#raphael fanfic

You rest the weight of your horned head into the silk cushion of his pillow, the scent fills your every breath… cherries and musk and sex… It’s arousing and comforting all at once, especially as your heart still thumps against your ribs, your tail still entwined loosely with his own.

It’s these moments that the great Archdevil who claimed in you in his bed eases. And despite the weight of a crown on his head, he now rests that head beside yours, breathing in your hair and lips whispering at the back of your neck.

Soft things.

Sweet things.

Thoughts his perfectly measured speech and carefully crafted syntax would never allow during his waking.

“Sweet mouse… all mine, my good little girl… my perfect fuck…”

You have to close your eyes to concentrate on his deep voice, barely distinguishing it from the almost snoring rasp in his chest.

Each hummed epitaph in praise of you only makes you that much hotter… more aroused… you can feel your slick wetting again, even with him still knotted inside you, those ridged locked deep into the grooves of your cunt. A perfect fit. The key to your lock, imprisoned as you are and impaled on his length. Even as he fades into sleep.

He rumbles again, dancing in and out of quasi-consciousness

“Mine… mine… my….”

You can’t help it, the way your back arches to feel his searing breath in your pointed ear, his heavy arm pinning you with heat to the silk that’s damp beneath you.

Silk that will only dampen more as your hips roll ever… so… slightly. You pause as his breathing hitches. You’ve only ever known him to be a heavy sleeper, once he reached that point after fucking you raw and often senseless.

Do you... dare seek more pleasure as he lays inside you, ridge buried in your cunt wall, stuffing you full of his seed? Do you dare to come again?

You let out a little moan, slightly stifled… but enough to make you pause as he shifts.

More discretion, perhaps, you decide, freeing your arm from under his to snake your fingers between your legs. A shudder races up your spine the second you find your clit… the second you finger tip brushes his still-hard length inside you where it disappears in your cunt. Hells… the thought, the feeling alone is enough to make your breathing accelerate and your belly coil with need again.

Just one more little orgrasm. He had teased you so much before… bringing you to the brink and pulling away again and again.

And again.

One orgasm had cooled you, but not quenched. So you circle your clit, sneaky and holding your breath. You try to keep it quiet under the blanket, turning your head into the pillow.

But the scent of him in his sheets and the feeling of your walls clenching and fluttering harder already in anticipation… a moan slips from your lips into the scarlet silk you’ve buried your face in.

That scent, his scent… his breath in your ear, his knotted cock locked in your spasming channel…

“Fuck…” you whisper into the bedding again before you come up for air. For a moment, you panic, your tail tensing as you realize it’s been rubbing in the sheet with your pleasure.

He shifts. Raphael lets out a small rumble, pulling you closer, and you fear too much to turn your head to look and meet a pair of black and yellow eyes…

So you, impaled coward that you are, you wait and listen to his breathing.

And yet, even as you listen to his breathing grow slow and steady again, your fingers circle and press and stroke and tease yourself.

Hot… hotter… you bite your lip as your wave of needy blissful heat builds in your belly. Your hips start to roll now, your fingers thrusting their friction over your clit, pulling at its hood, and teasing towards your entrance that’s stuffed with him.

You can almost hear his heart beating faster, the slightest roll and drag of his cock inside you, but you’re so close, orgasm so near you can taste it on your tongue and feel your walls clenching and releasing in anticipation.

“Yes… yes…” you barely whisper…. Just a few more thrusts of your fingers, and you spill around his cock inside you.

A strangled moan, a bucking body, you are nothing more than the plaything he’s used finally… finally taking the pleasure you need.

And then, his tail wraps its blunted end around your slowing wrist. A sinister chuckle in your ear, you hear him whisper, his body inching to enclose more around you.

Scorching tension, the aching coil of your muscles as they stretched and clenched to accommodate him. Your fingers sought purchase, something to tether you to reality as ecstasy rocked with every thrust.

“Raphael.”  His name tasted like honey, burnt like whiskey upon your lips.  Your tongue felt leaden as he claimed your mouth, swallowing your pleading as he claimed you.

Amidst the haze and the heat, you noticed what a mess you were making of the cambion’s lush bed. “The sheets…”  You murmured, attempting to sit up and regain some semblance of control.

Your hair stirred in the rush of wind the sudden beat of his wings created, the leather appendages stretching wide as Raphael pushed you by the throat back against the mattress. “Are replaceable.” Raphael’s sharp claws dug against the tender flesh of your thigh as he dragged your body closer to him, drunk on the sensation of you so pliable and wet around him. He grinned down at you before a rumble of pleasure dragged from his throat. “So willing, little mouse.”  He leaned over, the skin of his wings turning the ambient firelight into a red haze. “Take all of me.”

Your eyes widened, feeling the flush of heat and heady lust his words aroused. Your body became taught as a bowstring seconds before the kill, his name spilling from your panting mouth, sweet to the taste.

Raphael fought to keep composure, failing spectacularly, burying himself deep within you, his sinful orisons of pleasure echoing your own cries. You felt his seed spill, the painful heat of it overshadowed by the pleasure as your body drank him in.

Your skin stung and broke as Raphael’s teeth pierced where your shoulder and neck joined, marking you as his own outside as well as within. He continued rutting into you, stretching you as the infernal knot took hold. You whined and he silenced you with his fingers pushing into your mouth.

Hellfire eyes found yours, your foreheads pressed together in a semblance of twisted intimacy as you nearly choked on his long digits. “Good, little one. Take me.”  

You wanted nothing more than to give in. To whatever end. Pain and pleasure mixed, your whines muffled around his fingers until he withdrew them only to replace the void with his lips and tongue. He was anchored inside, the languid thrusts of his hips sent spasms along your spine as Raphael pressed your legs down against your chest.

"In a world of horrors where shadows loom, A tiny creature navigates through certain doom. A little mouse, determination in its eye, Hoping this will not be its last heard lullaby."

It would be a lie to say that very voice didn't send the most delightful of shivers down your spine each time it announced his presence to you - you hung on each syllable like he was speaking a new language you were desperate to understand. Though your back was turned to him as the corners of your lips twitched upward you could feel in your soul - the one that no longer belonged to you - that he knew.

Though you may have been doing your best to feign disinterest and even often annoyance at his dramatics, it was no secret that you found him amusing. Fortunately, he happened to feel rather the same, a creeping mirth building in his chest at this familiar performance you were putting on.

"Just when I was beginning to miss your theatrics."

It was only then he realized just how badly he'd yearned to hear your voice again in the time since it had last swam into his ears. Curiously - but perhaps not at all - he felt his mouth go temporarily dry as his next rehearsed verse fell from his mind momentarily. When his silence lingered you filled it gracefully as you knelt before a bucket of water, scrubbing your arms free of the blood that covered them as you worked off the most uncomfortable parts of your armor.

His stumble did not last forever - his practiced words would not go to waste.

"With the battle fought and her patron's foe slain, She has etched upon her weary soul so very much strain. With a gentleness most sincere, the Patron offers her rest. Her wearied body, soon at peace even in her mind, No longer bound by battles' fierce behest, Their worries, for a moment, left entirely behind.

For the strongest heroes, too, do need a moment's grace, To find their strength renewed in the tenderest embrace."

Though his continued lack of transparency was frustrating, particularly after the stretch of days you'd had at his bidding, you noticed the practice lilt in his words, the methodic delivery of his latest poem.

"Have you been practicing poetry for me again, my Lord?" your tone was filled to the brim with the very amusement you felt, amusement that was growing by the moment at the slight waver in his voice, the subtlest indication that now was one of few times his trademark control had faltered. "I must tell you, it really is quite sweet. I've never inspired such before."

Your pleasantries and a title you so rarely chose for him stirred a feeling oh-so rare and delicious in him, a tingle up his spine that spread a wicked grin across his face. Exhausted, and uncaring of the company at the moment you continued your work on seeking your own comfort, continuing to peel armor away from your figure and toss it to the side.

Maybe you knew the lack of attention would agonize him - maybe that was only just more amusement for you. Annoyingly, he was attempting to bury the desires as he always did around you, finding now that the feelings stirring were beginning to gnaw their way out from the inside.

"You flatter me with honorifics yet ignore my presence."

His words had the slightest bit of edge to them and yet the tone in which they were delivered could be described as little more than a purr. It was a tone you'd discovered was reserved to fall on your ears alone - he never spoke to you this way in company, though you didn't doubt others existed that were fortunate enough to hear it. It was delicious - made more-so by the sharpness to them, the gentle bite that warned his limits were being tested.

The fact you only heard it when you were alone meant you seldom travelled with companions for too long, discarding them when your interests were no longer the central focus. It was lonely, but few wanted to be at your side when they discovered the source of your power, and the moments like this reaffirmed your decision each and every time.

"In a land of shadows shrouded with a curse most horrific, Lies a weary hero, hoping her devil might be more specific. For if she doesn't soon rest, Her weary body will be for the shadows to ingest."

There was no denying the radiance and allure in his laughter - it rang out so beautifully it didn't fit in a place like this, it almost wasn't fair for such a joyous sound to ring out in such a cursed land. Now, you couldn't help yourself - you turned to face him with a light smile pulling at your lips, exhaustion written on your face accentuated by the blood of those you'd slain in his name.

It pulled at his heart, something that seldom occurred - you were truly always a sight like this, in his eyes at least.

"Your skills increase tenfold each time we meet," he complimented, the smile settling on his face matched by the pull of the wrinkles beside his eyes. "You were successful in your latest task."

It was a statement - not a question, the wordless affirmation of his continued faith in your abilities. Still, you could've given him a snarky response - the blood covering your body and armor wasn't enough of a clue for him? In truth, though, you'd began to enjoy the moments where he complimented you - even more the rare moment he actually thanked you.

"As always," your coy tone was the final act to try to hide the giddiness you felt now, as well as the fatigue that was slowly overtaking your body. When was the last time you had eaten? When he left would you simply remove the rest of your armor and do your best to build a fire and lay beside it, or would you simply make do with the cold ground beneath you now?

He could sense it; he knew exactly what was on your mind. In truth, your thoughts were mirrored in his - this was no place for someone of your caliber to rest, especially not when you'd been so very good for him already. He'd heard about your camp, of course, but seeing it for himself - well, it really was quite awful.

A snap of his fingers and once again you were in the House of Hope, the unmistakeable extravagant decor a much better sight than the lands you'd been traveling. Though it was a bathroom where you appeared it was already enough to almost bring tears to your eyes - it smelled delightful, a bath was already drawn with bubbles and filling the room with the warmest steam. Unsurprising was the small table beside it filled with fruits, meats, cheeses and wine that made a fresh rumble sound in your stomach.

"It is so very fortunate your generous patron is willing to reward a valiant effort, would you not agree?"

You huffed a breath through your nose as a smile spread further across your fae, heat rising in cheeks as you returned your gaze to his. "And who said devils are selfish?"

His beautiful laughter filled your ears again, the warmth radiating from the fireplace and the bath nothing compared to that which engulfed you just hearing the sound so entirely for you. His movements were smooth as he made his way to the small table, pouring a glass of wine with ease while his eyes stayed on you the entire time.

"You have undertaken quite the ordeal on my behalf, you deserve a proper display of my abundant appreciation," there was the unmistakable purr of sultriness beneath his tone, his strides predatory as he made his way back to you, eyes running up and down your entire frame again before settling on your eyes. "And a bath, though I do so worship the vision of my dark hero covered in the blood of my enemies."

"You show your appreciation by providing me my power."

"And yet," the pause lingered heavily - if you weren't so keen on enjoying everything he had to offer you there would probably be a quip about holding for drama, but now you only looked up at him with wide doe eyes - eager and expectant and deliciously obedient. "I find myself curiously wanting to provide you with more."

The look that was blooming in his eyes was a peculiar one - one of a fondness. He slipped behind you gracefully, one of his hands reaching to grasp your hip and turn you to face an ornate mirror before his arm fully encircled your waist, drawing you back toward his chest. His hand slipped up your body, avoiding any part that would have been too inappropriate to touch without express permission, to grasp your chin, holding your face gently but firmly as he angled it to look in the ornate mirror before you.

"The longer you have my power reflected in your eyes, the more beautiful you become. Wouldn't you agree? You are radiant."

Now it was impossible to pass off the heat that had risen in you as nothing more than the heat from the bath - with his hand just beneath your chin on your neck and his claws digging ever-so-slightly into your skin, the heat had begin to pool at your core. You were still trying to remain focused, to maintain the aura of strength you almost never allowed to falter…particularly around him. But with him pressed to your back and his eyes devouring you in the mirror like a feral animal with a long-awaited meal, there were certain signs from your body that gave you away.

The elevated heart rate. The blown pupils. The pull of your bottom lip between your teeth.

It didn't take any amount of perception to see the signs that were so plainly there, particularly not for a devil who was eager to look for them.

"As you've pointed out, I'm covered in blood."

"A testament to our combined strength, my pet," you were certain with the intensity with which he was staring into your eyes' reflection in the mirror that he had stopped blinking, finding an unchanging face each time your eyes closed briefly. "Do you mind?"

He was offering you the wine glass to free up his hand or to distract yours - it was impossible to tell, really. Regardless of the intent you reached for it, taking a drink and relishing the familiar fire this particular wine ignited in your throat and belly.

Meanwhile his free hand was lightly trailing over the bow to the back laces of your clothing, giving a subtle tug to seek permission as his eyes continued to burn into yours in the mirror. With a nod the laces fell free under the quick work of his fingers - it was somewhat endearing that you knew he could do this with the snap of his fingers, yet he was choosing to do it himself, to peel you apart with his own hands. What you'd been wearing pooled to the ground and revealed the aftermath of your battle in full, all of the bruises and scratches and burns that had no place there…unless they were given by him or on his word.

His hands found your shoulders first and with a familiar warmth your injuries became another part of your past, his eyes trailing up and down your body to ensure all that remained was evidence of injuries not belonging to you.

"Positively resplendent," his breath was hot on your neck as he angled his face closer to yours, his nose brushing behind your ear softly. "A painting of this image would be so suitable for a portrait of us, wouldn't you agree?"

Bravery - it was a characteristic of yours that he cherished nearly more than any other, one that provided endless entertainment (and often worry, though he was hardly eager to admit that). It was the very trait that sometimes pushed you to do or say the very last thing he expected, and yet you still managed to take him by surprise. Even now in his domain was one of those times, your face unwavering and intention resolute as you spoke.

"Not in this form."

All he'd offer in his momentary shock was a raised eyebrow before these features faded and he transformed to the figure he was meant for, wings stretching behind his back as he got more comfortable. This is how he was meant to look - how the two of you were supposed to appear together, the devil and his toy hero, you and the source of your growing power. It would take blindness not to see the radiance with which you two joined together, and even then it was palpable in the air.

Ignoring the many feelings and tensions that crackled between the two of you when you were together was difficult - and growing more impossible by the day.

"This is suitable for the foyer."

He continued to lean down behind you, swallowing you with his true height so he could press a singular kiss behind your ear before straightening his back, his hand that was still flat against your now fluttering stomach pulling you against him tighter. Your skin burned where his lips had graced it - tingling as though his the action was magic. Your body only continued to respond to him with all of the tell-tale signs: a rising temperature, parted lips, blown pupils, quicker breath.

