#raphael smut

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.

He was supposed to be fair dealing, level headed in his contacts, this Raphael… but you did the one thing to set his temper ablaze, coming into his home… trying to steal his things…

Disturbing the order of a devil and violating his trust, not to mention your deal….

Now, three sets of eyes glow in the flickering heat, the drag of claws on the tiles coming inexorably closer until you feel the singeing steam of his breath on your face.

He stinks of charcoal and sulfur. Gone the sweetness of cherries and the sharpness of citrus to mask it all.

It violates your nose, assaults your senses.

Then, you make the single mistake of cracking one eye lid…

Bony and horrific, three faces in one disgusting skill glare at you, three tongues clean three maws… not all at once. Your eyes dart to follow each jaw as it unhinges, each pink tongue as it licks the bony mandible only to snap shut in rapid succession.

Then, you hear him speak… lower, like rocks grinding in an avalanche. He grumbles your name…. “My lost little mouse… that couldn’t escape my house…. Oh what to do with you, I wonder….”

A strange sort of clacking reverberates before you, as you realize he’s… laughing.

“You know… the old adage about playing with fire…” something hot, searing, wraps around your middle. His tail. Flames licking through the skeletal weave of his black bony exterior. “One is bound to get burned.”

Pain wracks your body as it’s lifted by that coil around your belly as he hoists you up and slams you against the wall. That center face presses against your pulse point, and you feel him smelling you.

Scenting you.

“I’ve been watching you, waiting for you… and now… you came into the devil’s lair, spoiling for a fight, and finally… you’re going to give the devil his due.”

That wash of breath on your skin steals the air from your lungs, a shakey, trembling exhale is all you have to offer in reply. Your eyes go wide at the sight of him. That smarmy devil, dark hair and eyes entirely replaced by this… You shudder as you take him in. All of him. This magnificent fiend. His devilishly handsome mortal veil, you didn’t trust, the Cambion was more interesting, but this…

“Hells,” you aptly curse as you feel the heat from his form melting into your flesh. “Raphael…” his name is barely more than a tickle as it scratches your throat, unwantedly slipping out.

You see his hideous head cock to one side, yellow eyes wreathed in flame wandering over your form, where he’s pinned you to the wall.

“The very same. The devil is ready to collect his due, and of course, there are many ways to be paid…” his deep voice chortles. Feeling you twitching in his grip, his fleshless nostrils sniffing as his heads press lower… lower… until that center head is snug against the apex of your thighs.

“Fuck…” you breath, but it’s enough. Your body does the rest of the effort to betray you as your press your thighs together for relief, hot and wet in your core and not from the heat of the hells.

That grinding laughter echoes again. “You should not smell so enticing while facing down your judgment and my wrath, little mouse.” The bony edges of his face rub into your belly, the cloth of your leathers tearing easily away from your flesh in gashes.

So easy. So thin. So dangerous. Monstrous.

Your hand fumbles at your hip, some last ditch effort at survival. Hilt in hand, your instincts react before your mind, driving that blade into his chest.

It looks so small the tip barely wedged in his ribs of blacked bone.

And he only laughs harder; one clawed hand lifts from your supple flesh to close around your shaking grip on the weapon.

Then he pushes, driving it into his body, all three maws gaping in a deep and guttural groan. “Oh… an excellent idea, little mouse. An amusing attempt at defense… if entirely futile.”

You gasp, jaw dropped as you can feel his heartbeat through the blade, the metal warming in your fist as you use it to hold yourself up.

But then the fiend only closes his clutches around you and moans… head arching back with the pleasure-pain as he purrs, “Oh, I didn’t know you planned such an exquisite introduction.” He levels those three faces at you again, yellow eyes of flame glinting with sadistic glee.

“Do it again…” he growls. “No hesitancy this time, little mouse. Stab me, cut me, maim me… wound me like you mean it.” His clawed hand grips around your own holding the weapon, pulling it back out.

Your jaw drops, as you scan his form. His dilated eyes, his heaving, bleeding chest, even something hard and copiously hot prods between your legs into the gusset of your leathers.

Raphael chuckles, grinding that hard heat up into you. “Do not insult me with leniency. You came into my house, you sought to end the master… finish your task and savor my wrath. Thrust!” he growls, one maw of his face opening and rolling out its tongue to lap at the sweat on your neck.

