#soft Raphael

[seraphimaa]

Doll for a day

Soft(ish) Raphael x fem!Reader/Tav

Slight Haarlep x Fem!reader/Tav

Raphael comes home unexpectedly while a certain somebody is playing with his toys. Tav thinks that playing dead is preferable to facing his wrath. Maybe, in hindsight, it was not her brightest idea.

PART 2 IS UP

Warnings: kind of of dubcon, confessions under false pretences, feelings (boo!😈)

“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.

I guess you could read this and view the protagonist as morally grey but I raise you, as the ringleader of this circus, that I am also just stupid and the “if I don’t move it can’t see me” tactic is my favourite every uncomfortable social situation, so there’s also that. This was more of a practice. I’m trying to oil ye ol rusty smut skills. I hope I managed to make the characters somewhat recognisable even if it’s kinda goofy.

[milykins]

*sticks nose in your inbox* hello!

I heard from a pair of bloomers waiting to be put out to dry that you were looking for fluffy bayverse raph prompts? Maybe something set at the farmhouse? Raph getting to wake up with the sun streaming through the window for once, cuddling close with his s/o, as soft and sweet as you want to make it please ❤️.

Final ask answered! I am such a sucker for soft romance... this was so nice to write. Also it's very funny that I'm giving off the vibe that I'd like to write for Bayverse Raph. Honestly, I love writing for him. He's my second favourite turtle next to Mikey.

I hope this is what you envisioned. Thank you for sending the prompt, these asks have been great for helping me to become a better writer.

Thanks to @sophiacloud28 for checking it over for me!

TW: A tiny bit spicy at the end with Raph getting a little handsy with his SO.

Raph x female reader, aged up characters of course.

Edited to add: one of my favourite Snow Patrol songs, which seemed to fit the scene quite well.

Golden Mornings

There was something so indescribably intimate about the mornings. Waking up slow, wrapped in his warm embrace. The soft, sleepy puffs of air on your neck. Deep, even motions of his chest, rising and falling with each breath. Strategically placed hands, and oh, those magnificent arms of his. Holding you like you were the most precious thing he owned. You were special to him in a way he couldn’t even express.

So, he showed you. Pressing tender kisses to your palms, knuckles, whatever he could reach really. Any expanse of skin was begging to have his mouth on it. Hugs from behind, especially when you were least expecting it. He didn’t care what you’re doing, you were not in his arms and that needed to be rectified. His arms belonged around you. He needed to feel the press of your body against his because it had just been too long since he felt it. He was addicted to you. Your scent, your softness, he loved it all.

He especially loved packing you up and taking you out for adventures on his bike. No responsibilities, no stress, just the two of you on the open road. He often liked taking you to the old, yet refurbished farmhouse. There was just something about that place that you couldn’t describe. It was many things that made this place special. The house itself, nestled in secluded acres of farmland and forestry. The feeling of being wrapped in the solitude of the sounds and smells of nature. Watching him walk around freely outdoors with no fear of anyone looking at him like he’s anything less than the incredible creature he is. Your unsung hero in red.

Oh, and waking up with him in this place. That was something else. Golden sunlight streaming in through tiny cracks in the blinds. His soft murmuring in your hair as you shift slightly and inhale deeply upon waking. Not yet… he wanted to stay in bed and hold you just a little longer. His arms tightening to keep you there, afraid to let you go. You’re quick to reassure him that you’re not going anywhere and feel his arms relax a little. He’s still somewhere between sleep and waking but coherent enough to press a soft kiss at the nape of your neck and slide his hand over your hip.

That’s when you felt rather than heard just how relaxed and content he really was. A sound reserved only for you. Soft, rumbling vibrations that radiated from his body to yours. Permeating your entire being. He only ever churred around you and it was both humbling and gratifying to know how safe and happy he felt to do it so freely. The rumbling alone could be enough to lull you back into the sweet embrace of sleep but you had other things on your mind.

You feel his grip tighten a little with the very purposeful push of your backside to his lower body. Oh, he was more awake now. The rumbling intensifies and you feel more soft kisses, spanning the expanse between your neck and shoulder. His hands, no longer still, began exploring the remainder of your uncovered skin. He didn’t like any barriers between his body and your own and made a point of removing them. Sometimes things got torn from you in heated moments of passion. Occasionally though, he removed things slowly like you were his own personal birthday present and he was taking his time unwrapping you. You weren’t sure which you preferred honestly. He could turn you into a puddle of need either way.

Currently, he was doing just that as his large hands smoothed their way across your body. The lazy beams of sunlight painting the walls only served to add warmth to the slow burn growing between the two of you. He can smell how much you want him. The sharp intake of breath and the squeeze of his hand on your hip was evidence enough. Your arousal was near impossible for him to resist, sweet, heady, and just you. If you were willing, he never hesitated in giving you exactly what you needed.

A plea from your lips has his hand travelling up to your breast for a squeeze and a gently brushing of his fingers across the peaks. A gasp escaped your lips, coupled with a now involuntary push of your hips. Then he growled, the sound sending an absolute rush of need straight to your core.

“Good way to wake up…” he husked; his voice rough with want.

“Best way to wake up…” was your quick, yet breathless reply.

He couldn’t agree more. He may not be great with words, but he was going to show you just how much he loved and appreciated you. Right at that moment, in that perfect golden morning. Just the two of you.

Until the next ask!

@danceingfae @thelaundrybitch @iridescentflamingo @redsrooftopprincess @ninnosaurus

@the-cauldron-witch @thepinkpanther83 @avery73 @adebauchedsloth @sophiacloud28

@definitely-canon @scholastic-dragon @truffle-reblogs @fyreball66 @yorshie

Please ask if you'd like to be added to the taglist!

[mrfancyfoot]

Evie's Pickup Skills

Her: Spontaneously wanted to see if she could lift the devil.

Him: Baffled, yet amused.

Sometimes Evie channels 8 INT Tav, she's just lucky Raphael's quite fond of his little fox.

[ineadhyn]

Cinnamon Sugar is completed!

Uninterrupted soft Raphlep modern au right here:

[tavyliasin]

Get your fresh hot serving of Soft!Raphael x f!Tav right here!

Our dear Tav has found herself in quite the pickle, to put it lightly, but luckily a villainous saviour is on hand to come to her aid...

This piece is within the ATG continuity, so it references chapters 4, 9, 10, 11, and 12, though those aren't necessary to read to enjoy this as a standalone piece~ it'll just give a little more context to some of the conversation and a couple of unique details in my ongoing plot~ I really enjoyed looking more under Raphael's skin with this one, getting a feel for how he might actually care in his own infernal way, and how he may struggle to see that. In short, he's so deep in denial his postcode is in Egypt, and I love that for him. This one is split into 2 chapters, totalling over 8k words, so you're only going to get a couple of extracts below the cut for now and the full work is on the link~ As it often is, NSFW and not suitable for under 18s so minors DNI~

-----

He pulled up a chair taking a seat beside where she lay face down, devoid of most dignity as the cleric yanked another large chunk of mahogany from her rear. “FUCK could you at least warn me a little next time?” The elf shrugged. “The pain would be no different either way. Kinder if you don’t know it’s coming, really.” They pulled another piece midway through the sentence as if to prove a point. “Are you almost finished?” Raphael hissed a little too impatiently, brown eyes flicking across Tav’s face briefly again as she winced in pain. He should be used to people suffering, he was certainly good enough at arranging it, but there was something in the way his face twitched, as if his expressions were beginning to slip. “Not much left. Only half a door in her, not a whole one, and the bones will need longer to set.” They gestured to the splint and bandages down Tav’s leg and on one of her wrists. “Only a few days, especially if you use everything you have at your disposal, but the bone still needs to knit together properly or her dreams of joining the circus will be completely gone.” “The circus?” The cambion looked at her, perplexed. “In my defence, those potions are really strong. And so is the pain. I was barely conscious.” She shrugged. “Besides, I used to enjoy Dribbles performing when I was young. Who didn’t?” She tried to push aside the memory of the clown’s dismembered body parts they kept finding in the city. That could wait. “Little Mouse, you’re not a performer. Even if you do like to dance with danger for no reason.” He sighed, almost reaching out to her but stopping short, putting his hand instead on the edge of the table and standing up.  “The damage shouldn’t be permanent. But you will be staying here for the duration of your recovery.” “Excuse me?” She tried to raise herself up more on her arms to see his face where he stood above her, but shuddered as the pain pulled at the nerves in her shoulder. “Stop trying so hard, Little Mouse, you are quite safe. I will not have any further harm come to my favourite client.” He gently pressed her shoulder back down, hand remaining there for far longer than either of them expected. “Ah. There it is. Client . You still have use for me, that’s why you’re going so far for my sake.” She hadn’t expected anything more, but it stung nonetheless. Raphael faltered, the warmth of his fingers still refusing to leave her. “You are not just any client, Mouse. I have told you before, I have no desire to turn you into just some pitiful debtor, nor do I wish to chain you to any contract beyond what I offered before.” He continued to justify his actions, denying his motivations to himself as much as to anyone else. “You and your friends are uniquely positioned to get what I want, and I can provide you with the means to keep your lovely face tentacle free. ” Lovely? She turned the word over in her mind. No, another trick to loosen her grip on her sanity and make her sign. She hadn’t decided yet...and they had time still. She was certain that if it came down to it, she could make that deal at the very last possible moment, if she had to. Although, that would give him a lot more power… Tav groaned. Why is nothing ever simple, and why do I have to be the one to decide all of this? And why is he still being so nice? It’s easier when it’s just unhinged sex, or the usual mind games, the back and forth of Cat and Mouse…

“Get some rest, Little Mouse. You will need it. Our foes will not wait forever.” The cambion’s hand caressed her hair gently, a move that surprised them both again. He withdrew, as if he had touched the very edge of a hot stove. Although, who had ever heard of a devil getting burned? ----- SOME TIME LATER ----- The heavy door swung open swiftly on creaking hinges, closing just as quickly behind Raphael as he moved towards the bed. She was laying where he left her, cheeks flush, lips slightly parted, hair still in disarray from sleep. Even the gown remained pushed up to her upper thigh, revealing her legs, the remnants of technicolour bruising beneath her pale skin. 

Tav was an invitation like this, one he was loathe to accept for now…but clearly she could not be left unsated. Incubus saliva could be unbearable without a resolution to that painful arousal. It might even slow her recovery, which he would not allow. The cambion approached the bedside, already removing the lid from the salve’s jar. He sat lower down beside her, body turned to face her. “Your permission, Mouse, I would like to hear it.” “O-oh.” She stuttered for a moment, the tips of her pointed ears beginning to match the redness in her cheeks. “Of course. Do what you need to do, I trust you.” His brow furrowed at those last three words. Of course that’s what he wanted, her trust, he was not in a habit of lying least of all to his favourite client. But hearing it? That was different. “Should you wish me to stop, you need only say the word. You understand?” — It was Tav’s turn to frown now. What was there to understand? It was a simple healing balm, nothing she hadn’t used before. She could easily apply it herself, but she was also loathe to argue with Raphael when he looked this serious. What she was not hearing, however, was the undercurrent to his words. She didn’t see the way his eyes travelled her body, gauging her reaction as he began to massage the balm over her wounds. Not a drop of incubus saliva had passed her lips, by potion or otherwise, so she was blissfully oblivious to the cambion’s present concerns. Though, decidedly, the feel of his hands moving further up her leg had a very similar effect.  

Feeling the soothing effects of the salve sinking in to her wounds brought a soft sigh from within her, the deeper massage of tender fingers colouring the sound with the hint of a moan. Seeing his eyes flash with a momentary flame was certainly not helping. It would be hard to deny her own desire either, the thoughts that had passed through her mind in the few minutes he had been gone… Of course, some of those were remarkably close to the sight of brown hair descending towards her thighs-

[nerdallwritey]

I Want to Live

Summary: He murmured something against your lips. You pushed lightly against his chest, laughing. “What?” “I want to live,” he repeated, seemingly out of breath.  “Of course you want to live, you’re alive,” you smiled up at him, running a hand through his hair. “In all the ways that matter, I mean.” You wiggled your eyebrows at him, clearly trying to be suggestive. He rolled his eyes. “No, you insufferable woman, I’m referring to something Shadowheart said.” OR Raphael asks you and Astarion for a favor, which leads to an important conversation.

Pairing: Astarion x f!reader Rating: 18+ Word count: 14.9k CW: Raphael is a thespian, vulnerable Astarion, Yurgir battle, mentions of killing oneself, Astarion's scars, confessions, reader is an idiot (and a bard), so is Astarion (not a bard, just an idiot), breeding kink (DADSTARION IS IMPORTANT TO ME), smush (smutty mush) Spoilers: Spoilers for Act 2 (in-game dialogue, plot points, etc.) Also posted to: AO3 FAIR WARNING: This is PART 8 in my series, "Beauty and the Bard." Find the masterlist here.

a/n: THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR YOUR PATIENCE AS I WROTE PART 8!!! I've become the busiest woman in the world - my job came to an end and I just started a new one, I'm in a play that my friend wrote this summer, I'm moving at the end of this month, and my power went out for nearly three days this week. BUT! WE FORGE AHEAD! I hope that you all enjoy this new addition and that it was worth the wait!! I was super excited to write this part and hope I was able to do it justice. Heads up: I am EXTREMELY busy for the next few months, so I'll probably take a mini hiatus from writing this series for a hot minute. I will be back, rest assured! I'm also interested in possibly starting a new series starring my Tav, Birdie! Anyways, I hope this part was worth the wait! It was a blast to write!! (Thank you to my beta @kermitwazowski, and the wonderful @arzen9 for reading!) As a reminder, last time, just as you were about to save Isobel from etheric's henchmen, Raphael whisked you and Astarion away for his own personal needs.

Taglist: Moved to the comment section, since tumblr hates sharing fun with friends - please let me know if you'd like to be added to the list!

With a white shock of pain, the cold of the Shadow Cursed Lands crept into your bones, rendering you frozen and disoriented.

What had just happened?

“Astarion?” you called out, remembering that he had been right beside you only a moment ago. “Where are you?”

“I’m here, darling,” you jumped when a pair of cold hands encircled your shoulders before they spun you to look into Astarion’s frantic eyes. He relaxed considerably once he saw your face. “I’m right here.”

You smiled slightly and turned your head a little to kiss one of the hands on your shoulder before looking around. “Any idea where we are?” 

Upon scanning the area, it seemed that you and Astarion were in the middle of the Shadow Cursed Lands, high atop some sort of mountain. You saw what looked to be a heavily trodden path with stairs leading up to this place, surrounded by discarded weapons and pieces of armor. Not far off you spotted flags surrounding what you assumed was a makeshift graveyard. 

Astarion’s eyes followed yours. “If I had to guess, it’s not the Blushing Mermaid.”

In the distance, you saw the roofs of buildings that must have made up the village Jaheira had mentioned. Looking to your left, you spotted the moon shield surrounding the Last Light Inn and witnessed tiny figures flying around the structure, along with blasts of magic from within the building through the windows. You ran towards it to get a better look, your stomach dropping when you realized how far you were from the battle you’d just been so rudely snatched away from.

“Where’s Raphael?” you growled. 

Speaking of the devil, the cambion’s mortal form, which you hadn’t noticed standing at the grand entrance into some sort of temple in the side of the mountain, stepped forward, observing his nails. Behind him, chains hung from the sides of the cliffs and a large door loomed, destroyed, as if whatever had been inside had broken out with a great deal of force.

“Our heroes thought but a treasure ahead,” Raphael said dramatically, “did not consider the peace of the dead. Through the dark they went creeping, and awoke what was sleeping. A new grave they dug, which they themselves fed.”

Astarion clicked his tongue. “How long were you skulking there, practicing that rhyme before we saw you?”

“Until it was perfect,” Raphael said matter-of-factly. “I’ve grown quite fond of you, you know - in my way. I thought it only fair to warn you of the dangers ahead.”

“You brought us here!” you exclaimed. “We don’t even know where we are!”

“Patience,” Raphael chuckled. “There is a creature that lurks in silence and shadow - a creature who, like me, is of the infernal persuasion.”

You crossed your arms. “Is this creature as dramatic as you are?”

Raphael smirked, amused by your annoyance. “In truth, it is carnage incarnate. When you meet this devil of which I speak,” his tone became deathly serious, “kill it. Consider no other course of action.” 

“Hmm,” Astarion hummed. “There’s something you’re hiding. You’re only telling us half that story. Out with it, devil”

Raphael narrowed his eyes. “This creature and I go back a long way. I admit it would be in my best interest as well should it remain trapped in the dark.” He grinned viciously. “Or misplace its head, perhaps.”

“Lovely,” you muttered.

“I should not relish its reacquaintance,” Raphael continued. “Let’s leave it at that.” He turned to you with piqued interest. “You have it in you to author a thrilling finale, if…”

“If?” You took a sideways step towards Astarion who instinctively placed his hand on your lower back.

Raphael’s face took on a scowl. “If you heed this warning: Do not underestimate this opponent. At best you will have the blink of an eye to strike.” 

You looked to Astarion who swept a soothing thumb back and forth along the base of your spine.

Raphael’s voice was dripping with venom when he spoke. “Strike first. Strike true. Defy the odds, for they are distinctly in its favor.” He took a breath to settle himself. “That much I owe the bastard orthon to concede.” 

“Okay,” you said cautiously. “And I assume this is about that favor-?”

He laughed and regained his leading-actor-giving-a-monologue stance. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about your tale, Astarion.”

“It would be surprising if you did,” Astarion said flatly, “considering I only told you about it an hour ago.”

Raphael laughed again, an uproarious, overly dramatic guffaw. “When the beast is dead, I’ll consider that payment enough to translate the scars on your back.”

Astarion nodded his head towards the devil. “A fairer deal than I expected.”

“You wound me, spawn,” Raphael said, not the least bit insulted. “I always deal fairly. And we’ll close this particular deal soon enough - vanquish the beast, and all will be revealed.”

“As great as that sounds,” you said in mock sincerity, “where do we find this beast of yours? You can’t just lead us into the middle of nowhere, give us a task, and expect us to follow through with no other direction! Our friends needed our help back there!” You thrust your arms to your right, over towards the moon shield protecting the inn.