He so adored that you were trying to maintain control - to maintain an unbothered façade.

"You prefer me this way."

It left his mouth as a statement, but you caught the subtle insecurity at the tail of the sentence, the way his words slightly trailed and his eyes flashed with a truth - and hope? - that was so rarely seen.

Was he afraid of your answer?

"You don't need to wear a mask around me," you were quick to silence his doubt and eager to put out a particular fire that threatened everything around it boiling beneath his surface. Your sincerity and sensitivity was hardly what had initially drawn him to you - he loved that you'd always been willing to tell him your mind without a care to whom you were speaking, even himself included at times. "You would know that I preferred you this way if you spoke to me yourself more often instead of sending your little spy."

Suddenly you understood the meaning of the phrase "devilish grin" in a new light.

"Do I detect jealousy, my dear?" he purred as he leaned down toward you again, his breath tickling the back of your ear and neck and his claws dug into your hip slightly. You tried to ignore the flare of heat within you, unwilling to admit it fully quite yet. "A flicker of envy, so very subtle but clear."

You huffed and rolled your eyes in response to his taunt, annoyed he could think of a rhyme so quickly and a charming one at that, and even more annoyed that it worked. Bards.

"Korilla does not enjoy the same…benefits you do," he continued when you offered nothing in response but the puff of air, a reticent hum vibrating in your chest as you raised the cool glass to your lips to take another drink. Your eyes met his in the mirror again as you realized how long they'd been focusing on his hands, allowing your gaze to stay connected as you continued to drink.

Of course, he was hardly one to leave a silence unfilled for long.

"And what of my own feelings?" he questioned, the twitch in his jaw accentuating the frustration behind his words that he was trying to tame. "So many people you meet these days and you haven't shared with a single one where you get your power…"

It was hard to focus on a conversation like this when his claws were now grazing lower down your thigh, red lines painting your skin the evidence the Cambion's claws had been there. In the mirror you could see how he lovingly soaked in the sight of each new mark - of each new claim of his territory. You'd have far more decorations from him by the time you returned to your own camp.

"What am I supposed to think other than you're ashamed of me?"

"No," the rejection of his insinuation came from your lips faster than any reply you'd given before by far, a fact that ticked his lips into a slight smile. Though the two of you teased anda taunted one another often, you were always well aware of the line before you stepped over it. "They wouldn't understand."

"They don't have to understand…they have to respect. Besides, it's not their soul to be bothered with, and you're hardly the only warlock in your little party."

"But they won't. With the Blade of Frontiers it is different…he had no choice, not really. I did - I could've chosen anything else…anyone else. And I chose you."

"Then you will make them."

You could hear the commanding tone he rarely needed to take with you begin to form in his words, a low grumble rumbling against your chest as he spoke. At this point you knew what little remained of his patience was so close to slipping away completely - but you still couldn't stop yourself from testing those tempestuous waters just a bit more.

After all, he needed you alive just as much as you needed him. Harm too serious coming your way was out of the question, and the proof you could take a bit of pain was in the stories that would be told about you and your adventures for years to come.

"It's just another contract to you. What difference does it make?"

The final impertinent word left your lips as his hand grabbed your chin, applying pressure and encouraging you to face him. He loomed over you in this form - a delicious fact - his skin noticeably hotter against yours as he leaned closer, trapping you between his body and the wall. Flames danced in his eyes, the raging inferno matching the temporary flare of anger he felt ignited in his chest. His grip on your face was resolute, thumb and forefinger grasping so hard your cheeks were squished together.

That would certainly keep you from further insult.

"I am so very fond of you, my impudent little mouse. Can you not see that is so?"

You'd been in many dangerous - increasingly so - situations recently, but the fact this one was one of the most was…invigorating. Invigorating in the same way as when he'd first approached you with a deal, in the way he'd complimented a job well done for the first time, in the way he was overjoyed when you returned from your kidnapping. In truth - because you were not foolish enough to deny what was a plainly writ fact - you were well aware you belonged to him in every aspect of the word. It was fun to test what boundaries a relationship like that presented.

Your heart was thudding against your chest harder and faster by the moment as he continued to regard you, fully aware you couldn't respond to his question through the hold he maintained on your face.

"I will not hear more of your ill-mannered mouth while I am being such a gracious host. You are far from 'just another' anything to me…"

There was a sincerity in his words that shattered any possibility of refute.

"…and I will not tolerate our attachment being hidden any longer."

A threat, or a promise? Both were equally exhilarating in their own way. With the expression on his face - furrowed brows, pinched nose, set jaw, and nostrils flaring with each breath - his feelings toward the situation were written plain on his face. He was done arguing - and you'd be foolish to push it.

"Perhaps I could have a collar fashioned for you that only I can remove."

His hand that still held your waist pulled you closer, a muscular tail winding around your lower legs to hold you against him. One of his legs slotted between your thighs as you pressed to him closer, hands clinging to his upper arms still. His face softened somewhat at the closeness, at the shaky breath that slipped past your lips as your eyes stayed oh-so focused on the way his curved into a wicked grin the more the thought blossomed in his mind.

"One that will burn you should you even try to remove it. Or perhaps better yet, a curse," as he spoke you found yourself drawn closer, entranced by the hardness in his pants that pressed to your waist now, chasing a kiss you weren't certain he'd give. "Or I could use hellfire to brand a symbol of my name beneath your eye - small enough not to ruin your beauty, large enough that everyone who sees you knows that you are mine."

He released his hold on your face only to drop his hand lower, lightly gripping your neck in a silent show of power. He regarded your expression carefully for any sign of distress and only grinned wider when he instead found observed your blown pupils and parted lips, his fingertips soaking in your accelerated pulse beneath them.

The fire in his tone sizzled for a moment, still lingering in each word but not quite as fearsome as even just a moment before. Sweet, almost - if you didn't know any better to see through the charm.

"Swear to me anew," he cooed, his thumb rubbing along the side of your neck as he spoke, eyes gazing at you with an expression that could only be described in adoration. The most temperamental volcano, fury subsided as fast as it'd come. When there was an offer to be presented, he could truly be oh-so-sweet. "An amendment to our existing contract. You are not to hide that we are joined together, or you will face consequences that will last forever."

Did it matter if you even truly had the option to refuse him when all you wanted to do was please him again? The proposition of more appreciation, the promise of his praise. That fact alone was enough to ensure your answer before you'd given it.

You nodded in understanding - specifics beyond what he'd stated weren't needed to convey the weight of his words.

"On one condition."

The bravery again - though your voice was more meek as you rightfully walked the fiery embers before you, navigating what you knew could still erupt again if you pressed too much harder again. To prove your point his eyebrow raised in annoyance, nose threatening to scrunch upward in frustration before you elaborated.

"We seal this contract with a kiss."

An expression that had almost been rage morphed into perplexity before a laugh burst from his chest, your mind lost in the sound and the view of his fangs, thoughts wandering somewhere fittingly sinful for your surroundings.

"And you talk about my theatrics."

Despite his taunting he brought you closer with his iron grip on your waist, the hand holding your neck still sliding up to your cheek as his thumb claw grazed along your bottom lip in passing. He looked at you like a child receiving a new toy, regarded you with an adoration often seen in temples.

And then, though there was still a subtle laugh shaking his chest, he held you reverently as he angled his head toward you. The rest of his expression as he approached would go unnoticed as your eyes slipped shut, holding your breath in anticipation…which he exploited for just a moment longer than was necessary before he finally gave you what you both wanted.

Your lips met like the strike of a match - the spark between flint and stone. It burned like frostbite and was over just as soon as it'd begun, taking your remaining breath with it.

It was a purr that rumbled in his chest as he ran his nose along your jaw that reminded you to breathe, his lips pressing a kiss over a pulse point on your neck pulling a gasp from your lungs as his hand slipped down the other side of your neck. Holding you like an artifact his fangs teased the skin on the spot for a moment as his grip on your waist tightened further, the tips of his claws threatening to break skin.

He withdrew before his composure melted, filling his chest with a deep breath to bring himself to full sense again.

"Come. I'm far from through with you, but you truly do need a bath."

It was…nice, which didn't quite seem wholly appropriate considering who he was and the fact the atmosphere had been threatening and tense only moments before. He sank into the tub first, motioning for you to join him by taking place between his legs. There was a voice in the back of your mind reminding you that all of this was because he wanted something - everything possible from you, and that he knew the best way to reach his goal was to manipulate.

The fact you were aware of it did little to stop you from enjoying it.

He made sure he ate and drank in a silence you didn't know he was capable of as his hands made work cleaning your body, a bath in the House of Hope proving to be a lavish experience as the water remained pristine and hot no matter how long it went on.

*(Though, it certainly could've just been the heat between your bodies sustaining the temperature).

It was the first time you'd truly relaxed since a tadpole had taken residence in your mind, the first moment of bliss in days. When his claws found your scalp and scratched against it lightly as he massaged soap into it he earned a thank you in the form of the sweetest moan that just couldn't be held back by your lips. You felt his cock twitch against your back at the sound, an appreciative hum rumbling in his chest.

"My, my…who knew you could sound so melodic, my dear," his tone was best described as a condescending coo, treasuring the way you melted in his hold and couldn't help yourself from being his to play with. "I want to hear much more of you."

One of his hands slipped from your head down to rest on your stomach as the other went even lower to the top of your thigh, pausing still to wait for your reaction. When you leaned your head back against his shoulder and closed your eyes he took his sign, chasing more of a reaction from you by running a single claw softly up your thigh toward your core. The small gasp that fell from your lips wasn't enough, his disapproval noted with a click of his tongue against his teeth. It was impossible to keep silent when one of his fingers connected to your clit, rubbing a swift circle quickly.

The cry that burst from your chest returned the smile to his face, a low laugh filling your ears again as he leaned forward to kiss your neck. Two of his fingers parted your folds as they slipped downward to your entrance, moans falling freely from your mouth you'd forgotten how to close. Taking advantage of the fact he leaned closer to claim your lips, reaching his free hand to hold the back of your head and ensure you couldn't pull away from him.

A dark possessiveness within him considered slipping his fingers into you to feel how your tight walls would grip him, though he knew it meant you would face the consequences of his claws. He could heal you, after all - but you'd always remember the feeling. He'd refrain on that particular thought…

For now.

Instead, he returned his attention to your clit, fingers circling the sensitive nub as his fingers tangled into your hair. He continued to kiss you past what your lungs could take, your eyes opening to attempt to gain his attention. His own eyes remained closed and he only held your head in a firmer grip - no doubt he knew though he couldn't see - and he continued that way until your vision was just starting to blur and your hole was clenching around nothing. Only then did he release you - releasing you fully by pulling his fingers away too - allowing you to take the breath you needed.

So close to the edge of release only to be pulled back away from it. It was a cruelty that made the first sound that left your lips when your breath returned to be a whimper.

"Please," you could barely get the shaking word through your lips, it could hardly be considered speaking when each letter was filled with a whine. "More."

"Now now, you will learn to take what I give you," he cooed, releasing his hold on your head to run the back of his fingers down the side of your face and neck, lightly pushing your head to the side to press a kiss beneath your ear. "With no questions asked. Won't you? You'll have to show me you can be patient."

You couldn't help the whimper that slipped past your lips again, your body singularly focused on its need for more. Your eyes are wide and desperate as you gazed at him, hands reaching to grasp at his thighs and squeeze. "'s not fair…"

Your ears were filled with his boisterous laugh again before he pressed a gentle kiss to your shoulder, allowing his lips to stay against your skin as he spoke.

"Perhaps not for you, but it's perfectly lovely for me," you realized as he spoke that he was having fun, a giddiness in every word that proved it. Unrehearsed, without anger, without practiced intentions. Him. "Finish up in here at your leisure, then join me in the boudoir."

With a snap of his fingers he was gone and the option to beg for more removed you were alone, left to wonder exactly what awaited you when you did join him. The kind of excitement that matched the feelings of fear and anxiety bubbled in your stomach, making your movements a little clumsy as you navigated your way through one last wash of your body.

The feelings remained as you removed yourself from the water, realizing immediately you'd been left with no towel or robe or clothes to utilize on your walk. Feeling a flare of preemptive embarrassment you found your way to the hall, doing your best to navigate quickly as you muttered to yourself.

You were distracted in your search that you didn't notice Haarlep had stalked up to you from the dark after you'd passed until their voice filled your ears. "My, my, aren't you just delicious," he purred, continuing to walk closer toward you when you froze in your tracks. They circled you like a predator circled prey, like a painter studying their subject - it was enough to make your face burn again. "I wouldn't mind slipping into your image for the occasional rendezvous."

"Haarlep."

Their name left your lips as a gasp and they stopped in front of you with a wicked smile, handsome and proud and no doubt every bit as convincing as their Master, if not more. "So you do know me. How flattering."

You were cornered against a wall with one of their forearms resting next to your head, the other grasping your hip in fingers much gentler than the ones they were mimicking. They leaned closer until your lips were brushing together feather light, the anticipation of a kiss lingering heavy in the air and sending your heart rate skyrocketing again.

"Oh, what fun we will have together…"

Their sinful tongue left their mouth to lick the seam of your lips until they fell open, the muscle slipping into your mouth to kiss you fully and hungrily. As you swallowed their spit you started to feel new levels need, the definition of the word insatiable finally grasped in your mind. One of their knees knocked apart your legs as their hand left your thigh, slipping to examine how wet you were and finding their digits slid through your folds with embarrassing ease.

"Mm…but that will be for another time," there was a sincerity in their words that made them so believable and you were certain they were correct about it. "Tonight, your job is to make him a bit more tolerable for the rest of us. Be a good pet and behave, won't you?"

As they sauntered away in a pace that existed to entice you to follow they threw one last wink over their shoulder, pointing you in the direction of where you were meant to go. In a haze you made your way to your destination, opening the doors to find your Patron sitting on the grand bed with glistening satin sheets, lounging back against the headboard with his arms outstretched, waiting for your arrival. He'd covered himself with an expensive robe, the one he'd deprived you of.

The red of its fine fabric matched his burning aura perfectly.

He observed your clumsy movements as you closed the doors with light amusement until the two of you were once again alone, his eyes appreciating your clean form as you walked to the foot of the bed. With a smile he raised a hand to motion you forward with one finger, his features fittingly illuminated by the hellfires that illuminated the room.

He was beautiful. Enticing. This very room could become an easy prison with no locked door if you allowed your resolve to slip.

"Come," he invited in a delicious tone, using one hand to untie his robe and allow it to fall open. He patted his thigh afterward to further elaborate on his instruction, one you were more than willing to follow. "Crawl to me…show me what an obedient, eager little pup you can be."

You did exactly as he told you to, enjoying the feeling of the soft sheets against your skin as you made your way to him. You climbed into his lap and straddled his waist between your thighs, core hovering over his hard and throbbing cock that you now wanted more than logic should reasonably allow. He felt how wet you were when your thighs made contact with his skin, breathing in deep to take in the scent of your arousal.

"My, my, how very eager you are," he spoke of you as if he was being presented with the meal of a lifetime. It made you feel desired in ways you weren't sure you'd be able to experience with anyone else for the remainder of your life. "I have to wonder, did my naughty toy find you along the way?"

