Chapter Text
The letter had arrived at some point whilst you were sleeping, left on top of an ostentatiously wrapped package that had been left by your bedside. It seemed like your companions had all left the Elfsong for the day, and perhaps it was for the best… You felt…strange…and the perfume drifting into your senses from the envelope and package was all too familiar.
Cherries, musk, palmarosa, black pepper, and that hint of hellish sulphur.
The question was why had Raphael sent you something?
Rubbing the sleep from your eyes you began to put some concerning pieces together. Perhaps he had found out that you’d paid a trip to his home whilst he wasn’t there…but you didn’t take anything, and you were very cautious not to leave any traces of your visit, utilising the disguise and only looking around. You had no desire to make an enemy of him – the contract you made, and the Hammer that Lae’zel carried with her now, were the best chance you had so far at dealing with the visitor in your skull and the threat looming over the city. Or rather, under it…
You shook the worries from your mind. There was still time, and doubtless if Raphael wanted your head he could have taken it whilst you slept peacefully in your bed. You checked quickly – neck still in one piece, all limbs where they should be, just that lingering heat beginning to bother you.
Fine, fine. A quick bath would surely set you right, then you could tackle whatever was in the delivery.
—
A good half hour soak later left you feeling refreshed, though still a little warmer than you should be for the season. Wrapped in a thin towel, you decided just to open up the package now, then you’d know whether to reach for your travelling clothes or your battle leathers.
Taking a deep breath to still your nerves, you opened the envelope with a small dagger. Inside was…an invitation?
Raphael was inviting you to visit him at Sharess’ Caress.
Curiosity rising, you opened the package that had been beneath the letter, finding within a beautiful outfit of embroidered silk, with some elegant undergarments to match. Hells, this kind of thing would cost a year’s wages in your old life. Even now it would take more than half the coin your whole group had amassed, and your companions had already earmarked that for upgrading their weapons and armour.
Well, you wouldn’t need the worn out travelling clothes or your armour. If this was a gift, it would be foolish not to wear it to your meeting – you’d already made up your mind to accept the invitation the moment you read it. Perhaps it was more than just good luck that had given you the day to yourself…
Anticipation and excitement rose within you as you quickly finished drying off and slipped the clothes on, finding the whole outfit to be an almost unnervingly perfect fit. It was as if every stitch had been precisely placed to fit your body with a flattering effect, accentuating all your best features, whilst being so comfortable you could move with freedom and grace. Beneath, the undergarments almost felt like the ghost of an intimate caress.
—
The day was pleasant enough as you made your way swiftly through the city streets, trying hard not to note how many eyes seemed drawn to your ostentatious appearance as you made your way towards the brothel. Even as you entered, you were quick to avoid any familiar faces, hiding your own and hurrying on to the room you had been summoned to.
The invitation was clutched in your hand still, uncertain whether you were supposed to bring it with you, pointedly ignoring the swarm of butterflies that had somehow apparated in your middle. Before you could knock, however, the door opened, a familiar figure giving the slightest of bows to invite you inside.
“Perfectly on time, Little Mouse,” Raphael smiled as he closed the door behind you, the expression far from benevolent as you felt a chill in the air. Or was it heat?... “Is something troubling you?”
“No! No, not at all,” you hurriedly reassured him, tripping over your own tongue in your haste. “I’m…you invited me here, I was wondering why? The letter only requested that I attend, and make use of your gift. Which… Thank you, it’s beautiful.”
“It is indeed,” he nodded approvingly, his gaze traversing the length of your body with far less haste than you had spoken with.
For those long and silent few seconds, you felt entirely undressed beneath his eyes.
“It is fortunate that you have decided to attend with an invitation, you seem to have developed a habit of becoming a guest without one.” Raphael’s voice became darker as he spoke, the sinister implication sinking through you with a deep sense of dread that only grew as he continued. “Manners maketh the Mouse, though it seems you need to be reminded of yours.”
As his gaze bore deeper into you, you swore you could almost see the flames dancing in his eyes even in his human form. A few unwise protests were stifled before they could reach your tongue, so you held your silence and followed his gesture to sit on the edge of the bed.
“Are you certain nothing is amiss? Perhaps your clothing is uncomfortable?” He stood in front of you, glaring down, expecting a response this time.
“No…it’s a perfect fit, thank you.” You were sure to give your gratitude a second time, despite being clear with it before, in case these were the manners he was talking about. Though…maybe he was right? You were beginning to feel warmer, and though you sat motionless there was a ghost of friction across your body. Could it be the tailoring bothering you?
