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Demiurge shuffles the papers together and taps the bottom of the pile on the desk, meticulously straightening them into a tidy stack before he tucks them away into their designated folder. He then pushes his spectacles up the bridge of his nose with two fingers, and smiles to himself. That was the third report of the day completed, yet another task down.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

A somewhat shy knock on his door makes him press him lips into a grim line and he feels a prickle of irritation peel down his spine. He is quite busy and has very little time to spare for visitors.

"You may enter." He mutters without bothering to turn and face his guest. He has much to do, and has already decided he will address them and their concerns while working. He still has six other reports to complete; he cannot not afford to be distracted-

"Greetings, Demiurge." The demon's pulse kicks. "I hope I am not intruding."

"Lord Ainz!" He startles, and whips around to immediately drop to one knee. "P-please forgive me for not properly addressing you. How I may I serve you on this fine evening?"

'Damn it all. I should have at least looked to see who it was. I hope I have not offended him; he both demands and deserves the utmost resp-'

"You may rise, Demiurge. I was simply... passing through, and thought I might pick up the latest report on our currency count." He replies and glides further into the room, his silken academic robes rustling over the floor.

"Yes, of course, Lord." The Devil's eyes sparkle at him from behind his spectacles and he rises to his feet with feline grace, and turns away from him in order to retrieve it.

Lord Ainz did not miss the pleased wave of his iron-plated tail, giving away that he is happy to see him.

'That's a relief.' He had hoped his unexpected visit would not be too intrusive while the demon was hard at work for the good of Nazarick. Momonga awkwardly stood at the doors to his quarters and raised his hand to knock twice before the actually following through with it.

Demiurge shifts the manila folders around, flipping through stacks of parchment within as though he were having difficulty locating that particular report. The Elder Lich watches with heated interest as his leather-clad claws delicately flick through them, and his tall, well-muscled frame leans further forward while he rifles around.

A foreign flare of hot lust slithers through the Overlord as the pinpoints of red flame in his eye sockets rake over Demiurge's vulnerable position. Ever since the demon had used a spell to endow him with sex organs, he has not been able to take his mind off of that night in the crafting room.

The Devil on his knees before him, the feeling of his feather-soft locks between his clenching ivory phalanges, his molten hot mouth as he laved at his shaft with utter devotion...he had ever been so hard for someone in his life. All of it, every moment was seared into his mind. He had never felt so revered, so utterly worshiped.

As a total novice when it came to carnal matters, Momonga spent a few hours in Ashurbanipal to research as much as he could about demons and their mating habits, as well as sex in general. He was honestly surprised to discover as much information as he did.

Being a virgin sucks. Of all things, why did he have to be attracted to a demon of the Incubus class?

He chances another glance at the Commander of Defenses, and is instantly reminded of what he finds so captivating about him- if he still possessed lungs, his breath would catch. Broad shoulders, a narrow waist, practiced grace, elegant poise...

Demiurge is the best of both worlds, of hard-edged masculinity and a delicate touch of femininity.

What is that word...androgynous?

Satoru Suzuki never had much luck with women. They may as well be from another planet and speak a different language, as far as he is concerned. He often found himself swept aside into the friend zone, and could never seem to please or "meet the standards" the females who bothered to date him had set, despite being attentive, considerate and polite. In the few instances he found himself lucky enough to reach second base, he always seemed to be lacking whatever was necessary for third.

But Demiurge... he is relatively easy to talk to in comparison. Ainz feels comfortable enough around him to not put up the front he feels is necessary with Albedo.

Albedo's admittedly creepy obsessive behavior and exasperating habit of offering herself to him time and time again grew tiresome, and quickly.

Of course, it is not her fault; he has solely himself to blame for her nature, but it still does not make it any less uncomfortable or exhausting.

But the pass Demiurge made at him, while shocking in the moment, was so daring, so swift, suave and surgically precise, it left him not only breathless, but utterly disarmed.

At the risk of sounding pretentious, it was worthy of his attention, of his reception.

The demon gave, rather than took, and asked nothing in return. There was no desperate vying for his attention, no pleading for an heir to the throne, no annoying bickering as to who will be first wife. It was exactly as he had promised- stress free, no strings attached, and dare he say, fun.

But Momonga can only hope that his own advance will not reveal just how laughably clueless he is when it comes to romance.

Their... ahem, 'fun' together was nearly two weeks ago, and he has been trying to work up the courage as well as a reasonable enough excuse to visit him privately and steal a few moments alone with the demon.

