breath, Dice smirked up at him, still flushed, still glowing.
"Still think I flatter you too much?"
The Devil chuckled, pressing a lazy kiss to Dice’s lips. "Not enough."