It was just this one time.

His breathing stuttered out, fogging up the mirror in front of him eyes watching the body behind his own. It's skin so delicate, as fingers gripped hard producing a red tint under the touch. The indescribable pain shot up feeling that first thrust penetrate through unlawful barriers. There was no preparing, no warnings as it filled causing a silent scream to echo in the room. The movement was endless—in and out without a pause even as it teased that one spot. But he wanted the pain. Incoherent moaning begged for more, pressing against the glass as the speed gained, the world fading around them, as everything seemed to disappear.

"D-don't!" A useless cry muttered, body being violated by yet another figure. Strange heat enveloped around areas they should not, causing such an internal flame to spark inside building up more heat between three men. There were hardly any words to communicate what they needed; a simple groan caused a response to attend to such desires. A teasing lick, a deep bite, violate kisses, all of it were shared between them only to pause when the other required assistance. They held back as much as they could, sweat trickling down their skin becoming a slippery lubricant as friction continued. This one time had to last the longest even as few were unable to hold.

But to feel another unknown hand rub against skin was more than enough torment to hold within. Four bodies now, the mattress beneath them was trembling as a violent manner forced the sucking motion off. A few gasps fell in the air as a confused moan pushed into the open questioning this only to be answered as legs were propped up on a pair of shoulders. He couldn't protest only let out a loud cry as he was stretched more than what seemed natural. His body was shaking, tears running down his face as both men thrust into him unable to stop their own groans from such a tight fit.

Blood and sweat now, the taste was filling his lips as he bit down harshly unable to stop anything that was going on. He wanted this; he wanted violence against his own body for once.

It was a shame however, that he couldn't go by his own promises—for it was more than once.

"My Prince." A sharp breath stirred from the resting male, lying beneath a smooth blood red fabric thick enough to protect him from a fiery ice storm. His eyes flickered, revealing two deep black pupils, which hardly looked to the intruder who had spoken in the once quiet and relaxed room. At first they looked up wondering if it was just an illusion that played with his ears but as he began to roll over again he was forced to wake. "Lucifer. You must rise."

"And to who do I rise? The sun, in which I cannot see? The stars that are nothing but faint reminders of what I could have?" He groaned with such a deep voice trying to ignore the voice that disturbed him. He was still sore from the long night but it was a good memory that made him smirk, glancing to the youth that lay in front of him. The lad was bare and naked still from the previous night. So were the other two men who had apparently collapsed at his side partially laying on his covered legs or pillows. His pale fingers played with a loose strand of hair from the other male currently amused that he been so generous to them. Letting them take control of his own body—and even found himself begging—till they couldn't continue further.

He wasn't quite sure why he had.

He was the 'Prince of Darkness', 'Most Unclean', 'the Antichrist', 'Satan', all of which known to mortal and immortal as the Devil. The great fallen one, who remained in the depths of Hell, waiting for the day to actually become more than an owner of a prison. This infamous creature allowed three of his own servants to take advantage of him merely because he was bored. The three would never boast about it however, acts would count as treason against the overlord and be sentenced with three hundred years of ash duty—which basically was cleaning up the pits of Hell, which stunk more than anything imaginable.

But Lucifer didn't pick these 'children' by random. No, he had tastes and not many would say no to the ruler of their home especially since it would give more privileges.

". . . My Prince. A pure one has come into your home and requested a word with you." The voice spoke in distaste, spitting out the word 'pure'. A pure one was no other than the mighty Lord's children. His messengers or in better words, His little angels. To the occupants of Hell, they were spoiled little brats that had no respect for anyone but themselves. It was half true, but to angels, demons were exactly the same—which was half true as well. The winged beings and their Father, had forced Lou and his followers into this hole, leaving them for dead. There was no reason not to hate them, the demons had every right to spit at their faces and have the 'holy' beings dead at their feet. But of course Satan's demons took it a little too far when raping them or playing with God's toys—the human mortals—which would constantly cause Heaven to attack.

However it was a normal thing and Lucifer hardly ever cared.

Well until now.

His dark eyes rose and he quickly sat up, staring at the man who had apparently been standing in front of the bed this whole time looking down intently at the view. Lucifer knew what the fellow male was thinking. How could a high-class demon degrade himself to this? No question that it was disgraceful, but what else could you do after thousands of years of making people's lives miserable? You had to tend to your own needs and for some odd reason the man before him would never be tempted to do such things. It was the only demon Satan found himself unable to approach.

". . . . Now?"