Your body obeys, but only because you loved the noise he made as the blade bit flesh. You press the dagger to his chest, locking eyes with the beast that pins you to the wall, and you thrust inside his chest slowly. Your own wanton moan slips from your mouth as you feel the blade sink into his flesh and your own body shiver with need.

That makes him both freeze and… hum. “Oh… little mouse, if I had known the sort of predator you would seek, I would have come with my contract, my offer for you in my maw.”

“Perhaps I would have accepted you… perhaps not,” you somehow manage to find a hint of wit through the veil of your fear and the shroud of your lust. “Guess we will never know.”

His monstrous laugh rumbles and shakes your bones as his cock grinds up your pelvis, its large, weeping head already past your navel. “Perhaps you wish to indulge in my wrath?” his voice almost echoes threefold as he grinds against you, as his tail wraps around your stomach and tightens.

You raise your head, lips parted as you try to wet them. “How wrathful are you?” you seem to whisper and purr at once…

…as if the idea excites you.

“Mmm, very…” he pants, thrusting against you, humping you faster, “very… wrathful.”

His claws reach for your waistband, making quick work of your leathers, the fabric parting to bare your soft, supple and very mortal flesh. He drags you higher up the wall, tail lifting you until your hips are at his eye level… his mouth level.

Three tongues slide from bony jaws, trailing steaming, scalding hot spittle up both your thighs and the thickest laves right through your dripping seam. A flurry of curses leave your lips, but none are sufficient to really convey just how good it feels. They lick and swirl and circle, everywhere all at once… and you curse again, knowing your body is his and your soul is damned for this bliss. Then you whimper his name, “Raphael…”

Lapping his maws, he lifts his head. With that bony mane of horns and tusks so close to your face, you’re more nervous to lose an eye than anything. It’s all too close for comfort. You press a kiss on the bleached white of his muzzle.

He grows impossibly hot, engulfing you in that inferno, making you sweat until your top sticks and clings to your curves and breasts. Then you hear your name in his unholy voice. His hips shift, that thick, blunted head of this cock now pushes against your cunt. The way you are soaked in sweat and… other things, it makes you blush with unabashed need and flush with desire.

“Go on then, devil,” you goad him, smiling and pulling him by the bony tusk of his face to kiss him. “Give me your judgment, condemn me to your wrath….”

“Music to my ears,” he replies dangerously fast before holding you tight and thrusting into you. It burns so deliciously, hips splitting to take him in.

You scream, not in terror or pain, but in the blissful pressure it is to be filled. Your mind races through your encounters with the devil before, ones rife with tension and flirtation, hints of desire and mutual lust, ones that always left you suddenly cold and aching for more.

And now, you have more, more than you thought you ever could handle. He pushes deep inside you, and, hanging your head, you gasp. Your eyes well with blissful tears to see just how much of him is still… unsheathed between your thighs.

Your nose fills with the scent of flame and sulfur, your body dripping with sweat so close to those flames that lick and dance beneath the cages of black winding bone of his body. With every thrust, your body opens, every press of him inside you he chuffs threefold in your face. You lift your head, breathless from the pressure and pain as you meet those unholy eyes.

“Mine…” he growls, hips snapping harder, his breath beating down at you as he pants with every thrust. Your walls would clench if they could do more than take his massive size inside you. You’re already so hot, the inferno of lust and pleasure tightens in your belly. “My mouse, my quarry, my prey.”

Any thought of contracts or purloined treasure are fucked from your thoughts. All is fire on your skins and in your cunt, and you struggle to breath as you feel the ridges raise along the width of his cock as he grows more insistent and sloppy.

Close to his orgasm.

You whine at the friction, at the foreign drag between your thighs, inside your belly. It sends you careening into climax, your screams echoing louder than the shrill whine of the souls bound to this place.

A roar above you from his middle-maw and his tail clenches hard and fast, almost cutting off your air supply. It’s steaming. Scalding. Hot inside you. His cum pulses and pushes to fill you, those ridges of his cock gripping into your walls and locking him in place, even as he gives a few final, deep-driving thrusts.

“Hells…” the curse leaves your lips before you can prevent the irony. Then, you look up with wide eyes at the sound that comes from the fiend before you. In you.

A strange noise settles in his throat. A low rumble. A laugh… that gives way to something gentle. Soft. As if he’s… purring.

“Such a good little mouse, a delicious morsel to submit to my wrath. Why… I have half a mind to keep you,” he growls his words even as he purrs still, the vibrations shaking your chest. “But there are many ways to… negotiate such an arrangement. You’ll have one final deal from me before it’s over.”