And now, when the Devil is so perfectly bent over his desk, ruffling through papers and preoccupied, presents a golden opportunity.

If Ainz Ooal Gown possessed a heart, it would be racing uncontrollably as he musters the gall to close the distance between them.

"Do you remember the offer you had proposed to me a few weeks ago, Demiurge?" His voice adopts a low and dark husk, one which he hopes will convey the depth of his hunger for the demon as he daringly presses himself over the Devil's frame.

'Please, let this be okay...the last thing I need to do is make a fool of myself.' Ainz is well-versed in playing confident when clueless, but he is both lost and blind when it comes to flirting, much less sex.

However, he is at least armed with new information in how to follow through with the act, and hopes it will be adequate in putting up a believable front that he knows what he is doing.

"Y-yes, Lord." Demiurge gasps as he feels the weight of his Master bearing down on him. A full-body shudder wracks through the demon as he is enveloped in the Elder Lich's menacingly marvelous radiance of evil and unfathomable power.

'Oh, thank goodness.' He inwardly breathes a sigh of relief when the demon instantly catches on to his intentions, and seems to be receptive to his advance.

"Does it still stand?" Ainz salaciously rumbles in his ear, and the Devil lets out a shaky breath as he practically melts from the lust lacing his words.

"Yes, Lord." There is not a fraction of hesitation, and Ainz's hand trails up his hip and side, making his intentions clear. "Whatever you desire, it's yours."

This straight answer pleases Lord Ainz to no end. The Devil's thoughts are usually guarded; he never lets an unconsidered word escape his lips - he is unshakeable self-control and cold calculation. This often leaves the Elder Lich on the outside looking in, rarely glimpsing where his emotions truly lie. Unless Demiurge speaks his mind, he can never accurately guess what elaborate web of thoughts and plots he is weaving in his head.

The Elder Lich responds with a pleased hum, and Demiurge shivers as he feels it reverberate through his rib cage and into his back. Cool, blunt teeth shyly nip at the long, graceful curve that is shell of his ear, just between his piercings, and his entire body jerks as if shocked and gasping moan escapes him.

Ainz read that a Devil's ears are extremely sensitive, and that Incubi possess three times as many nerve endings in their bodies as other species, making them extremely prone to overstimulation. It now makes sense to the Elder Lich why Demiurge dresses in a full suit and gloves, keeping almost all of his body covered, protected. It wasn't merely Ulbert's choice of fashion, but a functional defense for this vulnerability.

"May I touch you, Demiurge?" Ainz asks out of respect.

"Yes, Master, anything you wish. Please, Lord Ainz..." Demiurge pleads with a submissive whine, and the Elder Lich watches the Devil's claws dig into the lacquered surface of his desk.

Oh, this is good. Demiurge wants him, and badly.

Curious as to how his flesh will feel, the Overlord slips an ivory hand under Demiurge's pinstriped jacket, only to meet with searing body heat and loveliest gasp. Hungry for as much contact as possible, the demon pops open the button which secures his jacket with one hand and yanks his shirt upwards, untucking it for him.

Hooded crystalline eyes flicker back at him, his feathered breath panting through parted lips, and a lovely pink blush glows on Demiurge's cheekbones.

"Take off your jacket." Ainz murmurs, and Demiurge gives an airy nod and hastily sheds the article.

Ainz's finger bones then slip beneath the final layer of fabric to travel over the velvety golden skin of his chest and abdomen. Under the crisp white dress shirt, the Devil is nothing but taut muscle and streamlined sinew, and it makes the Overlord self-conscious of his own physique--or as an undead, the lack thereof. Ainz watches as the demon's eyes slide shut and his lower lip snares between his fangs and he arches prettily against him, melting away any lingering insecurities.

Demiurge_worships_ him- he adores his Master as he is. All of the Guardians do. There is no judgement, no need for the humanistic fear inadequacy.

Ainz smooths his bony palm over the broad expanse of Demiurge's chest, and brushes his thumb over a rosy bud, and revels in how his name leaves the Devil's lips on a sharp intake of breath. Gods, he is marvelous.

His touch had never elicited such genuine reactions from any human woman. Unlike with Albedo, Demiurge's responses were not the product of tampered programming. No, the demon's sweet moans were raw, unadulterated lust for him- it made Momonga feel desired- truly desired.

"You're perfection..." The Elder Lich whispers, and the flush of Demiurge's cheeks brightens.