"Yes my lord." A muttered groan left the demon lord as he tried moving from the bed, the seemly silk blankets slipping off his bare skin with ease leaving no imagination involved when the man tried pushing away from the clinging demons laying amongst the pillows. It was frustrating, his body all ready sore from the night before trying so hard to ignore the muscles that ached for a good rest. Muttering something quietly, his hands gripped onto the arms around his thighs and tried prying them off cursing the cuts and bruises that made the exercise so difficult. All this effort became extremely useless as Satan wiggled and pushed, getting no reaction from the other demons except 'Nnh'. He rolled his eyes and glanced over to man who was still standing there. He was snickering at the sight and even staring at what looked to be below the waist of the Prince. It wasn't uncommon for the other to do such, but then again, who couldn't stare? Other than the pair of scars that were left behind from where his wings were ripped off during his Fall, Lucifer was. . . perfect. A light muscle tone ran through his delicate and slightly pale looking skin leaving him with quite a beauty that is rarely seen in males. His youth remained in him—never growing old being immortal of course—and yet his eyes held much to them. Deep and secretive, holding so many secrets behind them that no other man knew. His hair covered parts of his eyes, dangling across his face while slipping near to his collarbone. The shades of silver was left, a once holy brown lock but now left pale from the lack of sun.

His appearance wasn't much, even as those curled horns rested near his temples. But really, one couldn't judge by only looks.

From what Satan could tell, the other was staring down at his thighs where dried blood rested followed by cuts and bruises and even bite marks—but they were all about his skin healing rather rapidly. "Beelzebub. Instead of staring at my ass why don't you help me." The Dark Lord spoke, raising an eyebrow at the other who quickly smirked.

"Of course." It was then that the demon's expression changed once more, eyes narrowing to a glare toward the youths about Lucifer. ". . . WAKE UP YOU STUPID-FUCKING ASSHOLES." He yelled, his voice echoing in the room enough to make the mirror covered in handprints rattle. It woke the young demons, eyes widening and jumping off the bed, quickly grabbing their things and dashing out the room nude. It even surprised the royal demon, jumping just slightly while staring at Beelzebub. He was flabbergasted even when he had heard that loud voice tons of times. As Lucifer remained in shock, the taller male walked throughout the room grabbing simple things from the overlarge closet that took up most of the wall while walking over to the dressing drawers pulling out boxers and socks. He had enough time to even grunt at the mirror behind Lucifer before settling down on the floor to his knees in front of the other male. "I think you had too much fun last night—the whole mansion heard your screams."

For some odd reason, Louie blushed lightly. He usually didn't mind people hearing anything when it involved him and sex. . . but for some reason Beelzebub was different than most demons. He was Satan's best friend, his only friend in this hellhole. Not only that—but he felt. . . a closer bond through the past years and was very certain the other was feeling the same. Why else would he say his title in such a purr every time he saw Lucifer?

Beelzebub moved closer now, pushing the lost demon to the bed while attending to dress the Prince. He didn't protest, allowing his friend to slip his boxers on following his pants and such. Those black eyes watched every movement, studying the man above him with curiosity. Lucifer couldn't get enough of looking over his friend. Beelzebub was just too handsome for his own good and Lucifer had to admit—the man was very sexy as well. The other had to have a six-pack beneath all the layers of clothes he wore. For some odd reason, the demon continued to pull on at least three pairs of shirts: A wife beater, then a regular shirt (currently a black one), and then a button up shirt. Beads of all sorts dangled around his tan skinned neck with an upside-down cross amongst it all. Black hair layer down until it reached the beginning of his back, while eyes of crimson focused on pulling the Prince back to a sitting position.

As he was raised, he could feel the other demon's breath tease his skin, eyes boring into his friend's. Everything was quiet now, neither man moved as they sat there until Beelzebub rose brushing his lips against Lucifer's. It was shocking, the Prince's heartbeat pumping against his chest reacting by brushing back. Their lips locked for what felt like hours, pressing into different ways, each feeling better than the first. It was unusually gentle but as Lucifer leaned in for another to go much deeper—Beelzebub pulled away and pressed a kiss on the demon's neck brushing up to his ear. "Stop picturing me naked every time you stare." He whispered lowly causing a guilty smirk to trace over the silver-haired man's lips.

"Allow me such fantasies at least." He responded, a finger tracing the straight horn sticking out from the bigger man's hair. He leaned in further, eyes barely lidded now. "Just. . . one more—" He mumbled trying to press into another kiss only to be declined again as Beelzebub stood.

"You need to head to the main hall my Prince. Your guest is waiting." A roll of the eyes was seen on Lucifer's behalf and slowly he stood.

"Fuck angels. Agh. Pathetic lot." He muttered, moving forward and left the room with his friend following behind to make sure he wouldn't fall over.

Lucifer had to at least lived in this house for most of his life in this dreary world. But even as thousands of years past, he had yet to actually learn all the rooms. He had no idea there was a two other bathrooms on the second floor. Nor that there was an actual coat closet that had to be mile long inside. He really just didn't care or didn't have enough time on his hands.

Stepping out the door of his room was like walking into the Victorian era on earth. It was more of a Gothic-Victorian styled, being that everything had interesting designs like railing that looked like webs than anything else. The floor beneath him was covered in dark Persian carpet and on every floor it was a different style. Relics lay on walls or on small tables, pictures of family or stupid things no one ever looked at. The halls of almost every floor were the same, dark and dreary. A touch of Fallen art in there that depicted how much Heaven and Earth sucked but also implying that Hell was no better. It was strange really how almost every demon that lived in Hell would prefer more than the barren walls that surrounded them. The darkness that covered the seemingly cave about them with only the light emitting from the ground—the fires of hell where souls were locked beneath. Earth somehow was a lot more fun and Lucifer couldn't agree more.

