Work Text:
The scent fills your nostrils and slips its way down into your lungs, the very essence churning and spilling into the webbing of your brain. Cherries. Musk. Sulphur. You roll your eyes and spin on your heel to face him before he speaks.
“What do you want , Raphael? I told you to leave me alone.” Your voice is hollow, empty, and it rings out into the cool evening air. Your companions have long embraced slumber, and your shift on watch has brought little more interesting than the passing of a few squirrels and other small animals. The moon crosses above you, silvery tendrils of light creeping out across an ebony sky dotted with minuscule pockets of stars.
An arm’s reach away stands a full-figured human male; he runs a hand through his well-groomed dark hair, and the speckles of grey illuminate in the evening light. You catch his gaze, familiar brown eyes pierce into your own, and for a moment, you feel the semblance of burning just behind yours, at the forefront of your skull. The feeling passes in a heartbeat, and the man smiles at you, opening his arms wide.
“Now, now , little one, is that any way to greet your favourite devil?” The man’s smile deepens, and he strides toward you. He is dressed well, as usual, in regal attire of reds and blues, which compliment the softness of his stomach, the broadness of his shoulders, the very essence of him. He chuckles as he notices you staring, drinking in the sight of him, and you blink your eyes in rapid succession, peering at an invisible distraction over his shoulder. You raise your hand to your mouth and begin chewing on a hangnail on your index finger.
“Favourite’s a bit of a stretch,” you murmur, keeping your eyes focused on the fabricated interference - perhaps if you stare long enough, you can will it into existence - You are snapped away from the thought as Raphael shifts his body in front of you again.
“Distracted, are we?” He purrs. He breaks the distance between you, reaching out an arm and stroking your cheek with a slender finger. His skin burns hot, the fire of the Hells within him threatening to burst through his pores. The warmth of his skin is not unpleasant, anything but, yet you push the thought from your mind, imagining instead grabbing his wrist and twisting, snapping the bones that dared to touch you and created an unfortunate spark that ignited the desire pooling in your lower belly.
You grit your teeth. “What. Do. You. Want. ” Raphael frowns and places a hand over his heart, feigning insult.
“Little bird, I am hurt . Whatever did I do to you?” You roll your eyes again and turn on your heel. Before you can step toward your tent, heat engulfs your back and a hand snakes up your chest, wrapping around your throat. “Ah, ah, ah . Just where do you think you’re going?” Raphael presses his chest into you, leaning his head toward your ear. You feel his lips graze the tip of your ear, sending a chill shooting down your spine. You just make out the curve of his horns above you; he is human no more, but cambion, his fingertips alight and glowing with the fire of the Hells that burn within him.
“Raphael, I cannot deal with this right now. I can’t be distracted, I’m supposed to-” He interrupts your protests with his fingertips, curving them down your chest and around your nipple to pinch , hard. You yelp, and in response, Raphael moves his hand from your throat and clamps it over your mouth. Through your anger, the rage boiling in your throat, the fire in your gut rages into an inferno at his touch, and almost against your will, your knees unlock and your body softens against his.
“That wasn’t the deal, little bird.” His voice is a growl, low, hungry, in your ear. He releases your nipple and uses the now free hand to snap his fingers. In an instant, the camp melts away before your vision and is replaced by the familiar visage of a massive, elegant bedchamber. You stand in the middle of it, in a room in a palace overlooking the Hells, overlooking Avernus. Before you is the usual sight - Raphael’s bed, immense and imposing. It is a regal thing, a mattress of colossal size and unspeakable comfort housed by a sensual carved ebony frame. The headboard presses against a wall, on either side of which are open-air windows that expand outward and provide the devil with his own personal viewing of the tortures and suffering below in Avernus.
Raphael still stands behind you, and he moves his hand back to your throat, squeezing harder than before. You gasp, your body collapsing under his grasp. The inferno within you rages.