You nodded, the only response you found yourself capable of, grinding down against his waist in a way that allowed his length to slip through your folds and spread your slick. His hands grasped your hips to follow your movements, chest vibrating against yours with a quiet purr as he appreciated your movements.

"Oh, of course they did…sometimes they just can't help it, the sinful thing…"

Both of his hands found their way to your thighs to grab them roughly, not making any effort to be mindful about his claws in places it wouldn't seriously hurt you - something that would become a pattern for the rest of your time together. Under his fingertips he could feel the welts that raised as a result of his scratching, smiling a charming smile as he took in your expression.

Finding you perfectly needy for him he reached one hand to grab your jaw and pull you closer, leaving his face hovering inches from yours. His skin was noticeably hotter against yours now, the undeniable evidence that he was just as effected by your closeness as you were his. His other hand gave your ass a swat to encourage you to raise up on your knees again, licking his lips when he could then reach toward your core and run his fingers through your folds again.

It was easier to feel the arousal he - and Haarlep, now - had earned when you weren't submerged in a tub. His fingers took the distance from your hole to your swollen clit painfully slow, matching the deep inhale he filled his lungs with along the way. Lost in how his hands felt against your body again you hardly noticed his tail wrap around one of your legs to hold you against him tighter, ensuring there was no chance of you climbing off before he'd had his fill.

It was hardly something he needed to do, but the implications of it made the experience all the better for him - and for you too.

"Don't forget to speak to me, my dear," he cooed, no annoyance present in his voice though he was hardly happy he had to remind you as he exercised a bit of patience at your current state. "I simply adore hearing the desperation in your words."

"Please, I need…"

Though he'd requested them your words were cut off as he pulled you against him rougher, pressing his throbbing length up into her core as he does. Your sentence quickly turned into a moan, your hands grabbing at his shoulders so you could cling to him in every sense of the word.

"Do go on."

You hated that his taunting tone sent a shiver down your spine and a hot wave of arousal straight to your core. Your desperation flooded every word that came from your mouth. "I need more," you were begging without having to be asked for it, something he would thank you for at a later time. "Something…a-anything you'll give me."

"Anything I'll give you?"

Was that particular choice of words a mistake? You found you couldn't come to a rational answer as you became lost in the embers of his eyes. You nodded, grinding against him to further your consent and ensure the point was driven home - you wanted him in whatever capacity he'd provide, in any way that would earn you more of his favor.

You hadn't realized your lip was quivering and your eyes were slightly watering out of the desperation but he had, soaking in the sight of you so wanton and lustful for him. It was his favorite look on you by far, and he couldn't resist the opportunity to see how truly indecent he could make you behave.

And all for him.

"Then prove to me you deserve it. Prove to me you're worth the effort from me and then I will prove to you that you are mine."

You only leaned closer to entice him the rest of the distance between you. You reached between your bodies with one hand to grasp his cock and rub it through your folds again, lining it up with your entrance and teasing down onto the tip slightly to test what he'd allow. He raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth to express a thought that disappeared as you began to sink onto him, maintaining the eye contact you knew he loved as you moaned out his name quietly. He forgave you when your eyes fluttered closed to focus on taking his length and girth, your forehead falling down against his shoulder as a heavy breath fell from your lips.

"That's it," he was quick to compliment your efforts to ensure you knew how much he appreciated it, hoping the praise would keep you from giving up. "You can take me. Do not get discouraged…"

Your head nodded as another steady breath left your chest, shifting your hips to find the right angle to take him in. Though his words were honied you knew he was hardly the patient type and to avoid a temper change you pushed yourself onto as much of his length as you could take, finally earning a groan from him that was worth the quick shot of pain that being stretched like this brought. One of his arms reached to wrap around your waist and his other hand found the back of your head, cradling you against his form. His wings soon joined, wrapping both of you in privacy and what felt like the ultimate safety.

Within his wings it would be impossible for anyone who entered to see how well you began to ride him after a long adjustment period, how after several minutes of grinding and shifting and allowing him to pump into you you began to take him perfectly. Though he maintained his hold on your head your lips were finding their way to any place they could reach on his neck, chest, and jaw, eagerly nibbling and licking and sucking - testing if you could mark him like he'd undoubtedly mark you.

He decided you were testing him when you bit into him hard, his surprise announced by a grunt and a squeeze from his hand holding your hip. He gave your hair a tug to pull you upward into a hungry kiss, your moans joining together in the room as your hands grabbed his horns to hold him against you.

This is how he wanted you for him forever.

As your tongues danced your movements slowed, his hands meeting on your upper back to press your chest closer to his. Allowing you a partial breath he pulled away from the kiss to watch your face twist in pleasure as his claws dragged slowly down your back, pressing harder the lower they reached as he experimented with what you'd allow. You were eager to prove exactly what he'd requested - you could take what he would give.

His own head dropped to claim one of your breasts in his mouth, his tongue circling your nipple and flicking the nub several times before he changed his efforts to suck hard enough to bruise, glad he could stay here without a real breath for longer than what you may have previously experienced. He only pulled away to bite a mark into the soft flesh that immediately spilled some blood - as you continued to ride him exactly how you liked you either didn't notice or you didn't mind, either of which were fine by him.

"Very good," he purred, remembering how well you normally responded to his praise. He was thanked by a quiet moan and your walls tightening, fluttering around his length as he struck just the right cord in you. "Should I allow you release before I have my way with you?"

You were nodding before his sentence was fully complete and begging incoherently as your face buried into his neck again, continuing to lavish the skin with kisses. Your thighs began to shake at the mere thought of release, at how it would feel to gush around his length and how he would moan feeling you constrict him.

Whatever words he chose to give you permission were not fully understood, only their intent mattered. Though he wanted to pump into you at his own pace he allowed you to find release in this position yourself, happy it didn't take much longer for your walls to clamp around him and your head to throw back in ecstasy, your screams undoubtedly filling every wall in the house despite the closed door.

He held you down on his length as you spasmed through the high, enjoying the feeling of your body against his and focusing on how you felt held in his arms. He was always going to take what he wanted from you after you'd found this release but the longer he soaked in how small you were against his frame the more his own carnal desire began to take over his thoughts, a feral need building that wouldn't be long ignored.

"You have hold of me like an addiction," he breathed out heavy, shifting his hips beneath you - earning a whimper - wondering how much you'd truly be able to take. "So…unh…tight…"

Before you had fully returned to your senses he was pushing you onto your back, staying inside you with little effort and pinning you down with one hand on your stomach. His other hand rested at the base of your throat with his forearm beside your head, and just as your mind began to fathom how dangerous the position you were in was he kissed you slowly, silencing reason once again.

You could feel how sensitive you were as he pumped his length into you a few times - slowly to test your reaction. He pulled away from the kiss to examine your face, finding it filled with pleasure and overstimulation - traces of pain were there but you gave no indication he needed to stop.

"Do you think you can take what I will give you?"

His lips moved against yours sensually as he spoke, and you opened your mouth to answer for only a sob to be released. Instead you just nodded, hoping it would be enough in the circumstances and looking into his eyes with a pleading expression. He pressed a kiss to your bottom lip and pushed every inch you could take into you roughly, earning another sob that was muffled as he bit into your bottom lip enough to cause it to swell. He pulled away from the action with a wicked grin and savored your expression for a moment longer before this position came to an end.

He pulled out of you slowly, moving to stand next to the bed. In your haze you listened to him give you instructions to get on your knees and elbows, instructions you followed hastily on shaky limbs as he stroked his length watching you obey. When you were finally presenting yourself to him exactly how he wanted he mounted behind you, still grasping his length in one hand as his other reached forward to circle your dripping hole with two fingers.

"Precious. I will try not to break you."

His fingers were gone and replaced with his cock swiftly, his restraint gone as he thrusted in as far as he could, still trying to press further when he reached the end and smiling when the most beautiful cry filled the room from you. He groaned out deep as his hand found your stomach, pressing against it to hold you upward, reaching his other hand to slip the fingers that were coated in your slick into your mouth.

"So small beneath me," he breathed out, leaning forward to press a kiss over one of the red welts he'd created on your back. He engulfed you in this position, you were at his complete mercy - all hope of being anything but his ever again gone. He would never give you up. "On your knees for me. Just where you should be."

He forgot to be somewhat gentle with you as he thrust into you at a feral pace - or perhaps he just didn't care how little you were able to move when he was through. He continued to kiss your neck, shoulders, and back in any place he could reach, his teeth marking your skin anywhere he could manage. His claws were just as helpful in regard to marking you, reaching to scratch at your thighs and back - until he focused his hand's attention on your ass, spanking and scratching and grabbing roughly as proved to give him additional leverage as he pounded into you.

He was already obsessed with the way you took him with moans and cries while ensuring you stayed in the position he'd molded you into, eyes transfixed on how your tight hole took his length. When this whole Absolute ordeal was taken care of at your hands, he'd happily take this sight every day.

"Look at you just taking me," his voice was shaking now, matching your legs once again. His hand left your stomach to squeeze your throat, accentuating the fact that you were truly just taking whatever he would give. "And you do it so well, you sweet thing."

Content with how marked you were for him his hands instead grasped your waist in the gentlest grasp he'd offered yet, not quite matching the ferocity at which he pounded into you. Through blurred vision you were half aware of the familiar figure that slipped into the room through the shadows, the incubus unable to keep away witnessing what was filling the House with the irresistible sounds of flesh smacking against flesh.

You didn't know if Raphael noticed - you didn't care. You doubted a complaint would be heard if you offered one, and they would leave after you'd reached your release and they'd heard your euphoria anyway.

(Though you did momentarily hope that sinful tongue they'd offered earlier could be put to a better use, though you knew your body would be spent by then).

"Give me another," he ordered, feeling how your body was tensing up again at the threat of release, eager to feel you snap again. "And I want to hear it…"

He reached to rub your clit again at a speed that matched his thrusts, eager to feel how tight you'd squeeze him when you came undone, already intoxicated by the way your velvet walls were fluttering around his length. He was taking what he wanted from your body at a roughness that would no doubt leave bruises for you to feel on the road to Baldur's Gate - he certainly wouldn't heal marks that were a gift from him covering your back and neck and causing you to walk with a limp that so clearly displayed you had coupled with him.

He let you fall to the bed fully, only finding he was able to pound into you harder as you laid flat on your stomach. Unwilling to have you pass out he grabbed your hair on the back of your head and pulled hard enough to force it back so you could continue to breathe, leaning his torso over yours until he could twist your head and claim your lips in a rough kiss. He was hungry - feral - fully lost in himself as he chased his own pleasure, releasing all inhibition as he found his release. The only warning it was coming was the sloppiness that overtook his thrusts as the end neared, a growl rumbling in his chest as he pulled away from your lips to instead bite into your shoulder.

His seed was molten as it filled you, overflowing past his length. As his release filled your womb his teeth broke your skin and he tasted your blood as he was lost in his pleasure. He'd crave its flavor that was entirely you just as often as he'd crave claiming your womb now, knowing the mark would show you were his.

He continued to pump into you slowly several more times, holding you still as you squirmed and whimpered from the overstimulation, hearing the shake in your breaths and sweet sounds that proved to him you were crying. When he decided to pull out completely his chest shook with a quiet, dark laugh, finding a comfortable position straddling over your ass. His hands were loving in the way a curator's were with art, running over your scratched and bitten back adoringly for several moments, fingertips tracing the marks that would last the longest. He leaned down to press a kiss to a particularly possessive bite mark before removing his weight from you, rolling you to your side to to check that you were still capable of coherency.

You blinked up at him with glassy eyes, tear-stained cheeks proving he had been right about your tears. He leaned to press a single gentle kiss to your forehead as he pulled the blanket over your weak body. Selfish of a creature as he was, he was still capable of some semblance of aftercare - though that was it, it was enough from someone like him to someone like you.

"Well done, my dear. A wonderful demonstration of your devotion to me."

This praise - this tone. The very reason you'd do anything he asked, become anything he needed you to become. Anything he asked of you in a moment like this you'd provide. Part of you wondered how long it would take for him to exploit that fact.

"Next time you've behaved for me I will have Haarlep join us. They can lick my seed clean from you as I watch how you look beneath me."

(You'd think more on that particular promise later, when your mind was capable of wrapping around anything other than Raphael's finger again).

His new tone was undeniable and impossible to ignore, the reverence steeping every syllable enough to drown in them. Appreciation, worship. It was difficult to decide if being beneath him or hearing this newfound depth of praise was more fulfilling. You nuzzled closer to him still just barely conscious, physically submitting to the exhaustion that overtook every inch of yourself.

You nodded your head lazily in agreement before burrowing your face in his neck, enjoying the familiar scent of cherries, musk and sulphur that had come to mean power and protection to you. If you were lucky those sinful notes would linger in your senses in the coming day.

Though he was far from one to cuddle, he wasn't one to complain when presented with any show of mutual adoration from you, and he allowed his tail to drape across your legs in a subtle concession to your own desires.

Beyond that, he was still, but he was content.

"Rest," you were intoxicated with this voice, one you couldn't help but wonder how few beings had heard it, one free of any performance - honest, soft. "You will need it before you continue your journey. When you wake you'll be in camp with your cohorts, and when you reach the city again you will return to me."

In your last moments of consciousness, you remained his eager little pup.

masterlist. baldur's gate III masterlist.

Raphael always keeps a close eye on you. It doesn't matter if you are lounging in a wooded grove or cutting down cursed ghouls. He just needs to know what you're up to. That is why he insists on seeing you on any of your journeys, even the blandly mundane. 

Maybe that's why he is here watching as you pick through cabbages... Raphael would much rather watch you pick through bloody pockets, but beggars can't be choosers…

You're completely unaware of the fact that he is watching you; it's not until he comes closer than the whiff of cherries and embers waffs to your nose that you get a clue to turn and look over at him. When you finally notice him, he almost poses, an apple to his lips. He keeps his face turned so you can take in his sharp profile.

In his mind, you're completely smitten with him at this moment. In actuality, you're wondering where he got that apple.

"Looking for something delectable, my mouse?" He says, letting his eyes roam over you; even in your rags, he's enamored by you; why? He's not sure himself. Maybe it's your charm, your headstrong nature... 

"I keep looking, but nothing looks appetizing at all..." - or it's the fact you ignore all of his clear advances, and you give him nothing...

It's been like this from the beginning; you're always cool and never fall for his flirting or anyone. Raphaels tried everything, from flirting like a poet to practicing his words as you trail up the roads. To show off his devil form and have Haarlep flounce about to tease you. He even put himself in a freezing river to tempt you once, but nothing. 

Now, here he is, carrying your bags back to your home. It's ridiculous to be reduced to this, but he's out of ideas at this point. As you two walk, he keeps looking over at your face, where you look so peaceful. You are not even bothered by him showing up and insisting on walking you home.

Others fear and shudder at him and his words, but you're so airheaded!

Eventually, you two reach the steps of your house. You offer Raphael a smile and thank him for carrying your bags (that was quite the surprise). Before you can go inside to start cooking, you feel hands sliding against yours. 

Lifting your brow at Raphael, he has that smug grin slowly becoming all too familiar. "Won't you invite me inside?" -That's not what you expected?

"Why?"

You watch as his grin stays, but then his eye twitches. Then, in a burst, he's huffing and waving his arms in dramatic fashion. 

