#and big fat red cambion cock

[reallyhatethiswebsite]

for @ultrakatua (she's to blame) Yurgir/Raphael ass eating lol

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“You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, but I am. Perfectly serious.”

“You’re telling me to lick your asshole. Don’t you have a damn incubus for that?”

“Your lack of decorum, quite frankly, is a large part of why you’re being re-educated this way, Yurgir.”

“Re-educated. Right. Teach me then, where’s the decorum in eating your ass, Raphael?”

“Watch your tone. I can make amendments to your contract at any moment I choose, lest you forget.”

“As if I could fucking forget.”

“And for your information, this is your first lesson in humility. You may have ruled your fetid roost in Shar’s temple, but you are in my house now. It is time you learned exactly what that means.”

That was how the mighty Yurgir, once a feared hunter and powerful fiend, found himself on his knees in Raphael’s boudoir, the master of the house naked – every inch of ribbed cherry-red skin on display – as he bent over the arm of a chaise, hideously amused, waiting for Yurgir’s humiliation to begin.

The first tentative, reluctant lick of Yurgir’s huge, hot and rough and leathery tongue between Raphael’s fatty cheeks had the pampered cambion prince groaning. It wasn’t enough. Not enough pressure, not enough force. That big fiend really and clearly did not want to do this, and Raphael relished the thought (enough to chub up his cock even on a bad day) but he needed more. He shifted his feet, shifted his weight and position over the chaise, and pushed his ass firmly into Yurgir’s face. He smirked when the orthorn sputtered, grunted in surprise, but didn’t let his sadistic amusement carry in his voice.

“Is that truly the best you’ve got, captain? Maybe I’ll still send you to the pits as a lemure after all.”

“Shut. Up.” Growled Yurgir. He grabbed big handfuls of Raphael’s backside, digging his claws into the flesh. He spread those soft red cheeks, exposing Raphael’s puckered, twitching little crimson hole and his fat balls hanging below it. Raphael exhaled when his asshole touched cool air. Gasped when Yurgir leaned in and took a deep breath through his snout. “Perfumed even down here…but I can still smell your taint, trickster. Your musk. As much as you pretend this is for my punishment, I can taste how desperate you are to have your shithole tongue-fucked.”

“Get on with it,” Raphael hissed. He didn’t deny the accusation. Couldn’t. His cock was almost full-mast already. Yurgir rumbled a deep chuckle. His next lick was harder, broader. The curl of his tongue cupped and caressed the tight skin of Raphael’s scrotum, trailed up his perineum, flattened on the velvet of his asshole and stayed there for a moment. Raphael squirmed irritably, looking for friction. Yurgir did not give him any, instead sinking his claws deeper. Thin rivulets of scalding, fiendish blood trickled from the small wounds. The cambion seemed to like the pain. His tail, that he’d been keeping aloft, began to thump and sway. “Yes. Come on, beast. Give me more or I’ll have you vivisected and put on display in my foyer. You won’t be dead, either. Mmm…perhaps I’ll do that anyway…” The idea excited Raphael, if the throb of his cock and the bead of pearlescent precum peeking out from his glans was anything to judge.

“I’m sick of your voice,” snapped the orthorn. Squeezed harder, thinking about crushing Raphael’s pelvis to dust within his huge paws. Cambions were sturdy fuckers. It would take a lot of strength to turn them into pulp. A lot of violence. Yurgir’s massive, flaccid prick twitched with interest.

“Is that so?” Raphael turned his head to smile maliciously at Yurgir over his shoulder, alluringly obscured by the flutter of his wing, his cheeks flushed a darker red, eyes glittering with sadistic satisfaction. “Would you prefer a song instead?”

Never fucking mind. “Bastard,” snarled Yurgir, sharp and angry, but he went to work, because he couldn’t do anything else. If this poncy pissant put another song in his head, Yurgir would scoop his own brains out and stomp on them himself.

Fine, then. He’d done worse than lick a cambion’s asshole before.