“My love ,” He purrs into your ear, using his body to walk you forward. He trails his free hand down your body, pinching, prodding, and squeezing his favourite parts, and settles it between your legs, slipping a delicate finger under your waistband. “You have been so very naughty today. That mouth of yours, though one of my very favourite parts of you, is going to get you in trouble someday.” He continues lower with his finger, stroking downward, between your folds, gathering slickness on his fingertips. You whimper in response, and his fingertip grazes against your clit as he continues to stroke. You feel a deep, satisfied rumbling within his chest as he lifts the hand from your body, and hear him slip the soaked finger into his mouth. The rumbling morphs into a single, contented sigh. “Delicious, as always, you filthy thing. I see how much you want me, even though you feign disinterest.” He stops guiding you as your knees bang into the footboard of the bed, and he chuckles. You open your mouth to protest, to argue with the lumbering cambion holding you hostage, but before you can speak, he slams his knees into the backs of yours, causing you to buckle forward onto the mattress with a yelp. Below you, the black satin fabric is cool, a welcome change from the warm air of Avernus emanating through the room. You ball your fists for a moment, taking the chilled fabric between your fingers, then release.
“Raphael!” He snickers again as you roll over to face him. His chest is bare, now, flames jumping and licking across the surface of his brick red skin, which glistens in the surrounding firelight that illuminates the room. His wings hang low on his back in relaxed folds, yet are still massive, extending well above and beyond the frame of the bed. You feel the inferno rage, creeping its way up your belly and into your chest. Your anger melts around it, replaced by something else entirely, something that ravages your core and turns the edges of your vision black. Raphael sees the minute change in your expression and beams, then raises his hand again. With another snap of his fingers, your clothing vanishes, leaving your body bare, exposed, to the cambion above you. You notice then, that he, similarly, is fully nude, chest heaving, eyes dark with desire, and cock hard and twitching in anticipation.
“That’s better.” He says, and bends down under the top of the wooden frame, kneeling and crawling over you. He uses his leverage and size to his advantage, and grabs your shoulders to centre you below him. In the same motion, he sweeps his head forward, cognisant of his horns, and crushes his lips against yours, a faint moan escaping through his open mouth into your throat. You feel your will break against his, and you wrap your arms around his body, drinking in the scent of him, the feel of his body against yours. The heat emanating from him is strong, intense, but does not singe your skin, and you melt into him, conforming your body to his shape.
“I’m - so - sorry - Raphael,” you manage through fervent kisses and gasps. “I’ve - just had a really - difficult - couple of-”
Slap.
Your voice is cut off by a sharp stinging sensation that whips your head to the side, and your eyes fill with tears. You do not feel the anger or shame that would come naturally with such an insult; instead, a moan escapes your throat, and you feel your will shatter. You do not want to resist anymore, your vision blurring as pure lust clouds your mind. You reach your hands to his body and squeeze the hips you find, pulling him closer to you.
“Do not speak.” He commands, and wraps the hand he used to deliver punishment around your throat. You moan again against his touch, and he leans forward, pressing his lips into the stinging skin on your cheek. His lips are warm and soothe the growing welts they find. You writhe and contort your body under his touch, grinding against the fullness of his cock, your core aching, pleading, to be filled the the entirety of him. He chuckles, low, under his breath, and returns his lips to your mouth, forcing his tongue between your teeth. The cambion maintains a firm grip on your throat with his left hand, alternating between tight, constricting, which clouds your head with dreamy bliss, and light but rigid grasps.
As he maintains his hold and continues to crush his lips against yours, he reaches his free hand down once more, settling at the meeting of your thighs. He slips a finger, then two, between them, immediately finding the centre of your pleasure, and strokes, gentle, slow circles, around it. Another moan, long, drawn out, escapes your throat, and lands on his tongue, where he swallows it down with a gasp of his own.
“My, my, little bird. So excited already, are we?” He pulls his face away from you, brown eyes turned red, now boring into yours, and filled with a delicious, dark lust. He removes his fingers from your body and brings them up to your mouth, before speaking a single commanding word: “Suck.” You take the fingers into your mouth and pull deep, hard, the tangy-sweet taste of yourself filling your mouth, and you groan, pushing your body against him again. His cock, settled between your stomachs, throbs at your touch, and he grunts, throwing his head back in ecstasy.
“You’re a filthy little creature,” He purrs, removing his fingers from your mouth and replacing them at the apex of your thighs. Instead, however, he pushes them further between your legs, and up inside of you, curving to find the sweet spot within you. “How quickly you bend for me, how eagerly your will breaks.” He pushes your head to the side with his face, and presses hungry, fervent lips into your neck, taking the fragile skin there between his teeth and biting, sucking. You feel the mark blooming where is teeth dig into your throat, and you quiver underneath him, knowing the looks and remarks you will get from your companions back at camp.