“Oh, they’ll be fine,” Raphael assured, though it didn’t help you to feel better at all. “But you do raise a fair point. That little Sharran of yours will want to see this place. And I know a shortcut.” “What kind of-”

Before Astarion could finish his sentence, Raphael snapped his fingers again, causing everything to go black once more.

When you were met with the familiar white shock of pain from earlier, you realized Raphael had transported you somewhere new.

“That is not a pleasant feeling,” you said, wiping down your armor to rid yourself of any sulphuric residue. 

“No it is not,” Astarion agreed, standing up straight and running a hand through his hair. “Where the devil are we now?”

“Nice one,” you smirked while looking around.

It seemed that now you were in a temple of some sort, completely made up of purple, gray, and gold marble - stone pillars and staircases and columns sprang up in well calculated spaces, and judging by the atmosphere and the view out into the temple, it appeared that you were now inside the mountain that Raphael had met you outside of. Purple light surrounded you from lit braziers that littered the corners, and multiple large doors gave off an eerie, unwelcoming aura.

“Sharran, for sure,” Astarion wrinkled his nose in disgust. 

“Look at all the bodies,” you said quietly, observing several skeletons scattered around the staircases. “Do you think they were the Dark Justiciars Jaheira mentioned?”

Astarion approached one and kicked its helmet, which let out a dull thud. “They seem pretty dead to me.”

“Hmm…” You looked around, searching for any sign of this devil Raphael had mentioned. “Do you really think Raphael will keep his word if we kill this orthon?”

Astarion stiffened. “I’d trust a devil over a vampire any day.” 

“That doesn’t bode well for me,” you joked.

He chuckled. “I think he likes us.”

“Do you think he loves-”

“Don’t start,” Astarion snapped with minimal bite.

You laughed. “Unfortunately he can be pretty entertaining. But I’d never say that to his smarmy face.”

“He is rather smarmy, isn’t he?” Astarion smiled. “Perhaps if we kill this orthon extra bloody, he’ll invite us for tea and brandy back in his House.”

“An invitation I eagerly await,” you said in your snootiest voice and mimed holding a tea cup on a saucer. 

Astarion mimicked your snootiness and the two of you “clinked” your imaginary cups together while laughing airily.

“Wait,” you paused in walking along the corridor, suddenly catching a glint of red on the floor. 

Astarion halted at your side. “What?” 

You pointed at the ground. “You tell me, vampire.”

The vampire in question pursed his lips. “I’ve said before that I’m not some bloodhound,” he argued. He took a deep inhale and sagged. “But yes, that is blood.”

“Any idea how fresh?”

He considered. “Not very fresh, but not completely stale either.”

“Well,” you said, wrapping your arm around his bicep, “where there is blood, there are monsters.”

Astarion humphed as you both walked forward, following the tiny speckled trail of blood towards a set of stairs. “Is that what you think of me?”

“Noooo,” you said, reassuringly nuzzling your head against his shoulder, “you’re too full of love to be a monster.”

Astarion shoved you away and you laughed. “You’re ridiculous.”

“We are going to talk,” you said firmly, but not unkindly. “I have things to say to you, too.”

Astarion hunched over dramatically. “Blech. Put me out of my misery first.” 

“Not happening,” you said, approaching him again and lacing your fingers through his. 

He tried to hide it, but you saw the flicked of a smile on his face. 

A sudden flash of black at the bottom of the stairs caught your attention.

A displacer beast.

You and Astarion froze on the stairs, and for a moment, the three of you were locked in an intense stare down. 

Then, she bolted down the hall to the left.

“Hey!” you shouted, detaching yourself from Astarion and jumping off of the stairs. “Come back!”

“Darling!” you heard Astarion shout behind you. “What are you doing?! Be careful!”

The pair of you rushed down another set of steps before following the beast into a chamber to your right. 

“What the hells has been happening here?” you asked, pausing briefly in the doorway, then walking forward cautiously and observing multiple dead bodies and piles of gore.

Astarion exhaled heavily. “So much blood…” He looked up suddenly, his hands hovering over his knives. “Something’s wrong.”

“Here in the death room?” you teased, looking around for the displacer beast, but not seeing her. “You’re sharp.”

Astarion rolled his eyes. “Oh ha ha, very funny. Just be on your guard.”

A low growl caught your attention as the displacer beast appeared again on a shattered dais in front of you. 

You strummed a low tune on your lute, casting Speak with Animals. 

“Quiet, darling,” Astarion warned softly. “This could be a trap.”

“Hi there,” you whispered to the displacer beast, as if that would shield you from a trap. “Would you perhaps know where we could find-”

“What’s this?” A deep voice echoed through the chamber as a giant figure seemed to appear out of nowhere. “Fresh entertainment?”

The figure, who you assumed was the orthon, was massive. His head bore jagged, razor sharp horns, and his body was adorned with armor, some of which, you realized with horror, was made of bones. To make matters worse, he had a giant crossbow trained on you. You saw Astarion take a shocked step backwards out of the corner of your eye before he lowered himself into a ready stance. 

“Oh, really good job getting his attention,” Astarion shot at you bitterly.

“But you’re too fresh for this place, aren’t you?” The orthon looked between you and Astarion, before his eyes rested on Astarion. “A dark-dweller, you may be, but there’s a definite whiff of the surface to you.” 

Astarion said nothing and carefully sidestepped his way over to you, standing in front of you and attempting to shield you with his body.

“We could try talking?” you suggested to the vampire. “Maybe we can get out of this without a fight?”

“A new arrival then,” the orthon continued, clearly not perceiving you or Astarion to be any sort of threat. “You burrowed too deep, little rabbits.”

Astarion meanwhile, was still taking in your surroundings. He nudged you with his elbow and gestured for you to look up.

Figures in golden masks looked down at you, all aiming weapons and preparing to shoot if either of you made the wrong move.

You cleared your throat and looked back at the orthon. “Allow us to hop to it,” you said calmly. “We’re just here to talk. Put that thing down-”

“I don’t talk to prey!” The orthon roared. “I-” He paused and Astarion hovered his hands above his daggers again. “There’s something else, almost hidden by your fear-stink.” 

You discretely tried to smell yourself, but Astarion leaned back to whisper, “You don’t actually stink, darling.”

“Right,” you responded quietly.

“Cherries,” the orthon sniffed, “musk… and sulphur.”

“Oh, that,” you said, trying to wipe Raphael’s stench off of your armor.

The orthon exhaled steam from his nostrils. “Raphael! I can smell him all over you! Where is he?! Spit it out! Now!”

Overhead, the masked figures loudly made it known that their weapons were loaded and pointing down at you and Astarion. The displacer beast snarled and paced impatiently upon the dais. 

“What are you doing?” Astarion asked you through the side of his mouth. “The devil told us to kill this thing, so let’s stop chatting and kill it!”

The displacer beast growled and shouted to the orthon: “Master! They’ve been sent here by the perfumed swindler to kill you!” She leaped forward off the dais and began circling around you and Astarion, her teeth bared and her tails flicking impatiently.

“Did he, now,” the orthon chuckled. “Many have tried to fell the mighty Yurgir, but none have succeeded.” 

“What?” Astarion asked frantically. “What did the beast say to him?”

You rolled your eyes. “She tattled on us, basically.”

Astarion pulled his daggers from their sheaths. “Wretched thing!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” you said, stilling Astarion’s hands, and stepping in front of him so you were closer to Yurgir. “Mr. Yurgir, sir, perhaps we can help each other?”

The displacer beast snorted. “The pretty one has pulled out his meager weapons. It’s clear they are here with intent to harm.”

“Not true!” you said quickly, noting the confusion in Astarion’s expression at having not understood the beast. You strummed a quick Speak with Animals for him so you wouldn’t need to continue to translate. 

Yurgir chuckled again, amused with your distressed display. “Bargaining, are you? A Kara-Tur warlord once tried the same - I made him watch as I ate his concubines and young, then fashioned a codpiece from his skull.”

“Charming,” Astarion rolled his eyes.

“Silence!” The displacer beast lunged at Astarion, who sidestepped her and prepared to attack her with his daggers. 

“Don’t!” you pleaded, preparing to cast a spell with your lute. The air in the chamber tensed significantly.

“Nessa,” Yrugir addressed the displacer beast calmly. He nodded to her and she begrudgingly took a step back from Astarion, who straightened a little and kept an eye on both you and the beast. 

Yurgir sighed, all the while, his crossbow was still trained on you and Astarion. 

“You can’t help. It’s not just walls that keep me here. Not the traps, the dark creatures it hides. Something stronger holds me. A contract.”

Astarion clicked his tongue and crossed his arms. “Figures a meathead like you would get trapped in an agreement with a devil.”

A growl came from the back of Yurgir’s throat. “My patience grows thin with you,” he narrowed his eyes at Astarion who met his gaze unwaveringly. “One more snide comment and it’s lights out, pretty boy.”

Astarion chuckled. “He thinks I’m pretty.”

“Astarion,” you hissed. “Please behave.” You turned back towards Yurgir. “Can you tell me more about the contract?”

For whatever reason, perhaps intrigue, perhaps loneliness, Yurgir indulged your request. 

“Either I fulfill the contract, die trying… or forfeit my freedom. If I leave this place now, I’ll become Raphael’s slave.”

You felt Astarion prickle behind you at the mention of slavery. 

“Personally,” Astarion said angrily, “I’d prefer if you died trying.” 

Without warning, he threw a knife in Yurgir’s direction, which the orthon dodged very easily. Yurgir looked up at his masked minions and nodded.

One by one, they jumped to the ground pointing their weapons at Astarion. Nessa pounced and pinned him to the bloodied marble floor beneath you.

“Wait!” you shouted as Nessa unhinged her jaw to snap in Astarion’s face. You cleared your throat. “Diabolic deals of legend always have loopholes! We just need to find it!”

Astarion struggled beneath Nessa. “Get off of me!” He pushed against her massive head, but she overpowered him with her paws on his shoulders and slashed across his face, causing him to yell out in pain.

Your whole body tensed. “Astarion, stop moving!” 

“Listen to your mate,” Nessa growled. 

“She’s not-”

“Oh please,” Nessa said, annoyed. “You two reek of each other. It’s as if you were attempting to make pups mere moments ago.”

Astarion scoffed but stopped struggling. You cast a quiet Healing Word and the wound on his cheek vanished.

Yurgir lowered his weapon. “Is he done being a pest?”

You laughed nervously. “I’ll believe that when I see it,” you murmured.

Yurgir lowered the weapon marginally, suddenly more comfortable, now that the problem child was pinned to the floor. “Raphael is no foolish story devil. His mind is different. Sneaky. Listen…”

The orthon closed his eyes, trying to remember the terms of his contract. Then, to your surprise, he started to sing.

“Spill all the blood sworn to the night. Silence all prayers; smother each rite.”

Raphael made Yurgir’s contract… a song?

“Wander Shar’s halls; hungry to slay; Leave no Justiciar alive to obey.”

Your fingers twitched on the neck of your lute, eager to accompany him, but not wanting to push your luck. At least now you knew what happened to the Justiciars. You didn’t plan on joining them any time soon.

“Leave none to hear it, then be set free; This song is your oath, swear, swear it to me.”

Yurgir finished his melancholy melody with an anguished sigh, clear that this contract had been his curse for far too long. 

There was something about this song that differed from the ones you’d studied in the past… Something about the final couplet. 

“So he’s the one who slaughtered the justiciars,” Astarion angled his head to look up at you. 

You met his eye and saw his hand flick twitch at his side. One of his concealed daggers glinted in the dim light. Shaking your head minutely, Astarion smirked and pulled the dagger, plunging it into Nessa’s side. She shrieked in pain and staggered to the side, allowing Astarion to spring to his feet.

“What are you doing?!” Your eyes widened in fear.

Astarion gestured at Yurgir as the masked minions closed in on both of you. “Can we kill him now?” He lowered his voice, “Because if he doesn’t die, then Raphael won’t tell me a damn thing about my scars!”

“Would you-”

Suddenly, you felt a slash across your back as one of Yurgir’s minions grazed your torso with their axe. You gasped in pain, staggering forward into Astarion’s arms. He shouted your name, cradling you to his chest and bringing you to a kneel on the ground.

“I’m okay,” you winced. “He slashed me, but it’s not deep.”

Astarion searched your face to make sure you were telling the truth. When he was satisfied by your expression, he released you gently, then got up and approached Nessa. He pulled his dagger from her side and threw it into the gut of the minion who’d slashed you. He went down with a harsh thud.

“How dare you attack her!” he shouted. “If you have a problem with anyone, come after me!”

“Wonderful idea,” Yurgir hissed, before nodding to his minions. 

In a blur of gold and black, the minions and Nessa jumped at Astarion, knocking him to the ground and making him disappear from your line of sight as they surrounded him and began taking hits.

“STOP!” you bellowed, running at them and banging one of the minions in the back of his metal head. He turned and swung his axe at you, just missing. Astarion shrieked from within the wall of enemies.

Yurgir’s face remained impassive as you turned to look at him.

“Tell them to stop!”

Yurgir laughed humorlessly. “You two were sent here to kill me. He seems dumb enough to try and follow through. He must die instead.”

Your fists clenched at your side in a mix of fear, frustration, and anger.

Astarion was acting reckless, and you had a feeling it had something to do with his accidental confession from earlier. So help you gods, you were going to give him a stern talking to once you got him out of this mess.

“Darling!” he yelled. “A little help!”

You heard his knife plunge into the side of a minion, who fell to the marble floor beside you.

Taking a deep breath, you stood your ground. You knew better than to attack Yurgir by yourself. And his minions greatly outnumbered you. 

If only Raphael had poofed you here with your entire party. 

“DARLING!” Astarion shrieked.

“OKAY!” you shouted back, searching your mind to find a solution. 

If you attacked to help Astarion, chances were, you’d both be killed without a second thought and Yurgir would move on with his lonely existence. You almost felt bad for him. No, it would be better if you refrained from attacking and went about this from a different angle.

Perhaps distracting Yurgir from his loneliness was the way to go. You were rather gifted in the art of persuasion.

“The contract is a song! If you want, I could try and help you figure it out!” You strummed your lute for good measure, subtly sending a Healing Word Astarion’s way, along with some Bardic Inspiration. 

Yurgir rolled his eyes. “I don’t want to make it pretty - I want to silence it.” 

Astarion yelped in pain and shouted your name. You heard Nessa growl.

Yurgir trained his crossbow on you once more. “Enough prattle,” he said. “The lyrics are clear: all who hear the song must die. And now, you must die.”

The unmistakable sound of an axe connecting with flesh reached your ears and you heard Astarion cough and wheeze loudly. Your entire body tensed and you unconsciously reached for the scar on your torso.

“Wait!” you exclaimed, tossing your lute strap around so that it rested at your back and holding your hands in front of you to show you weren’t holding any weapons. “Raphael’s a sly lyricist - he tricked you!”

Yurgir raised an eyebrow.

“It’s true!” You turned and gestured to the masked minions gathered around Astarion. “Your followers heard your song and still live!”

Yurgir lowered his crossbow again. “The merregons? They barely have a thought to share among themselves…”

The merregons, as Yurgir called them, paused in their attacks on the prone vampire and turned to face the orthon, their vacant masked eyes staring at him blankly. 

“But they do have ears…” Yurgir muttered.

You moved ever so slightly closer to Astarion, who lay bloodied on the ground, covering his face with his hands, his breaths ragged. Multiple daggers were plunged into the limbs of various merregons as well as in Nessa, who had paused her attacks as well to watch whatever was about to happen. You fell to your knees and laid your hands on Astarion’s wounds, channeling all your magic into Cure Wounds. You prayed to whatever gods were listening that this plan of yours would work. 

Yurgir narrowed his eyes at his minions. “Kill yourselves,” he commanded. “Back to the hells with you.”

Without argument, the merregons turned to each other and swung their battle axes, striking fatal blows on one another. You slung your arms behind Astarion’s back, lifting him up and cradling him to your chest, using your body as a shield from flying viscera and debris. His eyes were wide with shock and pain, and you bumped his nose with yours to bring his focus to you. His eyes softened and you used the distraction of the merregon carnage to heal him some more.

“You’re okay,” you murmured, kissing just below his ear. 

Astarion nodded slightly.

By now, it seemed that each golden minion was dead on the ground surrounding you both. Nessa watched the two of you closely, anger and confusion overtaking her senses. 

“Can I put you back down?” you whispered to Astarion. “We’ve still got company.” You nodded your head towards the orthon and the displacer beast.

Again, Astarion nodded slightly, keeping himself seated upright as you rose to stand. 

Yurgir clutched at his head, his eyes shut tight in frustration. 

“I still hear it,” he groaned. “Seems your theory is wrong.”

With a flick of his head in Nessa’s direction, she pounced at Astarion again. This time however, Astarion was able to roll out of her way and stood beside you, brandishing a pair of daggers he pulled from the dead merregons.

“That’s because you’re not finished yet!” you said quickly, grabbing Astarion’s wrist to stop him from attacking Nessa. 

You eyed the creature menacingly stalking around you and Astarion. The purple sheen of her coat was stained with red. Very likely caused by the blood of the man standing next to you.

The man you loved.

She had to die.

“The displacer can hear you, can’t she?” You squeezed Astarion’s wrist. 

Yurgir looked at Nessa, and you saw the dots connecting in his head.

“Kill her,” you instructed. 

The orthon’s eyes grew sad. “...Kill Nessa?”

Nessa herself straightened and looked at Yurgir with a mix of surprise and deep heartbreak. “Master…?”

Yurgir raised his crossbow. His words were soft: “Stay very still, my beauty.”

With that, he shot Nessa with a deadly arrow, piercing through her side and killing her instantly. You felt the warm spray of her blood splatter across your face and Astarion pulled you closer. 

“Ugh!” Yurgir groaned, clutching at his head again. “I still hear it!” 

With one final squeeze of Astarion’s wrist, you released him and took a step forward.

“Darling,” he reached out after you but you stopped him.

“I’ll be alright, my love.” You winked at him. “I promise.”

