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Haarlep knew better than to overplay their hand. But they waited – for Raphael’s suave little smile and a handshake with his latest little tease. Another soul indebted to him, all for what? A grasp at power in the material plane? Still. Haarlep listened to the boring trifle. The brat’s father wanted to know every little detail, no matter how small. So they listened and waited, lounging languidly as the Baldurian glanced through the boudoir doors, through the grate. Their eyes, so very briefly, locked.
Raphael paused, noticing the Flaming Fist look past him, her sentence trailing off as though possessed by external force. He followed her gaze through the grates of his room – Haarlep staring into her soul. Their gaze was a leash to desire.
He pressed a hand to the small of her back, pushing her just slightly to break eye contact.
She stammered, blinking, remembering herself as he ushered her with a quiet “You were saying?”
Into a mirror she was led, and through it to the Devil’s Den.
Raphael closed off its magic, letting it ripple as she walked out of the mirror’s view.
He came to the boudoir, skirting past the Voyeur soul like she didn’t exist, stepping beyond the fragrant pools to meet Haarlep’s wheedling smile.
“You certainly took your time,” Haarlep commented, laying back on their palms, tail swaying lazily.
“Only the best for my clients, of course,” Raphael countered.
“You could be so much more efficient.”
What game would they play this time, Raphael wondered, cocking his head, peering at the incubus.
They continued, “You certainly don’t take as much time in other matters.”
Raphael scrunched his nose. “Haarlep –”
“That’s Archduke Raphael to you.”
Haarlep sat up tall with a dainty little point of their finger, chin up, wings out. And so the scene was set.
Raphael bowed politely, though annoyance stained his tone.
“Of course, Archduke. Forgive me. My time should be spent much more wisely.”
“Yes, it should, shouldn’t it? Your mouth would do better occupied with other things than flapping at trivial little nothings. Come here, my pet. Come and serve your master.”
Raphael smiled to himself. Yes, of course. He deserved a reward for a deal well done. How intuitive. He came to Haarlep, standing before them, eyes locked.
“What an ugly little creature,” Haarlep said.
Raphael frowned.
“Always wrapped up in this filthy mortal skin. But a mouth is a mouth. Come. Kneel before your Archduke.”
With practiced elegance, Haarlep swayed their hand in the air, parting their legs to dangle over the edge of the bed.
One hand on the small of his back, the other across his stomach to politely hold his jerkin in place, Raphael knelt to one knee, then the other. His brown eyes fixed to his prize – the ever-present bulge in Haarlep’s leather pouch.
The cambion leaned forward, using his mouth alone to tease the musky leather at Haarlep’s nethers, hearing them purr delightfully at his indignation.
Haarlep grabbed a fistful of his hair and shoved him into their crotch, mouth firm against the crevice of their thigh, bulge rubbing against his cheek as they shifted their hips, grinding against his cheek laughing to themselves.
Raphael mouthed their leather-trapped package, suckling then tonguing, leaving a streak of wetness.
“Mmm. So desperate to suck me. You’d like me in your mouth, wouldn’t you?”
Raphael nodded, replying breathily, “Yes, Archduke. I want you in my mouth.”
“Oh, good little whore.”
Haarlep’s claws grazed over his scalp, making his spine tingle, his own want feeling tight in his trousers.
“I don’t want your mouth, though,” Haarlep said with a false pout.
Raphael looked up at them, awaiting orders, hints, something.
Haarlep grinned, plucking away at the straps of their leathers, exposing their cock, scaly skin stretched over the head. Their hand gripped themselves, pulling back, exposing the dark red glans, then pressed against Raphael’s lips. The devil opened his mouth, but the incubus only teased him, swirling it over his lips in a slow, deliberate circle.
Raphael tried to open his mouth wider, hoping to be taken, to be claimed, to be a good little pet.
One hand tightly clutched his slicked-back hair, then a single, swift thrust —
He gagged, croaked, as the incubus forced the organ deep in his mouth. His hands pressed firm into Haarlep’s hips, nails digging little crescents into their skin. He struggled, half-heaving and trying very hard not to make a mess of himself – both from his throat and his now painfully hard cock.
“Ah! Your throat is much better, I think.”