They know not of your deal with the devil - they do not know how you sold your body to him, not your soul, in exchange for the Orphic Hammer all those years ago. Raphael’s proposition had been most interesting; allow him to sequester you away whenever he so felt the need and in exchange, the Orphic Hammer and all the power it could provide, would be yours to have. Your companions never did learn how you were able to manage taking the hammer from the devil in Avernus, just that you had acquired it, and it had not come at the expense of your soul. Several times, Gale had pried further, begging to know how exactly you managed to convince a devil , much less the ruler of Avernus, to part with the beloved item, soul intact, but you always shooed him away, told him some secrets were better left buried. After several unsuccessful attempts to gain the knowledge, Gale finally stopped prying.
“Where are you, little bird? Your mind seems miles away.” Raphael’s voice cuts through your thoughts, and you find yourself staring into the deep red eyes of the devil, lines burrowing between his eyes, his jaw set; the expression is almost concern. You shake your head in response.
“I’m sorry, lover, it’s nothing.” You respond, and reach out to touch his face. An invisible force stops you, and instead your outstretched arms reach above your head, locking into place by an unseen shackle. Raphael chuckles as you resist, attempt to pull your hands free. Your fingertips quiver and tingle with longing to touch his fire-kissed skin, and his grin spreads further.
“I’m not sure who you think you are, or what privileges you have earned today, little bird, but you are greedy this evening.” Raphael reaches down with his right hand and palms his cock, which twitches and dribbles in response to the new stimulation. His mouth goes agape at the touch, and you whimper, the longing in your core growing more fervent, burning higher up your body. You rattle your invisible restraints, grunting as your body screams in protest - touch me, touch me, touch me , you will out to him, begging him to hear the silent pleas. Raphael laughs as the pitch of your voice shrills, and you cry out.
“Whats wrong , little bird? Do you need something from me?”
“You brought me here, and now wish only to tease me?” You say, indignant, writhing against your restraints. Raphael laughs again, and brings a warm, solid thigh up to your core, just grazing the edges of your lower lips. He looks down on you, still stroking himself, and utters another single command: “Ride.” Your mind reels and you cannot stop yourself from pushing onto him as much as the bindings allow, and begin to grind against his thigh, the feather soft stroke of his skin on yours causing you to cry out his name.
“Is that better, my dear? Is that what you wanted?” His deep voice is sulky, a purr, and though he still sits above you, you feel its vibration almost in your ear, at the base of your skull.
“Gods, Raphael, please,” You beg through whimpers, and Raphael bellows a hearty laugh.
“Gods? There are no gods here, little bird. It’s just you and me.” He collapses upon you and kisses you, with a deeper, more rabid hunger than before, as he licks, bites, sucks, against your neck, your collarbones, your breasts, all the while maintaining contact between your dripping cunt and his thigh. You continue to grind against him as he attends to your neck, and you feel a pressure building in your core, the beginnings of the need for release. The sensation causes you to tense your abdomen, and Raphael, ever perceptive, raises his head from your neck.
“Oh no, not yet.” He whispers, and removes his thigh from your body. You groan, the ache of desire almost painful within you, and shake your arms against the restraints once more.
“Raphael, please ,” you beg, your voice a pathetic, high-pitched whimper. He releases his cock from his hand and snatches at your throat, squeezing his nails into the already-bruised skin.
“I will give you what you so desire only when I am ready, do you understand me?” He growls, rage peppering the edges of his words. “I have other plans for you, at this moment.” The anger in his voice rattles you; it is not unlike him to be rough, angry, during these encounters, and you feel yourself submitting to him, as you always do. You nod, and Raphael bends to kiss you once more. “Such a good little pet,” he croons, and releases your neck from his grasp. He raises his hand and snaps his fingers once more, though you are unable to detect any immediate change, as Raphael’s figure blocks most of your vision of the room around you.
“You called, Master?” another voice, different, yet the same, somehow, rings clear through the bedchambers, and Raphael turns to face the new arrival. You peer past his shoulder to see Haarlep, Raphael’s personal incubus, in the form of Raphael himself, standing before the footboard, wrapped in a delicate satin robe of black and gold, under which his deep red skin, an exact replica of Raphael’s, peeks.
“Hello, Haarlep, you darling creature. Come to us.” Raphael says, extending his right arm to Haarlep, who smiles, flashing white teeth at his Master.
“Why, of course. You two look like you’re having fun.” His voice is an identical purr to Raphael’s, and you shudder, ecstasy and desire raging through your bloodstream, setting every one of your nerves alight. What does this devil have planned?