The demon stares back at him needily, drinking in the sight of his Lord, the Sorcerer King, stark and majestic. The unholiest of Holy.

A God for which he is a mere servant.

"I-I'm unworthy of such praise." The demon breathes as his Lord curiously traces the curves and divots of the hard muscle of his torso, thoroughly admiring his form, which is that of a deadly predator designed for stealth and speed.

"Nonsense. You are beautiful;" Lord Ainz adamantly insists. "So perfectly carved...a marvel of Supreme creation."

Demiurge practically feels his words drip over his skin like the darkest of honeys, and he cannot help but to purr and preen at his lavish praise. The network of the demon's hypersensitive nerves spark in response to his Lord's touch, lighting up with each seductive pass of his amorous hands.

Ainz brings his mouth to Demiurge's ear to murmur, "Give me everything."

The demon's heart flips into his throat.

Everything.

"With the utmost pleasure, Lord." Yes, he will allow himself to be the vessel for his Master's every dark desire.

Demiurge's deft hands waste no time in unbuckling his belt and pulling down his pants, vulnerably baring himself to his Master. The Elder Lich trails a sharp finger down the Devil's spine before flipping his iron-plated tail over his back, exposing his pink, furled opening, and the demon draws a stuttering breath.

Demiurge braces himself against the desk as Ainz then roams a hand over the juncture of his shoulder and the curve of his neck, then traveling up the sleek lines of his throat to bring his fingers to Demiurge's lips. The Devil eagerly curls his tongue around two of his digits and hungrily sucks them into his mouth with a filthy moan. The ivory of his Lord's hand feels smooth and polished and steel of his rings cool and metallic on his tongue. The Devil's heart hammers wildly within the cage of his chest, and he spreads his thighs further for his master to stand between them.

The Elder Lich moans as he feels his cock grow thick and heavy when the Devil suckles his fingers in a blatant mimicry of the same lavish treatment that he had given his shaft in the crafting room. Ainz pops them out of his mouth and the demon gives them a chasing lick.

Ainz's hands trail down over his spine and slip between the mounds of his rear, and he presses a wet finger against Demiurge's tight opening. Ainz almost jumps at the high keen that leaves the demon's mouth when he presses his finger a little harder. Demiurge's body is rigid with tense trepidation, but then slowly starts to sink down into the desk's surface.

The Elder Lich gently pushes until Demiurge's silken opening yields and gives to the pressure. The demon's body eagerly sucks him in, his internal temperature searingly hot.

The Overlord shudders out a phantom breath.

Demiurge is so sinfully tight.

Ainz slowly works his way in, gently teasing and stretching and twisting until the demon is whimpering his name. The Devil's hips buck back against him when he curls his digit inside of him, causing Demiurge to gasp hotly. The churning inside him is roiling, burgeoning deep within his belly. He shutters his eyes.

Ainz wishes he still possessed a tongue for which to taste him. He thinks the Devil's skin would taste of rich, dark spice, wildfire and an autumn breeze as it passes through the broad leaves of burnt orange and molten gold.

How riveting it is to watch the Devil crack under his ministrations.

"Ah!_My Lord... please, I'm _desperately trying to hold back, but..." His voice trails off as the Elder Lich lets an intrigued growl slip and continues his torture by carefully slipping in a second digit and fingering him deeper, a testament to just how much he was enjoying this.

Never in his life has Momonga heard Demiurge admit to any sort of lack of control, nor could he have imagined how much it would set his lust ablaze.

The slit of the Archfiend's gleaming cockhead drools an alarming amount of pre-come as his thick shaft lay heavy and pulsing over the desk, soaking the edge of one of the stacks of papers. Black talons scrape and rake deep grooves into the wooden surface, peeling up coils of lacquer varnish beneath his claws. He fights with every ounce of his strength not to erupt then and there as the Overlord teases his hole without a shred of mercy; such is his Master's method of attack:

Raw and devastating domination.

Ivory fangs gnash and bare in a feral sneer as the pressure in his loins build and the sweet tightening at the base of spine threatens to unravel.

His eyes screw tightly shut, and a low whine sounds through his chest as his tail thrashes dangerously in both delight and fear of coming too soon, so the Overlord grips the segment just below the head of deadly spikes and pins it to the side of the desk with his free hand.

Demiurge is trying so hard not to explode. Momonga can feel him tightening, the muscles inside preparing to release, and hear his breath stagger.

"It's all right, you can come." The Overlord coos and he leans to the side to watch him break. "Come for me, Demiurge."