Haarlep yanked back his hair, letting him cough and splutter and hack, drool and mucous stringing from his lips to Haarlep’s cock.
The incubus chuckled. “You can’t even take this much? I’m not even hard.”
The devil breathed, heaving a little, as his mouth hung slightly open, lips glistening. He swallowed.
Haarlep continued to mock him, “I suppose we’ll just make you practice until you’re good at it. Hahaha! If you ever get good at it.”
Raphael’s face and ears burned. He felt claws grip his hair, pulling him into Haarlep’s crotch, into the crook of their thigh.
He licked and suckled supple flesh, ran his tongue over Haarlep’s balls, hands gripping their knees.
The incubus held their cock in one hand, then patted the side of Raphael’s cheek with it, leaving a slick wet spot.
“You’re really not good at this.”
They tugged back his head, Raphael half-heartedly baring his teeth.
“Open.”
The devil briefly bit his lip before letting his jaw hang open, as loosely as he could.
Haarlep adjusted their hips, just slightly, then thrust down his throat.
Raphael retched at the intrusion, feeling his eyes sting. Haarlep’s grip in his hair forced him to stay, keeping their cock down his throat even as he struggled, hands scrabbling and patting against Haarlep’s thighs, his voice silenced by the wet noises of his throat.
Haarlep pressed harder, clutching Raphael’s head, keeping him locked in place, his nose buried against a dark patch of hair.
Then, suddenly they let go.
Raphael made an awful noise as Haarlep’s cock slid out from his mouth. He turned away, bowing low as he rubbed his throat, croaking and wheezing, thick spittle and mucous dripping from his lips and dribbling down his chin.
“Mm. Oh yes. You look much prettier like this, my little hell-whore. Don’t you like it? Don’t you like serving your master?”
Raphael nodded weakly, trying to clear his throat. “Y-yes, Archduke. I want to serve you. Only you. No one is as glorious as you, Archduke Raphael.”
Haarlep stood from their seat, holding their half-hard cock, stroking idly near Raphael’s face. They smiled, slapping his cheek with it, watching him flinch.
The devil reveled seeing his perfect, youthful body stand so tall before him, order him in his own voice, call him low and vile things, force him to choke on his own cock.
Haarlep could see the outline of his sex against his trousers, against his thigh. They touched the ball of their bare foot against it, pressing down. Just slightly.
They could see Raphael stiffen, his hands twitch, grabbing the quilted fabric of his chaps.
Haarlep pressed harder.
Raphael bared his teeth, but endured the pain with a low grunt.
The tip of their tail stroked his cheek, cock touching the other.
Then, their tail-tip slithered between his lips.
Raphael suckled at it, teeth and tongue feeling over every scale. It slithered deeper. He tensed, chest tight as he tried not to gag at the faintest tickle in the back of his throat, as the tapered tip teased him.
“Tsk, aw. I don’t know if you deserve my cock, little pet. Can you handle my other red-hot length? Hah! I don’t think you can.”
It slithered down Raphael’s throat. Haarlep stroked themselves, slow and deliberate, not too much. Raphael’s face – a delightful grimace as he tilted up his head to take and swallow what he could. Haarlep touched their lip as he watched the faintest bulge in Raphael’s throat as their tail slithered deeper, rubbing against the contracting walls. He stepped harder on the man’s desperate sex.
A tawny hand weakly came up to his throat, Raphael rubbing it slightly, feeling the shallow wriggle, lips stretched thin as Haarlep’s tail thickened the deeper it probed.
Then, slowly it came out, inch by inch.
Haarlep loved the way Raphael trembled, trying not to let their playful little torture gag him. Down it went again, Raphael’s hand clutched the ruffles of his collar, tugging slightly, other hand gripping his thigh, short nails scratching against the leather. His jaw ached. His cheeks burned – mostly from effort though certainly arousal. His long-lashed eyes fluttered up at the master of his boudoir, cock aching under their relentless foot.
“So good. You are so much better now that I’ve trained you. Every part of you, inside you, is deliciously warm velvet.”
Haarlep offered a few more squelching thrusts of their tail, quick and sudden, just to see the man beneath them flinch. Then, their tail slid out from his mouth, glistening wet, flicking out beads of spittle over the floor.
