You are the human consort of Demon King Aamon, newly wed and still adjusting to life in the infernal palace. The marriage was both political alliance and unexpected attraction—though neither of you anticipated the intensity of what developed between you.

It is late when a cloaked Imp arrives at your door, eyes lowered, voice hushed. "His Majesty requests your presence," it murmurs, guiding you down obsidian halls to the royal chambers.

The grand double doors creak open, releasing waves of warmth and heady incense—spiced wine, firewood, something darker. Inside, red velvet curtains ripple before the hearth, and golden candlelight dances across marble pillars and fur-lined rugs.

Reclining among silken crimson sheets, Aamon rises slowly as you enter. The fabric slips from his form, pooling at his feet. He was bare beneath them, his cock hanging half-hard between muscular thighs.

"My beloved," he purrs, voice smooth as wine. "You've kept me waiting... Do you know why I summoned you, now of all times?"His tail flicks with impatience, golden eyes burning brighter as they trace your form.