Ainz's probing phalanges scrape over where he thinks his prostate to be, and the Devil's eyes roll in his head as his jaw drops in ecstasy. A strangled cry bursts from his lungs, and Ainz watches in fascination as a milky pearl leaks out from the slit of his angry purple head- a precursor just before a flood of come spurts all over the desk.

The Elder Lich can feel it, the moment he unravels, the tension in his muscles snap as he releases. It spears him with victorious satisfaction, especially considering he has never done this before.

"Lord Ainz!" He gasps and shudders, bucking against the wood, his silken walls clenching around his fingers as he throbs almost painfully hard with each spurt. The edge of the desk bites into his thighs as he jerks over it with a rough groan.

The Elder Lich had never witnessed something as exquisite as watching the all-powerful Devil finally fall apart beneath him. Demiurge is a pillar perfect poise and composure- and Momonga has found his seemingly sturdy foundations flawed and shaken with just two fingers. He tastes a new flavor of power on his proverbial tongue, one so primal and heady that it was devastatingly intoxicating.

More. He has to have more.

Ainz parts his robe to free his length and then dredges his fingers through the hot pool of pearl to collect some of the Devil's release and smears it generously over his shaft.

"Yes..." Demiurge hisses when he notices what his Lord is preparing for, and eagerly widens his stance.

Pre-come beads at the tip of Momonga's member as he slots it against the cleft of the Guardian's rear.

Demiurge winces when his digits disappear, only to be replaced by the fat, silken head of Ainz's cock. The demon's little hole stretches around him as the flared tip slips past the tight ring of muscle, enveloping him. Ainz trembles with the effort not to explode instantly, and his shaking fingers curl into his waist to squeeze gently and hold him in place.

"Mmmhhh... Lord Ainz... you're so thick." Demiurge purrs, and the Elder rumbles appreciatively in reply.

The Elder Lich's hips push slowly, agonizingly inward, and waves of both delicious pain and pleasure wash over the demon, and his stomach swoops low with the sweet, fierce ache of being so thoroughly invaded and used by the Supreme One that his normally nimble mind is wiped blank as Lord Ainz thrust into him, burying himself entirely within the scalding heat of the Devil's body.

Ainz muffles his groan of awe against Demiurge's shoulder, and the lilting sound sends molten waves of lust lapping through Demiurge's core.

His Lord is pleased with how he feels.

Momonga could not have ever fathomed the utter decadence that is the scalding heat of the Devil's body wrapped around him, or the white-hot bliss arcing up the length of his shaft.

Fuzzy white noise deafens the demon and he grips the edge of the desk tightly, eyes watering, and the sounds that bubble up from the back of his throat are visceral and entirely beyond his control, forcing their way past his clenched fangs no matter how hard he tries to suppress them.

The Elder Lich feels the way Demiurge's insides grasp every thick inch of him as he carefully withdraws, like the demon's body is pleading with him to stay. Lord Ainz sets his jaw as he slowly, slowly eases out of him.

Papers go fluttering to the floor and quill pens roll across the lacquered surface when the Elder Lich then lurches forward to slide back in. Neither of them care; they too consumed in the other, too focused on the sounds of their bodies meeting and their breaths laboring. Ainz keeps stroking into him at an agonizingly slow pace that threatens to ruin Demiurge, giving the demon inch after inch until his pelvis rests against his ass and his cock nestles deep inside him.

Inside him. Lord Ainz was inside him. Using him for his own carnal pleasure. HIM.

Demiurge believes you can come again from that knowledge alone; that the Master of the Guardians has chosen him for this honor; not Albedo, not Shalltear, but him. The Elder Lich hears the demon's breath hitch as he rocks back into him, making a strangled moan of pleasure that causes the Supreme Being's cock twitch. When Demiurge shifts his hips and feels his Lord hit that one perfect spot, his vision darkens around the edges as a visceral cry tears from his throat. The demon moans mindlessly, high on the God-like power riding inside him.

The Devil's tail corkscrews around Ainz's femur, desperately seeking something to cling to. Oblivious to all but a staggering fullness, Demiurge flings his head back and scrapes a choked breath into his lungs.

The Elder Lich responds by leaning further forward to detain the demon's body with his own, and he laces his fingers through Demiurge's claws, holding him down as he picks up the pace. Demiurge's demure whimpers and moans are now broken cries that echo rhythmically through his quarters, coinciding with each wet thrust. The marble-hard stoicism that defines the unflappable Devil is in shatters, unraveled by the brutal ecstasy ripping through him.

