Chapter Text
Raphael knows how to wait.
The most intoxicating sins are those left to ferment, after all, to grow sweet with the flavor of futile remorse.
He smirks as he watches her leave, trailed after by her little party of yapping dogs. What pity that a soul as ripe as hers keeps such underwhelming company. In his mind, he is already rewriting their witless objections to his deal in verse: Oh, please, mistress Tav, how we beg you not sign – it’s the fate of your soul and the world on the line!
But she, oh, she is clever. Raphael knows she is. Clever enough to return to him, pen in hand, to take his deal and seal his destiny as Archdevil Supreme of the Nine Hells. The mere thought of it is enough to make his toes curl.
Once the Crown of Karsus is his, he thinks he will dine with her. For a mortal, he finds her to be surprisingly… tolerable. Perhaps she might even have a tale interesting enough to be worthy of his impeccable authorship. The smile on his face stretches a little wider.
Yes, right up until the end of the world, he will wait for her return. The quick sparrow may be able to fill its belly, but the patient cat will catch it nevertheless.
Raphael has never been so happy to be proven right as he watches Tav cross the threshold into his room once again, naught but two nights later. He is especially pleased to see that she has arrived alone. The little sorcerer has doffed her armor, electing instead for a tight outfit that boasts a rather plunging neckline. Clearly she is intending to talk, then, rather than fight. How utterly delicious.
He wonders if perhaps she had come prepared to enjoy the services of Sharess’ Caress, given the amount of smooth, dark skin she has left on display. Whatever the reason, Raphael finds he can’t complain. He is simply too delighted at how quickly she has succumbed to the temptation of his offer.
He smiles at her in the only way he knows how – devilishly.
“Ah,” Raphael sighs indulgently, “The curtains have drawn, but which play shall we stage?” The lyric dances off his tongue, and he finds himself repressing the urge to circle her like prey. “The one where the bird flies, or stays in its cage?”
“Cute,” she replies, unimpressed (feigning it, obviously), and as he watches her he sees the effort she has clearly put into her appearance tonight: hair neatly pulled back and a subtle black pigment smudged artfully around her eyes. Lips especially glossy. Part of him hopes that the foolish little girl has dolled herself up on his behalf, rather than for an evening of pleasure in the brothel he has made his office; how easy it would be, then, to persuade her to sign. Tav continues, “how long did you spend practicing that, exactly?”
“Little mouse, with you, the rhymes simply jump off my lips,” Raphael says easily, gesturing smoothly with one arm as he does so. “Do tell, have you finally been made to see reason?”
“Oh, I certainly have,” Tav replies, smirking, and she takes a deliberate step forward. Interesting, he thinks, that she seems so cocky. Interesting and annoying. “And I’m ready for you to give me the Orphic Hammer.”
“Marvelous,” Raphael says, and claps once. “I always knew you were clever. Then let us skip straight to dessert, shall we? All I require is your signature.”
“Hmm,” Tav hums in faux consideration, that infuriating smirk still gracing her lips. She clasps her hands behind her back and takes another, swaying slightly as she steps forward, moving toward him in a teasing, girlish manner. “No, I don’t think I’ll be signing anything, actually.”
“Hah!” Raphael barks a laugh, his good mood quickly becoming replaced by irritation. “Don’t tell me you think you’re going to fight me for it?” He expected more from her.
“Don’t be foolish. Of course not,” Tav says, voice playful and condescending as though she knows something that Raphael does not. She continues moving toward him, her stride slow and deliberate. She looks for all the world as though she lacks any sort of fear or respect for the devil in front of her.
When she is about a foot away from him, Raphael finally smells it.
“You little rat, you reek of the House of Hope!” He snarls, his face contorting quickly into a mask of anger and loathing. The pieces slide into place for him, and he goes from irritated to livid in a single moment. “What, did you steal it and come here to mock me, you contemptible little wretch? Surely even you wouldn’t be so stup–”
Tav interrupts him with a finger to his lips, and he silences himself in surprise. He hadn’t realized that she had gotten so close to him, her face only a scant few inches away.
“No, why on earth would I do that?” Tav asks, still grinning despite Raphael’s blatant fury. She drops her hand, moving it to rest on his chest, and leans forward, her breath ghosting his ear. “I would much rather have you beg for the privilege of giving it to me,” she whispers.
“I–you–why,” Raphael splutters, and he suspects his face might be beginning to turn purple. “What in the Hells do you mean by that? Just what did you take from me?”
“Nothing, Raphael,” Tav laughs against his ear. The feeling of her hot breath tickling the skin of his neck sends a shiver of disgust through him, and his vision almost goes white with rage. “But I did read your diary."
“You–you read–I,” his brain takes a second to catch up to his mouth, the words tripping over his tongue clumsily in a manner unbefitting of his station. He pauses long enough to breathe and consider her words. So she had read his diary? That alone was reason enough to burn her into an ash so fine it could be used as planting soil, but he still doesn’t understand. “And, what, you think you can blackmail me?” Raphael asks, huffing a scoff laced with antipathy. “Nice try, little mouse.”