He dropped his hand to his side and nodded wordlessly.

You then drew yourself up into a confident posture, similar to how you would perform for crowds back in Baldur’s Gate. 

“My dear hunter,” you said, “isn’t it obvious?” 

A beat of silence passed before Yurgir answered you. “No?”

“Yes, no, darling,” Astarion whispered with a tinge of desperation and confusion. “What are you doing?” 

“Shh,” you hissed at him before turning back to Yurgir. “You must kill yourself. Then you’ll be free.”

“Ohhh,” Astarion breathed, before projecting his voice for Yurgir to hear. “She’s right, you know. Raphael is a tricky bastard, this is exactly the kind of thing he’d never think you’d be able to parse from his insufferable lyrics.”

Yurgir growled. “ENOUGH! I’ve heard enough from you!” He pointed his crossbow at Astarion.

Astarion raised his eyebrows and held up his hands. “Right.” 

Yurgir turned to you, his expression plainly showing that he was at war with himself and your words. He exhaled, steam releasing from his nostrils.

“If you’re wrong about this,” he snarled, “I’ll claw my way out of Avernus and eat you alive - contract be damned.”

“Trust me,” you said, “music and lyrics are kind of my thing. I believe this will solve your problem.”

Yurgir furrowed his eyebrows, once again considering your words, before he tossed his crossbow aside and pulled a gigantic greatsword off of his back.

“Nicely played, Raphael,” he said, knowing that Raphael was probably listening to this entire interaction from somewhere below. “Bastard.”

Without a moment of hesitation to talk himself out of it, Yurgir plunged the sword through his chest, grunting out in pain before the light drained from his eyes. He fell to his knees, then tipped forward, over the edge of the platform he’d been standing on, and landed with a gigantic thud in front of you and Astarion.

Dead.

You released a breath you didn’t know you were holding and slumped forward, putting one hand on your knees, and another over your heart, willing your pulse to slow.

Astarion took a step forward to examine the orthon, not entirely convinced that the devil was well and truly dead. 

When it seemed Yurgir wasn’t getting back up, Astarion spoke. “Does… Does that count as us killing him? That had better count.”

You laughed in disbelief at your accomplishment. “I don’t think it matters, so long as he’s dead.” You walked forward to stand at Astarion’s side. “And he seems to be dead. Aren’t you pleased?”

He was looking at you fondly, but you watched as Astarion put his mask back in place, a flicker of fear in his eyes. “The orthon is nothing,” he said pompously. I’ll have my satisfaction when Raphael makes good on his word.”

You rolled your eyes. Idiot.

“Repeat after me,” you said, wiping some wayward blood off his cheekbone, “‘Thank you for helping me, it was very kind.’”

“Hmm?” Astarion’s eyes widened. “Hrmm,” he whined and looked away. When he met your eye again, he sighed. “Thank you for helping me. It was very kind.” 

You could tell the words pained him tremendously.

“You’re welcome,” you said cheerily before heading back out the way you came. 

You heard Astarion hot on your heels, knowing he’d follow you.

“Darling, wait- ah!” He groaned out in pain and you immediately halted and turned to look at him.

He was doubled over and sank to his knees, clutching his side.

“Astarion!” you cried, rushing over to him and kneeling beside him. “What’s wrong? Did I miss a wound? Where are you hurt?”

He pulled his hand away from his side, revealing a tiny pool of blood in his palm.

“Blasted displacer beast must have nicked me when I wasn’t looking.” He smirked at you, clearly trying to disway your worry. 

You furrowed your brow and summoned the strongest Cure Wounds you could muster. “Hold still,” you said gently. 

The aqua healing magic that emitted from your fingertips created a soothing light that warmed both you and Astarion as it worked on fixing the wound. 

“How did you know that would work?” Astarion asked quietly.

You looked up at his face and found him watching your hands. You smiled. “Which thing? My impressive healing magic? Or way with words?”

Astarion rolled his eyes. “You know I was referring to the orthon.”

“I didn’t,” you shrugged, moving your hands to heal his side from a different angle. “Didn’t know talking would work, I mean. But I had to try something rather than let both of us die in this gross, decrepit temple to Shar.”

Astarion chuckled. “Don’t let Shadowheart hear you say that.”

“I wasn’t planning to,” you said. “Speaking of Shadowheart, I hope she and the others are alright.”

The vampire thought about it for a moment. “They’re probably fine. And if they’re not, I’m sure you’ll figure out some way to save the day.”

“And you won’t lift a finger, right?”

“Not if I can help it.”

You laughed. “Come on,” you said, standing up and offering Astarion a hand, “we should set up camp for the night.”

“I’m sorry,” Astarion raised an eyebrow,”you want to stay down here?”

“Not especially,” you admitted, emerging through the doorway you’d followed Nessa through. “But unless you see Raphael or a waypoint, it’ll be a little hard to get back to the inn right now. And I spent all my magic just now saving your ass from some mindless monsters.”

“Ah,” Astarion said quietly, with less sarcasm than you’d expect. “Yes, you did do that, didn’t you?”

You paused and looked over at him. “Do you want to talk now?”

He laughed softly. “Give me a moment, it’s still fresh.”

You smiled. “Take your time, my love.”

Without speaking further, the two of you made your way through Shar’s temple, attempting to find a suitable place to rest for the night. Sure, you’d only awoken a few hours ago, but talking an orthon and his minions into killing themselves wasn’t exactly an easy task. You felt completely drained, especially after channeling all your magic into healing Astarion.

Upon finding a suitable place to unwind - a grand, abandoned hall with minimal leaks, dead bodies, and foul odors - you slung your backpack off your shoulders, grateful you’d thought to put it on this morning.

Astarion, who’d just finished surveying the room, bit his lip. “Let me help you with that,” he said, coming over to help you unpack your extra camping supplies. 

“Thank you,” you said softly, watching as he pulled out a bedroll that the two of you would likely have to share tonight. 

“Of course, love,” he said absently, before his eyes widened and he looked at you. 

You gave him a gentle half smile and kissed his cheek. 

After a few minutes, your little party of two had a modest fire going in a brazier that Astarion had dragged over to your makeshift camping area, along with a stew heating up, thanks to supplies Gale had lent you for occasions like this when he wasn’t around. You swept your hand over the bedroll, flattening lumps and rearranging pillows to make it as comfortable as possible on the hard marble floor. 

Astarion watched you from a tiny set of stairs not too far off, balancing the tip of a blade on his finger. He, like you, had stripped off his bloody armor and was now lounging in only his plain clothes, which were stained with dried blood from where Nessa and the merregons had pierced through his armor. 

“Enjoying the show?” you asked, very aware that you weren’t being sexy, and were merely fluffing a pillow. 

Astarion didn’t respond and kept staring at you, unblinking. 

“Hello?” you asked, snapping your fingers in his direction. “Anybody home?”

He started, as if coming out of a trance, causing his dagger to fall and slice his fingertip. “Bugger!” he exclaimed, shoving the digit into his mouth.

You clicked your tongue. “Come here,” you said, motioning for him to approach you.

He got up slowly, walking over to you and kneeling on the bedroll.

“Let me see,” you instructed, holding out your hand for him to show you the cut. 

It was a tiny little thing, right at the tip of his right index finger. The bleeding had already ceased. 

“Yikes,” you said dramatically. “Not sure you’ll survive this one.” You smiled and reached into your bag, opting for a bandage instead of attempting another healing spell. 

Before wrapping the wound, however, you brought it to your mouth for a kiss, letting out an overly exaggerated “MWAH!” when your lips made contact.

“Better?” you asked, fastening the bandage in place.

Astarion nodded. “Much.”

“I have a fresh shirt, if you want,” you told him, pulling out one of his shirts that he’d let you keep from your backpack. “All that blood can’t be comfortable.”

“Speak for yourself,” Astarion joked, taking the shirt from your hands and lifting his soiled one over his head. 

Though he was facing you, you couldn’t help thinking about the scars on his back.

“Listen,” you said as his head popped out of the collar of the fresh shirt, “even if Raphael doesn’t have the answers you want, I promise we’ll make Cazador pay for what he did to you.”

A wicked grin came over Astarion’s face. “Oh, I-” He stopped himself. You watched as he grew visibly shy. “Um… Darling, do you have a moment?” When you raised an eyebrow, indicating you were listening, he looked down at his hands. “I think we need to talk.”

You inhaled sharply. 

Oh.

This was it.

The moment you’d been waiting for.

“I’d like that,” you brushed your fingers along his cheek.

His eyes grew wide and vulnerable, and he took your hand in his. “Look, I-”

“Do you know what happens when a devil is struck down on this… charming plane of existence?”

Both you and Astarion deflated.

“Perfect timing as always, Raphael.” You stood to face the devil and Astarion rose to join you.

“I’m nothing if not punctual,” Raphael smirked with a deep bow in your direction.

“Get on with it,” Astarion rolled his eyes. “We were in the middle of something.”

Raphael lifted his head. “My apologies to the flittering lovebirds.” 

You sighed. “No, we don’t know what happens when a devil dies.”

The devil before you chuckled. “It returns to the hells - to the very point where it last stood before venturing to whichever devilforsaken plane it died on.”

“Your point?” Astarion asked impatiently.

Raphael looked between the two of you, observing the blood still speckled across Astarion’s face. “In the case of our friend Yurgir, he manifested in my House of Hope. He returned to me chastened but intact, his wounds healed, his body restored. He thought I would dismember him, but he has his uses so instead I am reeducating him.”

You groaned. “Come on, Raphael, we had a deal.”

Astarion placed his hands on his hips. “We delivered the devil. Now I want what I’m owed.”

Raphael exhaled an amused breath. “We did indeed have a deal. I discovered all there is to know about those scars of yours.” He chuckled unsettlingly. “It’s a rather grim tale, even for my tastes.”

Astarion stiffened beside you, and you sidestepped to be closer to him. You took his right hand in both of yours and held on tight.

“Stop stalling,” you said firmly. “Astarion deserves to know whatever it is you found out.”

Raphael watched your hands before his eyes found your face. “As you wish.” He then turned to Astarion, who was staring at him with carefully masked fear. “Brace yourself, Astarion - we’re about to unveil your destiny.”

You squeezed Astarion’s hand. 

“Carved into that ivory skin of yours is one part of a contract between the archdevil Mephistopheles, and your former master, Cazador Szarr.” 

Astarion’s eyebrows furrowed in disgust at the name. 

Raphael continued. “In full, the contract states that Cazador will be granted the knowledge of an infernal ritual so vile, it has never been performed.”

Astarion sighed. “Sounds like Cazador.”

Raphael raised his voice. “It is called, ‘The Rite of Profane Ascension.’”

You narrowed your eyes. “And what does that entail?”

The devil once again took up his favored performing stance. “Oh, it promises to be a marvellous ceremony. Very elaborate, incredibly ancient, and entirely diabolical.”

Astarion hummed in displeasure.

Raphael smiled at him. “You’ll like this, little vampling. If he completes the rite, he will become a new kind of being - the Vampire Ascendant.”

Your vampire took a curious step forward, and you followed him, still gripping his hand. “Explain,” he said adamantly. 

“All the strengths of his vampire form will be amplified,” Raphael clarified, “and alongside them, he will enjoy the luxuries of living.”

You couldn’t help letting out a tiny gasp. Astarion looked helplessly at you before turning his attention back to Raphael, who was still speaking.

“The arousals and appetites of man will return to him, and unlike Astarion, he will have no need of a parasite to protect him from the sun.”

“Incredible,” Astarion breathed.

You nodded. If there was a way to let Astarion walk in the sun forever, you wanted to hear more about it.

Raphael smirked, seeing how his delicious words had drawn both of you in.

“But,” he warned, “the ritual has its price, as all worthwhile things do.”

“What is it?” you asked before you could stop yourself.

Raphael placed a hand on his hip. “Lord Cazador will need to sacrifice a number of souls, including all of his vampiric spawn, if he is to ascend.”

“No,” you murmured, your voice full of disbelief. You pulled yourself closer to Astarion. 

“Imagine how he felt, then,” Raphael said, “when one of those precious spawn disappeared into thin air.”

This time, Astarion squeezed your hand. 

“The only missing ingredient is Astarion.” Raphael smiled at him, devilishly, for lack of a better term. 

Astarion scowled at the devil, but allowed him to continue.

“You are the final piece he requires to complete the ritual - your scars bind you to it. Your soul will set off a very wave of death, bringing Cazador his twisted life.”

“I won’t let that happen,” you said, more to yourself than either of the men currently in your presence. 

Raphael smiled once more, taking on his performer’s stance one final time. “And that, my tragic and toothsome friend, is that.” He bowed deeply, before rising and giving you both a nasty look. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have business elsewhere.”

Before you could ask any followup questions, Raphael snapped his fingers and disappeared in a cloud of foul smelling black smoke and embers.

Astarion stood still for a moment before turning to face you, his eyes focused on where your hands were joined. 

“Hmm,” he hummed softly. 

You blinked at him. “‘Hmm?’ That’s all you have to say?”

He met your eye. “I was… contemplating. There’s a lot to take in.” Astarion laid his free hand on top of one of yours. 

“Hey,” you said, bringing one of your hands up to his cheek. “It’ll be alright.”

He looked incredibly sad. “What do you think I should do?” 

You considered for a moment. The thought of Astarion being able to walk in the sun definitely had its appeal… but the cost was far too great and you doubted you’d be able to live with yourself if Astarion was somehow able to follow through and sacrifice innumerable souls for something that may have a cure elsewhere in Faerûn. It also sent a shiver down your spine to think of what Cazador might do with all that power. You were so immensely grateful that the mind flayers had kidnapped you and Astarion and dropped you into each other’s arms.

“We can’t let Cazador complete the ritual,” you said finally. “He could unleash terrible horrors.”

Astarion chuckled humorlessly. “The end of my life amongst them.” He exhaled slowly and nuzzled into your hand on his cheek. “Just when I was starting to enjoy it.” He took your palm and kissed it, before his eyes settled on some unseen object in the distance. “He’ll never leave me alone,” he continued. “I didn’t think he would when I was one more wretched toy for him to play with. But if I’m the key to this power he craves, he’ll hunt me to the ends of Faerûn.”

“What do you want to do?” you asked calmly, squeezing his hand once more. 

He sighed, the slightest smile playing on his lips, his eyes incredibly soft as they bore into your own. Then his brow knit together. “I need to take the fight to him.” He stepped closer to you, brushing some hair behind your ear. “And I need you… to help me.”

“Of course I’ll help you,” you said almost immediately. You smiled, your voice taking on a half teasing, half serious tone: “We’ll hunt him down and kill him.”

You weren’t able to add anything else, because suddenly Astarion’s lips were crushed against yours, his hands tangled in your hair. You let out a surprised yelp before meeting his tempo with equal passion and desperation. 

He murmured something against your lips.

You pushed lightly against his chest, laughing. “What?”

“I want to live,” he repeated, seemingly out of breath. 

“Of course you want to live, you’re alive,” you smiled up at him, running a hand through his hair. “In all the ways that matter, I mean.” You wiggled your eyebrows at him, clearly trying to be suggestive.

He rolled his eyes. “No, you insufferable woman, I’m referring to something Shadowheart said.”

You wracked your brain, trying to remember a time when Shadowheart had expressed wanting to live to either you or Astarion. Not that she was having trouble on that front. But nothing came to mind.

“When did she say that?”

Astarion led you over to the bedroll laid out next to the still burning brazier. He pulled you to sit down across from him. 

“While you were dying,” he said softly, refusing to look at you. “Or, while you were sleeping, I suppose, since you’re still with us.”

“Okay, so while I was dying, Shadowheart was reflecting on how unlucky I was and how she wanted to continue living?”

Astarion flicked your nose.

“Ow!” you laughed, rubbing the appendage. 

“This is it,” he said flatly. “I’m trying to have the conversation.”

Your eyes widened. “Okay,” you said, trying to reel in what you were sure was a stupid giddy grin on your face.

“Look,” he tried again, taking your hands in his. “I had a plan. A nice, simple plan - seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you’d never turn on me.”

“I don’t think this is accomplishing what you want it to,” you said, tilting your head questioningly.

“No, you’re right.” He looked up as if asking the gods for help. “I thought it would be easy. Instinctive. I thought that habits from two hundred years of charming people would kick in. And while they did work swimmingly,” his expression melted into one of easy seduction that made you laugh lightly, “you ended up charming me. Much to my dismay.”

“Aw shucks.”

He said your name, his tone laced with annoyance. “Honestly, darling. Could you withhold your snarky comments while I try and get this out?”

You mimed locking your mouth with a key.

Then you unlocked it. 

“Sorry.”

And relocked it.

Astarion sighed and scooched forward, the tops of his knees making contact with your own. “You really aren’t making this easy for me.” He rubbed his thumb soothingly along the back of your hand, despite his complaints. 

You shrunk back a little into your shoulders, smiling sheepishly at him.

He chuckled. “While you so graciously nearly died on all of us, Shadowheart decided it was a good time to talk to me about my, blech, feelings.”

“Brave.”

“Darling.”

“Sorry.”

“Anyway, it was then that Shadowheart told me that I was ready to see the world burn before I saw you get hurt. And she was right. If anything had happened to you that couldn’t be undone, I don’t think I could have come back from that.”

You smiled at him, feeling your insides go all mushy with adoration.

Astarion fidgeted with your hands in his. “She also said something I wasn’t expecting.”

He paused briefly, almost as if willing you to interrupt him again and distract him from what he felt so vulnerable saying. 

“Go on,” was all you offered.

He exhaled.

“She told me that I was allowed to love you.”

You bit your lip and felt your eyes go misty. 

Of course he was allowed! After two hundred years of torture and isolation, the man before you deserved nothing more than to feel love and be loved in return. The fact that he’d been holding himself back from his own happiness and comfort made your heart ache a little.

You allowed him to continue on his own. 

“She said that heartbreak is a part of life. And while I’ve known far more heartbreak than any one person should ever experience in multiple lifetimes, she’s right.”

He looked at you earnestly in the eye, shyness playing at his features.

“I don’t want to be afraid anymore. I want to live.”

You squeezed his hands a little nervously, ignoring the way your palms were clammy against his cool ones.