“Hm, some of us more than others, I’m afraid.” Raphael smirks, and Haarlep laughs in response. Haarlep puts his knees onto the bed to your right, and strokes your leg with one of his fingers.
“What a beautiful pet you have, Master.”
“Aren’t I lucky, Haarlep, to have not one, but two beautiful lovers to do my every bidding?” Raphael beams, and Haarlep giggles in response.
“One might call you the luckiest devil in Avernus, love.” He responds, and bends forward to press a kiss into Raphael’s cheek. Raphael turns to Haarlep and, with the same urgency he used on you, grabs Haarlep by the throat and pulls him into a long kiss, which Haarlep reciprocates, wrapping his tail around Raphael’s body, then slinking it upward, toward his Master’s horns. Raphael breaks the kiss to chuckle, and motions back to you, still writhing on the bed.
“Haarlep, I have a proposition for you.” Raphael says, and Haarlep cocks his head at Raphael in response, raising his eyebrow.
“Oh? Do tell.”
“You will lay with us tonight, myself and my little bird.” Raphael states, and Haarlep turns his head to meet your gaze.
“Oh really ?” He grins, reaching his hand out to stroke your leg again. “And what did this one do to deserve not one, but two of you inside her this evening?” Raphael shakes his head as he reaches a hand into Haarlep’s robe, stroking his fingers across his double’s chest.
“My love, it is not about what she deserves, but rather about what I desire. And that is to take her for myself but to also watch myself take her.” He turns to you and grins, a wicked expression, the corners of his mouth twitching as he looks up and down your exposed body. You shake your arms against the invisible restraints once more, and Raphael rolls his eyes at you. He makes no motion with his body, but you feel something akin to Raphael’s hand grab your face, holding your cheeks between his thumb and fingers. The sensation holds for a second, then releases with a rough push, and you let out a throaty moan.
“Well, Master, doesn’t that just sound like buckets of fun? For us, at least.” Haarlep nods, digging his claws into your leg, and you cry out at the sensation, to which Raphael responds with a laugh.
“Knowing how filthy my little bird is, I’m sure she will enjoy herself almost as much as we will.” He shrugs his shoulders. “And, Haarlep, I am feeling rather generous tonight, which filthy hole of hers do you want?” He brings his gaze back to yours, and you whimper, the fires of anticipation raging in your belly.
“What a generous offer! Hm...” Haarlep ponders the thought, and you can almost see him imagining mounting you from behind, thrusting into you with a lazy pace, or taking you from the front, your throat wrapping around the length of him as he strokes. “I want that pretty little mouth of hers.” He decides, and reaches out to you, running a thumb across your lip. “Suck.” He commands, as Raphael would, and you take the digit into your mouth, and Haarlep opens his mouth to groan.
“Very well, I’m sure you will have a lovely time. I know I certainly will.” Raphael smiles at you again, his eyes downturned, dark, lustful.
You feel the restraints, which, until this moment, maintained your arms above your head, release, and Raphael bends over your body to whisper into your ear.
“Roll over, little bird. We need you on your knees.” His voice drips with lust and arousal, and you nod a single, short motion. As you lift yourself up on your elbows, Raphael presses a kiss into your forehead, and uses his leverage over you to help you manoeuvre onto your knees. As you do so, Haarlep takes his place at the head of the bed, where he scatters the pillows and creates a pocket to kneel in. In the time it took you to roll, he has removed his robe, and now sits before you, his body an exact copy of the devil kneeling behind you.
“Oh, and, little bird...” Raphael starts as he grabs onto your hips. You feel his length twitching against you in anticipation, and you moan without thought. Raphael laughs as he speaks again. “Do not lose control. The punishment will be severe if you climax without my explicit permission. Do you understand me? Yes, Master, will suffice.” Your core burns as Raphael takes his cock in his hands and positions it at your entrance, teasing and drawing up slick onto his skin. Before you, Haarlep, similarly aroused and prepared, presses his tip to your lips, his right hand at the base.
“Yes, Master,” you breathe, and as you open your mouth you choke against the force of Haarlep’s cock hitting the back of your throat. You take the entire length of him against your tongue, pressing it in a firm, swift motion, to the understand, and suck, creating pressure against his length and head. He groans in response, as Raphael slams into you from behind, burying himself to the hilt in your body. Though your throat is filled and you are unable to scream, you grunt at the force of Raphael, and, in turn, Haarlep moans at the sensation against him. The incubus places his hands on either side of you face, stroking your hair with one hand, before he uses his positioning for leverage, to take his own pace hammering away at your throat. It is a familiar feeling, one Raphael himself has done to you several times before, but all the same you gag around him as he hits the back of your throat. The sound, the sensation, only encourages Haarlep further, who continues to snap his hips toward your mouth, taking a slow but firm pace.