His lipless faces smile. “And I advise you to take it when it comes, my mouse.”

A special dedication to @astarionancuntnin @absolutelydegenerateme @charmandabear @tinosawruswrites @moochiepoo

Raphael doesn't look surprised to see her anymore. Merely gives her a look when she finds him on the balcony of his Archive and snaps his fingers to conjure her a drink that appears in her hand before returning his attention back to the fiend giving him some kind of report in the guttural language of the infernal.

She slips away, perusing his collection of tomes from some kingdom long dead and sipping at her wine. It's too sweet, cherry rich and decadent but the alcohol burns pleasantly warm in her belly. Later, sprawled across a lavish settee, an open book in her lap, Tav is trying to untangle a web of mental snares that have put her in a melancholy mood of late when Raphael finds her.

He doesn't say anything for a long time but she can feel his gaze taking her in with more precision now that he can afford his full attention to the task. The predator, sizing up the prey. Her skin prickles.

She's returned to his house with more frequency of late and though he’s never brought it up she’s struck with the sudden anxiety that she is overstaying her welcome. Draining her glass of wine she swishes the liquid around her mouth while watching the crystal goblet refill in a blink. He's never asked why she’s decided to help herself to his company or tries to dissuade her attention when she comes calling. There's a mystery there she’s too afraid to pursue. She sighs and takes another drink.

Footsteps, steady and deliberately slow, approach. The predator, stalking their prey. Turning a page in the book she isn't reading Tav pretends his proximity doesn't send a bolt of heat and fear fizzling along her spine. In her peripheral he stops, a looming metaphor for the direction her choices are driving her to. A finger, warm and familiar, presses against the soft vulnerable space just past the jut of her chin and tilts her face to meet his.

“Have you come to bargain?” His dark eyes drink in her face, giving nothing away.

He already knows the answer to that question but she answers it anyway, deriving a weird sort of comfort from the repetitive nature of this exchange they've replayed so many times they might as well have memorized a script.

“No.”

His eyes narrow and she doesn't hear the snap but her wine glass and book both vanish. Standing involves significantly more motor skills than she presently possesses so, with a smirk, the devil offers her a courteous hand and hauls her up. Her breasts graze against the broad expanse of his chest before she gains her bearings and straightens. He doesn't let go of her hand.

“What then do you seek from the House of Hope?” His voice is mocking but his eyes are hungry. Tav knows the steps to this dance by heart but she’s hungry too. Famished.

Grasping the collar of his opulent coat she tugs him into her orbit, sliding a hand into his hair and pressing her lips to his. He tastes like hellfire and forbidden fruit.

The edges of her vision white out for a moment when he displaces them to his quarters, his infernal magic buzzes against her tongue pleasantly. Pressing close with nothing but fabric between them she shifts, a calculated movement to stoke the fire of his desire.

“Crawling and secret she constructs her own web, a trap for her prey, fallen into instead.” Raphael wedges his knees between her legs and, hands tight on her hips, bows her back to wrest control from her. Dizzy with drink and anxiety and lust Tav grinds against his thigh, seeking the friction that will at last unwind her mind.

“Needs work,” she critiques unnecessarily, breathless and smirking. He nips her bottom lip, pulling the plump flesh taunt in chastisement but it makes her lashes flutter, her clit throbbing against his thigh.

Huffing a laugh at his petulance she pulls away. Pulling her clothes loose and discarding them under his dark gaze while backing towards the bed. The backs of her knees hitting the edge of the mattress, she beckons and –after a moment– he follows, unbuttoning his doublet slowly.

“Go on then,” she teases, heedless of the black warning in his face, “Seduce me with your limerick.”

“A mouthwatering fruit, this human heart.” He sheds his jacket, the shirt too, preening under her appreciative stare. “Devastating, damned, and doomed from the start.”

She swallows, mouth dry as he approaches and comes to a stop close enough to feel the heat off his skin.

“Dazzling, delicious but,” he looks at her critically for a moment, “Not very rare, this cracking soul is fetid with,” Raphael leans in, to take in her scent deeply. Closing his eyes he murmurs lasciviously, breath hot against her ear, “Despair.”

She throbs with need.

Wrapping a hand around her throat he pauses only long enough to take her pulse, sneering at the staccato beat, before sliding his hand down her chest, to her breast. With both hands he gropes her roughly, squeezing and tugging at her nipples till they pucker, rosy and stiff. The expression on his face hasn't changed much, cold and disdainful but his eyes. She shivers under the blistering heat of them.