“Can you really not tell?” Tav pulls back to stare at him incredulously. Then, her face shifts again and she is looking at him from under her lashes, eyes half-closed and smirk once more decorating her features. “No, I think I can seduce you.” The hand on his chest shifts so that she can trail one finger slowly down his doublet.
Once more, Raphael laughs, and finds his anger dissipating somewhat as he realizes he still has control of the situation. My, she really is foolish. But, he has to know, “What, exactly, makes you think this idiotic plan will work?”
“So many of your entries were about me, Raphael,” Tav smiles sweetly, almost pityingly, and Raphael has to smother the snarl that longs to return to his lips. “Never have I been so attracted to a mortal,” she recites, quirking an eyebrow.
“I didn’t mean it like that, you imbecilic creature!”
“Gods, it was chock full of words like ‘quiver,’ ‘squirm,’ ‘writhe,’” she continues as though he hadn’t spoken. Her obvious amusement makes him long to throttle her, to silence the inane drivel that is pouring out of her mouth. But she just keeps talking. “Mentions of tastes to savor,” she purrs, before snorting, and he decides that he is going to kill her as slowly as possible, actually. “Raphael, there were metaphorical references to sperm. Dreams about me, even. I’m flattered, really, that you want to be the one to rescue me.”
She pauses then, to look at him with genuine curiosity. “Or did you not realize how badly you want me?”
“You think very highly of yourself, mortal. As though I would ever deign to bed you.” Raphael is shaking now, spitting out the words through gritted teeth, practically apoplectic and barely managing to refrain from launching himself at the girl.
“Oh?” Tav asks, and leans back toward his ear. “Then why haven’t you pushed me away yet?” And the finger dragging over his chest continues its path down his stomach, dipping ever lower until the tip of it reaches the hem of his trousers and pushes just underneath, brushing lightly against his abdomen.
“I–” Raphael starts, before realizing that he doesn’t actually have an answer for that. He frantically searches his mind for a justification, for anything that explains why he is letting her touch him like this.
Tav curls her fingers to scrape her nails lightly over his skin, teasing him, and raises her eyebrows in an insulting mimicry of innocence. “If you want me to stop, I will.”
By the Hells, why can’t he make himself say anything? Why is he not putting an end to this? Raphael swears that he will stop at nothing to claim her soul so he can punish her for this indignity for all eternity.
Her deft fingers unbutton him. “I need an answer, Raphael. Do you want me to stop?” He is horrified to feel himself growing hard as Tav runs her fingers along the waistband of his smallclothes.
Make that two eternities.
“No, damn you,” Raphael hisses, and then swears as she cups him through his briefs.
“Good boy,” Tav smiles, and Raphael thinks he would have preferred it if she had just killed him. That would have been less humiliating than the way another shiver runs through him at her words. And then he thinks of almost nothing at all as she pushes his clothes down his thighs just far enough to wrap her hand around him.
The drag of her fingers up and down his shaft is light, teasing, enough to drive him mad but not enough to offer any satisfaction. He distantly hears somebody whimper and the blood rushes to his face as he realizes it was him.
He does not have time to dwell on it, because Tav is lowering to her knees, smiling up at him while her lashes flutter prettily, and oh. Yes, Raphael likes the sight of that. Likes it so much his heart pounds with it. Likes it so much his cock twitches in her hand.
Tav grins triumphantly, but mercifully says nothing before licking slowly up the length of him. She runs her tongue over the tip, circling, before sucking it into her mouth. Raphael’s hand moves to her hair without his permission, and he finds himself tangling his fingers in her updo. He does not push, just enjoys the feeling of her soft tresses against his fingertips. For an absurd, repulsive second he longs to card them through the strands, wants to pet her like some beloved cat.
She continues to tease him, alternating between sucking on the head of his cock and showering his shaft with little licks and kisses. Impatient as he is to feel her hot, wet mouth engulf him, the sight of her like this — lavishing attention on him in an almost adoring manner, eyes closed and long lashes fanning out over her cheeks — is breathtaking.
Maybe, Raphael thinks, he will not torture her for eternities after all. It seems there may yet be better reasons to keep her soul.
Then, Tav opens her eyes to meet his, sparkling with mischief even through the delectable haze of lust in them, and sucks him down to the base. Raphael curses, hand fisting in her hair, and at the roughness of it she lets out a little moan that he can feel.
His hips buck inadvertently, and Tav just takes it, so good and so perfect, and as his grip on her hair loosens she begins bobbing her head up and down in earnest.
Hells, he is not going to last long.
Tav must realize that too, because she pulls off and leaves him bereft, the cool air of the room brisk against his damp skin.
“Would you like me to ride you?” she asks, as though it is merely an innocent question and not, Raphael thinks, possibly the only thing he is ever going to want for the rest of his life. This stupid, clever sorcerer, and her stupid, perfect mouth. Her stupid righteousness and the stupidly powerful magic radiating off of her. And stupid, stupid him, for letting himself become her gods damned fool without even realizing it.
“Yes, do it,” he bites out, and tells himself it sounds more authoritative than desperate.
“Then strip, and get on the bed.”