In turn, you feel Raphael press his hands into the top of your ass, and you feel him push, using your body as leverage, and you realise, as he too, bucks his hips into your core, that he is using that leverage to watch Haarlep take your throat. The vision, the thought, of Raphael watching himself fuck your throat, while simultaneously fucking you himself, boils your blood, and you feel the pressure rising in your core. Your walls flutter against Raphael’s steady pace, and in response, he grabs a fistful of your hair and yanks , a fluid, swift motion that brings your mouth off of Haarlep. You cry out as tears fill your eyes, and Raphael glares into your eyes, his own burning with the fires of Avernus themselves, as he speaks to you.
“You had better not lose control, little bird. You will live to regret it.” He tugs your hair again, and you yelp once more. “An acknowledgement?” He raises his eyebrows, and you nod in rapid succession.
“Y-yes, Master,” you say, breathless, and he releases your hair from his grasp. Your head falls forward, and Haarlep waits with expectant eyes for your return. You wrap your lips back over his tip and suck, creating a negative pressure in your mouth, causing Haarlep to groan. You drool as you slide him further into your mouth, covering the length of him in spittle and mucus, as he hits the back of your throat once more. You bob your head against him, running your tongue in small circles around his tip, then sliding down his length as you bottom out the dip of your head. You continue this motion for several minutes, as Raphael hammers into you from behind, his claws digging into your skin. As he does, you feel his nails break skin, and warm blood begin to trickle down your hips and thighs, pooling at your knees on the bed. Raphael grunts at the sight, and moves his right hand from your hip to his mouth, running his tongue along his bloodstained fingers.
“I’ve always thought, in another life, I would have liked to be a vampire.” He says, as he drags his tongue across his finger, the metallic tang of your blood filling his mouth. He grunts in assent. “Such delicious blood in your veins, little bird. How I’d love to spill more of it to enjoy right here on these sheets.” You whimper, the sound muted by Haarlep’s body, and Raphael chuckles.
“It’s - hngh - rude to speak with your - fuck - mouth full, dearest.” Haarlep moans, returning his hands to the sides of your head. You feel his pace quicken, and he snaps his head up to Raphael, pleading.
“Oh dear,” Raphael says, maintaining his rhythm with his hips. “What’s wrong, lover?” His voice drips like honey from his lips, and Haarlep cries out as his pace sputters.
“I’m going to - oh gods - Raphael, please may I-” Haarlep’s voice is a whimper, pathetic and high pitched, then choked off by an invisible force.
“ Not yet , my delicious love.” Raphael commands. Haarlep groans and slows his pace, his eyes rolling back into his head as he bites his lip. “You are almost as greedy as my little bird, Haarlep. You know better.” Raphael’s scold is light, but you can tell from his tone that Haarlep will be punished just as you will if he loses control. Raphael is not known for his forgiveness, and it extends into his bedroom activities.
“And how about you , little bird? How are you faring in our fine adventure here?” Raphael says as he bends his torso over your back and presses his chest into you. The heat of his body licks and nips at your skin as he nibbles on the top of your ear, and the growing desire within you sputters once more, threatening to burst. You wail against Haarlep’s cock, and Haarlep returns the wail with a moan of his own. Raphael responds in kind, gripping your hips again.
“ Fuck ,” he groans, his pace quickening, his hips slamming into you harder, with more desperation.
“Raphael, please ,” you moan against Haarlep’s skin, the words muffled and full. Haarlep moans again, and Raphael stops in response, remaining inside you, but motionless. He digs his nails into your hips once more.
“Haarlep, my love?” Raphael says, and Haarlep, who’s pace has increased once more, as he chases his pleasure down an endless, dragging corridor, looks up from your eyes and grunts.
“Y-yes?”
“Cum for me, love. Now.” Raphael commands. As the words leave Raphael’s mouth, Haarlep yells, loud, and stills himself within your throat. You feel his cock twitch and pulse, as spurts of fire-hot cum run down your throat. It is delicious, sensual, and you gulp and swallow against him as he fills your mouth and throat.