Throughout the rest of the house was nothing but shelves of books of all kinds. There was even a large kitchen that could hold thirty elephants on steroids on the bottom floor and a dining room that was even larger used for eating and possibly even a ballroom—when that happened was probably a millennia ago. Being that there was no light in Hell, candles littered the walls and floors lit or burned out. He would probably have to assign someone the duty of cleaning it all up once again.

There were only three floors to the manor, Lucifer only visited two of such. The main floor and the third, which was his own room. While the second floor belonged to the higher ranked demons—Satan's favorites as most labeled them. A long stair way connected them all, to which they currently were stepping down.

It bothered the demon lord that a pure one would even dare to enter Hell. There were times when the act was allowed, but when Hell and Heaven hated each other at their worst, it was best to leave the other alone. Apparently, the 'brink of war' didn't mean shit to angels. It wouldn't be long before it happened either. For each side continued to push to the limit. Demons would kill off mortals while angels would kill off demons. It was strange how angels would react when their toys were destroyed. They'd become drama queens from Hell—and yes those exist unfortunately—and blame it all on the demons, killing everyone in their path. Really, angels were immature, which was definitely saying something coming from a demon.

"Ah, Lucy. It's about time you came down." A twitch was the first reflex at the sound of the horrid nickname he had from angels. What was worse, he knew the voice all too well—one he despised with a passion.

"Michael. How nice of you to come unannounced and uninvited. Get the hell out."

"Oh I was invited. In fact, He invited me." The grin that pushed onto the archangel's face was enough to make the demon want to strange him. But he kept it cool, he had to. One move against these damned birds and God Himself would have a fit that would destroy all residents in Hell. Pity, he actually like the barmaid in Seven Sins down the block. "But don't worry, I won't be long."

Lucifer couldn't help but roll his eyes at the archangel. The man was supposedly the warrior of all angels, defender of Heaven. After that war that sent him and thousands of other Fallen angels to Hell—he didn't doubt it. In fact, it was Michael that kicked him to the ground, ripping off his wings without mercy. Since then on, the Dark Lord didn't want anything to do with the other. Nor God. But for some reason they continued to barge in like they owned the place.

"So. Spit it out then."

"Hmm. Rude." The angel muttered, flicking his wrist to the side to let out an annoying pop. Unfortunately, the man before 'Lucy' was taller than him and like most angels he had the traditional blond hair color and blue eyes. But, it's said this particular angel was the first of all angels. Satan could really give a rat's ass since he had grown up with the guy, but really—Michael should be down in Hell with all the pride stocked up in that mouth of his. He wore mainly white, white over shirt and under with blue jeans that looked a little faded. His wings were out and folded behind him and his arms were crossed. "One of you children—"

"My. . . children? Unless I suddenly became a woman, those aren't my children. I don't shoot people out my ass like your 'Father'." He smirked, receiving a glare from the angel.

"Anyways." Michael muttered, walking nearer and stopping only a foot from the Prince. He could feel Beelzebub behind him get a little on the edge now with the slight growl that produced from his throat. If Michael tried anything, his bodyguard would be all over Michael in seconds. "—Has killed the new Virgin Mary."

"Oh trying that whole Jesus thing again? Why now?"

"That's none of your business."

"Actually it is. You see without Hell there's no place for where your 'sinners' can go. If 'Jesus' pops up, he'll screw up the whole balance meaning Hell will collapse from the lack of souls feeding it. Then demons will eventually die and Heaven will go to Hell because all the souls will overfill. Sounds like my business all right, right Beezle?"

"Right." Both demons smirked as the angel quickly ignored every word.

"I'm here because God is holding you responsible for your. . . followers' actions."

"Oh and what's that."

What happened next was almost a blur to Beelzebub. He felt almost immobile for those brief seconds, watching something bright unsheathe from out of nowhere and attack his Prince. Lucifer didn't stand much of a chance, he tried backing off be those few steps were nothing compared to the long gleaming sword shining with light that sliced across his face. Blood dripped at the deep cut, Lucifer falling to his side from the impact of the blow. It was then that his friend reacted, quickly charging toward Michael, who grinned like a maniac and disappeared from sight. It didn't make sense to the attacking demon, stopping in his tracks to look around. Even the men standing about the front door rushed in to help. But it was no use. Michael had attacked the Prince and gotten away with it.

Again.

A sigh left the tall demon, turning at the sound of a muffld groan, seeing the wounded man hold his face for a long time afraid of what damage may have been caused. "Stupid-ass—" Beelze smirked at the other's complaint, knowing the other was fine. He would heal eventually. At these thoughts, he walked over to assist the Fallen one, watching as the royal demon finally pry his hand from his face. There was a long silence even as his friend began lifting him up and finally Lucifer's lips twitched.

"Beezle—I. . . I. . . can't see."