“Meaning?”

“Meaning you deserve to be loved. Just as you’ve shown love to me.”

He leaned in close, resting his forehead softly against yours.

“I love you,” he whispered. Then added, “You atrocious woman.”

You laughed, a tear running down your cheek. “I love you, too, you beautiful, wonderful, terrible man.”

You threw your arms around his neck and pinned him to the bedroll, nuzzling your face into his neck, taking in his scent and letting all of him wash over your senses. You didn’t want to forget a single moment of this. 

“You do?” he asked softly, staring up at the ceiling above you blankly. 

You sat up on your elbows and looked down at him. “What about anything I’ve said and done in the past few weeks has made you think that I wasn’t already head over heels in love with you?”

Astarion’s face broke out into a massively giddy grin. He held a hand to his forehead and laughed in disbelief. “I don’t know!” he exclaimed. “You get so used to being alone that it starts to feel like that’s all you’ll ever be. I scarcely thought I’d find a bard on a dilapidated beach foolish enough to want to know me and not run away screaming when she did.”

“There’s still time,” you teased.

“Ha ha,” he rolled his eyes affectionately. 

Now it was your turn to rub your thumb along the back of his hand. “If I recall correctly, you just said I’ve shown love to you - If I made it that obvious, why are you still doubting how I feel?”

He sighed for what must have been the tenth time this evening. “It’s only that you could be with anyone at camp and you’re choosing to love me? The one who eats rats and bugs and kills people for pleasure?”

You kissed his cheek, down to the side of his mouth. “You’re also the silliest, sexiest, most remarkable man I’ve ever met. And I seem to remember saying the same thing to you back when we first slept together. That you could have anyone, but you’d chosen me. Why can’t I choose you in return?”

“Because you’re…” He searched for the words. “You’re incredible. And you deserve something real. What if I can’t give you that?”

You bent forward and kissed his mouth, hard. “Where’s my suave vampire? Who is this vulnerable mess in front of me right now?”

Astarion rolled his eyes. “‘Vulnerable,’ sure. ‘Mess?’ Hardly.”

“There he is,” you smiled and kissed him again.

“I mean it though,” he said between kisses. “You deserve something real. I want us to be something real.”

“This is real,” you murmured. “I love you,” you kissed his jaw, “I love you,” you kissed his throat, “Astarion,” you pulled back to look at him with eyes full of devotion, “I’m in love with you. And there’s nothing you can do to change that.”

He seemed dazed, watching you with half lidded eyes. He smiled like a dope. “There’s still time,” he teased. 

You laughed and kissed his mouth deeply. “You’re who I’ve dreamed of meeting since I was a little girl. Someone to see me, and laugh with me, and make me feel like I’m the only one for you.” You pushed a hand to his lips before he could make a sarcastic comment. “Yes, I know you’ve been with thousands of other people, but I haven’t. And yet, you’ve made me feel like I’m the only one who ever mattered to you.”

He smiled softly. “You are,” he confirmed. “I’ve never felt for anyone what I feel for you. None that I can remember at least. But as far as I know, you’re the only one who’s ever cared for me and truly meant it. Yes, you make dumb comments at the most inopportune times, you’re loud and obnoxious, your bleeding heart gets this group into far more trouble than we ever would have without you-”

“Gee, thanks.”

“-and I love every bit of it. You make me laugh, you never make me feel small or worthless for the things that have happened to me or that I’ve had to do in my past, and,” he cleared his throat, deeply embarrassed to be admitting all of this, “you bring out the best in me.”

“Aw-”

“If you say ‘aw shucks,’ I will kill you.”

“You will not.”

“I will not.”

He kissed you instead. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in close. “I care about you. Deeply.” 

He smirked at you. “Oh, really?”

“I swear,” you whispered in his ear, “you’ll never know a lonely day again. Not as long as I’m around. I adore you. I love you.”

Astarion’s breath hitched in his throat. “You… you’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“Get used to it,” you brushed your fingertips against the tip of his ear. “You’re never getting rid of me now.”

“Blast!” he chuckled. “And here I thought a grand love confession from a gorgeous vampire would send you running for the hills.”

“You would think that, wouldn’t you?” you laughed. 

He laughed again, a gentle exhale from his nose, and unwrapped your arms from his neck to hold your hands in his once again. He fidgeted with the ring on your pinky. “Honestly,” he said softly, “I have no idea what we’re doing. Or what comes next.” He raised your hands to his mouth and kissed across your knuckles. “But I know that this,” he leaned his forehead into yours and kissed the tip of your nose, “this is nice.”

“You’re nice.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Actually, darling, you’ll find that I am not.”

You smiled. “Shhh, let me enjoy this brief delusion.” 

“With pleasure,” he smirked and bent forward to kiss you deeply. He placed his arms around you and lowered you so that you landed gently on the bedroll beneath you and redirected his attention to nipping and sucking around the bruises on your neck from where he’d fed the night before. 

You sighed happily, wrapping your arms around his back, and rubbing your hands up and down his shirt soothingly. 

“I love you,” you whispered, still enamored by the taste of the words on your tongue.

Astarion moaned and dragged his teeth up towards your ear. “Again.”

“I love you,” you whimpered as he bit your earlobe. 

His hips gave an unconscious roll against yours and you felt him already becoming hard in his pants. You lifted your head to gain his attention and raised your eyebrows.

“Here?”

He shrugged. “We’ve done it in the dirt before, a Temple to the Goddess of Darkness is quite the step up.”

You looked around skeptically. “You don’t think she’s watching, do you?”

Astarion rolled his eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous, what’s so special about one temple dedicated to her here out of the thousands littering Faerûn.”

You bit your lip. “But this one is surrounded by shadows.”

He tilted his head to the side. “Please, I was surrounded by shadows for two hundred years and her eyes never fell upon me specifically.”

“Or so you think.”

“Darling.”

You smiled sheepishly. “You’re probably right.”

Astarion preened. “Of course I’m right. Now please, I’ve never made love to someone before.” He leaned forward to kiss you again but you pulled back with a laugh. 

“‘Never?”

His lips were still puckered, prepared to kiss you, but he blew out a raspberry instead, blowing the curl that hung freely on his forehead away from his face. “I’ve decided I hate you, actually.”

You threw your head back and laughed. “You’re the one who told our friends you made love to me literally the morning after we first slept together.”

Astarion waved his hand dismissively through the air. “I didn’t know what I was saying.” He rolled his hips against yours again, harder now, despite his supposed hatred towards you. “Please love, it’ll be so much better now.”

You rolled your hips in tandem with his, making Astarion hang his head and hiss. “It’s been pretty good before.”

“Well, of course it has, I’m excellent. I wouldn’t let a partner suffer, it’s not in my blood.” 

You rolled your eyes playfully. “But…”

“But,” he said more soberly, “you’re the first person I actually…” He paused on the word. 

“Go on,” you encouraged. 

He met your eye. “...love.” He held your gaze for a moment before continuing. “Last night was one of the most amazing nights of my life because of how loved I felt by you and hopefully, the feeling was reciprocated.” He sent you a small smile, which you returned with an excited and over-the-top nod. “But I think that the fact that I am completely and desperately in love with you is what made it feel wonderful as opposed to… tainted.”

You pursed your lips and attempted to make him smile again. “Are you insulting my skills now?”

He laughed. “No, sweet girl, you were and are marvelous.” He leaned in closer, lowering his voice to something low and breathy. “And I’d like to give it another go.”

You gave him a seductive half smile. “Then give it to me, dummy.”

Astarion lunged forward, laying you flat on your back and devouring your mouth with his own. “Oh, my love,” he moaned against your lips, “you’re all I’ve ever wanted.”

Your heart soared at the compliment, and you chased his lips as he pulled away to look at you with sparkling ruby eyes. 

“I’ve been looking for someone like you my whole life,” you admitted when he bent to drag his fangs along your neck again. 

“I doubt that,” he chuckled, nipping lightly at your skin for good measure. “But do go on,” he urged, spurring you with a roll of his hips, “what were you looking for?”

You sighed happily and wrapped your ankle around his. “Well, I already told you I wanted someone to laugh with, that’s big.”

“We’ve never laughed together,” he licked your ear.

“Not once,” you giggled. “But, I don’t know. You’re no knight in shining armor.”

“Certainly not.”

“And you never sing with me.”

“Nor will I ever.”

“And quite honestly, you’re a little frightening.”

“Thank you, darling!” “But despite it all, you’re kind.” He scowled at your words, but softened when you kissed his nose. “You care about me and the things I care about.” You stopped him before he could argue. “And don’t disagree with me, you stole a lute for me. You fought with Rolan-”

“Who?”

“-when he was being unreasonable and wouldn’t listen to me. And you nursed me back to health when there were honestly better people at camp who were far more equipped to heal me than some vampire rogue.”

“And I did a bang up job.”

“You did,” you laughed and kissed him sweetly. “And now, I can’t imagine my life without that vampire rogue.”

He kissed you again, gently massaging his fingers through your hair and across your scalp. “Then stay with me,” he murmured.

“For as long as you’ll let me,” you responded, meeting his eye with a fierce look that conveyed your sincerity. “And longer.”

One of his hands drifted down your sides and started playing with the ties on your pants. 

“May I?” he asked. 

“Only if you return the favor.”

He smirked and pulled his shirt over his head, folding it neatly and slipping it under your head for extra support. He kissed your cheek before running his hands under your shirt and squeezing your breasts playfully. 

“Honk,” you said, thinking yourself funny.

“You’re not funny,” he said flatly, though his smile betrayed him. 

“You love me, so you have to think I’m funny.”

“Are those the rules?” 

“You’re the lawyer, you tell me.”

By now, he’d removed your bra and taken one of your nipples gently into his mouth. “Mmm-mm-mmm,” he attempted to correct, though he continued sucking the hardened pebble incoherently. 

“Lawyer, magistrate, what’s the difference?” you asked breathily.

Astarion came up for air. “I have neither the time, nor the patience to explain, but know that you are wrong, and I still love you.” He took your other breast into his mouth, biting down a little harshly, and making your back arch. 

“Whatever you say, handsome,” you sighed, rubbing at the tips of his ears and making him moan against your skin. 

“Whatever I say, huh?” He looked up at you mischievously. 

You rolled your eyes. “It’s an expression.”

“You’ll let me have you tonight,” he said, resting his cheek on your breast like a pillow.

You stroked your hands through his hair. “A given.”

“You’ll let me drink from you,” he added, before tacking on a sheepish “please.”

“Of course, my love.”

He sighed and closed his eyes, his brows furrowing in thought. “And,” he said, looking back at you with a shy expression, “and you won’t leave me, once this is all over.”

Your eyes widened. “Oh, Astarion,” you cupped his cheek. “No. No sweet boy, I won’t ever leave you. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever.”

He made a whining sound from the back of his throat. “You say that now, but what if we can’t beat Cazador? What if I return to his thrall?”

“We won’t let that happen,” you reassured. “Believe me, that fucker was dead the moment I met you. Not a chance he survives this.”

Astarion let out an amused exhale. “I appreciate your enthusiasm, my love, but Cazador will not be easy to kill. Especially now that we know about his dastardly ritual.”

You moved your hands from his hair to start rubbing soothingly up and down his back. “You are the missing piece, Astarion. He can’t come into his power unless you’re there. And with all of us at your side, we won’t let him take you.”

Astarion looked up at you skeptically, but saw how determined you looked and softened, pressing his lips to the swell of your breast. 

“Thank you,” he muttered, resting his cheek back against your skin. 

“I fear the mention of your former slaver has dampened the mood.”

Astarion chuckled. “What gave you that idea?”

“Let’s see if I can’t help,” you said, wiggling your hips beneath his, both of you still clothed from the waist down. “Hmm…”

“Hmm…” Astarion mimicked you, idly rubbing his thumb across your right nipple. 

“Star jasmine.”

Astarion raised an eyebrow. “Um, it’s pronounced, ‘Ah-star-ee-on.’”

You shoved him and he laughed. “No, idiot. We’ll have star jasmine growing on the side of our house.”

“Who, ‘we?’ You and me, ‘we?’”

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, obviously.”

“Oh.” Astarion looked pleased. “What else?”

“We’ll live in the Upper City.”

“Staying in Baldur’s Gate, are we?”

“Shush, this is my fantasy.”

He chuckled. “Go on, then.”

“It’ll be in a nice quiet corner of the city. Exclusive to all but the finest of citizens.”

Astarion nodded, fiddling with the ends of your hair. 

“You’ll be a renowned tailor and have a shop downstairs.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Oh, will I? And who says I won’t want to live a quiet life, ravishing my beloved all day?” He kissed your breast again and dragged his fangs along the plump flesh. 

You shivered. “We need to make money, somehow,” you said shakily. 

“And you expect me to be the breadwinner? Selfish little thing, aren’t you?” He continued dragging his fangs along your chest. 

“I’ll be performing at prestigious parties all around town,” you clarified, tightening your hands into his curls. “And you’ll get bored if you’re not terrorizing patriars. What better way than with overpriced, yet exquisite garments? I’ve seen your embroidery.” 

“Dextrous fingers and flowers made of thread does not a tailor make,” Astarion pointed out, nipping playfully at your nipple and moving his dexterous fingers to your still clothed core. “And besides,” he purred, circling your clit, “I’ll want to see my lovely little songbird in action every once in a while.”

You gasped at a particularly delicious rub of his fingers. “Two income households are quite common these days,” you argued, wanting to maintain the fantasy you were making up on the fly. 

“And who’s to say,” Astarion said, kissing just above your naval, “that we won’t become fabulously wealthy on this journey of ours?”

“Fine,” you conceded, “then we’ll live in a mansion in the countryside. Overlooking the Sword Sea.”

“Think bigger, darling,” he massaged your hips, rolling his pelvis into yours, making you aware how hard he still was. “The love of my life deserves a palace erected in her honor.”

You snorted and he pinched your sides. 

“Erected,” he repeated, seeing your eyes crinkle in mirth. “Gods you are a child,” he muttered, before kissing you fiercely. “And I love you very much. Stupidly.”

“Okay, loverboy,” you laughed, “what do you expect our future to look like?” You smoothed some of his curls behind his ears and absorbed the soft look in his eyes. 

“Hmm,” he mused, kissing your neck. “Well, I’ve lived in a rather decrepit crypt of a palace for the last two hundred years, so maybe a palace is out.”

You nodded, absentmindedly tucking your thumbs into his waistband and massaging the bare skin found beneath. “Alright, palaces are off the list.” 

“An estate, then,” he stated, kissing your bare shoulder. “Somewhere we can throw fabulous balls and gossip about the debauchery of our esteemed guests.”

“I like that,” you sighed, as he licked up your throat. “An estate with sprawling grounds, a notably vast library, and secret rooms around every shadowy corner.”

“You’ve been reading too many books, my love,” he chuckled, kissing your jawline.

“And with my notably vast library, I’ll read even more,” you said. “And you’ll read to me.”

Astarion pulled back to grin at you. “Will I?”

You nodded. “I adore your voice. It lilts like a melody.”

He laughed airly. “You flatter me.”

“I love you,” you shrugged, by way of explanation. 

���And I, you,” he smiled. Then his face fell. “Oh gods, is it going to be mushy like this all the time now?”

You laughed again and playfully smacked the side of his head. 

“I jest, love,” he chuckled, shockingly not complaining about you swatting at his curls. “I adore you. May I have you now?” His fingers slipped delicately into your own waistband.

You nodded, your eyes never leaving his. “Please.”

In one graceful motion that you’d come to expect, Astarion removed both your pants and underthings in one go. 

He inhaled deeply. “You smell divine, my sweet.” His fingers swept through your folds, making you jolt at their sudden coolness. “And you’re nearly wet enough to take me already.”

“I like thinking about our future,” you admitted. “I like picturing you happy.”

“Blech,” Astarion stuck out his tongue in mock disgust, but began to circle your clit slowly with his thumb. “Tell someone you love them, and suddenly they picture you happy.”

You attempted to inch your hips closer to his hand. “You like being happy, admit it.”

“Never,” he growled, leaning forward to kiss you again. “But I suppose I like you.”

“I knew it,” you teased, closing your eyes with a blissed out smile as he inserted a finger into your dripping hole.

“Blue,” he said, pumping his finger into you. 

“Yellow,” you responded breathlessly. “What are we talking about?”

“I was also thinking yellow,” he smiled, as if that response made any sense. 

“Great! What are we talking about?”

“The estate, darling,” Astarion rolled his eyes. “I think blue for the sky and yellow for the sun would be quite a pleasant theme as opposed to the wretchedly dark crimsons, greens, and golds found in Cazador’s mansion.”

“Ah,” you whined as he inserted another finger. “Sounds… sounds like the winter solstice all year round.”

“Trust me, darling, there was never any joy or festivities to be had in that loathsome place.”

“Our house,” you said, squeezing your eyes shut to focus on your words, “will be full of nothing but joy.”

“I was afraid you’d say that,” Astarion teased, lowering himself to suck on your clit. 

You gasped loudly and thrust your hands into his hair. He lapped at your folds, never removing his fingers, and sucked viciously at your bundle of nerves. 

“We’ll hold dinner parties,” you sighed, “all the time. If only so you can flaunt our wealth.”

Astarion moaned into your core, bumping his nose against your clit as he licked you up and down. 

Your hands tightened in his hair. “We’ll wear the finest clothes, sleep in the finest bed, make love in the finest bed- ah!”

Astarion pulled you closer to his face, a possessive rumbling low in his chest. 

“I’ll hold you in my arms at night and never let you go,” you dragged your nails down his back.

“Please,” he mumbled against your sensitive skin. 

“W-want that?” you asked as he returned to sucking your clit. “We-we’ll stay in bed, ah- for as long as you like. No expectations to go a-anywhere so do anything. We’ll be f-free.”

The vampire moaned loudly, pumping his fingers extra harshly and hitting the spongy spot inside you that had you seeing stars. 

“Oh Astarion!” you wailed, throwing an arm over your eyes and twisting your free hand into his hair again. “I love you.”

“Then come, damn you,” he whined, squeezing your hip.

“Trying,” you laughed. “Faster.” 

