Chapter Text
It was a mistake, returning to the Devil’s Den. An especially egregious mistake after the events that transpired in the House of Hope. Lore couldn’t get the experience out of her head, couldn’t scrub the smell of him from her skin no matter how hard she tried.
Her companions had been furious with her for going to the hells without them. Furious at her for even accepting the contract in the first place. And then she returned to the Elfsong reeking of the cambion. Astarion’s eyebrows waggled mischievously, he was the only one that didn’t seem to care. In fact, he defended her madness.
“What a perfect way to get a Devil on our side,” he had said. The others grumbled and glared, but grew to accept the explanation after extracting a promise from Lore that it wouldn’t become a habit.
And it hadn’t become a habit.
It became so much worse; an addiction.
The memory of him, of his heat, consumed every waking moment. The memory of his guttural moans, of the way his cock filled her so fully, of the way his body seemed to act of its own accord when he…
Lore had to lean against the railing to gather herself. Mamzell had given Lore a knowing smile when telling her that the Devil was in his Den. Almost like she could see straight through Lore’s calm façade to her thundering heart and lurid thoughts. The alluring woman’s eyes skimmed over Lore’s simple clothing; from the short belly shirt that barely covered her breasts, to the leggings underneath. She knew a blush spread across her face when the Mamzell chuckled and waved her through.
This is a mistake, she told herself. It had only been a few days since she returned from Avernus, and already she was going against the promise by seeking him out. She didn’t even know what she would say or do. She even doubted that the experience had the same effect on Raphael as it did her. After all, it was her seeking him out, was it not? Instead of the other way around?
Steeling herself, Lore took in a deep breath and spun to face the door to the Devil’s Den. She realized that she had no idea how to even approach him. Did she just…knock on the door? Barge in? She didn't have even the remotest plan when she came here, and she felt foolish in that moment.
Rubbing her hands on her leggings, she grasped the door handle. She fully expected it to be locked, so she squeaked in surprise when the door all but pulled her into the room with it. She entered the room quietly and closed the door with a soft snick. She leaned against it, her eyes searching for…well she didn't know what. The room was no different than the last time she visited it, when her former master had found her and Raphael had scared him away on her behalf.
Raphel sat at his desk, leaning back in his chair in his human form. In one hand, a quill poised over a sheet of parchment, and another sheet held in the other hand. He looked at her casually, and the calmness she saw there almost made her angry. Was she truly the only one affected by their previous encounter?
“Little mouse,” he began, that damnable gravel in his voice sending shivers down her body. “To what do I owe this…pleasure?”
The emphasis on the word nearly sent her tumbling in a heated heap to the floor, but she instead pushed herself from the door. There were no words that she could say to even remotely convey what she was feeling. The closest she could conclude was pure unbridled lust, and she wondered if it was just an after effect of Haarlep’s kiss. But Haarlep wasn’t here, and the closer she got to Raphael, the harder her heart seemed to pound. She was almost certain that he could hear it by the time she reached his desk.
She leaned against the heavy oak furnishing, right beside where Raphael sat in his obnoxiously ornate high-backed chair. He observed her observing him, allowing his eyes to rake slowly down the length of her body. That fiery gaze rested longer on her chest when she leaned back and lifted her shoulders a bit. She knew the action would bare the soft underside of her breasts to him.
“It’s rather unfair, don’t you think?” She said quietly. His gaze traveled lazily back up to hers.
“What is?” He purred in reply, setting down the archment and quill.
“To be the only one thinking about our little tryst,” she said, leaning over him. Reaching out her hand, she allowed it to rest against the top looped fastening of his shirt. “To be the only one whose dreams are filled with memories of what we shared.”
Her lips hovered so close to his, all she would have to do is drop her chin the slightest amount. But she was startled when his hot touch skimmed up her thigh, slipping further up her leg and resting so close to that apex.
“Are you capable of reading my thoughts to know that you are the only one haunted by that night?” His growl and the grip on her thigh sent shivers through her.