“You’re such a good little pet, Haarlep.” Raphael purrs, reaching out his hand as Haarlep bends over you. Their foreheads meet over your back, and you hear them kiss, wet and passionate, before Raphael pulls away.
“Thank you for the little show, love.” Raphael says. “But unfortunately, you must take your leave, Begone. I will find you later should I find myself in need of your services once more.” Haarlep opens his mouth to respond, but Raphael snaps his fingers before a sound can escape his throat, and Haarlep vanishes in a cloud of red smoke. Your mouth hangs open, empty at the sudden removal of Haarlep’s cock, yet before you can speak, Raphael removes himself from you and flips you on your back in a swift motion, and takes your mouth against his, tongue swirling inside embrace wrap your arms around him, pulling him to your chest as you return his moans in kind.
He pulls himself away from your mouth and grabs your right leg, hoisting it up, over his shoulder. As he kneels before you, he brings your left leg up over his right thigh, and, pressing a hand on your stomach to steady himself, buries himself within you once more. From the start, his thrusts are erratic, his pace unsteady. He slips the hand on your stomach downward, using his thumb to circle your clit, his pace slow, agonising.
“What a delicious, obedient little bird you’ve been tonight,” He groans, his voice thick with lust. “The incubus and I will have to have a discussion about how quickly he ended his participation in our little activity. No matter,” He continues the pattern with his thumb, and your legs shake as he hammers into you with similar pace. Your arms are spread to your sides above you, and your mouth is open in silent, agonising pleasure. Raphael marvels at the sight of you, his eyes darkening. His tail, which has, until this point, remained sinfully uninvolved in pleasure, snakes up your left leg and wraps around your knee, constricting the blood flow. Then, the sensation moves, and though you see his tail stay wrapped around your leg, the pressure shifts, and you feel your throat collapse against the invisible grasp of his tail. You do not know how he does it, but you do not care, as a hazy fog spreads over your brain, pleasure overtaking your skull.
“You will cum with me, little bird. Do you understand? ‘Yes, Master,’, will suffice.”
You attempt to speak, but no words can escape the tightness of your throat. You can only whimper, and Raphael tightens his hold against you.
“Do. You. Understand. Me?” He knows you cannot speak, but prods you for an answer anyway, bearing a sinister grin. You choke again, little more than a gasp of air leaves your tongue, and in response, Raphael takes his free hand and slaps you again, harder than before. The edges of your vision burn white, and your cunt throbs around him, the punishment only an enhancement of the experience. His grip on your throat loosens, only just, and as your vision returns, you choke out a response.
“Y-yes, Master. Please, please, ” Your voice is hoarse, and your cheeks begin to burn as you hear yourself, how pathetic you sound for the cambion above you, burying himself within you. Raphael, satisfied with your answer, quickens the pace of his hips and continues encircling your clit, applying steady, even pressure, that only fuels the long-burning blaze within you. Before long, you feel the waves of pleasure mounting, growing, and begin to cry out as the threat of release tickles the edges of your body.
In response, Raphael’s fingers speed up, but he shakes his head, the pace of his hips steady. “Not yet, little bird. Not yet.” You cry out against him as your cunt spasms, but you hold back, the task nearly impossible as he hammers into you. “You will cum when I tell you. Not a second sooner, not a second later.” His voice is deep, throaty, dripping with lust.
As he continues to encircle your clit with his thumb, his hips speed up, each thrust deeper and faster than the one before, the entirety of your cunt enveloping him. You squeeze your muscles against him, and he groans, a delicious, erotic sound, and his pace stutters once more.
“Gods above,” Raphael whispers, and the thumb on your clit circles faster, with deeper pressure. Your orgasm crests, a plateau you know will crash before long. You cry out again, tears welling in your eyes as the sensations overwhelm you - the need to finish, to find your release, the pressure at your throat, the hammering at your pelvis. Raphael drops his gaze, red eyes peering directly through your soul. “Fuck,” he whispers again, as his hips continue to stutter and shake.
It only takes seconds; the plateau begins to fall, and the tears in your eyes cascade down your cheeks as you propel yourself forward, grabbing onto Raphael’s back with your hands and digging in with your nails. “Raphael, I can’t, I can’t,” you whimper, a pathetic sound that oozes equal parts agony and desire In response, Raphael groans, gripping your hips in a firmer grasps, and whispers a single command into your ear.
“Cum.”