He hummed an affirmation, swirling your clit around with the tip of his tongue and pumping into you harshly. 

“I can’t wait,” you said, feeling the knot in your stomach about to burst, “for our future together.”

Astarion groaned against you, sucking your clit harshly and petting your hip with the hand that wasn’t currently thrusting into you. “I love you, my darling,” he said softly.

The dam broke and you were wailing his name, crying out for him to stay with you and never let you go. 

Astarion for his part, released you from his mouth and continued fingerfucking you through your climax with sweet words: “You are so beautiful, darling. My love. My beloved, so good for me. Staying with me forever. I’m never letting you go, sweet girl.”

You came down with a shuddering sigh, gasping for breath and pulling at Astarion’s shoulders to bring his mouth to yours. 

“Astarion,” you whined.

He mimicked your name in a mocking version of how you’d just whined his. “What is it?”

“I need you.”

He smirked. “A man could get used to shattering one's world, only to have them beg for more.”

“I’m not begging,” you clarified. “I want you, but only if you want me.”

Astarion’s eyes shifted from amused to adoring. He kissed you sweetly. “Oh course I want you, darling. You’re the only one I’ll ever want.”

You sighed, loving this mushy side of him. “Fuck me, then, won’t you?”

He growled, showing off his fangs playfully. “With pleasure,” he said, reaching for his pants and removing them quickly. 

His cock hit his stomach, achingly pink at the tip and weeping precum. 

“Wait,” you said, watching him take himself into his hand and gently begin to stroke himself. “Are you hungry?”

He threw you a wicked grin. “Famished, my love.”

You tilted your head, revealing your throat to him. “I’m all yours.”

He climbed on top of you, nuzzling into your neck with his beautifully sculpted nose. ”Thank you,” he said, dragging his lips across your skin before biting down at your pulse point. 

You inhaled sharply, the icy familiarity of his fangs in your throat sending a pang through your entire body, right down to your core. Unconsciously, Astarion rolled his hips against yours, bumping the head of his cock against your clit. You moaned loudly, making him grunt against your neck. 

“We’ll make love in every room of the estate,” you sighed. “On every possible surface.”

Astarion nipped your ear with a growl before returning to your blood. 

“Our guests will have no idea we fucked on the lounge in the drawing room.”

“Mmm.” 

“On the desk in the study.”

“Mmm.”

“On the very table where they dine with us.”

Astarion gave a gasping breath as he pulled away from your throat and kissed you feverishly. You matched his vigor, reaching down and taking his cock into your hand, pumping it slowly, spreading his precum down the length of him, and feeling how your blood already added to the warmth and hardness of him. 

“Did you get enough?” you asked innocently against his lips.

He licked into your mouth, still tangy with the taste of your blood. “It’ll never be enough,” he said lowly, squeezing his eyes shut as your hand picked up the pace on his length, “but, ah, it’s enough for now.”

You smiled, using your free hand to wipe your blood from the corner of his mouth. “Is it time to make love?”

He sighed dramatically, flipping his hair out of his eyes before staring down at you with a smirk. “Yes, my dearest, I would like that very much.”

“So would I,” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Astarion kissed you softly as he took himself into his hand and lined himself up at your entrance. He searched your face briefly, finding nothing but love and anticipation.

Still, he asked.

“Ready, darling?”

You smiled at him, hoping the small act conveyed all the devotion you could possibly lend to another being in this world. 

“Yes.”

He pushed into you slowly, cooing at your mild wince. 

“You always do so well for me, love, and you feel so good, wrapped around me so snuggly.”

You raked your nails down his back, softening down to your fingertips when you came in contact with the raised skin you found there. 

“No need to be gentle, my sweet,” he said conspiratorially, “I’ve told you, they don’t hurt anymore.”

He pulled back slightly and observed the look in your eye, your gaze locked on something just past his shoulder, knowing that you were thinking about his scars, rather than focusing on him in this moment.

That wouldn’t do.

He bent and kissed the side of your mouth. “Can I tell you what I picture?”

You blinked and your gaze returned to his. “Of course.”

He paused briefly to make sure you were comfortable, before pulling back and snapping his hips forward again. 

“You, obviously.”

You smiled. “I made the cut? How sweet.”

“Yes, it was a tight race between you and Wyll for a minute there, I won’t lie.”

You laughed and Astarion preened, thrilled to see the joy return to your eyes. He snapped his hips into you again, eliciting a surprised moan from your lips. 

“Truthfully though, darling, as much as I’d love to flaunt our love from the most luxurious estate on the Sword Coast,” he kissed your jawline in time with his lethargic thrusts, “I think I’d prefer your quaint little idea.”

You’d closed your eyes and bliss, but opened them again, not sure you’d heard him correctly. “You mean the house in the Upper City?”

His mouth ticked up at the corner. “Yes, my dear.” He leaned down to lick at the fresh wound on your neck, and thrust into you firmly. 

“But, ha,” you exhaled, wiggling your hips in an attempt to get him deeper inside of you, “the sprawling estate? The grand dinner parties? Your fancy balls?” You made to reach for his balls, but he swatted you away. 

He laughed out your name. “I’m serious, love.” He kissed across your chest, allowing you to slowly run your fingers through his curls. “I’ve lived enough of my life in a vast palace with dark halls and looming shadows and it all felt… incredibly empty. I’d rather have a home. With you.”

You felt your eyes go misty for the second time tonight and looked away from his face. “But…” you said, grasping at anything to keep you from shedding a tear and possibly ruining the moment, “you’re the one who said to think bigger. And the estate would never be empty, there would be people over all the time.”

Astarion stopped kissing your chest to look you in the eye. “Is that what you want?”

You sniffled softly. “I want what you want.”

“Darling girl, are you crying?” Astarion immediately paused his motions and cupped both of your cheeks in his cool hands.

“I’m trying not to,” you giggled, shakily. 

“Did I say something wrong?”

You laughed more loudly, and shook your head, a tear escaping your eye and rolling down your face to kiss Astarion’s thumb. 

“No, Astarion, it’s just… I want to build a home with you too. I’d be happy anywhere you are. I love you.”

Astarion grinned and kissed you, rolling his hips and making you both whine into each other’s mouths. 

“Picture with me for a moment, darling,” he said, thrusting into you again, “the little house in the Upper City… scratch that, it would be the biggest house on the block.”

You laughed. “That goes without saying.”

“Our home would be filled to the brim with possessions. Things that belong to us.”

“Like, ah-” you panted in time with one of his thrusts, “-like what?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Astarion shook his head, his cheeks the faintest of red from exertion. “Jewels, perhaps? Gold, obviously. Whatever we want! We’ll buy and take it all.”

“Emphasis on ‘take,’” you teased.

“Oh absolutely,” Astarion smirked, bringing his fingers to his mouth and wetting them before bringing them down to your clit. “There’d be multiple guest rooms for us to make love in, a reading room, a nursery, a quaint little kitchen, perhaps a study for when I’m feeling rather grandiose-”

“Wait,” you sat up suddenly, making Astarion freeze and stare at you with terror in his eyes.

“What? What is it, what happened?” He searched your eyes and brought his hands to your cheeks. 

You furrowed your brow. “What did you say?”

“Which part?”

“I don’t know, you were talking a lot, and you were making me feel so good, but you said-”

“Oh, my study? Well, I suppose we can share it, darling. Though I’d expect to be able to go in there to brood occasionally.”

“No, before that.” You laid back down gently, and he didn’t take his eyes off you the entire time. “Did you say ‘nursery?’”

“Did I?” Astarion looked vaguely embarrassed. “I suppose I did.”

You tried to keep your face neutral. “Do you want kids someday, Astarion?”

The vampire gave his hips a gentle roll within you. “I don’t know…” he admitted. “But with the way you act around those tiefling children, I’d imagine you want to be a mother. And I’d be lying if I said the image didn’t do anything for me.”

You smiled softly at his suggestive eyebrows. “I do love kids. I told you they usually make up the best audiences.”

Astarion rolled his eyes. “Ugh, I don’t know how you put up with all the mess and screaming and excessive energy.” 

You shrugged, rolling your hips this time and making him huff out a small whine. “If you don’t want children, that’s fine. I still love you. That won’t change.”

Astarion looked back down at you with a slightly gooey smile. “Oh, but darling, you love children. And imagine how perfect our child would be. My good looks and charming personality, mixed with your… I don’t know… humor? I guess, if that’s what you want to call it.”

You smacked his arm and he laughed. 

“Whatever children we’d have would absolutely adore you, I hope you know,” you said, reaching forward to grab his hips in a possessive manner you rarely showed. 

Astarion looked at your hands and raised an eyebrow at you. “Would they?” he asked, the uncertainty in his tone betraying his attempt at being suave. 

“Of course they would,” you said, sitting up again. You pushed him back gently, causing him to pull out of you completely. “Lie down,” you gestured to his rolled up shirt you’d been using as a pillow. 

He gave you a questioning look, but obliged. He slowly lowered himself down as you climbed on top of him. 

“Imagine, if you please,” you said, hovering above his cock and taking it into your hand gently. You pumped your own slick down his shaft, making him throw his head back in bliss. “Our home, full of love. Full of joy. Full of our possessions. Full of your possessions.”

You slowly lowered your heat onto him, taking him in slowly, and causing you both to hiss out in satisfaction. 

“Imagine filling me up to the brim,” you bagan to bounce on your knees, “full of you and only you, and creating something that’s purely us.”

“Us,” Astarion breathed, taking your breasts into his hands, “I still love the sound of that.” 

You bent forward to kiss him deeply, rolling your hips to get him to hit just the right spot within you, making you gasp against his mouth. 

“You’d make a wonderful father,” you murmured. “That child would be yours and you’d spoil them everyday with attention and sweets and some misguided but well intentioned gifts.”

Astarion chuckled while brushing a loose curl out of his face. “I’m not going to give the baby a knife, my sweet.”

You gave him a sarcastic, disbelieving look, and he laughed louder. 

“Not right away, at least!”

You kissed him again, slamming your hips against his playfully in a way that had you both moaning. 

The two of you remained quiet for a moment, save for the sound of your skin slapping against his, mixed with your labored breathing and moans of pleasure.

“D-darling,” he panted, digging his nails into your hips, “I’m not even sure if giving you a child is possible with… with my condition.”

Astarion looked at you with a fear you’d never seen before. You cupped his cheeks and rubbed your thumb along his cheekbone. 

“Astarion, my love, I swear to you that it would be okay. We would be okay.”

“But I want that,” he said, a bit childishly. “I want to see you round with my child. I want to see our babe supping from your breast and sucking their thumb for comfort. I want something that’s mine. That’s ours, together. Something I can proudly show the world that I helped make. Something good for once.”

You slowed your hips again and kissed him softly. “You are not defined by what you can offer the world, my love. You’re allowed to live now. You can figure out who you are and what you want.” Astarion nodded, grabbing your hand in his and kissing your palm. “Besides,” you continued, “bringing a child into the world while we have worms in our heads seems like the number one offense of negligent parents in the making. We have plenty of time to figure it all out.”

Without warning, Astarion pulled you off of him, scooped under your ass and flipped you around so you were on your back, and he was on top of you once more. 

“Then for now, let’s pretend I want to put a baby in you,” he snarled, licking the shell of your ear. You whimpered slightly and he chuckled. “Would you like that?”

“Yes,” you breathed, watching him line himself up with your entrance once more. 

“Good,” he said softly before slamming his cock into you and making you cry out in ecstacy. 

He started with a punishing pace, clearly desperate to reach his high and fill you with cum. 

“You want that, don’t you, my love,” he teased, squeezing your thigh before placing your calf on his shoulder. “You want to carry my child and be treated like a queen for doing so. You wouldn’t lift a finger under my watch, beloved. You’ll be carrying precious cargo and I’ll insist on doing everything for you.”

You laughed. “No, you won’t.”

“Shush, darling, this is my fantasy.”

You laughed again at his callback to your earlier joke, and let your eyes fall closed from the bliss of his cock pounding into your sopping wet cunt. 

“Our child would never know pain, if I could help it. They’d be the most spoiled child in the Gate. In Faerûn.”

“Gods help us,” you sighed, trying to make a joke, but feeling too good to commit fully. 

“You would be an absolute warrior of a mother,” he continued, paying wonderful attention to your clit. “So beautiful and patient and kind. I hope they'll look just like you.”

You opened your eyes and looked at your gorgeous lover. “Are you kidding? I hope they’ll look like you!”

“Darling-”

“You, Astarion, who haven’t seen your own reflection in nearly two hundred years? I hope they are your spitting image. The world deserves more beauty like yours.”

Astarion looked at you fondly, as if he might cry. “Oh,” he said quietly, his voice almost breaking, “then in that case, yes, I hope they look like me.”

You laughed, flinging an arm over your eyes, to which Astarion pulled your arm away. 

“I love your eyes,” he said sincerely. “Don’t hide.”

“I love you,” you responded. 

“I love you, too,” he said, nuzzling his nose against yours and picking up his pace again. “Why stop at just one?” he asked, pulling back and wrapping his hand around your calf resting on his shoulder. “We’ll fill the Gate with my spawn.”

“Don’t love that phrasing.”

“Figure of speech, darling.”

“Hmm, we’ll work on it.”

“If saying that is an attempt to keep me from bedding you every chance I get, then it won’t work,” he said, turning his nose up at you pompously. “I intend to bed you whenever possible in our home, regardless of any guests we may have over, or children who might be in the next room.”

The thought of your hypothetical guests overhearing you made you moan.

Astarion grinned.

“Our little home won’t have a single surface where we won’t make love. Much like our country estate.”

You smiled, gasping as he circled your clit. “We’ll- we’ll have both?”

“I’ll need as many rooms available to me as possible to bed you, my love. And a place to escape the children.”

You lightly tapped your calf against the side of his head and he laughed. 

“Only joking my darling, those children aren’t escaping our watch, they’ll be far too clever on their own.”

“Ugh,” you moaned, “I love the thought of you with our children.”

“Go on,” he encouraged, thrusting into you again and again. 

“Reading them bedtime stories. Bandaging their wounds when they fall on the pavement. Bringing them soup when they don’t feel well.”

“Am I a single parent in this scenario?” he teased. “Where are you?”

“Watching you. Taking it all in and seeing the joy on your face when it hits you that you have something that’s completely yours.”

Astarion’s eyes melted and he leaned forward to kiss you harshly. 

“Come for me,” he said against your lips, “I want to feel you milking me for every last drop I have.”

“I love you,” you repeated.

“And I love you,” he smiled and kissed you again, crashing his hips into yours and making you cry out in pure bliss.

With a few more thrusts, the knot in your stomach finally released, and you came crashing over the edge, images of Astarion holding your child, feeding them a bottle, teaching them to read and write and hunt, filling the space behind your eyelids as you called out for him.

Astarion held you tightly in his arms as he pumped you full of his spend, cooing sweet nothings as he went.

“Oh, my darling, my love, my one and only, take it, take it all, it’s yours, someday we’ll have our family.”

Tears glistened in your eyes as you finally came down from your high. It only took a few seconds before Astarion was whispering your name repeatedly and coming down from his own high. He laid his head on your chest as he had earlier and you ran your hands through his hair.

“Making sure it takes,” he said, explaining why he hadn’t pulled out of you yet.

“Stay with me,” you wrapped your arms around his torso comfortingly. 

“Always,” he smiled, kissing the bare skin of your chest. 

“I do want all of that,” you said. “Our life in Baldur’s Gate. We can figure out how to achieve the rest later. Maybe Jaheira or Halsin will know something about vampire offspring.”

“Ugh, darling, must you mention the druids while my cock is still resting inside of you?”

You giggled. “Sorry.”

He brushed some loose hair out of your face affectionately. “I’d like that too, love. I realize now, I’ve never really had… anyone. Not really. Nothing that compares to you. But if you insist on loving and adoring me, I guess I’ll just have to allow it.” 

“I hate you.”

“You love me.”

“I do.”

Astarion hummed in amusement before his expression became more serious. “Once we kill Cazador and get these worms out of our heads, then that life shall be ours. I swear it.”

“We need to do something else first,” you pointed out. 

“And what’s that, my love?”

“Figure out a way out of this gaudy temple.”