Raphael does, quickly, and by the time he is lying flat on his back, head propped up by the pile of plush pillows, he sees that she has removed her clothing as well. And dignity be damned, because he cannot help how gorgeous he finds her. How his eyes rake hungrily over her perky breasts and the dark, hardened points of her nipples, over the taut musculature of her powerful body, over the delicious curve of her shapely ass.
Tav allows him to stare at her for a long minute before she approaches him. She gets on top of him in a smooth, practiced motion, and uses a hand to position the tip of his cock at her entrance.
Gods, she is so very wet. Raphael takes some solace in the fact that his unseemly lust is apparently reciprocated, before he rapidly begins to grow impatient as Tav remains still above him.
“Well?” he asks, petulant.
Tav shifts her hips then, rubbing him along the slick heat of her. Teasing her clit with his rigid, pulsing cock. She squeezes her eyes shut with a gasp before returning her gaze to him. Her expression is very businesslike, even as she bites her lip and uses him to pleasure herself.
“You know what I want.”
“You can’t be serious,” Raphael protests, because she can’t. The little tramp can’t do this to him. He will not allow it.
“Oh, but I am. Give me the Orphic Hammer, and I will ride you so filthily they will have to invent a tenth hell,” and Raphael can’t do anything but close his eyes and groan at the mental image that conjures. He takes a deep breath to calm himself, opening his eyes and leveling her with a glare.
“No.”
“Okay,” Tav says simply, shrugging a little, and begins to climb off of him. Raphael’s hand fly to her hips, instinctively trying to drag her back.
“Wait, wait–”
Tav merely raises a single eyebrow and continues to pull away. “It’s really quite simple, Raphael. If you want me to fuck you, you’re going to give me the Hammer.”
“I–” Raphael starts, and curses her internally. Who knew the little mouse would play so very dirty? He thinks that underestimating her might just be the gravest mistake he’s ever made. “Fine, fine, just get back here.”
She doesn’t. A slow smile grows on her lips. “So, just to be clear of the terms here, you’ll give me the Hammer if I bounce up and down on your cock?”
Must she be so crass? It is extremely distracting. “Fuck, Gods, yes, just come here, you blasted tease.” Somehow, he is even more ashamed of himself for being brought so low as to swear aloud than he is for giving up his precious bargaining chip.
Tav returns to her position above him, and once more he can feel the warm, wet promise of her dripping cunt against the head of his cock. She braces herself with one arm to the side of his head, and he thinks that finally, finally she will fulfill her end of their contract.
But she doesn’t, leaning down to brush a feather-light kiss against his lips instead. Something in his chest tightens.
“Say please,” she whispers against his mouth.
Raphael is going to have an aneurysm.
“Please,” he begs despite his best efforts, and Tav finally takes enough mercy on him to sink down onto his cock. He cries out at the feel of her, stunned by how gloriously tight she is. The walls of her sex flutter around him as he stretches her out, and he takes a moment to be thankful that all she wants is the Hammer. Raphael does not think he would be able to deny her anything right now.
As she seats herself against him, Raphael’s hands flex where they still grasp her hips.
Tav kisses him again, like she means it this time, deep and passionate and filthy. Raphael moans into her mouth, helpless to do anything but kiss her back. Later, he will seriously need to figure out who, exactly, this woman is and what it is that makes her so special. But for now, he cannot even string together a semi-coherent thought.
Tav ends the kiss and pulls away to begin riding him, slowly at first and then in earnest. She plants her hands on his chest, nails digging into his skin as she angles her hips so that he slams into the most sensitive parts of her. She throws her head back as sweet, plaintive moans erupt from her throat, and Raphael wonders if he could craft a spell that might allow him to capture those sounds in a bottle so he can drink them in forever.
Raphael can sense his release building, quickly, and he wants to tell her to slow down, wants her to let him savor this for as long as possible, but the pace she sets is brutal and unforgiving and too, too good. His orgasm washes over him and he cries out, shuddering as Tav squeezes rhythmically to milk as much spend from his cock as possible.
Tav climbs off of him once more. Raphael watches, speechless, as she swipes two fingers through the mess he made inside her and sucks them into her mouth. His cock twitches with vain interest at the sight of it, too drained to do anything more.
“Mmm,” she hums. “You taste good, you know.”
Raphael isn’t even sure how to categorize the noise that leaves his mouth.
“Anyway, I’m headed off back to the House of Hope to collect my earnings,” Tav says nonchalantly, seemingly unruffled by what was, for Raphael, completely life-changing. She begins to dress herself. “Besides, I promised Haarlep I’d come back anyway so he could take my form. In return for the diaries, I mean.”
A rush of warring emotions fills Raphael at once. Fury at the betrayal and a ghoulish sort of possessiveness over Tav, primarily, but there is also no small amount of joy at the thought that he will have access to her body in perpetuity through his incubus. And that he will get to come again through Haarlep’s use of her.
Tav begins to leave, and Raphael lets her. He is powerless to stop her, really. But as she reaches the door, she spares one last look back at him.
“Oh, and when this whole business with the brain is sorted out, maybe we could get dinner.”
Raphael swallows. Nods.
He is so entirely, utterly fucked.