“Take what you came here for, creature.”

The words are hardly out of his mouth before her hands are on him pulling him close with a rough hand in his hair, yanking his head to the side, putting her teeth to his throat.

She bites him savagely, electric at the needy whine he tries to stifle unsuccessfully. She laves her tongue against the red teeth marks soothingly, hands on his shoulders. His hands have migrated too, palming the swell of her ass. When she runs the edge of her teeth down the column of his throat and licks the dip of his collar bone he smacks an asscheek, the crack sharp and loud in the otherwise quiet room.

In retaliation she sinks her teeth into his shoulder so hard he repeats the action on her other asscheek. She cries out, her inner walls slamming down on nothing.

“Tell me, my dear,” his voice, rough and deep, is commanding. Tav clenches her thighs together in response.

Nothing and no one comes for free in the House of Hope. Each visit to his bed, a transaction between her hunger for his body and his hunger for her pain. Their unspoken devil’s pact. She knows exactly what he wants and her stomach flips in trepidation.

Hands full of her ass he is not gentle when he pulls her against him, grinding her against the hard length of him through his trousers. She whimpers, drawing her nails across his shoulders and scoring livid marks into his skin. “Tell me,” he repeats, a furious snarl, as he shoves her to the bed.

“Then ask, you fucking monster,” she hisses, hitting the mattress with a soft ‘oof’ as the wind is briefly knocked from her lungs.

He follows her descent, aiming to cage her body with his but a spike of adrenaline has her scrambling out from under him. Awkwardly she heaves her way to the head of the bed but he’s faster – stronger– and he snatches her ankle in a fierce grip, dragging her back within range.

Wrapping himself around her, thick cock against her ass, bruising fingers holding her captive against his chest he chuckles. The sound chills her in the same way it sends another trickle of wet desire between her legs.

Close to her ear he breathes his full query at last. “What is the root of your despair?” Her stomach sinks down to her toes, the red flush of her desire doused cold.

What was your last wickedly depraved thought, he's asked her before. When did the thrill of bloodlust last blind you completely to sense; do you hate anyone more than you've hated yourself? She may have never signed another contract with him but somehow he’s found a way to drain her soul, piecemeal, all the same.

“Tell me,” he murmurs against her skin, parting her thighs to drag a finger along her slick wet slit.

The reason for the wine becomes clear to her in that moment. She’s never had inhibitions where sex is concerned. Has never considered it a trial to use her body and let it be used for its skill with a blade, on either side of the sheets.

But put enough wine down her throat and inevitably the secret hurts that haunt her begin to spill out from between her lips.

The devil growls at her hesitation, flipping her over and pinching a nipple between his teeth slightly too hard. Demanding her attention and supplication in all things.

“I–,” she gasps and leaves half moon indentations on his skin when he sticks his tongue in her belly button, swirling his tongue there lazily. “I’m sad, all the time,” she confesses in a rush like it will hurt less to say it fast. Her heart pounds. “I hide from my friends, from everyone, and suffer alone. I’ve always been alone, I’m pretty sure I'll always be alone because it’s–” her breath hitches on a strangled sob when he just barely presses his thumb to her clit and leaves it there, teasing. Torturing. She doesn't want him to ever stop. “I’m too much to be around. Too much unhappiness in one person to inflict on anyone else.”

“Self pity,” Raphael groans with relish and she bristles because of course he's right. “Never looked so lovely than on the utterly pathetic,” the words burn, as they're intended to. “Look at you, mourning yourself to the point of self destruction.”

Blood rushes to the surface of her skin, blooming red and hot across her throat and cheeks. Within her bosom she aches. Raphael hums with pleasure, as drunk on her internal agony as he is on her body.

Feeling flayed open she wails, hands scrabbling for purchase on his skin and in the rumpled bedding, when he sinks a finger fast –and hard–and deep in her dripping, aching cunt. She bites her lip and breathes through the discomfort of letting him see her. The despair and self pity on full display for his perusal. He feasts on her pain like a man deprived of fresh air, reveling in the cocktail of humiliation, fear, and miserably pathetic sorrow.

“Entrust me with your soul and you'll never be alone again, for as long as your pitiful soul flickers,” he vows, working a second digit in with the first. She’s so wet her lips squelch lewdly around his scissoring fingers to punctuate his words.