“Ah yes. Fuck.”

~~~~~

Meanwhile, back at the Last Light Inn, Shadowheart yelped out in pain.

Isobel, having been freshly saved from the henchmen of Ketheric, ran to her side to examine her wounds.

“Everything alright, Shadowheart?” Wyll asked, pulling his rapier out of a downed Winged Horror.

“You don’t appear badly injured,” Isobel observed.

Shadowheart clutched her right hand to her chest. “It’s this blasted wound on my hand. Lady Shar is not pleased about something.”

Gale adjusted his robes. “Why do I have a strange feeling it has something to do with our missing teammates?”

Lae’zel groaned loudly, while Karlach merely laughed. 

“Nice.”

[soni-dragon]

…LIKE A BOSS!!

[heckitall]

Winter Fun

-

HELLO i am @dandylovesturtles secret santa!!!!

there was a list and i tired to combine as many things on the list as possible

winter activities

having fun

family time

hurt/comfort with a happy ending

uhhhhhhh

i think that was it

i had a list on a post-it somewhere

ANYWAY

Dandy!! i hope you had a wonderful holiday :3 thank you for all you do and the awesome fics you write ;;

[infernalwraths]

Made the irreversible mistake of giving him that lock of hair, and now, every time I see him, all I can think about is how much I need to push it back and tuck it away. He's KILLING me.

diva down!

[forgetful-nerd]

The sunset duo are huggers especially when it come to their immediate older brothers.

[seraphimaa]

Give me Raphael who, under the endless bravado and cockiness, is deeply repressed and virginal.

Idk, maybe in devil culture he’s discouraged from exploring his sexual desires because nobody wants the shame that would be brought by his spawn and who would lower themselves to sleep with a half mortal/half fiend? Even if they did, why would he ever trust that their intentions were not to cause harm and chaos to him? That’s the belief he lives by and we see so many outlets for it in game. The kinky punishments for debtors, the obsession and torture of Hope, and even the Glug Glug 9000 that was gifted to him, because daddy knows that Raphael is being driven around by his cock. Raphael, I think, appears deeply uncomfortable and ashamed of his sexual needs and I think Haarlep’s comment of “he only loves himself” is true, but not just due to narcissism. He could fuck anyone, or anything, with Haarlep but I think, instead, he needs familiarity and the only thing he can be vulnerable in front of is himself. And not only that, he doesn’t see it as a time to exercise crazy desires but it needs to be methodical and controlled. Safe. Comfortable. Predictable.

So imagine, along comes this little mortal and like so many times before, he starts the dance he has done so many times. They blush when he says the right things, they hang on his every word, and they look at him with such longing. They are exactly where he needs them, and expects them to be. They’d fallen for the act and he was in complete control.

Until, all at once, he realises he isn’t.

Give me Raphael who has never known anyone’s tender touch but his own, but who can’t stop thinking about how yours would feel late at night or while playing with Haarlep. It haunts him and he hates himself for it.

Give me Raphael who starts to dare to imagine, as much as it tortures him, that someone could actually be his. He had caged the mortal parts of himself up so tightly but the need for someone who was made of the same wretched stuff as him, that could really see him and love him never goes away. Someone to share his empire with who would never betray him or disappoint him and who would would devote themselves completely to all that he was. It was lonely always being in top, he would come to admit.

Give me Raphael who for the first time in his life, starts to show himself to you bit by bit to you and you never shy away, despite all the parts of him, from the gentle to the downright depraved and animalistic. He has no clue what to do with this acceptance. It was a foreign thing. Something not meant for him. Give me Raphael who hates you for all of this. He knows your game. You’re trying to get to him and he will lot give you control. He starts feeding that depraved voice inside of him. All the things he would do to you. How he’d punish you and make you regret feeding the mortal inside of him, through the bars. You saw the him inside. Your understanding of his weaknesses is what you’d use to destroy him. He’d protected it all so well but this would be his undoing. His solution of denial and hate had never failed him, so far, so he’d revert to what he knows

Then…

Give me Raphael who, when you crawl unexpectedly up and onto his lap one evening, kissing and sucking at his neck, can do nothing other than pant and shake at your touch, blushing like a virgin. You’d be so soft and gentle and his ears would be filled with ringing, his own breathing, and your cruel voice, telling him to ‘just let go’. ‘It’s okay’. This moment would be devastatingly painful and euphoric. You’d finally done it. You’d ripped away the last of his control and power. You had finally reduced him to nothing - pathetic and whimpering. You’d bested him and he should have been drowning in the humiliation and shame but holy fuck it felt so good. For you, he’d slowly learn to share his control, sometimes. You were so gentle with him. Your soft hand would teach him a different way to tame the beast inside.

Look I’m an exclusive bottom, but shy and inexperienced Raphael who is putty in my hands? Bark bark bark bark

[little-b1rdy]

the billboard said , the end is near

[mrfancyfoot]

Plots & Prosody: Prompts

Raphael x Female Tav/OC (Evie implied)

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- Caress -

"She arrives at the House of Hope to find a grumpy, stressed devil in need of a nap.  AKA: Despite himself, Raphael succumbs to some of his more human needs."

This prompt was: ‘A simple caress’

.

Hey..hey, you!  Go drink some water/hydrate yourself. ❤️

Some soft Raphael, cutesy shmoop ahead!

This one, while written for my OC, Evie, uses only she/her pronouns while she remains unnamed, so can mostly be read as a generalized Tav/OC (only caveats being that there is brief mention of her fluffy (fox) tail and claws and a bit of backstory).

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Rating: T / SFW

Word Count: ~1.9k

Timeline: Plots & Prosody, Part II - Canon

Tags/Warnings: POV F!Tav/OC/Evie; Fluff; Comfort; Cozy; Slight Alcohol/Drug Use by Raphael; Raphael’s Only Soft for Her; Cuddly Devil; Devils Can Purr; Some Slight Charitable Reimaginings of HoH Architecture; Devil Courtship

Main Fic (Rated E/Varied): AO3 + Tumblr | Master List

Related Prompts: A Blank Page , Good Morning

[Quick Context: After Evie spends most of Part I (Game Events) “befriending the devil,” yet denying him her soul, Raphael makes an alternative offer: the Orphic hammer in exchange for her time - specifically, a mandatory number of days every month for a span of two years.  He procures his Crown by other means.  Evie goes about her new life kick-starting her business and re-inventing modern-day things. Unbeknownst to her, Raphael is using what she obliviously believes is a “contractually mandated friendship” period to court her as his future Archduchess.]

❤️ Thanks for reading! :3 ❤️

The evening when she arrived, it was obvious from the deeply etched scowl straining and pinching his face paired with the agitated drumming of his fingers that something had happened - but Raphael was in an unusually untalkative mood.  His greeting was short, his responses clipped and distracted.  He appeared stuck between summoning her out of obligation to their contract while his attention was needed elsewhere and wanting to shove away everything that was preventing him from utilising their time together.

Seeing his stress and knowing well that he would share the details later if he wanted to, she suggested a quiet evening by the fire, simply enjoying the presence of one another.

She would have suggested that he could keep working if he needed to, but she had a feeling that it was work that got him into this mood and maybe a break was warranted no matter its importance - or perhaps even because of its importance.  Raphael was the sort to keep going at something until he hit the wall of exhaustion - either of his energy or of his options, and not infrequently, both.  Anything less was seen as wasteful.  And so, Raphael repeatedly pushed himself to his limits.

So before he could voice any disapproval, she wandered over to a bookshelf and plucked the partially read anthology of Gnomish short stories residing there from when she had time to fill during other visits.  Taking a seat on the chaise near the fire, she beckoned him to the armchair nearby.

He stood from his desk with a roll of his shoulders and massaged his neck.  Circling around to its front, he leaned on it and let his eyes scan over the many shelves of books around his office as he brought his hand to his chin thoughtfully in consideration of his own choice in literature.  But his shoulders slumped minutely from a sigh and she could see his eyes unfocusing as his mind drifted back towards whatever he’d been thinking on before.

Pursing her lips, she reckoned that she’d be fighting uphill on this one.  She asked him if whatever was on his mind was something that needed his attention at that very moment.  At the reluctant twist of his lips and partial shake of his head, she followed up by stating that it would do him some good to get out of his office.

Hooking her arm around his, she made an executive decision and brusquely pulled him from his office.  Despite how he sputtered and tsk’d and harrumph’d in protest, he still allowed himself to be led through the silent halls - if he didn’t want to be moved there was no way in the Hells she’d be able to budge him.  Unsurprisingly, the servants had already made themselves scarce.  She detoured to drop him off at the boudoir with a push, telling him to go relax in the bath for a bit before turning on her heel and continuing to her destination.

She bounded all the way up the spiral stairs of the tower and pulled open the heavy door to the bedroom Raphael had decreed as hers a scant few months ago that had seemingly passed in the blink of an eye.  Her ‘home away from home’ twice a tenday thanks to their contract.

Though they were friends, drawing presumptions from said contract and the prior ones that he had attempted to get her to sign, she could only further conclude that he wanted her presence around as the occasional distraction from his work in some kind of contract-enforced capacity, as evidenced by the amount of discretion that he allowed her.  And if that was what he wanted, she would thusly also be the force ensuring he was taking proper breaks and getting enough sleep when he got like this.

Plus, he could have rescheduled, as per a mutual clause in their contract…yet he didn't.

The room was bright from the open curtains allowing in the ever-shining sun of Avernus.  She admired the fresh cut flowers vased upon a table, then set about creating a soothing atmosphere.  After lighting a few candles and the fireplace, she drew them tightly closed and plunged the room into a cozy, dim ambiance.

She poured herself a glass of water from the fresh pitcher on her nightstand, changed into something comfy from her wardrobe, and got settled in with her book on the sofa.

An estimated thirty to forty minutes later, Raphael poofed into the room in a bright cloud of smoke and smelling strongly of his bath products - cherries and musk - and a hint of the smoke.  He had changed into only a pair of loose lounge pants, and, while he still looked tired, the agitation and irritation from earlier had significantly softened across his features.  In his hand was a glass and a bottle of something with a curious shimmer that she would bet was awfully strong.  Though ‘mortal’ alcohol didn’t affect devils, there were some substances in the Hells that could affect them similarly - she’d eat the book in her hand if that bottle didn’t contain at least one of them.

He was quick to spy her and sauntered over, pulling the top from the bottle.  He filled his glass and immediately downed the contents.  His eyes closed as he savored it.  The glass was then refilled and the bottle loudly plunked down on the nearby coffee table as he turned and sank into the sofa.  

Reaching over, his finger tipped her book up enough to glimpse the cover.  He allowed his head to fall against the back cushion and demanded that she read to him.

She asked if he would like her to start from the beginning.

Raphael replied that ‘from where’ didn’t matter; he simply wanted to hear her lovely voice.

And so - feeling a little awkward at first as this wasn’t something she had ever really done outside of school classes - she picked up where she left off in the middle of a silly lesson story filled with cooking mishaps.

After that story came to a close, she noticed that he was battling keeping his eyes from closing.  Most of his drink was gone, the glass balanced precariously on his thigh within his slackened hold.

He waved her off when she suggested that he could take a nap but either didn’t notice or didn’t care when she slipped the glass from his hand and placed it on the table before she began reading aloud the next story.

Yet it wasn’t long until he was twisting around to impishly rest his head on her thigh, under the guise of needing the rest of the sofa to stretch himself out.

It struck her that the way he fought against his need for sleep - for this wasn’t the first time she had seen him push himself to this point and refuse to allow himself actual rest - was likely another manifestation of his denial and detestation of the human, mortal part of himself.

Seeing him start to lull and yearning for a little bit of payback for the hands that always managed to find themselves threading through the fur of her tail that he’d pulled over his chest, she began running her fingers through his hair, her claws light against his scalp.

With a startled grunt, his hand reflexively shot up as though to stop her, but he caught himself, his fingers curling tensely inches away from her own that had halted, as he seemed to reconsider the objection that was quick to ignite his actions.  His narrowed eyes stared up at her beneath the pinched furrowing of his brow.  She kept steady, her own gaze calmly returning to her book, as though trying not to scare off a wild creature that may interpret eye contact as something predatory.

Slowly his arm lowered again to rest over his stomach and she saw the tension leave his neck and shoulders.  She resumed playing with his hair.

He said nothing of the exchange, as though the interruption never happened.

His hair was soft and smooth with the slightest curl at the ends.  It had obviously just been washed but he must have magically dried it.  It left the slightest residue of some product on her fingers and her movements once more scented the air tartly with cherries.

By the time she finished the second story, his eyes had closed again and his belly was rising and falling with the deeper breaths of sleep.

Truly, even a devil needed his moments of peace.

How many others did he allow to see him so vulnerably?  Knowing that couldn’t number many made her feel both pity and privileged.  That would only become exponentially unlikely as he chased his ambitions and brought the Hells under his power.  He couldn’t afford to allow himself to be vulnerable around others.  The amount of trust he placed in her - despite not even having control of her - brought a sense of awe.  Their friendship was something she had come to cherish so fast.

But she couldn’t fall asleep here on the couch like this herself or they’d both be waking up later with sore necks and complaining.

Closing the book, she contemplated how successful she’d be in coercing him into going back to sleep if he woke up even for the brief moment to relocate to her bed.

Her fingers gently caressed the planes of his face, so much softer in sleep when not pulled and twisted by the scowls and exaggerated masks he wore during the day.

A boop on the nose didn’t wake him as she thought it would.

So she poked his cheek and threw on her ‘no nonsense’ voice, telling him to get up.  His eyes fluttered slightly, but he resisted until she stood and his head dropped back to the sofa.

The jolt did the trick to wake him and she used his momentary confusion to try to pull him to his feet.  He jerked his arm away but sat up with a growl, all the while, looking like he was about to tip over.  With a roll of her eyes, she bent forward and grasped his hands, attempting to haul him up again while advising that they should go to bed.

Begrudgingly, he relented, finally standing and following her guidance the short distance to her bed, his hand still in hers.

She pulled the light cover back and slid to the other side.  He climbed in after her with a yawn but veritably fell to the mattress.  With hardly enough time to pull the cover over herself, he shifted to close the distance between them, slinging an arm over her waist as he pressed his face to her side with a content rumble that morphed into a deep purr.

Within a few breaths, Raphael was once more asleep.

She let out a quiet laugh - forever giddy since discovering devils and tieflings purred - and covered her own yawn.  Getting as comfortable as she could with a deceptively heavy devil now using her as a teddy bear, she closed her eyes and felt the soft haze of sleep overtake her.

Part 2...?

[miramelindamusings]

BG3 has taken over my personal life haha so here's a sketch dump of my Tav! She's a half-elf Rogue with a Sage background. I wanted to go for an archeologist/explorer background - like a mix of Evelyn and Rick from The Mummy :)! I stole lots of paintings and it always made me laugh the animation of Tav stuffing a huge painting into her inventory so I had to do a comic of her actually trying to sneak one out haha

[theanonymousninja247]

Random Turtle Thunks: Kisses

*adjusts my sunglasses* It'd be softboi hours folks. Tonight I'm thinking about the Rise Boys and their favorite places to kiss you.

*Cookies and Cream Rating: 16+ please*

Raph 🧸♥️:

•Forehead Kisses. Lingering ones right at the tip of your hairline. It's often because its the only place he can reach without having to shift too far down. Often brushing your hair back, cradling your cheek in the palm of his hand and tilting your head back juuuuust a little to get that perfect angle for a small smooch. The type of kisses that are full of tender promises and small wholesome moments where he just longs to be soft with you.

•Your shoulder. Chaste presses of his lips to your skin to the crook of your neck. This young Atlas knows a little something about carrying the weight of the world and often that weight settles on the shoulders. These type of kisses serve as a reminder that he understands the struggle, the weight and promises that you don't have to carry it all by yourself anymore. A somewhat protective kiss, reminding you that nothing can hurt you when you're this close to him. That he's here for you, he’ll never leave you and will forever have your back.

Donnie 🤔🟪

•Your nose. I really don't see Donnie being really big into kissing. Like think about it. Kissing is literally just the process of swapping saliva. How uNsAnItArY. *shudders* “Just where has your mouth been? Did you even brush your teeth?!” That being said, a quick peck to your nose is a simple way to fulfill the “touch of the day” box without having to get unnecessarily close and personal. There is work still to be done after all. Not to mention the cute little face you make when you go slightly crossed-eyed at his affectionate gesture is somewhat endearing. It is a very understandable reaction after all. He too would go speechless at such attention from a genuis like himself.

•Behind the corner of your jaw. Donnie doesn't like kissing. That being said, if he is going to engage in such an act, he's going to want to do it right. Never mind him looking up the most sensitive parts of the human body to make sure he plants his affection in the most effective locations. Nevermind that at all. Besides, kissing here that little bundle of nerves seems to do the trick most adequately.

Leo✨💠

•Your lips. “My Lady, if the kisses are words, c’mere. I’ma give you a speech.” No. Like seriously. I know Leo is considered the “medical expert” of the family, but the amount of times this turtle has given you some serious mouth-to-mouth should be illegal. In all honesty though, it really does mean something special to him. For this smooth talking turtle who always knows just what to say, it’s a way for him to shut up and learn how to put some action behind those words. For once, he wants to show you that he means what he says. Because for all the silliness, it was never a joke, his feeling for you.

•Your knuckles. Leo is a one-stinking suave gentleman when he wants to be, and he's not going to let you forget it. Not to mention it’s an easy, inconspicuous way to keep you close so long your hand is entertained with his. Not that he worries when you're out of reach or anything. The cute little increase of color right there on your cheeks as he presses a slow kiss to each fingertip and between your knuckles is also a nice touch. Just lets this face man know he's on the right track or whatever.

Mikey🎨🧡

•Your cheeks. This bundle of affection will give you some sugar anytime, anywhere without hesitation. You can not stop it. It is inevitable. He's so close to you all the time anyway that it just seems second nature to have his cheek squished against you somewhere. He also just loves getting close enough to see your eyes. They really are like windows to the soul, and you have a soul he wouldn't mind getting lost while exploring. So it makes sense to decorate those “windows” with some “Angel Kisses” (He does put the angel in MichelANGELo after all) You know. Just while he's close to you like this. Never mind the heat from your cheeks underneath his hands as he tries to hold you still for your daily barrage of affection is comforting to his scared hands. Never mind that at all.

•Your tummy. There is something incredibly magical about the way you giggle shriek as you try to writhe away when he kisses your tummy. It’s the kind of laugh that means you are happy and in the present moment with him and currently the furthest away from something that hurt you. He just wants you happy and hearing that laugh heals something inside his heart. He loves the way your tummy its so squishy underneath his kneading hands and he can't help but bury his face in your soft skin. Be warned you will not escape without some raspberry blown kisses. Mikey ain't letting you leave without being properly adored that is both a threat and a promise.

[tavyliasin]

ATG Side Story - Villain? Saviour.