"Damn it, you're dense! How can anyone be this dense! Can't you see I want you!" He scoffs, folding his arms, "Mortals..." 

Shocked, you tilt your head at him, thinking of all your past encounters, "You like me?"

"Yes, against my better judgment, I do..." he pouts, and you can't help but giggle.

"Oh, now your laugh-"

"I want to come back later for dinner," you say with a smirk, and Raphael folds…

Haarlep

Being an incubus can be hard, having to make sure you are seducing people well enough to get fed. Then there's the issue of having to keep Raphael's self esteem up most days... Honestly it's exhausting... Thank the hells that Raphael has the rejuvenation bath so conveniently placed. Hookah in hand and letting the steaming turquoise water softly lap at their skin, Haarlep is ready for a relaxing soak. Then a familiar voice... and suddenly everything gets better... 

Lazily, Haarlep looks over their shoulder and flashes their pointed teeth at you with a wide grin. "And what brings the mouse right to the cat's maul?" You smile, keeping your eyes only on theirs as you crouch down, lightly touching the water with your hand. "I had to see a fox about an item."

Haarlep hums slowly before taking a drag from the Huka and slowly letting the smoke fill the space. "He can be very taxing to deal with... Care for a soak to get your energy back?"

You ponder the proposition momentarily... and you just can't find a reason to say no... While rounding the bath, you strip off your garments, ignoring the blazing eyes drinking you in. You sink into the warm water on the opposite side of Haarlep.

Haarlep spreads their knees wider, "So far away, mouse, how will I reach you from there?" 

Closing your eyes, you lean back, sinking in further as the water works its magic. You're so lost in your steady breathing and the sounds of the pouring water that you fail to realize Haarleps' steady approach. 

 "And why would I be so close?"

A looming shadow comes over you as Haarlep’s large stature looks down at you.

"So I can wash you... or other various things I know how to do with my hands..." A small chuckle leaves your lips.

"Wash me? Aren't you relaxing as well?

Haarleps' tail twitches, but they try not to let it show. Either you're not interested (which they doubt), or you're the most oblivious person in the world. 

Haarlep leans down dangerously close to your lips, "I couldn't imagine a more enjoyable task, dove…"

Your eyes widen, and Haarlep hopes it finally clicks and you let them finally taste you...

"Do you not have any hobble's Haarlep?"

Haarlep slumps...they could drown you…

"Wow, you truly are resilient. You have a lover back in your realm?"

They watch as you tilt your head, confused again, "Why would I?"

Suddenly, it clicks, and Haarlep brings their eyes back to you with a new hunger, "Oh? Well, are you willing to let me show you..." They softly caress your jaw, waiting patiently for you to nod before leaning in and capturing your lips. 

Then suddenly, you're in their lap...

Cal

It's the best night you have had in a while, drinks, dancing, and all your friends here at the tavern to have a stress-free time and catch up.

You don't get much time to chat because all night, you have been spun about the dance floor. You would have minded if he was a lousy partner, but you have found Cal is quite the dancer. Admittedly, you're not the best dancer, but with all the turns, spins, and lifts he does with you, you can get away with not being as good.

Cal gives one last turn as the song ends, and the smile you two share can't be helped. "You're getting better," he compliments as he leans into your ear, so close you can feel the sheer heat of his body. 

"Well, you have been giving me a lot of practice tonight," you smile back, before suddenly a tug on your arm makes you turn.

Turning back, you see an annoyed-looking Astarion, "You two are both adorably insufferable; now we are stealing them for a few songs. You should entertain

your... fan club?"

Cal looks confused for a moment before turning and seeing some doe-eyed girls waiting to ask him for a dance. Of course, Cal gives them a shy smile and turns back to you before you're pulled away. "Save me the last dance?"

"Just come find me!" You shout back and hear Astarion groan before bringing you to where your friends gather.

"Finally, I was able to pull you away from lover boy, eh?"—lover boy? Confused, you look over at Cal, who's dancing with another, but his eyes look over to you with a sweet smile.

"Cal just likes to dance."

Astarion scoffs, "Are you an idiot? Poor guy has just been trying to court you for weeks."

You look at your companions, who collectively nod, "Really?" Your question is still unclear. 

Gale walks over, placing a hand on your shoulder, "The staring, the sighs, the lingering touches, and finding any way to spend time with you? Sounds like he is completely smitten, my friend."

You look back at the tall tiefling and feel that familiar rush in your chest. "Could that really happen? Be what that all means..."

"Yes! Now go either put him out of his misery or kiss him. We are all tired of this, will they, won't they!" Astarion laments as Shadowheart and Karlach nod. 

When you decide what to do, you feel a familiar warmth, so you gently grab your hand. Of course, it's Cal smiling down at you.

"Can I steal you again?" he asks timidly. You give your companions one more look before answering, 

"You can steal me away anytime you want."

Dammon

It wasn't anything from the ordinary, you had read one of Dammons books and were returning it. Then while you were dropping off the book Dammon surprised you with a question.

"Did you want to grab dinner?"

It may have surprised you but you always enjoy his company, he's funny and charming, plus those eyes… so of course you said yes. The whole night conversation flowed easily, it was always like that between you two, always so relaxed and calm. Though as you two walked underneath the stars talking about any and everything you couldn’t help but feel like this was… kind of romantic…

As you two walked down the dusky streets you noticed how Dammons hand kept brushing against your’s. Maybe he just has no spacial awareness? You decided not to say anything to spare him from any possible embarrassment.  The night comes to a close as you walk up your steps but before you can disappear through the door you feel Dammon finally grab your hand with that calm smile of his. 

Dammon smiles, squeezing your hand lightly. "Maybe on our next date we could stay in and read together..."

Your heart skips and you pause, "Wait... this is a date?"

Dammon pauses as well, looking at you with wide eyes and starts to fidget, "Um yeah... did you not want to go on a date with me?" 

Panic shoots through you, "No no! I just... didn't realize... If I knew, I would have worn a better outfit."

Dammon leans down and cups your cheek before whispering in your ear, "If you don't like your outfit we could continue this without it on..."

With that cleared for you to understand…

You invited him inside.

Rolan

The shine of the shimmering colors never fails to put a smile on your face. Though many would argue that a wizard's spells are always the same no matter who's casting... Rolan's spells were different; they always had this additional luster. That must be why these little shows he puts on in front of his shop are always so popular.

Rolan seems to be fed by the adoring applause he receives. The people cheer and clap as the dancing lights float through the crowd, but as everyone watches the lights, your eyes are glued to Rolan. His face has an irresistibly confident grin that only makes him even more handsome. And from the whispers of some people in the crowd, they share this same thought.

You feel a tinge of irritation in your chest. You try to ignore this foreign emotion swelling in you from their leering. These feelings are confusing and in vain. Rolan Wouldn't have these feelings, especially for you.

Swallowing down that bitterness, you continue to watch the show. The claps echo praises, and it all feeds Rolan's ego, and from what he's been through, he deserves it.

While watching him, you feel a sudden hand on your shoulder. Turning, you see Lia with a broad smile, looking up at her Brother. Feeling eyes, she turns to you. "Are you Enjoying the show?"

 "Tell me, is he beaming after all the praise sung to him?"

She considers the question momentarily before responding, "Mm... not like you would think... he only really cares for one person's approval these days." 

You look at her confused, but that only seems to make her grin more. "If you're confused, maybe you should ask him."

That's an intriguing idea—maybe you should. Once the show is over, the crowd dies, and you go off to find the grand Archmage. Of course, he already has a smirk, but when his eyes meet yours, it turns to a full grin.

"The show seemed like another success," you lean in and whisper in his flushed ear. Plus, I hope the person you wanted to impress got to see it..."

Rolan looks at you confused before it clicks, Lia..... He drags his hand down his face, his once happy demeanor now a grimace.

"Oh... So maybe they didn't show..." Your question with sincerity.

Rolan tsk "I swear you are." He stops snapping further; looking into your eyes makes it impossible. "It's you... You're the one who I wanted to... impress. It's for you... It's always been for you."

You're stumped for a moment, "But... Why?" 

Rolan's tail flicks as he steps closer, folding his arms in a huff, "Because... the first time you saw my magic, you praised it, and so I thought I would show more... and how much more I am learning and getting stronger..." 

You briefly take in what he says before looking back into his dark eyes, "Do you think your next show can be a one-on-one?" 

Zevlor

He feels like a hopeless, love-sick fool... Pinning... how long has it been since he's done that? Not since the days he was a young strapping lad. Zevlor thought romance was over for an old man he deems himself to be. Then he met you…

The mere thought of you forces a groan from his throat that he promptly drowns with his ale. Sitting in the tavern at a lonely table away from the crowds, he suddenly feels a presence. Looking up from his glass, he sees a familiar face. Lakrissa?

The pale violet tiefling wears a smirk that he should recognize as a skeem, but he can't care.

"Commander, you look terrible. Another rough day for a pinning heart?" 

Zevlor looks surprised at her before furrowing his brow, "What do you mean?"

Lakrissa scoffs," What do I mean? More ale is needed to finally get it all off your chest. Zevlor gives her a confused gaze, making her roll her eyes, "You're pining for Tav because you like them!" She finally snaps.

Zevlors jaw drops as he blinks at her, "How did you discover that?"

You would be blind not to see that...

Zevlor returns his drink to his lips," I suppose it would be hard to hide my admiration for them."

"So why not confess?" Lakrissa leans in with a gloating smirk. He's old enough to know she's baiting him, but in his state, he can't care, so he lets his thoughts flow. 

"They don't need an old man running away with his feelings for them. I, however, can not help my feelings of admiration." He pauses for a moment. "Actually, it's deeper than that. I love them." 

Lakrissa's eyes darted around the tavern before returning to Zevlors, waiting for him to continue.

"From the moment I met them, I knew I would fall in complete devotion to them. I would do anything for them, love them till my last breath... Maybe that's just the thoughts of a hopeless romantic."

A sudden gasp and two giggles make Zevlor stop his lamenting and look behind him. He sees Alfria looking as smug as her girlfriend. Next to her, Tav looks as shocked as him.

From the look on their face, it's clear that they are listening to every word. They must be embarrassed... most loth him…

Before he can apologize and escape, he is halted by the sudden lips on his face. The body knocks him to the ground as desperate hands caress each other's faces, and lips seal an unspoken promise of devotion.

Lakrissa smiles at Alfria before holding out her palm. Alfria giggles before. Handing over a piece of gold. 

"Still can't believe you guessed they would jump his bones."

“Haarlep.”

That stern, musical voice cuts like a knife through the washing pleasure she had been so lost in. Ice jolts down her spine and suddenly it feels like someone has turned on the lights. The body over her freezes much the same, buried to the hilt as she clenches down on him, muscles going taut.

She sees the spark of surprise and fear mould the face hanging over her. She guesses that though she worries for her general well-being and survival in the upcoming moments, Haarlep was no doubt reeling at the thought of being put on the naughty step. Nobody ever let him have any fun in this house. The little mouse had been so easy to catch. So desperate to see the eyes he wore look at her the ways that he had. ‘The master is away. He’ll be gone for so long. Aren’t you lonely, little mouse? He’s lonely too and he’s wanted you for so long. Please give yourself to him.’ He’d promised that it would be their little secret and she’d all but melted before him, climbing across the satin, trembling.

“What little pest has managed to crawl out of my walls and find its way into my boudoir?”

Haarlep had promised that he’d let her go long before Raphael was due to return. “don’t worry” he’d said, “give me your trust. You’re perfectly safe with me.” Gods, she was going to haunt him. What a little shit. She did know, however, that he is clearly as caught off guard as she is.

The sounds of Raphael’s polished shoes clack across the tiles near the entrance.

The timbre changes as he reaches the oak flooring and she feels like she could faint, like her mind is floating above her and watching the scene from some detached place. A sigh.

“My fine cormyrean sheets, Haarlep!” He sounds appalled. “Do you know how much they cost, you animal?”

The little demon spawn stays in place, back facing him but tail flicking in obvious unease.

“Thousands. I won’t bore you with exact figures, harlot, as you’ve never been particularly apt in finances…or general intellectual engagement. So, let me ask you again, what little pest have you caught and defiled now? Gods they’re absolutely saturated. You’ve torn them too!”

She could feel her breathing quicken as his rage seems to rapidly increase.

“Hup, hup, Haarlep. Go sulk in the corner. I’m sure you’ll just drown in remorse while I clean up this mess. I’ve had a busy day, you know, and now I have to throw away your leftovers and order new sheets, too. Can a man not relax in his own forsaken house? Is it too much to ask for?”

The is tap, tap, tapping his foot on the ground is motivated, no doubt, by the unavoidable headache that he’d be forced to soothe with a glass of vintage later.

Haarlep begins to lean backwards, his eyes glued to hers. He was curious, excited to see what she was going to do but she could see that he was also silently pleading with her to act very carefully, for both of their sakes. She feels herself flush in humiliation as she loses the physical and psychological shield of Haarlep between them and as much as she desperately wants to curl into a ball and hide, her limbs remain frozen in place, her body completely detached from her thought and command. This was more than she could handle.

The incubus detaches from her and the air catches in her throat as he pulls out completely from her clenching hole, swollen lips left empty and drooling. Another breath catches in the air, but it’s not her own. She wishes she could sink into the sheets and disappear. Part of her is half tempted to just roll off of the bed then under the frame, never to come out again. Nevertheless, she still does not move. Her eyes glue themselves to a small crack in the ceiling above her and her face is slack in shock. Her hair is wild and splayed around her, her legs spread from accommodating their recent guest, her dumb and vacant face flushed a scandalous shade of crimson.

From her peripheral, Haarlep tries to scamper off, tail between his legs, but he’s stopped by his master raising one hand at him, eyes still glued to the little mouse on his bed.

His other hand snatches towards her, latching to her chin and he glowers down his nose at her in his own shock. She refuses to shift her gaze, focussing hard in every detail of the splintered paint above. He jerks her head left and her vision spins then fills with the detailed threading on the edges of his doublet and the hatched material of his trouser legs. He jerks to the right and her visions swims again, filling with stained glass and hazy walls as her other cheek meets the bed. He stands over her like this for some time and she is thankful to be facing the opposite wall as her eyes well in fear. She’s unsure what he plans to do as he continues to ponder her, simmering.

“Haarlep.” She can hear the effort behind the barely collected tone.

“Please, tell me that I’m mistaken. Please, tell me that you didn’t actually suck the soul right out of my most valuable investment. Please,” his voice cracks slightly, “tell me you didn’t just ruin everything everything I had worked so hard for.”

“Master-“

Before the incubus can interject again, Raphael’s claws seize him and suddenly he’s careening. He’s marched blindly backwards under the cambion’s grip, as the rant continues.

“You had one job, not to get meddle. Not to ruin this one thing. I swear I shall send you back into the rotten abyss you crawled out of.”

Haarlep’s legs meet the balcony ledge and he stumbles and plummets over the edge with a yelp. Raphael does not wait to watch his descent and turns back into the room. Stopping again at the edge of the bed.