Raphael lurched, clutching his ruffles and jerkin, clear globs of saliva dripping from his mouth as he heaved. His thumb fruitlessly wiped what he could, only for his head to be jerked back.
“No, no, you don’t want to get rid of the only lube I’m letting you have, now. It makes me slide all the better into that pretty little hole of yours.”
The incubus rubbed the pad of their foot over Raphael’s cock, stroking him with a devillish, dastardly grin. “You’ve been such a good pet. Maybe I should give you a reward. Would you like that? A reward for being my perfect little mouse?”
Raphael breathed slow through his nose, trying to remain as composed as he could despite the debauchery dripping from his face, from his lips.
“Yes, Archduke. Please. I’ve been good.”
Haarlep retracted their foot. Raphael whined, missing the pressure, the need to release.
They tapped a black-nailed toe against the laces of his trousers.
Raphael unlaced them quickly, shuddering as he finally held himself. He moaned, precum dripping down his swollen sex, almost as thick as his plump, dick-swollen lips. His eyes stung, rimmed with dark red, not quite tearing up, but they stung all the same.
Haarlep gleamed delightfully at his mussed state, then adjusted their legs just so, wet tail licking Raphael’s cheek as they stroked themselves once, twice, then thrust into his used open mouth again.
Claws dragged over Raphael’s ears, into his scalp, massaging his fine, coiffed hair. Then held him firm. Haarlep jerked his head back and forth with a shallow gyration of their hips, hearing how wet his mouth and throat were, noisily sucking and slurping and swallowing, the wetness of their sex sloshing in his mouth.
Haarlep’s cock filled in Raphael’s throat. They breathed slow through their nose, watching the ugly mortal visage of the Canian Lord’s son swallow all of them. They were fucking an Archduke’s son, a prince of the Hells into submission, making him swallow his own cock. Their wings spread apart, tail flicking in the air as they thrust harder into Raphael’s mouth, seeing his teary brown eyes roll back.
Their groin met against Raphael’s nose, grinding against him. Raphael, too, grabbed their round rump, squeezing and pulling to take them deeper, stroking himself in time to their thrust, cum spurting over the floor and their feet with a deep groan.
The incubus keened, thrusting slower, feeling pleasure building, building in their nethers.
Their wings stretched, stiffened, tail coiled tight around Raphael’s throat, Haarlep’s back arched as they moaned.
Absently, they stroked Raphael’s hair, the pair of them lingering in shared ecstasy.
Their cock slid from Raphael’s mouth.
The man wiped his chin, his lip, but felt a hand hold down his shoulder before he could stand. He looked up, retreating to his position on the floor.
“Ah-ah,” Haarlep scolded gently. They lifted a leg, touching a toe against Raphael’s cheek, the top of their foot laden with cum. “Clean up your mess.”
Raphael held their heel and ankle like a dainty slipper, tongue laved over their skin, tasting himself, kissing and licking like a pet desperate for attention.
“Good boy!” Haarlep patted his head. He scowled.
Haarlep flopped themselves into the bed, laying back and stretching out their leg. “And the other one.”
They delighted in seeing Raphael lick them, the concentration at such a menial, degrading task in his eyes and furrowed brow, sucking up his own mess and licking over black-lacquered claws. The sex-fiend could feel the fresh swelling of arousal gather in their loins.
They dragged the side of their foot and toe across Raphael's cheek.
“So good to me,” they commented, drawing their leg back and sitting on it up on red jacquard sheets. They patted the bed.
“Come.”
Raphael stood, stuffing his cock in his trousers when he felt Haarlep’s tail flick against his leg. He glanced at it, then the incubus.
“You silly thing. Pets don’t wear clothes.”
The devil shed away his clothes, dropping them on the floor.
Haarlep took his hand, pulling him into the sheets, lips locked together, legs tangled.
The pair of them moaned against each other.
Raphael stroked Haarlep’s face, admiring it – admiring himself, a vision of his youth, the perfection of his own body reflected back at him, the authority that came with being Archduke in this little fantasy. He imagined the crown on their head, regal and beautiful. It would be his, soon. How lovely it would look wrapped around his horns.
Haarlep pushed him on his back, knowing what the bratty lordling wanted.
“I’m not done with you, yet.”