Pairing: Tav/Raphael SPICE Rating: 4/5 Content Warnings: Sex, hurt/comfort, minor peril, injury detail, some medical treatment (non-sexual context),  willpower bondage (mild)   

Spoilers Act 3 House of Hope, Steel Watch Canon Compliance Barely. There's an element of the canon in how the Steel Watch are dealt with, but that's about it. Other Notes This one might well end up moved into proper ATG continuity at a later date I'm just not sure when. I was inspired to write some soft Raphael so that's exactly what I did, imagining exactly the kind of scenario that might force the devil to show some care, because all nine hells know he's not doing that by choice. 

Mood/Song Firedancer by Poets of the Fall "Sage advice or sensory overload Whatever the pressure However your pleasure holds you captive to the treasure No matter how the earth reverberates You're dancing with the greats With the fools and their fates For time, it never waits. (Crash the gates) Firedancer, flame of life (What remains) Is a gamble, fall or fly (Play your ace) and remember there's a why You should always question the answer."

----- FULL CHAPTER BELOW THE CUT -----

The building had already begun to shake. Oil slicked the floor and broken machine parts made an obstacle course of their escape. Of course there had been not a second to spare to try and clear a sensible path, and several times curses were muttered as feet skidded in bloodied mess, boots desperate to find purchase on metal and stone to propel them as far away from the impending explosion as possible. The Steel Watch were about to fall, the Gondians all but safe, save for one. Tav stopped, putting her arm around the injured man to help get him to safety, but she had fallen behind. The others were still sprinting ahead as she summoned every bit of strength in her body to carry him and get them out. The doors were wide open onto sunlit streets, where hundreds cowered in the shadow of brutal machines. Perhaps some could be saved, maybe they weren’t too late- “KARLACH!” Tav yelled, using the last of her adrenaline to bodily hurl the injured gnome towards her, trusting the tiefling to catch him. Unfortunately, her boots were still coated in gore and lubricant. While the Gondian flew to apparent safety, Tav fell forwards, landing hard. The next second, the bomb went off. The ground shook and the Foundry went up in a huge explosion. The amount of incendiary within the building was more than enough to send the masonry flying. Tav’s ears rang, barely able to hear the sound of her friends crying out, her lovers reaching towards her with fear on their faces seeing it was already too late. She felt the door itself, half splintered but still heavy enough to break bone, crash into her hip. Wood pierced her skin, the impact shattering her thigh. White hot pain coursed through her entire body, more stone hitting her, the smell of burning and explosive and…sulphur? She barely held on to the edge of her consciousness, vision blurry, as she saw something… someone , appear before her in a brief flash of light. Then everything went dark. — Raphael paced the room back and forth restlessly. Occasionally his hand raked through his usually perfect hair, other times it tapped against his chin in the brief moments he stopped walking. No, not now. How utterly ridiculous a notion. Far too much planning- His mind raced, emotions that were little understood fighting for dominance in his consciousness. “That vicious little shit.” He voiced his complaints aloud at last, earning a slight huff from his slightly-too-perfect mirror on the bed. “I told you he would be trouble when you let him go,” Haarlep couldn’t resist pointing out the harsh truth, “but you insisted.”

“It was meant to play out perfectly. All he had to do was get the crown, then I could wrest it from his grimy little fingers, and the Hells would be MINE. There was no chance that I could steal it from the vault myself, bastard would’ve sensed me a mile away. But a former cobbler’s son bound in service? He’d pay no mind to that.” Raphael stopped. This wasn’t the issue at hand. “How is it that he built such ridiculous machines? And why did she feel the need to play hero?” “Oh I think you well know the answer to that one, Archduke.” The insulting nickname stung far sharper this time, that same pawn that could have crowned himself King took the very title that Raphael coveted for so long. “You’ve said it yourself before. She’s unpredictable .” “She’s a liability, Harlot.” Raphael shot back with a weaker venom. “How can something so fragile hold the key to everything we need- everything I need.” He corrected himself. “Why don’t you stop your complaining and check on her already?” Haarlep sighed, tired of hearing the same conversation repeat on a loop. It had been hours already and the fool still had no clue why he fretted so much over a simple rodent. “Fine.” The cambion huffed, smoothing down his hair and checking his reflection. The healing waters in his room could only do so much, they would not treat a more severe or lasting injury, and he had little trust in the ridiculous concoctions of mortal mages. It had taken an embarrassing amount of strings pulled and favours called, quite a few pawns he’d held in reserve were used up to make the arrangement so swiftly. But they were the best healer in the city, and he would have no less for his most important client.

— Tav groaned. Despite all the potions and balms, having multiple chunks of wood and masonry pulled from your muscle was never going to be a pleasant experience. Every time she thought the pain might make her pass out, it kept her vividly conscious. The older elf passed her another small potion, keeping her constitution temporarily stronger to help the healing. “Quite the predicament you ended up in, Little Mouse. Taking the cheese from within the trap and getting your tail caught? I thought you were smarter than that.” His words carried condescension, but the tone and the glimpse of the wrinkles on his brow spoke of concern, only lightly tinged with disappointment. “Luckily, it seems the cat came to the rescue just in time.” She smiled, teasing a little, but genuinely grateful. Gratitude, it seemed, was not something he knew how to handle. Not the sincere kind, anyway. Tav reasoned his discomfort must be because he was expecting something. “There’s a price to pay for your help, isn’t there?” She shrugged. “No need to explain, I know how the world works, Raphael, especially with demons and deals. But if you want my eternal servitude, I’m afraid you should’ve left me to a quicker burial back there.”

“What?” He sounded genuinely taken aback, offended perhaps by the suggestion, or by the implication the moment he denied it. “If I wanted your servitude, the contract and pen would be in your hand already. No, that achieves nothing.” He pulled up a chair taking a seat beside where she lay face down, devoid of most dignity as the cleric yanked another large chunk of mahogany from her rear. “FUCK could you at least warn me a little next time?” The elf shrugged. “The pain would be no different either way. Kinder if you don’t know it’s coming, really.” They pulled another piece midway through the sentence as if to prove a point. “Are you almost finished?” Raphael hissed a little too impatiently, brown eyes flicking across Tav’s face briefly again as she winced in pain. He should be used to people suffering, he was certainly good enough at arranging it, but there was something in the way his face twitched, as if his expressions were beginning to slip. “Not much left. Only half a door in her, not a whole one, and the bones will need longer to set.” They gestured to the splint and bandages down Tav’s leg and on one of her wrists. “Only a few days, especially if you use everything you have at your disposal, but the bone still needs to knit together properly or her dreams of joining the circus will be completely gone.” “The circus?” The cambion looked at her, perplexed.

“In my defence, those potions are really strong. And so is the pain. I was barely conscious.” She shrugged. “Besides, I used to enjoy Dribbles performing when I was young. Who didn’t?” She tried to push aside the memory of the clown’s dismembered body parts they kept finding in the city. That could wait. “Little Mouse, you’re not a performer. Even if you do like to dance with danger for no reason.” He sighed, almost reaching out to her but stopping short, putting his hand instead on the edge of the table and standing up.  “The damage shouldn’t be permanent. But you will be staying here for the duration of your recovery.” “Excuse me?” She tried to raise herself up more on her arms to see his face where he stood above her, but shuddered as the pain pulled at the nerves in her shoulder. “Stop trying so hard, Little Mouse, you are quite safe. I will not have any further harm come to my favourite client.” He gently pressed her shoulder back down, hand remaining there for far longer than either of them expected. “Ah. There it is. Client. You still have use for me, that’s why you’re going so far for my sake.” She hadn’t expected anything more, but it stung nonetheless. Raphael faltered, the warmth of his fingers still refusing to leave her. “You are not just any client, Mouse. I have told you before, I have no desire to turn you into just some pitiful debtor, nor do I wish to chain you to any contract beyond what I offered before.” He continued to justify his actions, denying his motivations to himself as much as to anyone else. “You and your friends are uniquely positioned to get what I want, and I can provide you with the means to keep your lovely face tentacle free.” Lovely? She turned the word over in her mind. No, another trick to loosen her grip on her sanity and make her sign. She hadn’t decided yet...and they had time still. She was certain that if it came down to it, she could make that deal at the very last possible moment, if she had to. Although, that would give him a lot more power… Tav groaned. Why is nothing ever simple, and why do I have to be the one to decide all of this? And why is he still being so nice? It’s easier when it’s just unhinged sex, or the usual mind games, the back and forth of Cat and Mouse…

“Get some rest, Little Mouse. You will need it. Our foes will not wait forever.” The cambion’s hand caressed her hair gently, a move that surprised them both again. He withdrew, as if he had touched the very edge of a hot stove. Although, who had ever heard of a devil getting burned? —

Haarlep smiled far too sweetly as the master of the house re-entered the room. “Well?” “Well what?” Raphael snapped. “Was she pleased to see you? Were you pleased to see your precious Little Mouse?” They smirked, tail swishing mischievously behind them. “Shut up, Harlot.” He paused, glancing back at the door. “...She’s fine. Injured, but fine.” He glared back at the incubus, fire rising behind brown eyes. “And you are not to lay a single infernal finger on her without my approval.” Haarlep stood, taking languid steps towards their conflicted master. “This room, the rules are mine.” Their voice was on the edge of a snarl, the hint of threat creeping in. “But as long as she does not enter, there will be no cause for you to worry about losing your favourite little toy to me.” Raphael laughed. “Really? You think you are all she could desire? That sex alone is enough to satisfy a sharp mind and a sharper wit?” The incubus glared back, the heat from their body rising to a palpable level even within Avernus. “And you assume that you are enough that she would turn down my offer? You shouldn’t be so greedy, Raphael, someone might get the impression that you actually care.” “Don’t be absurd.” The cambion spat, ignoring even that his name had been spoken so easily. Haarlep smirked. The test proved it. He was completely distracted, but that was also an insult in itself. “I’m not the one losing his cool over a wounded rodent.”  “I’ve lost nothing but time. She’s a tool, and a broken hammer can hardly forge my crown.” He lied, fooling nobody but himself, and even that deception was on shaky ground. “But time we shall have… If anyone in this house so much as-” “Yes, yes, fire and brimstone, every dreadful torture you can think of~” They smirked again, clawed fingers gripping his chin as blazing eyes gave their challenge. “How about we work out some of that tension, Archduke, before you set something aflame.” For a moment, Raphael faltered. Their breath hot against his lips, the enticing thought of everything they could do- “No.” He pulled their hand away from his face, turning to walk away. “I have work to do. If that brat thinks he will get away with this…”

Haarlep watched him walk away, unsure whether the feeling stirring within them was frustration, jealousy, or perhaps they were simple impressed that their Rat was slowly taking everything she wanted so easily. They wondered if she even knew what she wanted, the kind of fire she was playing with… It didn’t matter. One way or another they would get what they wanted, too.

--- Tav rolled over, mumbling in her sleep again, hair clinging to the thin sheen of sweat on her forehead. Unfortunately, the movement caught the splint on her leg in the sheets, pulling it at just the wrong angle and waking her with a hiss of pain. It took a moment to get her bearings again. These soft silks were a far cry from the rough blankets of the Elfsong, or the worn bedrolls they’d used camping rough across the Sword Coast. The heat and slight reddened hue of the surroundings reminded her where she was. Avernus. The House of Hope. The pieces of reality slid back into place one by one, the puzzle making sense for the most part. Other than the image of Raphael’s human form, sat at a small desk to one side, shuffling through papers and marking them with a quill. Strange, she thought as she peered over at him, surely this isn’t his usual office? “Good morning, Little Mouse.” Raphael didn’t even look up, simply adjusting the small glasses balanced on his nose as he continued to mark and sign the parchment. “Rest well?” “I…about as well as possible, I guess.” Tav rubbed the remnants of sleep from dry eyes, feeling her parched lips on the verge of splitting. “There’s water next to you.” Again, without so much as a glance in her direction, but he seemed to know exactly what she needed. “Thanks, Raphael.” She reached over and filled the glass from the condensation-coated jug, the slight clink of ice promising a more refreshing drink than expected. She wondered for a moment how often the ice was being remade for her benefit, but chose to pay it no mind. Questioning these comforts might lead them to end, after all. “Gratitude, is it now?” Finally, he looked up over the rims of his glasses. “Not looking the gift horse in the mouth?” “Well you made it clear last time, I know where I stand- Where I lay.” She corrected herself, allowing herself a slight smile as she took another sip of cold water. “Anything interesting?” She nodded at the stack of papers. “Only boring contracts, Mouse, there is still so much to do.” He moved from one to the next, frowning and rubbing his brow. “If you really wish to be bored back to sleep, I can read them to you.” “Why don’t you take a break? I’ve slept enough for one day, I think.” Tav moved herself carefully over to the side, smoothing down the covers to make a seat. “I suppose I could indulge you for a moment, if you insist.” He laid his glasses on the stack of papers, sauntering across the room with the scent of his usual perfumes arriving a few steps ahead.

Warm, sweet, spiced… Tav quietly savoured the strange and familiar comfort that it brought, as he sat beside her, reaching towards her still bandaged arm. “It’s doing better.” She reassured him, but he gave her a pointed look instead. “I will be the judge of that, Little Mouse.” He took hold of her wrist, but removed the dressing with a surprising amount of gentle care. “Better indeed. Move it.” The command was simple, and hardly unexpected, but it was delivered with a cold bedside manner that stung. “Ah!” She winced as she flexed the joint. “Fuck…” “Don’t be absurd, you mustn’t shy away from such a small pain.” Despite his words, he wrapped his hands around the joint, applying a little soft heat from his palms and rubbing soothingly. “You think that any of your foes will let you falter? Keep it moving. The bones are set, but you mustn’t lose motion or strength.” “Well I’m not fighting right now…” She grumbled, but gradually moved it further, pushing the limits of the motion as the warmth of his hands sank deeper into the bones. She began to feel a hint of a different heat from his touch, from how close he was… She bit it back. Not the time, don’t even think of how he’s next to you in bed while you’re only wearing a nightgown.

—

Raphael held longer than was necessary, eyes lingering on the scars that were still fresh along her forearm. “Another potion. It will do no harm, and speed your recovery further. Then we will check on your leg.” His bedside manner still lacked the soft care of an experienced nurse, but by the standards of a fiend it was positively overbearing with affection. He grimaced internally. He was slipping. But no, it was all a part of the manipulation, to ensure his knight - no, his pawn - continued to play her role well. The consideration of how a pawn can become a Queen should it reach the other side of the board completely escaped his notice too. “This one.” He handed Tav the glass bottle, pulling out the stopper to save her the hassle of using her wrist. “It isn’t poisonous then?” Her voice was playful, but she barely even took a moment to sniff or examine the potion before drinking it in one go. “Well, if it is, then it’s the nicest flavour of poison I’ve had in a while.” “Do you make it a habit to drink toxic substances?” His eyebrow raised, but he relaxed more as he saw the relief wash over her face with the effects of the brew. “Only the fun ones.” She laughed now, the soft music strange to his ears, but not distasteful. Perhaps he might like to hear more- No. Focus. He chided himself. What foolish thoughts… “I wouldn’t recommend it, Little Mouse, you are not immortal.” Yet, his subconscious whispered, even as his conscious mind threatened to silence the thought for good. “Now. Your leg. The splint can likely come off now.” Business was easier, he decided, though he hadn’t entirely thought it through. “Right… Well I suppose you’ve seen everything before.” Despite her bravado, a light blush began to appear on Tav’s cheeks as she lifted back the covers and moved to sit atop them. The nightdress reached to just below her knees, though the splint on her leg went from her shin to the middle of her thigh. Raphael swallowed, his mouth feeling excessively dry. He cursed Haarlep under his breath, swearing the bitch must be up to something with the way he felt as he pushed the fabric up to reveal her still-healing wounds. “I will apply some pressure, you must tell me immediately if there is any pain. If the healer has not done proper duties, I shall have them flayed.”

—

“That’s a bit excessive.” She frowned a little, but didn’t really judge him. Expecting a fiend to be kind was more than foolish, his very nature would not allow it. And yet… Tav winced, the bandage holding the splints in place unwinding slowly. She felt the warmth of his fingers every time they touched her skin, trying in vain not to think about how low he was, how close to her body, how they were already on a bed… “Fuck-” She bit her lip, the pressure on the side of her knee still too much. “Then you will still be unable to bear weight…” Raphael idly rubbed his chin in thought. “A balm, perhaps? Something more direct. Wait here.” Tav watched as he stood and left the room, a swiftness in his step as he went. Is he always in such a hurry? Her pondering was disrupted by a fresh shot of agony as she tried to bend her leg. Right, right…probably better that he’s quicker. I won’t complain. And yet…the space next to her felt like a cold void, now the cambion’s weight was not pressing a divot into the mattress. Only a lingering hint of his scent remained, and the slight heat upon the sheets. A sigh escaped her, there was a quiet need lingering in the back of her mind, compounded by the sudden longing from being left alone. She wondered if she might ever understand him. His intentions, his motivations… Every time she thought she knew what he was doing, what he wanted, everything changed again. Haarlep clearly wasn’t helping either. She wondered if they might be around, if perhaps they would be willing to keep her company when Raphael became inevitably busy once more. If anyone knew what was going through the devil’s mind, it would be them. Her hand rested on the remnants of the warmth where he had been sat, eyes not leaving the door until it opened again. —

Raphael’s feet carried him swiftly down hallways until he reached the cupboards he needed. It was pointless to waste energy on teleporting himself, but still he felt the need to hurry. If the incubus had tainted the potion… He would return to resolve that little problem before it could go further. He blinked away the image of her blushing body dressed in dark satin laying on the bed, and checked the labels of each jar carefully. The waters of the bathing pool could help, but if her leg could not take her weight… Carrying her was not an option, she deserved her dignit- He deserved his dignity to not have to act like a servant to her whims. His brow creased with frustration. Thoughts like unwelcome guests finding themselves swiftly evicted, yet returning through a back door before he could turn the key in the lock. This is all the harlot again, he reasoned, they have poisoned her and continue to toy with me without permission. He grumbled, turning quickly on his heel to go back to the room where she was waiting, laying on the bed- I’m going to make them regret this. — Meanwhile, in the boudoir, a completely serene Haarlep was reclined on the bed simply reading a book. They turned the page, wondering what adventures the struggling heroes might find in the next paragraphs. They had absolutely no intention of interfering with whatever nonsense Raphael was engaging in, nor of playing with their favourite toy until she was healed. They knew better than that, they could be patient. Besides, they considered their complete lack of engagement to be a fitting punishment for the scorn of being turned down by their “Master”.  Ridiculous thought, that he would brush aside the advances of an incubus, refuse the touch that could have him whining in pleasure for hours on end. No matter. They turned the next page, stubbornly ignoring the tell-tale footsteps in the corridor passing by their door without so much as a “hello”. They’ll both be back, in time. They hummed a little tune to themselves, pointedly rejecting any further thoughts of the room down the hallway.

---