He stills and heaves a deep sigh, fingers coming to pinch at his brow. He looks again at the mindless doll, all to familiar I shape, on the bed. Her potential was supposed to be so much greater than this. She was the one who would bring him his crown. She could have been his chosen, but there was nothing left. Nothing but her prone form still draped open in mocking invite. He tries to ignore the ache. Tries not to imagine that the invite was for him, that she would have lay so sweet for his craven self.

She knows she should say, do, anything. She screams inside to just start apologising and take the consequences, because there is no avoiding the inevitable but after watching the fate of the incubus, she feels her voice disappear back down her throat and her limbs cement themselves to the silk below. He thinks her to be but a lifeless husk and that was about the only role she felt capable of playing in this moment. He approaches her again and she feels another wave of adrenaline wash over her as he stares down at her, this time his face seems almost defeated. Glum. His eyes search over her. He looks into her eyes. They’re glassy and fixed. They look scared. He doesn’t know what it is that washes over him at the image of her terrified and trapped under the copy of his form as her soul is leeched from her, but he knows that he doesn’t like it. Her cheeks remain rosy, a lurking evidence of her undoing. Her lips are parted in a little gasp. What noises had left them in this very room? Her face looked shocked and horrified, tinged with shame and the remnants of her recent euphoria. Her death mask. From her lips left quick puffs of air but the life that remained in her shell held no more value. His little mouse wasn’t in there anymore. Not in any way that mattered, or so he believes.

With another dramatic sigh, he sags to sit on the edge of the bed, back facing to her. He leans his arms into his knees and considers how to salvage this wagon crash. He could not afford to wallow in childish fantasies and feelings. They never did him any good. She had disappointed him, immensely. He knows not of why she’d come skittering to his house but she’d found her end here none the less. His house was not built to cater to her meek nature. It was done now. He can not stop thinking, however, about what had led her to sneak behind his back and play with his toys. He couldn’t stop that nagging voice in his head reminding him that regardless of her reason to poke around, she’d been distracted by the fiend wearing his visage. She’d been lured in by the promise of laying under him. She was so willing to give herself, and she’d done so with such reckless abandon that she’d let a lowly fool like Haarlep steal her soul. She’d come into his sanctuary and used him without permission. Was she really so desperate? Did she share his hunger?

A wicked thought crosses his mind. He would dispose of her, as was the right thing to do, for it brought him no honour to keep her this way. It was sacrilege. She was, however, right here. She was gone by all means, but her body was still warm and willing. There was nothing to stop him using the carcass of her form as she had used his. It was harmless. Nobody would ever even have to know. She’d be his little secret and then he’d finally rid himself of her once and for all. Rid himself of the hold she had on him.

The screaming in her head falls silent in horror as she feels the bed dip and weight of him straddle her hips. He kneels over her, eyes flicking around, trying not to meet hers. He feels like she is watching him from inside herself. It is almost like she is still there and it makes him feel an uncomfortable twinge of vulnerability.

He brings one claw up to her mouth, pressing it over the curve of her lips and lets it push past, pressing against the ridges of her teeth. He pulls her mouth open, slackening her jaw down as far as he could until it resists, then eases his clawed finger back inside. The tip of certain scratches along the walls of her mouth, over her tongue, and her eyes bulge as it dips down and slips into her throat. She knows that she should stop it right bloody now before it goes even further but a coward she certainly is and she can’t even perceive facing his wrath right now. Her mind continues to feel locked behind the safeguarding of shock and fear, not able to pilot her body to do anything helpful. Her hands twitch at her sides but it escapes his rapt attention in testing her mouth. His face twitches slightly as her throat contacts slightly around his appendage and she realises he is palming himself, his knuckles occasionally bumping her stomach as he works his freed cock.

He plays around with her like this until his fingers come back soaked and stringing with her saliva as it pools - there’s a lump in her throat and she can’t seem swallow.

He clambers up the bed, hanging over her to grasp the headboard, and the intricate detailing of his doubled fills her vision again. She sees him staring down at her from above her point of focus. She tries think about anything other than his face. She swears she must be dreaming, losing her grip on sanity, as her she feels something heavy and hot press it’s weight onto her tongue. He presses the crimson, tapered tip of his cock into her mouth, feeling the wet cavern widen even further to allow him to slide inside. He hears her breathing change as she sucks air through her nostrils and he hears her heart thrum rapid like a rabbits. He supposed there had to be a little life left in someone with such a fate to make them enjoyable, and enjoy you he will. He releases his breath in audible groan as your sloppy, drooling mouth encases him.

Moving his hands to either side of her face, he cradled her skull and began to pump his hips, the muscles of his thighs jerking and jumping with each jolt of pleasure. He lets her gurgle around him at his lazy pace. He is in no rush. He at least deserved some kind of consolation, did he not? Tears crave tracks down her cheeks as he continuously plugs her throat, his cock pulsing in warning.

All at once he is gone from her and she next feels her awareness creep back to her as his hands take hold of her, behind her knees, and her legs are pushed towards her shoulders to expose her fully to his gaze. She hears his ragged breathing as he takes her in. The bud of pink blooming between the soft fat rolls of her labia. He uses his thumbs to part the puffy lips and his cock jumps in anticipation. He drinks her in. A flush, swollen nub perched between a tiny, fluttering pink hole. She is still leaking from her previous partner. The sloppy puddle below her still blooms a dark hue on his sheets. He knows if he doesn’t take her now, he’ll talk himself out of it.

With one thrust, he asserts control of his racing thoughts and sinks to the hilt inside of her, feeling his cock bump and press up against the resistance of her womb. Any thoughts plaguing him are gone as his mind draws blank from the blinding pleasure. The numbing release of finally laying claim to her. He hears her hiccup a wail that fades into a mindless keen and her hands ball into the sheets. She feels like her soul really did just leave her body.

He almost finds himself thanking the gods in that moment, hearing the sweet noises she made. At least her body could still give him that. At least she, like Haarlep, could tell him oleander lies while he buries himself inside of her.

He chokes a moan, sucking in breath and releases it in a hissed growl as he draws his hips back, feeling every twitch of her cunt as he slides against the grip of slick walls. He drives forward again, forcing them both further up the bed. A hand at her leg yanks her back down before she can catch her bearings and he pulls her into him , connecting them again as deeply as he can get. She feels like she’s falling - dying maybe. The conscience and guilt that told her to do good and smart things were long gone, lost some time after he’d speared into her with reckless abandon. Any sense was gone. A new voice was seeping through the hormonal concoction she was swimming in. It told her that this was all that mattered. In this moment she was his and it felt better than she’d ever dreamed, when alone at night with her imagination. She can’t stop the rhythmic song of pleasure he pulls from her, the room full with her whines and cries joining his.

Haarlep, for as devastatingly good as he’d been, could not match the ferocity and intensity that fuelled the fiend above her now. His face was twisted in a snarl, his own mouth hanging slack and his eyes locked to the sight of himself splitting her apart. His moans and gasps begin to lower as his hips stutter in their pace. He buries his face into her neck, hips continuing to rock. He inhales deeply, drinking in her scent.

“You silly mouse.” His voice is strained. He sounds close. Underneath it though, she recognises that somber tone.

“I was so close to having you. You were supposed to be mine. I could have given you the world. I would have given you everything.”

He groans as his hips jerk again, his cock pressing something deep inside. It’s all to much and the bubble finally popped. She shudders under him with a wail as white heat floods her senses. He loses it at her sound and the clenching of her strangling at his length. He collapses onto his forearms at either side of her, letting her quivering pussy milk his seed from him.

“I can find another champion, but you, you had been special. I wanted it to be your hands that passed me the crown. I wanted it to be you I shared it all with.” He stays buried inside of as he softens. His voice is a whisper, as if telling a great secret to the empty room. His hand is petting through her hair absently.

She doesn’t know how long he remains, body pressed to hers. The adrenaline is wearing off and she feels like her spirit is slipping back into her aching, exhausted form. She wasn’t prepared to face any of it. She didn’t think she ever would be. How could she even begin to process current events. How the hells would she explain any of this to anyone, least of all him? The concoction of shame and humiliation began to take hold of her again and she starts to plan, fast. He would never forgive her for this. He’d hate her. Why hadn’t she said anything? Why hadn’t she stopped it? She knew the real answer. She hadn’t wanted it to stop, really. She’d take being bounced on his cock over the eternity of suffering he was bound to expose her to as soon as the curtain came up. She just wanted to stay like this forever. Maybe time would stand still, or maybe, she’d simply die from a random heart attack from all of this absurdity and stress. Yes, she decided all at once, she’ll just stay here like this. forever. She finds momentary comfort in her delusions, painting herself a happy future where she never faces the music and gets to stay under him like this, hearing his sweet words and bringing him pleasure for the rest of time. She would be his new toy. He’d treat her so well. It would all be so very nice.

The image is ripped from her as a voice she recognises all to well chimes from near the pool.

“Fear not, master. I have returned unharmed. I wish you’d stop doing that all the time, you know I have wings-“ his voice cuts to an scandalised gasp. “Oh my, and back just in time to play, too!” She can feel Raphael’s tail swish in agitation, but he doesn’t have the energy left to channel his rage. “What an interesting turn of events, I must say! I did so hope that you both would work it out peacefully.” The cambion above her hisses as the bed dips with Haarlep’s weight, he sheepishly prowls the edges of the bed, testing the waters with his grumpy master.

Gods, it’s actually Haarlep! She fills with relief that he’s alive.

“See I knew you’d calm right down once you realised that I didn’t touch your mouse’s precious soul. I played so nicely with her. See, aren’t we all glad it was just a big, innocent misunderstanding?” His tail is wagging happily on the air.

She’s is going to kill him. That little shit. She is going to down him in the pool and throw him back over the balcony rails herself.

“Let me join, master, please! I’ll be so quiet that you won’t even notice me there. Think how good it’ll feel to bury yourself in two of those little holes at the same time!”

She doesn’t dare move, not even brave enough to take a breath as the body above hers stiffens then jerks backwards. Her eyes stay on the ceiling. Stay still. Stay still. Stay still. It’s deafeningly silent.

His voice hisses through the air, threatening and full of disbelief.

“Little mouse?”

Well. Fuck.

He eventually learned how to forge that frothing hatred for his father, his revulsion at the cursed cards he had been dealt with, into a far more superior weapon: knowledge, his greatest strength. Raphael researched, manipulated, and opened up the recesses of his mind to devour the ins-and-outs of the Hells. He painstakingly plotted, weaving his schemes into the very fabric of fate itself, planting the seeds of prosperity for what he hoped would eventually gain him a win.

Despite all Raphael had endured since the collapse of Netheril, the last 6 months had been the most excruciating. Waiting. Watching. Hoping. There was no longer an Archdevil in his path, but a mere mortal. His hunger for power grew rampant as he watched Tav continue to elude him, to harbour the final piece of his victory as she tried to reclaim what was left of her old life. That selfish creature. 

To Tav’s credit, she had been quite remarkable on the battlefield, showcasing her strength and resolve as she smited enemies and climbed through the carnage to her destiny. She left a sea of corpses in her wake, the mortal rubble alone was unlike anything Raphael had ever seen. Out of all the calamities he had been fortunate enough to craft and witness, being a spectator during the fight against the Netherbrain would forever be a highlight.

When the Crown fell into the River Chionthar, Raphael eagerly watched as Tav spent weeks fishing it out, taking her precious time as she retrieved each broken piece of his future. He restlessly stormed the halls of his domain, cursing the woman for attempting such an arduous task alone. He could have aided her, sent in Korrilla as a last resort, but he refused. He would not give Tav the satisfaction, she would have to work just a little more to complete her end of the bargain. Besides, there was something endearing about watching Tav work so diligently, the determination in those eyes reminded Raphael of himself.

The little mouse was Raphael’s greatest investment and he’d be damned if she failed him now, or if he let his sudden affinity for her overtake his true purpose. Raphael’s ambitions for the Crown had somehow intertwined with his infatuation for the woman, and he was just as much to blame.

He had let this farce go on for long enough. Raphael would not stoop so low in his final moments before he rose to glory. Once Tav crowned him, these foolish emotions would cease and he would continue with his grand plan. He was a Devil and he would not let these cursed mortal emotions falter his intentions any longer; he would never allow anything, anyone, to destroy his work. Raphael’s blood, sweat, and tears would not be in vain. 

Cheering suddenly came from the camp as Tav and her companions raised their chalices in celebration. Withers' speech had finally ended, much to Raphael’s delight. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could’ve listened to the monotonous dribble. The monologue was indeed rousing, but Raphael could’ve done better, if given the opportunity. 

One by one, the group of heroes slowly disbanded, until only Tav remained. She made her way around the camp, stopping by each empty tent. It was as if the little mouse was paying her respects, bidding farewell to the ghosts of her past.

When Tav was done she wandered to the lakefront and sat down on a mossy rock, staring into the sparkling evening sky. The light in her own eyes vanished, leaving a dark cloud looming above her. 

Raphael took that as his signal. He quietly removed himself from the cover of the treeline and began his entrance, approaching Tav with a swagger. 

“If it isn’t the hero of Baldur’s Gate. My, how far we’ve come! It feels like only yesterday you fell from the skies, tadpole and all, and began your little adventure; slowly scurrying your way to triumph.”

Tav smiled at the sound of Raphael’s voice, turning to greet him. They locked eyes, her expression brightening. That look pierced through Raphael’s defences with such ease, a slight chill crawling up from the base of his spine. He stopped in his tracks, quickly recovering by placing a hand on his hip. It had been too long since they were alone, when he had last gazed into those cursed eyes. Careful now. 

“Raphael, always the poet.”

“The little mouse is no longer, but now a ferocious lion. Congratulations are in order.”

Raphael gifted Tav with his most flourishing bow, hoping the gesture would distract from his earlier misstep.  

“Now do tell, how does it feel to be the victor? To have saved the world? Is it as the bards have sung?” Raphael rose, taking another step towards Tav. 

Tav merely shrugged, her lips quickly returning to a frown. 

“Dunno.”

“I would have thought a hero to be more eloquent.”

“I'm still waiting for that ‘ah-ha!’ moment, but if we’re being honest tonight, I’m not really sure what it means to be a hero.”

“You will come to understand eventually. It’s the very nature of your existence.”

Tav remained silent, pulling her eyes away from Raphael. She stared down at her hands, studying her scarred palms.

“May I?” Raphael inquired, gesturing towards the available space on the rock. 

Tav nodded and Raphael sat himself beside her, intentionally leaving a minimal amount of space between them.

“You have something that belongs to me.”

“There it is,” Tav said, through a faint laugh, “You know, I was expecting you to come sooner.”

“I’ve often found the best persuasions are the ones that aren't forced.”

Tav looked up at Raphael, her eyes moving over every inch of his guise, stopping briefly near his lips. He was close now, so close. To the Crown. To his objectives. And to that damned woman.  

“May I see the Crown, please?”

Tav smiled, moving towards Raphael. For a split second, Raphael expected a kiss. It was only natural for mortals to attempt such a distraction in times of distress. Infuriating as it was, he wouldn’t have been opposed to such a notion. Tav instead reached down for her backpack lying in the sand, placing it on her lap. 

She pulled open the straps and yanked out the Crown, handling it as if it was but a petty trinket. Raphael suppressed a sigh, he would not let the significance of this moment be soiled due to the mortal’s lack of formality. 