He means it too. It's far from the first –or the last– time he has promised an eternity to her. Her soul nestled within his grasp forever, damnation tempered with endless companionship. A demon’s version of love. Eternal ownership. The ache in her chest sharpens to a knife’s edge. Thrusting her hips against his hand, her breathing changes, getting deeper and faster as her orgasm inches tantalizingly closer.

Her legs are open but her heart's been closed so long the hinges squeak and grind in complaint at being disturbed. Maybe that's why his canny words rend instead of pierce, like they're claws mauling instead of hands gently stroking. Devils don't know kindness but there's a world of gentleness in the way he peels open her ribcage to curl up in her chest cavity with his insidious intent.

“Kiss me,” she begs. Begs, hoping it will be enough to stem the tide of his incendiary words. Words spoken with the intent to hurt, to disturb, to split the cobbled pieces of her being back into shattered fragments he can hold in his hands. To mold her, shaping her to his will. Without ceremony he crushes her with his mouth, his body, and his desire.

Raphael moves against her, heavy and too big, a threat and a promise that tastes like cherry wine and feels like coming home. The kiss, a miscalculation on her part, steals his voice but replaces wounding words with bruising force. Shoving his tongue into her mouth he seeks only to consume and she moans around the wet intrusion, curling a hand tightly into the hair at the nape of his neck until he hisses against her teeth.

She lets him continue only for so long before the hand she has locked in his hair tugs viscously and she gets a glimpse of his pupils blown wide before his eyes flutter closed. The Archduke Supreme would never admit to his proclivities in bed but he’s not the only one studying his prey during their encounters.

She maneuvers until he's beneath her, breath stuttering in his chest as his ardor intensifies with her forceful take over. The meticulous Archduke Supreme, Lord of the Nine Entire, Devil of False Hope, Cania’s Conquerer might have eaten her whole for the audacity of asking for control in the bedroom but when she takes it…

He groans, squirming and wanton, when she peels herself away from his lips to sink the fingers of one hand around his throat while the fingers of her other hand tug on the laces of his breeches.

“Tav,” he growls, the reverberation of his vocal chords against her hand shooting directly to the heat that burns in her core.

She pulls her hand from around his throat to pull back and strike him across the face. His hips surge up against her desperately. “Silence,” she warns, nimble fingers slipping his throbbing cock from its confines.

The fat head is wet, a glistening mess of his own precum. The smell makes her mouth water. Wrapping her hand around the shaft she pulls at him experimentally, running the calloused pad of her thumb across the leaking slit on top and along the thick vein beneath his glans until he whimpers. The sound makes her smile, the power of her unique position sending a rush of wet slick through the lips of her vulva, dripping down the inside of her thighs.

Moving the hand she just had wrapped around his erection to her own throbbing need she drinks in his expression while he watches her fuck herself on two fingers. She leans back to give him a better view while she circles her own clit, biting her lip and shifting her hips in time with the movements until she’s close, almost too close.

The devil never looks more beautiful than when he’s languishing untouched, desperate and needy and simmering with helpless fury.

“Open that pretty maw, creature,” she sneers, an echo of his earlier epithet.

Obediently his lips part and she leans forward, shoving her fingers into his mouth, pressing against the molten heat of his tongue.

“Suck.”

Tav's eyes flutter, nearly rolling to the back of her skull as the Duke follows her instruction, locking his lips around her slick coated fingers and sucking hard enough to tear her soul through her fingertips. She moans, positioning herself above his pelvis and undulating her hips to rub his delicious head through her slippery folds.

Inside his mouth his tongue swirls across the pads of her fingers and he echoed her moans; pleasing, pretty, broken little sounds that have her sinking onto his cock halfway in her excitement. He bucks, too sharp teeth grazing erotically against her fingers and she withdraws them to backhand him; whip fast and snapping his lust drunk face to the side. He gasps and she revels in the feeling of him jumping against the walls of her sex.

Pulling herself upright she arches her back, giving him a pretty view as she plays with her own breasts, running the tips of her fingers along the goose pimpled flesh of her abdomen.

“Like what you see, devil?” She taunts, sinking a little more around his girth. “Tell me, Archduke,” she smiles cruelly. “Tell me how much you want to fuck this sweet mortal cunt.” She twists her nipples and sinks a little lower on his cock, watching the expressions flit across his face faster than he probably even registers them. She smiles, all teeth. “Beg.”

“Please!” He doesn't even hesitate, voice gone tight. “Please, let me feel you sink that perfect tight cunt onto my cock.” He releases the most delicious open mouthed whine when she does, enveloping him completely. “Please!” He blurts, hands fisting in the bedding, muscles quivering with the restraint to keep from fucking into her.