It is all you need. You are on fire, as your walls spasm around him, the fullness of his cock only enhancing the pleasure erupting through you. He stills inside you as he cums with you, throwing his head back as his cock throbs within you. A groan escapes his throat, deep and echoing throughout the bedchamber. You press your face into his chest as throes of pleasure overwhelm you, the spasms of your pussy near-ceaseless around his cock. His claws dig further into your skin, surely breaking through, and he continues to grunt and whine as he rides through his orgasm with the kind of power reserved specifically for a devil - his grip on you is unbreakable, the pressure at your neck inescapable. He lowers his head into the crook of your neck, biting into the sensitive flesh. Your head swims as your walls spasm and contract around the devil, and the tips of your fingers and toes tingle and go numb. You can do nothing but moan, whimper, and cry out Raphael’s name in rapid, breathless succession. He too, is breathless, his chest heaving as he recovers; his continued expulsion of air is hot, fiery, on your neck.
After a few moments, his breathing slows, and he pulls himself from within you. You whimper at the sudden emptiness within you, and he chuckles as he stares into your eyes.
“Such a greedy, eager little pet.” A smile soaks the edges of his words, and he places a gentle kiss onto your lips. “Are you alright?” You release him from your arms, and he stands from the bed, turning his back to you. He stretches his wings to their full, massive length, the light of the fires of the Hells illuminating them, casting a shadow over the entirety of the room. He extends his arms out to the sides of his body in tandem, and elongates the muscles of his body, for a moment, before turning back to face you, a slight aura of concern spread across his face. You nod in response.
“I’m fantastic,” you smile, and Raphael returns the expression. He strides back to the bed and pulls you into his arms. His body is softer, more tender than before, though his skin burns hotter, the heat of him radiating through you in waves. As he pulls you to him, he bows his head, tucking it in the crook of your neck. You feel his lips trailing light, gentle kisses across your collarbone, and you sink into him, allowing the softness to whisk you away. Your body melts against his, and he guides you with his arms further back onto the bed, lowering you down as he crawls. He maintains his position over you, though his lips move from the line of your collarbone to that of your jaw, ending on your lips once more. He does not thrust his tongue between your teeth as before, rather continues the tender pecks he left on your neck. After a moment, he pulls from you, and smiles as he holds himself above you.
“You’re beautiful, you know.”
You flush in response, and run a hand along his arm. He closes his eyes at the sensation, parting his lips ever-so-slightly. You see the faintest hint of pink from his tongue between his teeth.
“As are you.” You reply. Though you feign disgust, disinterest whenever he comes to retrieve you for your services, to uphold your end of your hellish bargain, you pine for him with embarrassing frequency when he is away from you. Often, his devilish duties prevent him from retrieving you for weeks at a time, and you find yourself staying up far too late into the evening during these stints apart, willing him to appear behind you and sweep you away to the Hells. It does not happen often, though sometimes it is as if he has read your mind, and appears as you yearn for him, trailing his fingertips up your arms, whispering his desire for you in your ear.
Raphael smiles again, and presses another kiss into your lips. He lowers himself down, then rolls next to you, moving his arm behind you. He offers his chest for you to lie upon, and before you can attempt to stop yourself, you tuck yourself into his body, wrapping your arm over his chest and pushing your head into his neck, like he did with you only moments before. He wraps the arm above you around your body and pulls you into him, and you feel the covers shift upward over your bodies. You feel his lips against your forehead, and you close your eyes agains the sensation, a wave of sleepiness washing over you. He strokes your back with the tips of his fingers, his claws raking gentle lines into your skin and your body shivers in response.
“Sleep, little bird. I will return you back to your camp before your companions wake. They will know not of your absence.” Raphael’s voice is soft, barely a whisper in your ear. You do not protest. You sink into him, drinking in his ever-familiar scent, and feel yourself drifting away.
When you wake, it is as the devil promised. You are in your tent, the morning sunlight creeping between the openings of fabric. You stretch your limbs and stand from your bedroll. As you stand, you notice a single red rose atop the small table within your tent, around which a small note is wrapped. You pick up the rose in your finger, and wince as an unseen, sharp thorn pricks your finger. You bring the finger to your lips, pulling the bead of fresh blood onto your tongue, as you unwrap the note from the rose. In crisp, elegant script, two words scrawl across the note: Aeternum meum. You smile, then roll your eyes, and set the rose and note back atop the table, and move to face the world outside.