Written for Femslash February 2019's eleventh prompt "Rest Day."
Sleeping Quarters
"Ange-samaaa, you can rest your weary head right here."
Mammon's offer hangs in the air as she eagerly pats her thighs. Like a true devil, she grins and pushes her eyes into a squint. She tilts her head, her long hair crossing her shoulders, appearing like a supermodel on set.
Ange's throat tightens. Her hands clench and unclench at her sides, hesitation evident in her expression. Even though they are alone in her dorm room, she feels as though too many eyes are watching her. Heat burns in her cheeks, rising from her belly as Mammon continues patting her thighs like a drum.
"I can just nap in my bed," she replies, gesturing at her bed settled against the wall.
"But you haven't washed your sheets in a while," Mammon retorts, clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth. "Does Ange-sama really want to get all cozy in dirty blankets?"
"Th-they aren't that dirty. It's only been…" She trails off, trying to ignore Mammon's knowing grin.
"Oh, maybe about three and a half weeks?"
"Well, I would have washed them sooner if my classmates didn't use all of the washing machines and make me wash mine by hand."
"Then we'll just need to rise and shine and wash them earlier before those nasty pigs can interfere. Besides…" Mammon claps her thighs, the sound smacking Ange's ears. "...for now, you can use me!"
Snorting, Ange's nose wrinkles. She idly plays with one of her pigtails as Mammon tosses her head back and laughs. When Mammon sneers out those facts, she can't help herself when she agrees. Ange flicks her attention back to Mammon, who is sitting on her legs by Ange's desk. She's already gathered one of the cleaner blankets, an Irish lace one given to her by Eva when she was young, in a neat pile at her side.
"I know you only have about an hour before you need to return to your class," Mammon says, bringing Ange's gaze back to her, "and your bed is sort of gross. That's why I want you to use my lap as your pillow."
Ange thinks she's gone as red as her hair. She lets her mouth hang open, the proposition sounding too good to be true. She wipes her clammy hands on her skirt, pursing her chapped lips together only for Mammon to present her with her favorite grapefruit chapstick. Thanking her, she reaches for it, but Mammon snatches her wrist, forcing out a yelp from the back of Ange's throat.
Yet, she doesn't hit the floor. Instead, her cheek collides with soft skin. Her eyes widen, the feeling of Mammon's thighs truly unworldly. No human could have such firm, yet supple thighs. Her thighs truly are the best pillow, feeling more comfortable than the school-provided rubbery ones.
"Comfortable, Ange-sama? Do you feel like you could sleep forever on my demonic thighs?" Mammon teases, leaning forward, her long hair tickling Ange's cheeks.
Blushing, Ange's head twitches in a subtle nod. "M-mm. This is...nice. It's way nicer than I could ever imagine."
Cackling, Mammon pumps her fist into the air. "Perfect-o! Now I have you all to myself. Not even the other sisters can stop me now from having you all to myself. My greed knows no bounds when it comes to monopolizing you!"
"You're so soft that I don't think I ever want to get up." She yawns, turning over and allowing Mammon to cover her with the lace blanket. "In fact, you're so comfortable that I think I'll indulge in sloth and might let Belphegor become my favorite stake if her thighs are as half as good as yours."
Yelping, Mammon fervently shakes her head and waves her fists. "No, no! Ange-sama, I won't let you do that! You have to be as greedy as me for the sake of your dreams and studies! This is just to help you rest up for the remainder of your day!"
"But like you said, you're so comfortable. Maybe you should've been the indolent one."
Gritting her teeth when Ange carelessly tossed her own words back at her, Mammon snapped, "I'd be the exact middle sister, but that wouldn't be any fun at all if you gave in to laziness! You're only staying here for exactly forty-five minutes, and then I'll wake you up in time for your next class! Greed works in many ways, you know!"
Fuming, Mammon thinks steam could have blown from her ears as she exhales her fury with a long sigh. She brushes through her wine red tresses, letting the strands fall between her fingers. Listening to her slow breathing, Mammon indulges in massaging Ange's tense shoulder, watching it lower as her body slumps into her, surrendering to sleep.
Her master's smile graces her. Mammon is tempted to kiss her, but she straightens her back and remains still. It would be rude to kiss her adorable Ange without her consent, and she may disturb her much-needed slumber despite her own greed desiring more of the budding witch. Combing through Ange's hair, she hums a song her former master had sung, one that slips through Ange's dreams and prophesizes peaceful days to come.