The stretch is nothing short of divine. Her hips yearn to move, to rock against him, grinding his hips into the bed but she pauses, balancing on the precipice.

“Please, what?” She demands, relishing in the widening of his eyes, the way his mouth hangs open.

“Please,” his eyes close briefly and he swallows thickly, “Archduchess Supreme, My Lady Eternal.”

“Good boy,” she murmurs, warmth suffusing her entirely when he keens at the praise.

Planting her hands on his chest she wastes no more time, fucking herself on his thick cock; fast and hard and rough. Between her fingers she pinches his nipples, leaning forward to swallow his cries as she rides him to the brink. Between her thighs he cants his hips, mindlessly matching her thrust for thrust as his orgasm barrels within reach.

She slips a hand between their bodies, pinching her swollen clit and cries out his name and a litany of swearing as she crests her final peak. Her mind whites out, the walls of her cunt bearing down on his cock so tightly he spills into her with an inarticulate groan.

Their bliss reached, their movements stutter clumsily to a stop, chests heaving and breathless pants peppering the air with the soft sounds of post coital exhaustion.

Tav disengages from Raphael's body slowly, flushing at the rush of slippery fluid that leaks out of her. The devil looks at the mess between her legs, unabashed, a pleased smirk hovering in the corners of his mouth.

Running a finger through their combined spend, shivering on the cusp of overstimulation, she holds his gaze as she reaches up to paint his lips with it.

He doesn't even blink, licking the shine of his own seed from his lips and making a pleased noise, deep in his chest, that echoes in the throb of her empty cunt. Leaning into him, chest to chest, Tav chases the taste of them on his tongue with a redolent kiss, slow and tender. His hands drift along her sweat slick skin, raising goose bumps with each delicate graze of his nails.

Wrapping his arms around her Raphael flips them, startling a sound from her that he chases with teeth and an amused chuckle. Before she registers what he's doing the devil is wedged between her legs, pushing one of her legs wide, fingers sunk tightly into the plush thickness of her thigh while the fingers of his other hand part the puffy lips of her sex.

He stares, transfixed, for only a moment before he bends his head, slotting his lips against her wet, sticky heat. The predator devours the prey. The gluttonous wet sounds of him licking and suckling at her sex sends her brain rocketing away on a tidal wave of sensation. She grasps the back of his head in shock and a haze of overwhelming arousal.

“Raphael!” She cries out when he locks his lips around her clit and sucks. “Nnnggg– ahhh!!”

“Say my name again,” he growls, immediately spearing her with his tongue and twisting to lap at every drop of her slick heat. “Say it!”

“Ra– Raphael! Oh– nnngggahhh!!” If she is his Archduchess then he is her god and she cries out to him, exultantly. “Raphael! Yes! Yes! RAPH–”

He hums his pleasure and the vibration has her sinking both hands into his hair, pressing him closer– harder–

She flexes her hips, rocking against the sensation of his mouth taking her apart, heart slamming against her ribs as her mind spirals faster and faster and–

“RAPHAEL!” Tav’s mind flies apart as she screams her release, back bowed, thighs clenched tight around the Archduke’s ears.

She comes back into her body to the feeling of her fingers being disentangled from their iron grip on his hair. She releases him immediately, flexing her digits and collapsing against the bed as a wave of exhaustion slides over her.

“You,” she pants breathlessly, boneless and still buzzing for the high of her orgasm. “That was–

“Delicious,” he finishes for her with a sinful smile that does nothing to soothe the thunderous beating of her heart.

This time it is the devil who stretches himself over her body, skin against sweaty skin, and presses the taste of her arousal and his spend between their lips in a filthy kiss. When he pulls away Tav’s dazed expression pulls another smile to his face, this one different from the one he usually shows her. Her stomach clenches but in the next moment her face is split in a jaw cracking yawn and when she looks again he looks the same as he always does.

“Sleep, my dear,” he says in a tone that conveys he neither cares if she does or does not. With a snap of his finger he is dressed and polished once more. He drags his eyes down the length of her naked body with an appreciative leer. Another snap and he's gone in a flash of hellfire.

Tav forces her body to move though her limbs feel made of jelly. She crawls between the sheets, the luxurious material cold against her heated skin. Sweat on her scalp and elsewhere on her body sends a shiver down her spine. Cocooned, safe, and spent, she sleeps.