“I managed to reforge it, to the best of my abilities, thanks to the Annals of Karsus. Though I haven't tried it on yet to see if it worked.”

“A wise choice.” 

Tav held the Crown out towards Raphael, but he raised his hand. With a flick of his wrist, the Crown floated out of Tav’s grasp, slowly moving towards him. It was just as beautiful as he remembered, if not more so. It glistened under the moonlight, calling to him. Soon. Very soon. He let the Crown hover, spinning delicately, for a few more seconds.

“Do you need me to remind you of our terms? The deal was that you are to crown me. I would’ve come to you long ago if I could simply put it on myself.”

“Gods. Really, Raphael?” 

“Truly.” Raphael donned his notorious smirk in response.

“Fine, are we to do this here then?”

“I couldn't think of a more fitting location.” 

Raphael rose, walking towards the middle of the lakefront. He snapped his fingers, and a luscious red silk pillow appeared. He shifted it slightly in the sand and bent a knee, preparing himself for the crowning. 

“Come, it is time.” 

Tav stood intending to grab the Crown, but before she could reach it, Raphael beckoned it towards him. Tav quickly followed, positioning herself above Raphael. He raised his head to gaze at the magnificent sight in front of him. The moonlight framed Tav perfectly, she was silhouetted against the dark sky, glowing. The Crown and the little mouse, side-by-side, as it was always destined to be. 

Raphael took a deep breath, closing his eyes. He absorbed the scents and sounds around him; earthy tones, a hint of wetness, mixed with the fresh woodland air. Faint chirping from various insects called out to him, the leaves rustled slightly against the warm summer wind. His heartbeat intensified, growing more rapid, adding an extra drum beat to the night’s symphony. 

“Let’s get on with it then.” Tav spoke. 

Raphael opened his eyes and watched Tav grab the Crown, lowering it on top of his head. 

When the Crown touched his forehead, it reformed itself to accommodate his size, shrinking to provide a snugger fit. It hissed into place and then in an instant, everything changed. 

Pain, pleasure, fear, anger, confusion; every possible emotion tore through his very being. He was ripped in two, three, four… millions of tiny little pieces. His head throbbed with information, so many secrets, so much… he saw and felt everything, what could’ve been, what might come to pass… it was too much. Too much! Too fast! 

He fell forwards, his hands digging, ripping through sand. He was alone, always alone, darkness surrounded him. No. There was light, light flooded in from the top of his skull, projecting into every possible direction. He was the light. He was the dark. He was all-encompassing. 

Raphael screamed, his voice echoing into the abyss around him. He had never read about such a reaction, in all his years of researching, how could he have missed… could it be because… NO. He will tame this. He will persist. He will… 

The sand beneath Raphael turned to liquid as the newfound power continued to surge through his limbs, burning his veins. He tore at his own flesh and bones to rid himself of the agony, but it wouldn’t come to an end. 

“Raphael!” He heard a voice shout, such a familiar tune. But who? He couldn’t quite place it.

Raphael erupted, his devilish wings tearing through the skin in his back. There were flames all around him, growing hotter, thicker. His chest melted, his ears ached from the thunderous explosions. Whispers, whispers everywhere. He heard so many, and the cries, the screams. Would they never cease? 

Something tore at his head, pulling the Crown away from him. The Crown. NO! He cannot lose it again. Raphael raised his hands attempting to fight back, but he was grasping at nothing. It was over as fast as it had begun. There was now silence. 

Raphael’s vision cleared. He was on his back, looking up at the stars. Tav stood over him, holding the Crown in her hands. She eyed him with concern, tears flooding down her cheeks. He raised his own hands, his claws trembling. Raphael tried to think but his mind was vacant, every thought achingly bounced back. His skin burned, bones ached. There were deep lacerations all over his body, his own hands were covered in blood. He gasped, looking at Tav’s body but found no abrasions. He let out a disgruntled sigh. If he had harmed her in his rage, in those brief seconds of failure… would he ever forgive himself? 

Tav threw the Crown aside and helped Raphael to his feet. His eyes followed the artefact as it landed on top of the sand, taunting him still. How?

As if reading Raphael’s mind, Withers' voice cut through the silence as he appeared before them.

“Thou hast succeeded but are not yet ready. Take care that thou are not too hasty, thine pursuits will lead to plights.” There was a long pause as Withers continued staring at Raphael, looking straight through him. He met Withers’ expressionless gaze, waiting for him to continue. “The pattern has been woven and all circumstances interlaced are as fate decided.” 

Raphael never imagined the consequences of his premature investiture. He was always going to reforge the Crown himself, in his own image. How could he possibly trust a mortal to handle such a relic successfully? But in the heat of the moment, and in the fine print of the very deal he crafted, he had opened himself up to carelessness, becoming the very thing he despised.

His eyes darted to Tav, searching the woman for any excuse against his actions but he could only look at her with veneration. He would not blame her for everything. His vanity, eagerness… his obsession for the Crown and that cursed woman nearly brought him to his untimely demise. Let this be a lesson to Raphael to heed his own warnings. The Devil would need to cool his heels in preparation for the battles looming ahead.

Raphael turned to face Withers, but the curious being had vanished. Instead he hummed thoughtfully, looking at Tav. 

She stood next to him, her body trembling. Tav's eyes were fixed on Raphael, still full of worry but there was something else present, another emotion he thought he’d never see from a mortal again.

Tav’s expression sent a sudden stabbing pain through his chest as a wave of nostalgia washed over him. There was another mortal who had once looked at him with the same kindness and understanding. He had buried it deep within his subconscious, but it was rising back to the surface, like a blooming flower. He would NOT allow himself anymore turmoil this evening.

“I owe you my thanks.” Raphael whispered, his voice on the verge of cracking.

“Raphael, I don’t understand, you were nea…” 

“If you value your life, you will hold your tongue. There will be no talk of this moment again. Ever. Have I made myself clear?”

Tav’s eyes widened at his sudden change of tone, but she nodded nonetheless. 

“I must return to my House of Hope. For healing and reflection. There is work yet to be done, as you have borne witness to this evening.” Raphael snapped his fingers, a raging portal materialised behind him. “You may join me, if you so wish.”

Raphael extended his arm, welcoming her acceptance. 

“Would you consider our deal completed then?” Tav asked, apprehensively. 

“You have upheld your end of the agreement, exceptionally well, might I add, bar this evening's hiccup. Now please, let me show you my appreciation.” 

A dash of colour appeared on Tav’s cheeks as she wiped away the remaining tears. She grabbed her backpack, placing the Crown inside. She swiftly reached for Raphael’s hand, squeezing it tightly. Raphael nodded in acknowledgment and led Tav through the portal. 

Raphael, ever the cunning manipulator, devised a plan to isolate Tav from her allies. Employing his most potent illusion magic, he crafted a series of convincing visions that preyed upon Tav’s deepest fears and insecurities. Over the course of several days, Tav began to notice subtle but unsettling changes in her companions—whispers behind her back, furtive glances, and unexplained absences that chipped away at her trust.

The final blow came when Tav overheard a conversation, seemingly between her most trusted allies, where they coldly discussed handing her over to Raphael in exchange for their own desires. The illusion was flawless; their voices dripped with deceit and cruel calculation, leaving Tav’s heart shattered and her resolve hardened.

Convinced of their betrayal, Tav felt she had no choice but to confront Raphael on her own terms, hoping to strike a deal or end the threat once and for all. Fueled by anger and despair, she stormed into his lair, determined to face him. But the moment she crossed the threshold, the illusion unraveled, revealing the bitter truth: her companions had never betrayed her—everything had been a lie, a meticulously crafted trap woven by Raphael. And as the horrifying realization dawned, Tav found herself immobilized by chains and bound by blood to the devil.

That was over a week ago.

She struggled against her restraints, her thoughts a maelstrom of self-loathing and fury, until a familiar scent wafted through the chamber—a sickening blend of sulfur, musk, and the sweet tang of cherries. The master of the house had arrived, relishing the sight of Tav bound in chains, savoring every moment of her torment.

"Why the sour mood, my dear little lamb? I see you’ve found yourself in quite the predicament. Perhaps I could offer a remedy?"

Tav glared at the devil, her wrists and ankles bound in thick, cold chains that dug into her flesh, preventing even the slightest movement. She was immobilized, utterly at his mercy—a fact that filled her with equal parts rage and fear.

"You’re the reason I’m in this predicament" she spat, her voice laced with cold contempt.

"How ungracious" Raphael huffed, crossing his arms with a mock pout. "I wasn’t the one who chose to stray from the path. You had every opportunity to make a different choice, and yet here you are—bound, chained, entirely at my mercy. Did you truly believe I needed your help to claim what is rightfully mine? How could you ever be so delightfully foolish?"

Tav’s eyes narrowed, her voice dripping with bitter defiance. "If you're going to kill me, get it over with. I won’t give you the satisfaction of tormenting me."

"Torment you?" Raphael laughed, a deep rumble from his throat, "I'm not going to torment you, dearest. You have the distinct honor of being the first to serve the Archdevil Supreme of this era —body and soul. I chose you, and you shall serve me well."

Raphael stepped closer, his clawed finger tracing along Tav's jawline with deliberate slowness. She shuddered under his touch, but it wasn’t fear that coursed through her—no, it was something far more insidious, a dark anticipation that gnawed at her resolve.

"Do not fret" Raphael murmured, his voice a low, seductive purr. "I’ll be gentle… if you behave. As I said, this is an honor."

He stepped back, his wings fluttering behind him, and his tail swaying lazily as if in rhythm with some infernal melody only he could hear.

"Kneel" he commanded, his tone leaving no room for defiance.

"I will not—" Tav began, but before she could finish, her legs buckled beneath her. She collapsed to the floor, her knees slamming against the cold stone, the chains clinking ominously as her limbs were pulled taut against her sides.

"Do not defy me" Raphael spoke softly, yet his words carried a weight that pressed down on her like a physical force. His hands remained clasped behind his back, a sly grin curling across his lips. "Good girl."

Tav’s eyes blazed with fury and confusion. "What have you done to me?!" she cried out, her voice echoing off the walls.

"I did nothing" Raphael replied, crouching down to meet her gaze, his tail swaying with lazy arrogance. "You did this to yourself. Your actions brought you here, to your knees, where you belong—begging for forgiveness, for mercy." He chuckled, the sound a cruel mockery that cut through her like a blade. "But I am not in the business of mercy."

"I don’t care" Tav hissed, her voice trembling with suppressed rage. "I will not beg. I will not break. Do whatever you want with me."

Raphael’s eyes gleamed with dark amusement. "Oh, but I will. I will do everything, and more. I will break you, and you will come to love every moment of it. You will be mine. All mine. Mine alone."

With a snap of his fingers, the chains around her ankles vanished, and Tav’s legs moved forward of their own accord.

"Stand. Do not move." Raphael ordered.

Tav rose to her feet, her hands still bound behind her back, her body trembling with a mix of fear, anger, and a growing, unwelcome desire. Raphael stepped closer, his presence overwhelming, and grabbed her hair roughly, his sharp nails digging into her scalp.

"Open your mouth. Wider. Wider" he commanded, his voice low and menacing.

Tav obeyed, her jaw dropping as her lips parted, her tongue visible, wet and trembling. Raphael’s gaze darkened with lust as he licked his lips hungrily. Without warning, he spat on her face, the warm saliva splattering across her mouth and cheek.

Tav recoiled, her nose wrinkling in disgust, but she could do nothing—her body remained frozen in place, her mind reeling from the humiliation and the dark, twisted pleasure that coursed through her veins. His cock twitched with her reaction.

"Now," Raphael murmured, his fingers tightening in her hair, pulling her closer as he gazed down at her with a mixture of amusement and dark desire, "Lick it off your pretty face."

Tav hesitated, her defiance flickering in her eyes like a dying flame, but she could feel her resolve slipping away, crumbling under the weight of his command. Slowly, she extended her tongue, tracing the path of his spit across her flushed cheek, each movement a reluctant act of submission. Her heartbeat quickened, echoing in her ears as her skin burned with humiliation.

Raphael’s chuckle was a low, rumbling purr, his gaze never leaving her face as she continued. "That’s it, my sweet" he whispered, his voice laced with satisfaction. "Savor it"

Tav’s movements became more deliberate, her tongue sweeping across her skin with increasing confidence, lapping up every trace of his saliva. She could feel his eyes on her, drinking in her submission with a hunger that made her pulse race. As she flicked her tongue across her lips, tasting the remnants of his essence, a shiver ran down her spine.

"Good" Raphael purred, his hand releasing her hair to caress her cheek, his touch deceptively gentle. "You learn fast, mouse. Now, let us see how much more you’re willing to do to please me."

Two years. 

That's exactly how long since you left Baldur's Gate, your hometown. 

You reminisce about the past when you decided to escape, as vividly as if it happened yesterday. You had sworn to yourself that you wouldn't set foot in that wretched city again. 

But fate has a whimsical way of playing with your life.

Two years of tumultuous uncertainty, a journey you never thought would happen to your ordinary life. started with surviving the infection of mind-flayers, spreading madness into your brain. You joined forces with other survivors, embarking on an adventure to find a cure. Along the way, you get involved in local troubles, both intentionally and unintentionally. From goblins to witches, demons, and even confronting malevolent gods lurking behind schemes of dominion.

Who would have thought all of this would lead you back to Baldur's Gate once more, with a drastically different role from before.

The hero, the sole hope of the kingdom, defending the city of Baldur's Gate 

Quite amusing indeed. 

You sigh deeply, mocking yourself genuinely. As you follow your gaze along the densely packed houses and shops on both sides of the street, some built with bricks, some with wood, the salty smell of the seaside city mixes with the faint stench of fish stalls and the smoky haze from distant ironworks. The grumbling chatter of the townsfolk invites annoyance but is still pale in comparison to the beggars and street children attempting to pickpocket you at least five times, forcing you to handle it the way the hero of the city should—threatening to chop off their hands if they dared show their faces near you again.

After keeping an eye on the little delinquents skulking away through the alley and ensuring no one would disturb your peace again, you turn your attention back to Baldur's Gate once more, this time with a different sense.

Certainly, overall, the city remains as chaotic as ever. But you find it hard to articulate what you're feeling at the moment. It's like you don't really know and aren't familiar with this place at all, even though Baldur's Gate is your hometown.

You can't pinpoint precisely what is strangely amiss, from the people to the houses and in every square inch of the city. Yet, you sense deep down that there's something unsettling here. It's as if all the malevolence has converged on this city.

Soon, you discover where the root of that malevolence comes from

Sharess' Caress, the most notorious brothel in Baldur's Gate.

You didn't intend to come here to seek sexual pleasure for yourself. But one of the small quests you took on due to financial need is linked to the disappearance of a prostitute, which seems to be connected to the murder case of a prominent priest in the community, as well as the case of explosive-laden donation boxes.  Because The suspicious toymaker also seems to be lingering around this brothel as well

It's suspicious... Why do all the clues from three different cases point directly to this brothel?

But setting aside those minor quests, another interesting thing about Sharess' Caress is the special concoction Drink from the bartender named Hooligan, which has gained fame as the city's signature drink that one mustn't miss. You've never had the chance to taste it before.

Considering the burdensome responsibilities you've shouldered throughout the journey, facing life-threatening situations multiple times, would it be reasonable to reward yourself just a little?