Still holding Raphael’s cheeks, Yurgir licked the length of him again, leaving a trail of hot slobber. Briefly, he toyed with the idea of bursting Raphael’s balls between his tusks like overripe grapes, but the punishment wouldn’t be worth it – and there was always the chance the devil would enjoy that. Instead he focused on that wrinkled, pulsing hole, lapping at it like an oversized tiger licking flesh from the bone. He swirled the tip of his tongue around the wet rim of Raphael’s entrance, coaxing it to open. The devil exhaled shakily, spread his thighs apart a little further, pressed a hand into the cushion of the chaise to keep himself steady. Yet still, he did not stay quiet.

“That’s it. I had an inkling you were a dab hand at servicing, especially on your knees. It seems I was right. As I often am.”

Yurgir ignored him. He was beginning to understand how this cambion worked. Saying anything would only feed into his megalomania – the same way stuffing his face into Raphael’s taint was feeding his ego, his sexual sadism, but Yurgir knew you had to pick your battles. Much as it burned like sour acid in his throat, he had to give Raphael a modicum of respect. The man certainly knew how to get what he wanted. That didn’t mean Yurgir would give in gently, however. Gentle wasn’t in his nature. Without preamble, the moment he felt Raphael’s sphincter loosen, Yurgir forced the entire length and girth of his enormous tongue into the tight, hot cavern of the devil’s ass. The way it clenched around him, the earthy musky taste, wasn’t unpleasant at all, in truth.

“By the Hells!” Raphael cursed, his composure momentarily faltering as his body shuddered and stiffened, grappled with the sudden large intrusion. Yurgir grinned at the small victory, spit painting his fiendish lips. He felt Raphael’s asshole stretching to its limit around his tongue.

Good. He hoped it hurt.

He tongue-fucked Raphael ruthlessly, barely giving the cambion any time to breathe. In, out, lathing the rough texture of his slippery muscle all over the devil’s warm and spongey inner walls. He knew every time he licked over Raphael’s prostate because the devil would hiss, mutter in Infernal, rock his hips. He knew Raphael was desperately fisting his drooling cock because he could hear the slide of skin on skin over the obscene sounds of messy ass-to-mouth.

He knew he wanted to pull the devil’s fucking tail clean off his body because it kept whipping him as it thrashed. The next time it coiled by his ear, a serpent ready to strike, Yurgir snatched it in one paw and yanked. The sinewy tail stayed attached, but Raphael moaned, a husky, throaty sound belying the truth of his Hellish nature. Who’d have thought this prissy bastard liked receiving pain as much as he liked inflicting it. And he just kept fucking talking. As aroused by the sound of his own voice as the tongue in his ass.

“Truly you were the mightiest of your brood. A brutal, unflinching armageddon upon all you came across. And here you are, utterly at my mercy. Ah…and it is mercy, I assure you, for the things I could have done to you would put Asmodeus’ Inquisitors to shame. You should be thanking me for my boundless compassion, but we’ll work on that in the future. The only future you will ever know. Me. Raphael. I am your future.”

Yurgir knew these nonsensical words weren’t being spoke to him, but at him. In a final effort to shut him up, Yurgir pressed his face flush with Raphael’s dimpled backside and sucked hard on his quivering rim. The devil choked on his words, pulled in a harsh breath through his nose, grunting as he climaxed. His insides tightened on Yurgir’s tongue. The hand on his shaft pumped erratically. His wings flexed with pleasure. Ropes of cum splattered out of his cock, stained the chaise, dripped onto the floor. He didn’t seem to care. Yurgir pulled away the second he figured out that Raphael was cumming; dragged his tongue free as horribly as possible. He rose to his full height and sneered. Rubbed his aching jaw.

“Good enough for you?”

Raphael took his time collecting himself. Making Yurgir wait. The orthorn watched in mild disdain as Raphael suckled his own spend off his fingers, stretched luxuriously like a satisfied house cat. Blinked lazily, that damned tail swaying mockingly.

“Adequate, I suppose,” he said. Clicked his fingers and he was fully dressed again, immaculate, not a hair out of place. He glanced at Yurgir like he was a smear of dirt beneath his boot. “But your worshipping techniques and lack of fervor leave a lot to be desired. We’ll convene again tomorrow for another lesson. And I expect you to clean up this mess, by the way.”

[sucharide]

realising more and more that my taste in men is just representations of the devil huh