“Haunted, hmm?” She lowered her lips, though she tilted her head so that her mouth met the jumping pulse at his throat. His head fell back with a hiss, giving her further access to him. Her tongue traced that pulse over his heated skin, moving lower as her hands worked to undo the closures of his shirt until she all but knelt in front of him.
She never got the opportunity to kneel, as Raphael stood so abruptly that he forced her to lean back over his desk. His own hot mouth found the slope of her neck and his hands roamed her curves freely.
“Raphael,” she panted as his teeth scraped against her throat. Even in his human form, his teeth still held a sharp sting that sent a thrill through her. He growled in response, stepping between her legs and pressing her harder into the desk. Those legs wrapped around his waist, all but pulling him where she wanted him most. She could feel his body responding to hers, the length of him growing hard while pressed against her core. Lore almost wished she had worn some sort of skirt instead of leggings. The fabric separating them was becoming near unbearable.
“Such a sweet sound, the desperation on your lips,” Raphael rumbled to her. He pressed his hips against hers, putting such delicious pressure on her core.
“Raphael,” she whined as she clung to him.
“Yes, Mouse?” He chuckled against her neck. His hands traced lazy trails up her side until his fingers found the globed mound of her breast. She hissed out a gasp in response to his touch, arching her back to press further into his grip.
“So eager,” he chuckled, dipping his head to tease the pebbled peak through the thin linen of her shirt with his tongue. “One would almost think you dressed as such to provoke me.”
“And if I did?” Her words came out breathier than she intended, but the effect was all the same. Raphael growled gutturally and pressed into her further, his hands all but ripping her shirt from her so that those teeth of his could torment her further. Lore clung to him, one hand tangled in his hair and the other clutching at his bicep.
“Are you sure it’s wise to provoke a devil?” Teeth scraped against her throat again, almost like a warning. But Lore let her head drop back with a moan.
“Of course not,” she said, “but it’s so very hard to resist a devil with such….talents.”
“A dangerous game you play, little mouse,” he growled, biting down on the top swell of her breast.
“The prize is worth it.”
At that, a flash of hellfire surrounded both of them. At first, Lore thought he meant to whisk her away to Avernus. But when the flames and sparks cleared, they remained in the Devil’s Den and Raphael leaned over her in his cambion form. She’d almost forgotten how much larger he was than her in this form.
And they were very much without clothing now.
Lore’s heart thundered as his tongue tangled with hers in a kiss that was nothing but feral passion. That ridged cock that so thoroughly ruined her slid through her folds, almost as if he was testing her arousal. Then without any further hesitation, his hips jerked forward and he slammed into her. He filled her so fully that Lore couldn’t think, could barely breathe except for in relief.
“R-Raphael, fuck,” she whimpered. He smirked against her mouth and took her. The force in which he drove his cock into her sent things atop the desk scattering to the floor. In fact, Lore was pretty sure the desk itself was being moved beneath them as he pistoned himself in and out of her almost violently.
It was as if Raphael had been as pent up and frustrated as Lore had been in the weeks since their foray in Avernus. She moaned his name like a chant and he would growl against her skin in response, his hips picking up pace.
And then she clenched her walls around his cock and he nearly buckled at the sensation. “Tighter,” he commanded as what little control he maintained came close to snapping. But still, she obeyed and clenched around him again, as hard as she could.
Their coupling reached a fever pitch. It was all but a primal mating with his body dominating hers, taking her and making her his. His grunts and moans did little to cover the groans of the desk being pushed across the room with the force of his hips meeting hers. Her moans and cries, begging him to take her harder and harder, only served to push him further to the brink of sheer lust-filled madness. Pleasure built rapidly between them, and Lore wasn’t sure how much more of it she could take before she would burst.
On more forceful thrust, and both of them were thrown violently over the edge. The sensation of his cock spilling into her, of her walls milking him for everything he could give. His hips stuttered as hot ropes of cum flooded her, and it took all of his remaining control not to continue slamming into her. Oh, but it was so difficult with her singing her pleasure so sweetly in his ear, with her nails digging into the flesh of his back as her body jerked along with his.
Hells, he’d never be able to get this little mortal out of his system.