However, bringing companions into the brothel seems somewhat unsettling. So, it might be better to let everyone separate and enjoy some relaxation in the city for a day before regrouping once again. Even though Baldur's Gate may not be the most hospitable place for you, it's still an exciting city for outsiders like Shadowheart, a rural dweller from Moonhaven, or Lae'zel, the warrior from the Githyanki tribe, who comes from Stardock, far away from here. It's not a difficult decision for them to explore the big city rather than drink their heads off in the brothel with you.

The white-painted wooden building may look compact from the outside, but it's much more spacious inside than expected. As it's midday, there aren't as many people in the brothel as you thought. You maintain a composed expression as a woman in a tight-fitting red and green dress with a high slit saunters over to greet you at the counter. Each step she takes reveals smooth white legs intentionally. Her golden, voluminous hair cascades down in waves, and her heavily made-up face resembles a glamorous mannequin, with a full-fledged business-like smile. She introduces herself as 'Mamzell Amira', the owner and madam of this brothel.

“A weary traveller, battered and bruised. You come for sustenance. No —Decadence. A mien cool as ice, yet eyes burning hot. Oh yes, I know your bliss.” She spoke in a melodic tone, akin to singing a song. Her captivating voice effortlessly sent shivers down the spines of those who listened, making them either enraptured or have goosebumps “A sturdy dwarf, a leather whip. She gives - you receive. Or have I misjudged you?”

You almost choked on yourself, having to fake a cough to clear your throat. You were somewhat relieved that your companions didn't come with you, as the current situation was quite awkward.

"I didn't come here for that," you clarified.

Amira raised an eyebrow, slightly surprised by the guest who didn't come for sexual purposes like others. She appraised you once more; Everything about you seemed contradictory—the youthful appearance conflicted with the worldly weariness reflected in your expression, and the luxurious silver brooch nestled in your light-colored hair hinted at your high-class status in Baldur's Gate.

Overall, you didn't quite look like an adventurer, more like one of those noble daughters dwelling on a grand estate. However, the silver-accented armor and the sharp-pointed sword hanging at your waist confirmed your profession as an adventurer quite well.

Nevertheless, there was something the madam was particularly confident about—you have money, and she wasn't foolish enough to let a heavy-pocketed customer like you slip away easily.

"Of course, my dear. We've other ways to fill your void. A drink, for one. A pair of Drows for another. or Devils, for those who desire to be scorched, Choose your sin."

"Devils?" That word struck a chord within you, and your unintentional display of curiosity was quickly noticed under Amira's keen observation.

“Oh yes,  We are blessed to have a devil in residence at the moment—a temporary guest, but he asked that I send any potential clients his way.” 

You listened to Amira intently and silently. With a face hard to read from Amira's perspective, However, the woman still seemed excited, thinking she could successfully entice the customer as she had intended. 

“Everyone who's paid a visit looks quite changed by the experience.” Amira continues to convince you, hoping to stimulate your curiosity even more. The madam was right that you were very interested in this devil, but certainly not out of infatuation or admiration.

This was because you had a strong intuition that you might know this mysterious devil very well. 

There was no point in keeping the doubt to yourself. You took a breath before firing the last question that lingered in your mind, "Tell me, did the devil give you its name?"

The corners of the lips, painted with red lipstick, widened into a broader smile than before as she uttered the name of someone—someone whose name you didn't want to hear most at this moment.

"Indeed, he did—Raphael."

Raphael 

Exceedingly handsome. and with a voice that could make the foulest blasphemy seem the sweetest hymn

Amira mentioned him like that without exaggeration, not even a bit. Raphael was the embodiment of mesmerizing allure, drawing mortals to worship him instantly upon meeting his gaze. You became aware of this when you first encountered him at the Emerald Grove. introducing himself to you as one of the Lords of Hell and Ruler of the House of Hope.

With sharp facial features and dark red skin like the evening sky, he was towering and majestic. He was always dressed in expensive attire wherever he appeared. He evoked a sense of unease in you at  first sight, reminiscent of the highborn nobles of Baldur's Gate that you despised deeply.

But beyond the despised feeling, there was also discomfort mixed in. Under the red-brown eyes of the devil, every time he gazed at you, it wasn't just surface-level scrutiny; it felt like he was delving deep into your soul, reflecting every sin you've hidden away.

You and Raphael have never crossed paths before, and there wouldn't have been much chance of meeting either. But because you've become a hero and have built up a myriad of adventures outside the city of Baldur's Gate, that drew Raphael's attention significantly. He appears before you, inviting you to visit his home and offering assistance in overcoming the imminent threats to the kingdom. All he asked for was a small pact from you.

You refuse without hesitation. Only fools would sell their souls to the devil.

However, your rejection triggered the ego of the Devil Lord intensely. From then on, the cat-and-mouse game began. He pursued you everywhere, like a shadow, lurking in the darkness and revealing himself in the light. His red-brown eyes watched your every move, waiting for the opportunity to intervene in your adventurous journey. Sometimes he helped you, while other times he intentionally made your life much more difficult. Your existence became excellent entertainment for Raphael, and he was determined not to let you easily escape from him.

You remember well when the devil stood before you, asserting that you had no way to refuse him. No courageous human would dare to reject him, and one day, you would have to crawl back to him in hell, knocking on the door of the House of Hope to beg for his help.

What an absorbed devil he was!

'Little Mouse' Raphael always called you that, with a tone of endearment like a generous person coaxing a child. But this devil was far from being akin to the term 'generosity. He always saw himself as the cat teasing a mouse like you, making you run around and struggle until exhausted before finally smacking you down under his paw, leaving you only to plead for mercy. That was his true desire.

There's no need to guess. Raphael is here because he wants to disturb your emotions, as usual. This thought made you so annoyed that you wanted to walk out and find another bar to drink at. However, escaping felt like accepting losing, and you hated defeat as much as Raphael did. So, you resolved to ignore the devil all day, as long as you didn't come face-to-face with him. There is no reason to lose your temper, right?

You lean back on the wooden chair in front of the bar counter, waiting  for a drink from Hooligan, who is busy concocting drinks for other customers. The contemporary music playing softly through the red curtains on the opposite side helps set the lively and relaxed atmosphere. You let yourself unwind a bit, until a customer sitting nearby turns and greets you in a friendly manner.

"Oh! It's Raphael's favorite misadventurer, aren't you?"

Although you intended not to pay attention to Raphael entirely, you reluctantly acknowledge that his name always manages to catch your interest. Glancing at the person beside you distrustfully, you notice she is a Halfling woman. She holds a large glass of beer in her hand and offers a friendly smile that seems more genuine than hostile. Despite the dark eyes that seem to harbor a hint of mischief, you observe her staff and expensive robes, making a guess that she might be either a witch or a warlock. Yet you're more convinced she's a warlock since she seems to know Raphael well.

"You've put me out of pocket, you know. Raphael bet me five soul coins you'd reach the city in one piece," the petite woman continued, unfazed by your silence and indifferent to your skeptical gaze that turned back to her. "He rented a room upstairs, in the hope that you'd drop by."

"First things first, who are you exactly?"

Finally, you asked what you had been wondering. You had only just met her here today. It was strange that she conversed with you as if you were old acquaintances. This made you even more suspicious because you knew she was connected with Raphael, and Raphael's people were never trustworthy to you. You thought so while touching the sword strapped to your side, ready to fight if necessary.

"Ah, I forgot we've never met. I've had my eyes and ears on you so long, we feel like old friends."

She glanced at your hand gripping the sword hilt and sighed slowly, almost mockingly, before extending her hand towards you.

"Korilla is my name. I'm Raphael's....assistant, shall we say."

You cursed Raphael inwardly. This was the reason he often appeared to you at inconvenient times. He had eyes and ears around you all along, sending people like Korilla to follow you everywhere.

Once, you wondered and even asked him directly if he was intentionally following you. But the devil just laughed and accused you of flattering yourself.

Raphael was quite a tricky devil, able to deceive you like this.

"Sorry, but I don't think I have any business with your master," you replied firmly, refusing even to shake hands with Korilla as a gesture of courtesy.

Korilla didn't take offense at your discourteous actions. Instead, she seemed to empathize with you a little, judging from your whacked expression. She knew you had been through a lot before getting in here. Watching you under Raphael's orders for a long time made her know everything about you, almost as much as she knew about her own master.

Raphael liked you a lot. Korilla knew that well, even though he never said it. and she herself liked you just as much.

"Take your time—have a drink, sample the good. Go see him when you're feeling refreshed."

The halfling warlock spoke before getting up from her seat and walking away. With just a blink of an eye, she disappeared as if she had never been here before, leaving only a faint scent of sulfuric acid, a trademark of the devils swirling beneath your nose, along with bits of hellish ashes scattered on the floor.

You are wondering why she was so confident that you would encounter Raphael.

Overthinking was futile. You brushed away the doubts from your mind and returned to the bar once again. Hooligan sent a business smile similar to Amira's as she placed the polished aluminum glass on the clean wooden table. She was a tall, masculine woman with short hair. You noticed the rough, scared hands, which definitely didn’t come from just poring drinks but from many tales of the battles. You know she’s just like you, or perhaps used to be like you.

"Miss, may I recommend a new drink for you?" Hooligan said as she reached for the ale pitcher nearby and poured it into the glass set in front of you until the thick foam almost spilled over. "My new drink is sure to knock you off your feet."

The rich, dark brown beer exuded a sweet aroma, tantalizing your taste buds. You raised your head to look at Hooligan, considering her offer thoughtfully "Sounds intriguing. How exactly does it knock one off my feet?"

"Oh, I couldn't tell you that! It's not that it's a secret, but I don't even know exactly how it'll turn out. Exciting, isn't it?" Hooligan winked, looking at you scrutinizingly "It might make you stronger, more alert, improve your palate, or knock you out completely. You won't know until its first drop hits your tongue."

You know both of your downsides very well: one - you don't like being challenged, and two - you're not hesitant to try new things, even if they might not sit well with your stomach (like eating glowing mushrooms from the Underdark that gave you a three-day bout of diarrhea).

You didn't take long to think before raising the glass to your lips and saying, 'I'll give it a try.'

'Oh, and don't blame me if there are side effects, like fingers turning into tentacles or your tongue becoming a piece of wood,' the bartender warned you at the end, but it was too late. You had already swallowed the liquid smoothly down your throat.

And you had no idea whatsoever about the side effects... much worse than what Hooligan had cautioned you about.

Everything was just too much. Too much.

You're not sure if this is drunkenness or not. But within seconds, the heat starts rising, scorching from the tip of your tongue down to your gut. Your face flushes with a deep red, and dizziness clouds your mind as if you've downed five glasses instead of just one.

Suddenly, every nerve feels strangely awakened, and emotions are overwhelming and difficult to control. Your senses expand to encompass everything within Sharess' Caress, whether it's taste, smell, sound, or even the pulsating veins beneath your skin.

And right then, you feel the sharp gaze piercing directly toward you, from somewhere neither near nor far.

You lift your gaze to the second floor of the brothel, peering through the oakwood ceiling. While the eyes of ordinary humans like yours couldn't penetrate beyond, you sense there's someone up there, someone with enough ability to observe you from a distance stealthily.

Raphael

For a moment, you recall Korilla's words from earlier

"Take your time—have a drink, sample the good. Go see him when you're feeling refreshed."

Perhaps it's the effect of the drink that makes you feel so invigorated, almost recklessly bold, mixed with a touch of annoyance since you learned you've been watched by the Devil himself from the start.

Suddenly, you feel the urge to tease Raphael.  It's not that you've never teased Raphael before, but this time, the alcohol coursing through your veins seems to be a significant factor in stimulating your mind.

Just the thought of seeing Raphael frustrated lifts your mood instantly.

Without hesitation, you rise to your feet, flexing your muscles slightly before relaxing them.  You do not forget to leave two gold coins for Hooligan as payment for the ale. Then you stride confidently towards the staircase, adorned with red carpeting. Prepare yourself for the confrontation that is bound to happen very soon.

Devil’s Dan

You read the name of the room with a small chuckle. You had thought it would take longer to find Raphael's room, but the letters inscribed on the prominent wooden sign next to the door immediately caught your eye. It was as if the Devil himself was shouting at you, saying, ‘I'm here!’

Korilla wasn't lying when she said her master was eagerly waiting to meet you. Raphael did everything to reveal to you that he was here.

You pushed open the large wooden door and stepped inside. The scent of incense and faint sulphur greeted your nose.

"Well, well, Little Mouse finally emerges from its hole. I thought you wouldn't dare to face me."

Raphael's soft voice echoed before you could see him.  You turned towards the sound and met the gaze of the familiar and handsome dark-skinned man in a sleek, red-lined noble's attire. From head to toe, he exuded refinement. He sat in a luxurious chair at the center of the room, with papers, ink bottles, wine glasses, and an unfinished chessboard on the table before him. His arms rested on the armrests, fingers interlaced in front of him. His gestures were graceful and confident, yet subtly commanding.

However, you couldn't deny that Raphael in human form was remarkably beautiful. He seemed more like an Aasimar than a Cambion.

Yet, a devil is a devil through, no matter what. His beautiful appearance is crafted to lure human souls, including yours.

However, you remained the only person who didn't fall into Raphael's tempting trap.

For Raphael, you were fundamentally different from the many mortals of Faerûn. Whether in centuries or millennia, you remained steadfast and never bowed your head to anyone, not even to a god or devil like him. You were stubborn yet willing to compromise, threaten, and negotiate when necessary, choosing to handle everything through diplomacy rather than force. And you did it all with remarkable finesse.

He still remembered the time when Astarion, the white-haired High Elf vampire who was your team companion, came to plead with him to help read the symbols carved on his back by his old master's hand. But because devils never helped anyone for free, Raphael offered to kill Yurgir, one of the Orthons who had escaped from him, as an exchange.  You were reluctant to agree with him, but you accepted to help your friend without realizing it was a suicide mission.

Yurgir was a fiend adept at slaughtering, one of the formidable of hell. Many brave souls had agreed to deal with Raphael to kill this fiend, exchanging fame, gold, and impossible desires—but none had ever succeeded.

Until you. You were the only one who succeeded effortlessly, using only your persuasive skills and wit to deceive the foolish Fiend into killing himself and staying in hell under his power once again. Fulfilling the pact beautifully and seamlessly.

That was just one of his impressions from many stories of yours that Raphael closely monitored, initially hoping to see your failures. Instead, you always left him fascinated with every feat you accomplished. Eventually, your name—a mere human—had been deeply engraved in his mind.

It's been a long time since Raphael has enjoyed anyone's company as much as yours. And it's difficult for him to let a little mouse like you slip away from his claws.

Surprise flashed on the devil lord's face as you walked in to see him so casually, without provocation or fleeing as usual. You sank into the chair opposite, crossed your arms, and looked at him with a strange smile before bursting into laughter, which only fueled Raphael's curiosity even more.

"What's so funny?" he asked impatiently when you still didn't speak.

"Nothing really," you shrugged, still chuckling, "I just didn't expect you to do something like this."

You stopped speaking intentionally, leaving the devil more curious than before. You always knew how to tease and surprise Raphael, making it a small, subtle entertainment between you and him.