The heavy door swung open swiftly on creaking hinges, closing just as quickly behind Raphael as he moved towards the bed. She was laying where he left her, cheeks flush, lips slightly parted, hair still in disarray from sleep. Even the gown remained pushed up to her upper thigh, revealing her legs, the remnants of technicolour bruising beneath her pale skin. 

Tav was an invitation like this, one he was loathe to accept for now…but clearly she could not be left unsated. Incubus saliva could be unbearable without a resolution to that painful arousal. It might even slow her recovery, which he would not allow. The cambion approached the bedside, already removing the lid from the salve’s jar. He sat lower down beside her, body turned to face her. “Your permission, Mouse, I would like to hear it.” “O-oh.” She stuttered for a moment, the tips of her pointed ears beginning to match the redness in her cheeks. “Of course. Do what you need to do, I trust you.” His brow furrowed at those last three words. Of course that’s what he wanted, her trust, he was not in a habit of lying least of all to his favourite client. But hearing it? That was different. “Should you wish me to stop, you need only say the word. You understand?” —

It was Tav’s turn to frown now. What was there to understand? It was a simple healing balm, nothing she hadn’t used before. She could easily apply it herself, but she was also loathe to argue with Raphael when he looked this serious. What she was not hearing, however, was the undercurrent to his words. She didn’t see the way his eyes travelled her body, gauging her reaction as he began to massage the balm over her wounds. Not a drop of incubus saliva had passed her lips, by potion or otherwise, so she was blissfully oblivious to the cambion’s present concerns. Though, decidedly, the feel of his hands moving further up her leg had a very similar effect.  

Feeling the soothing effects of the salve sinking in to her wounds brought a soft sigh from within her, the deeper massage of tender fingers colouring the sound with the hint of a moan. Seeing his eyes flash with a momentary flame was certainly not helping. It would be hard to deny her own desire either, the thoughts that had passed through her mind in the few minutes he had been gone… Of course, some of those were remarkably close to the sight of brown hair descending towards her thighs- —

Raphael could feel her melting beneath his hands, and his clothing felt tighter by the moment. He imagined the ghost of Haarlep’s fingers, gripping, teasing… He cursed their name under his breath, completely unaware that this was all entirely in his own mind. As was the concern that the potion had been tainted, though it was quite obvious that Tav was feeling as aroused as him. Her skin tinted pink, warming more as he allowed his hands to wander, lowered his head towards her shin, lifted her leg and kissed below her knee. “Does it hurt here?” She had gasped, but the noise was not one of discomfort, as she quickly confirmed. “N- no, it’s fine.” Next he lifted her leg slowly, kissing around and under the joint now, right where her thigh began. “Here?” Her head laid back on the pillows. “No pain…” 

“Good, Little Mouse. Then let me continue, if I may?” “Please-”  Her voice was little more than a gasp, the heat rising from her body in a way that he could feel as he moved further up. It was becoming more difficult to hold back. The cambion could almost taste her on the air already, the heady scent of arousal mingling with her usual perfume and the thicker scent of the salve that still lingered on his hands. He laid her leg back down on the sheets, moving now on to his hands and knees after a quick gesture transported his boots over to the side of the room. But he could not afford to be greedy, rough… He must protect his asset. A means to an end. A very attractive means, dark hair splayed across the pillows, breasts straining the fabric just slightly as her breath quickened, deepened, chest rising and falling with increasing anticipation… —

Tav felt the silk slip easily across her skin, shivering slightly though not from any chill. Raphael was…not how she remembered. The times they’d been together before now were hot, feverish, filled with a sense of desperate urgency that made pulse soar and her head light. This…was almost a different man. Though at the same time, not at all. The same chestnut hair neatly swept back, the same scents of cherry, black pepper, palmarosa…a strong and spiced mix that didn’t lack sweetness. The same intense look in his eyes, as if a fire burned silently behind his pupils even in this human form. The cambion was being careful. That was obvious. And a part of her wished he wouldn’t, that instead of sliding her nightdress up slowly, heated fingers brushing lightly against her skin, that he would rip it from her, or burn it up with a wave of magic from his hands. Most of all, she simply, silently, desperately pleaded for him not to stop. He did not. Wordlessly he curled a finger around her underwear, the smallest flame burning away the seam so the garment could be removed without needing to pass sore joints and bruised muscles. Soft eyes looked up at her again, a question in a single raised brow, one she answered with a simple motion to pull her nightdress further up her body to reveal her waist fully. Raphael smiled, looking pleased with her response, before dipping his head lower to kiss along her stomach, lips pressing on her soft body with delicate affection. Tav bit down on her lip as those same hands began to tease her. This was a different game to him, she realised, as he merely stroked his fingertips with the lightest pressure. It might have felt ticklish, but it built the heat and tension within her, muscles tightening in anticipation. —

Raphael could feel her arousal easily. His fingers already slick and hot, her body shivering beneath his lips as he continued to kiss softly along her waist. Maybe he might’ve preferred her quivering with fear beneath him, perhaps a shot of liquor in her naval, savouring the mixture of terror and arousal he could raise within her… But she was not scared. Neither was she courageous. She was simply accepting of his touch, inviting more with the sweet little moans from her lips, telling him without words that she wanted more, needed more, by pressing her body towards him every time he tried to move away. “So greedy, Little Mouse, and I thought you were supposed to be recovering your strength?” He raised his eyebrow, peering up once more at her face and trying to work out exactly what it was he was seeing. Prey? A pawn? …a lover? Ha! Ridiculous. But she plays the part well… So if it is theatre she wants, then the show must go on. “I have enough strength-” she replied, or at least tried to when her voice was cut short with a gasp. Raphael smiled, it had only taken a single finger to steal her words from that pretty little throat. The second brought a prettier sound, barely a syllable drawn out in a prolonged moan. “You were saying?” His smile widened. Had it always been so easy to bring out the desire in her? Or was this just the potion, and Haarlep’s influence… His ego bristled. It wasn’t Haarlep here now, curling fingers inside her, feeling her muscles tighten and quiver every time his lips pressed to her body. This was no incubus sweetening the noise lingering in the air with slow thrusts in and out, the mere mimicry of what he could offer later… “Please-” She gasped above him, the sound of desperation only adding to his own arousal. “Please, more…” Turning the offer down was unthinkable. It might’ve been better had she begged for something else, but his own lust was thrumming through the pulse in his eardrums, and he had his pride of course. What kind of devil couldn’t even satisfy one mere mortal? Naturally, it would always be harder to satisfy Haarlep, the bitch was practically made for sex and pleasure, but Tav…her body was easier to manipulate, seeing her melt into his hands was simple. Besides, wasn’t her first encounter with Haarlep in the hopes it was him all along?... —

Tav hadn’t expected to be doted on, far less to have the devil himself kissing soft lines along the ridge of  her hip towards where his fingers were already working her into a frenzy. She bit her lip, trying in vain to steady her breath, but already losing herself to the sensations before his tongue flickered across her nerves. “Fuck-” She hissed out a single word as her head pressed back into the pillows, gripping the sheets as he increased the intensity of his motions. His tongue moved in the shape of infernal runes, drawing out a false contract of her pleasure, pulling every sane thought from her head and replacing it with a white hot rush that coursed through her veins. As she tipped over the edge of pleasure’s precipice, her moan was tainted by a cry of pain as her shaking body twisted her still-healing joints. The cambion’s free hand moved to hold her still as he continued to draw out the stimulation, dragging out the afterglow relentlessly, though ensuring the warmth on his palm was soothing the pain. By the time she was able to breathe more evenly, she realised he had simply sat back, caressing her leg once more, adding a little more balm over the worst parts. He was even still fully dressed, making her feel all the more exposed. “Aren’t you too warm?” She asked, already realising how ridiculous the question was as it floated out into the air between them. She cursed her orgasm-fogged mind for the betrayal.   “Have you truly forgotten where you are, Mouse? Who you are addressing?” He shifted a little, kneeling upright above her. “I only look like a human when I wish to, you are well aware of my true nature.” The brief scent of burning sulphur flashed in the air with the infernal fire that swirled around him for a split second, revealing a larger body, red skin, a crown of horns rising above his head almost as high as the wings that splayed out behind him. He remained, as he was before, fully dressed in his silks. His tail twitched in irritation, tapping on the sheets. —

“Whatever shall we do with you? You seem to have lost your mind entirely.” Raphael smiled sweetly, a complete façade as he took up his role as the saviour to relieve his poor little prey of the problem that Haarlep had created. “Would you feel more comfortable if I were less dressed, Little Mouse?” Her eyes widened just slightly, stoking his ego. “Maybe you’d feel more comfortable? Those look…tight…” Her eyes drifted down, his clothes tightened further as it wasn’t just his ego expanding. His wings stretched up further, the pride swelling in his chest. “What kind of host would I be to deny my guest a proper view?” The magic worked in a matter of moments, layers of finery dissolving like smoke, reappearing neatly folded on a chair near his boots. The cambion felt every part the saviour he intended to be, even as he loomed over her like a predator about to swoop down upon his prey. His fiendish form was larger, taller, and more intimidating… He often chose to remain in human shape around mortals, lulling them in to a false sense of security before revealing his more devilish nature for dramatic effect. There was nothing he loved more than feeling the swell of fear within a mortal heart when he grew above them, surrounded by hellfire. But there was no such trepidation from his Little Mouse… He could almost see why Haarlep called her Rat, now, the way her eyes took in all of his form, her body carefully moving to make more space for him. Bold. Too bold, perhaps. It was an invitation. The part of the gentleman saviour was one of pageantry, of etiquette, so the dance must continue now that he was dressed the part. Although… A wave of his hand and her nightdress was upon the same chair as his own clothes. An observer who wasn’t clouded by lust or shielded from the view by large red wings might recognise the subconscious choice to put their clothes together to be entirely too intimate for a devil and his client, but the two upon the bed had no such awareness now. —

Raphael’s body cast a looming shadow over Tav, the light filtering through the thinner skin over his wings in a way that made the almost look as if they were glowing. His eyes were aflame, the full blaze within them clear and glowing as they swept across her body. She shivered involuntarily as he lowered towards her, hands finding purchase either side of her shoulders. “What do you long for, Little Mouse? Tell me.” His lips were close to her ear now, his voice sending shivers down her spine, stomach tying itself in swift knots from the feel of his body so close to hers yet not touching. “I didn’t think you to be so slow in taking what you wanted, Raphael.” A little more of her boldness was returning, the itch to rile him up, to push him into acting how she wanted…but he wasn’t taking the bait. “Now, now, what kind of hero would I be to break you before you’ve even healed? No, that would not do at all. Do not think me a brute purely because of the actions of an unruly incubus, they will be punished for their indiscretion in due course.” Somewhere in another room, a red tail twitched with irritation it didn’t understand the cause of, while clawed hands turned the page of their book. Tav didn’t understand either, why he was bringing up Haarlep when they were alone. “I remember,” she whispered into his ear, “the first time you visited me. In what I thought was just a dream… You danced like a prince.” “And you, Mouse, spoke with no such grace or respect for one you would crown with such a title.” The choice of words was very deliberate, alluding to a contract yet to be agreed upon. “You’re right…Prince doesn’t quite suit you.” She reached up to caress his horns, her other hand running along the top edge of his wing, watching the lines in his face soften unexpectedly at the care. “You already have a crown, a cloak, and a great deal of power. It’s…impressive.” She brought down the hand that had been running over the ridges of his horns, instead tracing along his jaw to bring his lips to hers. “Flattery, Little Mouse, might get you somewhere, but I still want my real crown.” His voice was quieter, softer, lips a hair’s breadth away almost tickling her as he spoke. “Later…we can discuss that later.” She slid her hand behind his neck and pulled him in to a deep and passionate kiss. She didn’t want to think about contracts, or crowns, or tadpoles in her head. All she wanted was to feel , and there was no better way to lose yourself in sensation than to pull a fiend into your bed. —

Tav had once again thrown the proud demon off his balance, making moves on the board with rules he had never considered. The game was not his to outmanoeuvre her if she continued to nudge the table. He should really lay down the rules properly, enforce them, remind her who had the upper hand…but the taste of her lips…the feel of her tongue trying to devour her own essence that lingered on his own… Now he was in his fiendish form her body seemed even smaller, softer. She didn’t lack strength of course, even now as one of his hands traversed the length of her arm from the shoulder down to her delicate wrist, the lines of well honed muscles lay just beneath pale skin. His wings spread above her even as he avoided the deeper bruising, guiding her hands above her head. It was like a shield, a protective canopy, she was beneath him and only him. He would fill her vision, fill her mind, fill her- “I will not hold you here,” he pressed a light kiss to her wrist before guiding it back above her head, laying her hands together, “it’s too soon, and healers are expensive for complex injuries. So you will have to obey me instead. You say I have power? Then prove it, show how much power I have over you, and keep your hands right there.” He looked down, expecting to see her eyes defiance glaring back at him, but instead they were half closed, lips parted, breathing just two words. “Yes, Raphael.” Simple. It’s what he demanded of her, it’s what he wanted to hear, but hearing it? That hit a different chord. His tail shivered behind him, the feeling foreign but arousing. Did he want her to fight? Would he prefer it? Or was this deep trust unnerving again?... She knows she is mine, he reasoned, it’s about time, too. Leaving her arms unbound above her head, he moved his hand back down her body - his other arm still supporting his body easily, holding himself above her where she could see him but not yet feel him. He guided her thigh up a little, shifting lower as the greed within him rose. The need to have her, to feel her, to take her… —

Raphael’s teasing had built the lust in her body to a fever pitch. Tav could feel her body burning with longing, desperate for him to finally make his move. And yet, he remained slow, gentle. Caring , in such a way as a devil could be if he so wished. She realised he was different on his own, without Haarlep baiting him, pushing him. She bit her lip as he began to enter her, slowly, taking his time. Her breath left her in a slow exhale, feeling the stretch and heat building with every deliciously agonising second, the ridges adding friction to the equation, the sum total being a deeply satisfying feeling of being completely filled. Tav wanted to speak, to spur him on to move, to reach down and pull his body closer…but that command echoed in her ears. His blazing eyes, the way his horns and wings loomed above her - there was a power there. It hadn’t all been mindless ego-stroking. She groaned with the sensation as he pulled back slowly, ridges catching on muscles that strained to pull him in, her voice only raising louder as he thrust back into her. The pace he kept, it was maddening…the intensity of every motion, the way he moved his hips and watched her every reaction. If he didn’t care for her pleasure, it would be simple to thrust in and out at his own pace until he was done, but he was more than just attentive. Every single movement was lighting her on fire from the inside. The sound of the cambion’s own deep and seductive voice escaping as he felt her tightening, pulsing- It was getting harder and harder to keep her arms where he put them. She wanted to touch him, to feel his body above her instead of just watching… She imagined an invisible force holding her, focused more on the gathering rush building deeper inside as he began to let his avarice take over. —

Raphael felt every wave of her pleasure, and had long since forgotten to realise that Haarlep had not done a single thing to influence him. Everything he felt was entirely from within this room, from within her . Another time he might have preferred more, to go further, to tease her and draw it out, to mix in some pain and power-  She had enough pain, and watching her face flush pink and wanting, hearing her gasps and moans from undiluted pleasure… It was a wine he was willing to sip today. She was allowing him power, giving herself over to him completely, and everything he drew from her was his alone. He tried to hold back a little, but the feeling of her around him was intoxicating. The scent of her skin, the way she bit her lip, the tightening as he hit just the right places- His voice caught between a moan and a growl as the rush overtook him. The cambion pulsed inside her, continuing to thrust as her own climax had her crying out into the otherwise quiet room. Perhaps the incubus even heard them now, and the thought of the Harlot being jealous sweetened the waves of aftershock as he rode them out with her, relishing the ragged gasps as her mind and body were filled only with what he gave her. Tav was shaking as he finally withdrew. Her hair even more of a mess beneath her head, and her hands still exactly where he told her to keep them. “Good, Little Mouse, good~” his voice rumbled through his chest with a pleased purr, “you may move now, when you are ready.” She relaxed her arms a little, her uninjured hand moving a single stray lock of hair that had fallen in front of his eyes and tucking it gently behind his horns. “Why are you really taking such care of me?” “I told you before,” he sighed, wondering how she still did not understand. “You are my favourite client, my path to what I need…” He paused. That wasn’t all. “And in my own way, I enjoy our time together.” —

Tav blinked. She wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly, and the blindly logical part of her brain quickly rationalised the honesty away. Ah, enjoyed, as in pleasure. The sex is good. That makes sense. Her body still felt a weak and limp as he moved from above her, wrapping the silk sheets around her naked body and lifting her up in his arms, holding her close against his chest as if she were a bride about to be carried across the threshold. “Raphael?” She peered up into his fiery eyes, confused again. “We must get you clean, Mouse, and I will not have sullied eyes gaze upon you. Until you are able to walk on your own, I will indulge you…but I expect you to try after you have bathed in the healing pool.” He was trying to sound stern, but it came across as a better bedside manner than the expensive healer he had hired. —

Haarlep looked up over the top of their novel, raising an eyebrow at the master of the house carrying his charge into the room wrapped in sullied sheets, whilst the devil himself remained completely naked. “Finally, you’ve decided to come and play-” they began, but were quickly cut off. “No, you’ve done quite enough for one day Harlot. She needs to recover, and I shall accept no more interference from you. I suggest you sit quietly and contemplate the punishment you have earned.” His voice was stern, dripping with venom, but quiet. Tav was already half asleep, exhausted already. Haarlep took the hint and kept their reply barely above a whisper. “What I’ve done? I haven’t done a single thing, Archduke , in fact I had considered the very fact that I’ve kept entirely to myself as my punishment to you for denying me.” They gave him an even more pointed look, sitting back and going back to their book. “But it hardly seems like you even need me, you have your prize, now leave me to my story. They’re just getting to the good bit.” Raphael paused. He stood dumbfounded, completely at a loss for words. If there had been no tainted potion, no influence on his own body- It would take days for the effects of those realisations to truly sink in, longer than it took Tav to fully recover. He didn’t even notice the longing when she waved goodbye and stepped through the portal back to the material realm… Avernus felt colder than it should, the halls of the House of Hope suddenly larger and emptier than they had been before.

----------- ----------- ENDING NOTES ----------- ----------- This one will fit very nicely into the ATG storyline I just need to work out where, either that or it'll hint towards a potential alternate ending path instead. Either way I very much enjoy toying with a softer side to Raphael, exploring his reluctance and denial in greater depth, along with the ways that both Haarlep and Tav can push him out of his comfort zone.