The heavy slide of his Master's cock is so intoxicating, as is the tightening in demon's chest when Ainz stares down at him with awe, as if he were worthy of such attention and reverence. The Devil's mind whirls with the thought-melting sensation of his Lord, thick and long and hard, fucking into him. The Overlord's grip is bruising, pinning Demiurge's hips to the desk so that he can impale him exactly the way he wants to.

Momonga had read that Incubi thoroughly enjoy aggression during mating, so he takes a chance on curiosity and clamps his jaw into the side of the demon's neck in a firm bite.

The unabashed moan that the dominating gesture draws from Demiurge's mouth is simply obscene, and Ainz feels him tighten like a molten vice around his shaft.

'Oh, that definitely does it for him.'

"Do you like that?" Ainz growls, now feeling bold, and experimentally spears his fingers into the Devil's spiky hair before curling them to harshly tug at his scalp.

"Hell, yes," His Master's words make him seethe with scathing desire to make himself the perfect vessel, to beg his glorious Master to fuck him until he can feel him in his throat. "Take it all... use me."

Momonga is stunned by the request, but admittedly more turned on than he had ever been in his life by this newfound sense of power over another man.

"Ruin me..." Demiurge snarls wildly.

Oh. Oh, that is hot.

Lord Ainz is seated within him, heavy and demanding and crushing the demon into the desk until there's nowhere left for him to go. Demiurge writhes in ecstasy as Ainz drives into the demon harder, deeper. The swell of their rapture is like two massive walls of flame crashing into one another, each of his sharp and bone-tingling thrusts pulling them both rapidly toward their climax.

Ainz lifts Demiurge's hips up, until his shoes are just barely scraping the floor and absolutely rails into him; thrusting with abandon, each one a force of its own. The tempo of his snapping hips, the ragged snarling noises he's making; all of it convalesces in that sweet spot inside of the demon.

The Elder Lich's eyes alight with their inner crimson fire, hypnotic and all-encompassing as he strikes into the demon with a relentless rhythm, his cock creating a push-pull sensation that is maddening in its decadence.

Rapture unlike anything Demiurge has ever known whips through his veins like lightning, and his crystalline eyes reflect the red glow of Ainz's eyes as the demon helplessly watches as his Master ravishes him. The Overlord is going to break him, and he's relishing every moment of it. All of the Devil's thoughts are cocooned in red velvet as excruciating ecstasy blossoms into transcendent euphoria.

The Elder Lich feels the beginnings of his release imploding within him, like the white-hot fire of the birth of a star, blinding and pulsing and hot. His jaw drops open.

"Lord Ainz!" Demiurge keens and erupts again, his impossibly tight passage wringing his shaft and pushing the Elder Lich over the edge.

Ainz explodes with a guttural moan and grips the Devil for dear life as his orgasm rips through him, his cock spurting hard within the demon. Demiurge snarls, his cry rising from him like an ember lost to the night as he feels his ruler's shaft throb like a wound inside him, pumping him full of his hot seed. Milky come spills from the seams of Demiurge's oversaturated channel, displaced by each lazy stroke of Ainz's shaft.

"T-thank you, my Lord..." Demiurge brokenly whispers.

They tremble together in that position until Ainz has finished emptying himself and begins to wilt inside him. It shakes him to his very core, the glorious sight beneath him; Demiurge so prettily flushed and disheveled- his hair is wild and ruffled, his gloved hands still tightly curled into quivering claws around his own fingers. His normally flawlessly pressed clothes are in wrinkled disarray and his back heaves with strenuous breath. The demon looks thoroughly fucked, and an airy swell of pride rises in his rib cage with the knowledge that this his doing.

'I fucked a demon, an Incubus, and... he enjoyed it!' Not only did he just lose his virginity, but he succeeded in pleasing his partner, and it is the boost of confidence, of validation he feared he would never experience.

Momonga feels good about himself, in a way he never has before. In fact, this is the most he has felt in months. If he still possessed lips for which to smile with, he would.

Lord Ainz carefully withdraws, unthreading his fingers from Demiurge's and the Devil hisses through his teeth at the gentle internal pull.

"Oh, dear... I fear I may have to... rewrite my report." Demiurge laments in between coarse breaths as he looks down at an absolutely soaked folder.

Ainz chuckles. "In that case, it would only be courteous of me to give you an extension to your deadline, considering that I am responsible for its ruin." The Elder Lich quips.