"Amira said this place has new upper-level prostitutes, a handsome devil," you added mischievously.

You lowered your eyes in a gleefully mood when you saw Raphael's expression change immediately as you spoke. 

You didn't make up the story yourself; Amira told you so. It seemed the madam misunderstood severely, thinking that trading human souls was equivalent to trading sexual services. Also, Raphael hadn't revealed his true status to her because he didn't pay attention to lowly humans. So, in Amira's eyes, this devil was just one of the temporary prostitutes here for some sinful indulgence.

The grandiose ruler of the Nine Hells had turned into nothing more than a whore in Baldur's Gate. Isn't that funny?

"Amira said you have so many guests. I'm curious how much those people have to pay to fuck a grand devil like you." 

You paused abruptly. The seemingly comfortable afternoon air suddenly turned heavy, suffocating, and oppressive—as if you were just a tiny ant ready to be crushed underfoot at any moment. You trembled, feeling both cold and feverish, sweating profusely all over your skin. It felt like the scorching flames of hell were passing through your body rapidly.

You swallowed hard, struggled, and started to regret what you just said. It seemed like you might have gone too far because Raphael, who always enjoyed teasing you, chose to remain silent—ominously quiet.

You thought he was angry. Surely, he must be angry. Yet why did the one who should be angry crack such a strange and untrustworthy smile like that?

The hairs on your neck stood as the devil leaned closer. In the blink of an eye, the human form transformed into a full-fledged devil. Dark red skin returned to its fiery origin. Wide, menacing wings spread a threat. The devil's smile remained. He grasped your chin with sharp, clawed fingers, pressing hard enough to hurt but not enough to draw blood.

The yellow, fiery eyes gleamed vividly, refusing to look away. Flames flickered within those dual orbs, said to resemble venomous snakes, representatives of sin and vice. But Raphael was more than that. You thought he could drag you to hell with just a glance.

"Of course, my worth is quite high," he said, his voice both silky and dangerous. "But since you, little mouse, dare to ask,. I'll offer you a special discount just for you."

Before you could retort, every word was swallowed by the devil's lips, engulfed by the Lord of Hell's mouth as if claimed dominantly. Your breath is taken away and replaced by a strange new taste, burning like flames ignited by a matchstick.  arousing sensations of arousal from head to toe.

Your eyes widen, and your breathing quickens in sync with your heartbeat. You know this isn't right. Raphael is the devil, the person you should flee from the most. But your body responds in contradiction. The effects of the alcohol persist, and you're too weak to resist, even though you can't admit to yourself that you're content with this kiss.

The moment lingers, almost eternal, as the devil hopes to extinguish mortal life with the touch of his lips.

Finally, Raphael withdraws his lips, allowing you to catch your breath once more. His long nails still grasp your chin, studying the woman before him; your flushed face is now even more red and radiant than before.

"Little mouse, so impolite and uncouth. How fortunate you are to still be my favorite. If it were someone else, they wouldn't have a tongue or mouth to speak so freely like this again." Raphael smirked, trailing light kisses along the edge of your lips to your earlobe. Normally, he couldn't read your mind at all, but this time, it's as easy as reading the morning newspaper—Everything you think or feel at this moment.

Certainly, beer plays a part, but other components are just as important.

From the missing prostitutes to the mysterious priest murder and the toy bomb case, the evil deeds of humans are all connected to the devil, more or less.

And everything leads you here, falling into his hands.

You are overly confident. You always think you're the one in control of the game. But that's your mistake. No matter how hard you struggle, you're just a little mouse, dancing and following his plan. And he always enjoys the game of chasing mice with you.

"Why are you so quiet, little mouse? has the cat got your tongue?" Raphael teased you. when you, who have been skilled in provocation, keep silent. He found it somewhat amusing to see you trying to maintain self-control, as well as the little remaining dignity in you, even if it failed utterly.

Your breath stuck, and Raphael's touch felt like a paralyzing ray spell. You wanted to argue, to refute, to draw your sword against him, but you knew you couldn't. Every cause and effect had stopped working in your mind when you fell under the gaze of those yellow eyes, and his nails still lingered on your face.

You've been in dangerous situations many times before, and you know that what's happening right now is no less dangerous than escaping from the goblin camp or facing the God of Death. But what sets it apart from everything else is that you don't feel scared or angry, but rather, you feel the excitement coursing through every corner of your body as his hands explore, pushing beyond the boundaries that you and he usually tease each other with. It awakens something that you've tried to suppress all along.

For whatever reason, both he and you know well enough that he wants you just as much as you want him, especially at this moment—right now.

Playing with Raphael is like playing with fire. You know it deep in your heart. When he pulls you close with his tail, the curve of his lips forms a wicked smile. and those intense eyes of his gleaming with desire, resembling the fiery hell that attracts the lost souls towards him like moths.

With just a flick of his finger, Raphael can easily manage to unravel your armor. He's done it before with Astarian, mocking and revealing the marks from hell on the vampire's back.

But it's too easy for him, and the Devil Lord doesn't fancy anything that comes too easily. You know him as well as he knows you.

Each of Raphael's hands undoes some part of the armor, graceful and flexible, like the way he handles his luxurious cloak. The sound of metal hitting the wooden floor momentarily brings back the remaining shreds of sanity. Part of you wants to test Raphael like you tested Halsin—the archdruid from Emerald Grove who charm you. You just want to see how far it will go and where it will stop.

But it turns out that you are testing your own patience.

You bite your lip unknowingly as Raphael's finger moves up to your bare thigh. You want to reject him, to feel disgusted at the touch, but every part of you is calling out to him. You realize that being with him every second makes you feel like you're floating in the middle of a dark, endless ocean with no way forward and no idea where to stop. In the end, you'll probably succumb to drowning, for sure.

"I think I should ask Amira for a refund," you say, hating how hollow your voice sounds. "You're more drab than the drow twins downstairs." You didn't intend to utter the final sentence, knowing that you're at a disadvantage now to challenge him. But it's hard to resist, given the old habit between you and him of always looking for ways to annoy each other.

"Is that so?" Raphael chuckled softly, always admiring your boldness in every situation, even now. "No refunds unless you've already experienced the service."

You were about to retort, but the chance to argue was abruptly shut down when the devil's finger slid inside of you, teasing your clit so skillfully that you had to raise your hand to cover your mouth. Yet, you couldn't quite muffle the soft, moaning sound. Raphael responded to your expression with another laugh, leaning forward to plant a kiss on your smooth neck. His two fingers did a good job of continuously stoking your emotions.

The changes in your facial expressions and the huskiness in your voice as his finger part your fold and glide against your slick.  provided more entertainment for Raphael than any other time you and he faced off.

The heat enveloped your entire body. You could barely feel anything except the sinful delight and the hot breath beside your ear. Raphael's lips traced along your flushed skin, leaving marks everywhere. You couldn't stop the soft moans escaping through your parted lips anymore. Your mind is driven by escalating desires.

"Judging by the moans, I'd consider it a compliment," Raphael teased, seizing the opportunity to mock you. His hand pressed against your back, drawing your body closer to his. He enjoyed watching your contorted face with delight while his fingertips brushed against wet lips between your legs

He knows you're on the edge. and the devil never misses the opportunity to tease his favorite little mouse. Raphael abruptly stopped all actions, flashing a smirk at your frustrated expression and the lingering arousal he had induced.

"Raphael!"

You hissed at him, while Raphael remained feignedly indifferent. His claws dragged slowly over every curve of your body, leaving marks all over your skin, intentionally marking his ownership. It incited your desires slowly and ruthlessly. You knew he wanted to provoke you, but your mind was too empty to retort or even to curse back.

"I want to hear you beg me."

Raphael held your chin, forcing your gaze to meet his. Both authoritative and arrogant, you've always detested the way his voice held power, but now it sent tremors through your body. Emotions surged, nearly overwhelming you. You closed your eyes briefly, feeling embarrassed, wanting to disappear and be unnoticed.

Your voice is trembling desperately with every word that falls from your lips. "I need more," You whimpered. "Please, Raphael."

In the blink of an eye, before you could even react, you realized your role had been flipped beneath Raphael's frame. On the soft silk-covered bed, his arms became bars that caged you tightly. His rough lips aggressively bruise your lips with a taste of intense heat and the sting of expensive wine, intoxicating you more than Hooligan's ale.

"I have a new proposal for you," Raphael whispered, his lips linger at your ears. "I'll make you remember today forever. I will fuck you in a way no one in Faerûn has ever made you feel."

The hot breath brushed against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "And in exchange for the extraordinary experience I'll give you after this, you'll belong to me and me alone."

‘It's unfair’. You gritted your teeth, suppressing the urge with boiling emotions. "You're so evil," you cussed, certain that he intended to torment you cruelly. with such an inequitable proposition, while you were closer to the edge

He wouldn't explicitly force you, but he wouldn't give you the chance to reject it either. Just like a true devil who seeks maximum benefit for himself in every situation.

"Of course, I am very evil." Raphael smiled, gladly accepting your compliment. "You should understand this is a privilege for you. Just know how honored you are that I lower myself to fuck you."

Raphael never let go of his haughtiness, even when it came to sex. Both Incubus and succubus knew well that Raphael never played the role of giving to anyone; he's only indulging in the pleasures offered by others. It wasn't his duty to bestow sexual pleasure on those inferior to him.

But with you, it was entirely different. From every devil he had ever shared a bed with, the moment you pleaded with him with a soft, desperate voice, and with tears of pure joy pooling in those beautiful eyes, Raphael immediately realized that this was the moment he had been waiting for.

He enjoyed excessively the fact that he could make you cry out and beg him desperately. It pleased him immensely to show you how much he could make you submit to him.

Greed is one of the sins and the essence of every devil. Spending time with you has awakened Raphael's greed without you even realizing it. He knows well that he wants more than this and even more. He won't stop until you - both body and soul - become his completely.

"Make it worth my while, and I'll consider the offer again." 

Your response widened the devil's smile. His intimidating golden eyes gleamed with a terrifying allure. "Challenge accepted."

There was no warning, as the mere chance to tease you was what Raphael enjoyed the most. He grabs your hips, pulls you close, and inserts his swollen tip into your entrance in one swift motion. The devil chuckled softly at your stunned expression, followed by a faint curse, until there was just a moan as he began moving slowly and heavily.

The rough touch of the devil's skin clashed with the softness of your thighs, repeatedly and rhythmically. Every movement accentuated the spot of ecstasy that made you groan louder. It filled you with an unexpected pleasure that you never imagined feeling. Raphael didn't exaggerate when he said he would fuck you in a way that no one in Faerûn could. He knew exactly what to do to make you feel so good that there was no way to forget this day. And it seemed like he was enjoying himself as well. Raphael breathed heavily, lingering at your hips, his girth slowly stretched your slick silky wall, embracing his length perfectly, as if it were made for him—for him alone.

"My little mouse... do you still want to say that I'm more boring than these prostitutes here?" Raphael didn't hesitate to mock you, alluding to your previous insults.  making you want to claw at his smug face or slap his arrogant mouth, but all you could do was tightly grip the bedsheet to vent the tingling that he relentlessly injected into you. Your helpless state seemed to please him so much. When you felt his cock inside you trembling and expanding slightly more, causing your legs to tremble when he slammed deeper into you

Seeing you overwhelmed by the taste of pleasure he gave you, Raphael felt even more delighted. His lips moved down to your neck, kissing and biting the skin aggressively, causing you to flinch with pain. But it also ignited your arousal. Excitement flowed through your core as Raphael continued to nibble on your neck. with each thrust into the tight, warm of your walls.

That's not enough for him. His fingers run up your legs, climbing up until they reach your chest. He squeezes the soft, pliant breast with full force. leaving bruises that you're sure will be evident the next morning. Yet, you don't protest. Deep down, you enjoy what he does, especially when Raphael's fingers tease your tits, increasing your arousal almost to madness. As his thick hips press against you, driving you nearly breathless with the overwhelming pleasure.

"Do you like it? Little mouse," Raphael asks, though he knows full well you're not in a state to converse anymore at this point.

Your arms cling tightly to his broad shoulders, gasping with the overwhelming feeling flooding your senses.  His forceful push makes your head spin, almost causing you to lose consciousness at every moment. Raphael's thrust becomes more intense, as if he knows you're about to reach climax, tempting you to scream again. However, Raphael's lips cut in before you could, slipping his tongue into your mouth, tasting you with a messy, tantalizing kiss and a feeling of odd intimacy.

With the final thrust, the whole world in your sight changes. Your vision blurs, lost in the mist of pleasure. You feel like you're being consumed by Raphael's touch, which expands to encompass every inch of you, inside and out.

Your nails dig into his broad shoulders. Your body trembles uncontrollably. A growl escapes Raphael's throat as he buries himself deep inside you, releasing white hot seeds of ecstasy, fulfilling and scorching your stomach, melting you until you can hardly resist, and succumbing under the complete embrace of the devil's sin.

Raphael doesn't miss watching you during this time. As your flushed face twists with lust, your rapid, ragged breaths cling to the lingering joy. Sweat covers your skin, making you shimmer and impressive. also seem so fragile and vulnerable. So fragile that he's sure he could crush you with just one finger.

But he won't do that.

Raphael muses to himself before easing himself beside you, pulling you into his arm. He finds some satisfaction in the fact that he can make you speechless for a moment. But he secretly misses the sound of your annoying voice as well

"It's time for our pact, isn't it?" 

Your brow furrows slightly as you look at the devil beside you, who has reverted to his human form. This is when your consciousness begins to settle in again, along with your resentment towards Raphael. You can't help but berate yourself. You've always thought making a deal with the devil was foolish, but fucking the devil you despise is even more foolish. 

And what's worse is that you don't even feel a bit of regret for what's happening.

"If being yours means I have to serve you and go out to kill someone for you, then I won't do it."

Raphael is almost laughing at your response. Despite being unarmed and vulnerable, you haven't lost your confidence, not even a little. That's why he finds you more impressive than any mortal. Because you always manage to make him intrigued.

"This isn't about your mission or mine," Raphael said, tracing his thumb along your lower lip before pressing a slow and lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth. "I just want to make sure we have these special moments like this more often, that's all."

One thing you learned about devils after encountering Raphael is that they always speak the truth, but never all of it. 

You lock eyes with Raphael in his full human guise. Though there's a hint of playfulness in some of his words, you can discern the seriousness and darkness lurking beneath the veiled sentences. Though you are not entirely sure what he wants from you, you sense that he anticipates your answers more than usual.

You don't have much choice because the heroes never go back on their words. And even though you're reluctant to admit it, deep down, you too desire moments like these again.

You nod unwillingly. Your reluctant expression makes Raphael smile broadly. Your small defeats bring him greater satisfaction. Although he knows you're too stubborn and too tough to easily succumb to him, and he knows even that you'll find a way to get back at him painfully later, for sure.

But that's why he's always been infatuated with you. Your conflict with him is part of the game you've been playing all along. It's the only amusement he'll never find from anyone, except in you.

And so begins the game of cat and mouse anew between him and you. A game with no losers or winners. But this time, Raphael is confident that it will be his. whether the game or you.

Because a pact is a pact, and he'll make sure you become his most prized possession, locked within the house of hopes, you will be his trophy that no one in Faerûn can admire except him.