“Very well. We shall see how long you persist with this act of yours.” Raphael kept his eyes locked on you, a threatening aura making the shadows behind him seem both larger and deeper as he took a single step closer. “I am well aware, Little Mouse, that you have been to Avernus. To my House.”
“I swear, I didn’t take anythi—”
“Perhaps not,” he cut you off swiftly, the edge of a wicked smile beginning to spread as the discomfort in your body grew, a heat building low in your body. “But you were taken, weren't you? Did you think I wouldn't know that you crept into my room to play with my incubus?"
Oh, fuck. The realisation hit you then, a far clearer shiver of pleasure bringing a gasp to your lips as you remembered how Haarlep had smiled and waved when you left. Smiled with a copy of your face, waved with the perfect imitation of your hand…
“Do you understand it now, Little Mouse? The true implications of the deal that you made?”
You did. It was all sinking in with alarming clarity, along with the realisation that—
“Indeed, you bedded the Harlot whilst they were wearing my form.” The scent of his perfume was rich and heady as he leaned in close to your ear, the echoes of pleasure still burning through your body. “I. Felt. Everything.”
Your hands were barely fast enough in reaching your mouth to stifle the moan that rose through you from whatever Haarlep was doing with your body. Yet still you remained seated on the edge of the bed as Raphael stood back, content to merely watch you once more.
“I have given Haarlep permission to use you however they feel fit, until such a time as I tell them we are done. Shall we see how long you can last, Little Mouse, whilst in the claws of the cat?”
—
Hells. Hells!
You could tell him to stop this at any time, he made that quite clear, but something about the look in his eye – and the rising lust within your body – prevented you from saying a thing.
Instead…
You had already kicked off your boots and shuffled up the bed, leaning back on the pillows, fists balled up and gripping the silk sheets. Some stubborn part of you wanted to win, to prove you were able to endure, that you could be worthy of the fine regalia you had been dressed in and of the devil who had bestowed the gift upon you.
Raphael continued to watch, a few observations hardly helping your desperation as you held on to whatever was left of your resolve.
“They know your body better than you do, Mouse, and I am certain even now they are putting it to good use.” He smiled as you writhed against the phantom sensation – someone was definitely doing something and it felt so… “Such a wanton look you wear, whatever happened to the daring hero that broke into my house and slept with my incubus – wearing my body, no less…”
You took a deep breath, moaning only once before finding your words again. “I…I’m sorr—”
“Apologies? Then you believe it better to ask forgiveness than permission?” He sat on the edge of the bed, leaning towards you to hook one finger beneath your chin. “Did it never occur to you, in your infinite wisdom, that I might have permitted you to offer yourself up as a meal to them?”
That…was unexpected. You could barely steady yourself, feeling someone else making use of Haarlep-you somewhere in Avernus, a phantom stretch making your legs part of their own accord as Raphael continued to gaze into your eyes.
“Hmmm…that would be The Archivist. A very determined man, very loyal. Shall I have Haarlep order him to go slower? Or do you want more?” His thumb reached your cheek, finger still resting beneath your chin, the grip somewhere between firm and comforting as he would not let you look away. “Cat got your tongue so soon? My, my, Little Mouse. I expected more from someone brazen enough to steal from me.”
“I…I didn’t know,” you gasped, certain there had to be someone else there with the tiefling from the archives. You remembered him, though. How you had tricked him into giving you an invitation to the Boudoir so you could get through the shimmering doorway to where it looked like Raphael was laying in bed, beckoning to you.
When you had entered the room, however, you realised it wasn’t Raphael. The features were similar from a distance, but the one who was dressed in a leather harness laying in his bed even spoke with a different cadence, their voice drawing you in with the promise of a chance to sleep with the devil himself – or at least as close to it as you ever thought you’d get.
“I…won’t do it again.”
“I know you won’t,” Raphael leaned closer, the scent of his perfumes filling your senses as his other hand took a place on your thigh. “This is a lesson, my dear Little Mouse, and one you shall remember.”
Hells… If you had more courage and hubris right now you could just lean forwards slightly and steal a kiss from waiting lips, you could…could…
You reasoned that the Archivist might be getting some kind of revenge upon you for the trickery now, harsh rhythm making your hips twitch as if you were truly being filled to the point of aching for release…but Haarlep pulled back. They kept you on the brink of pleasure this time, denying the satisfaction even as Raphael’s wandering hand moved further up your silk-clad thigh.
Phantom fingers danced across your body, invisible lips pressing shadows of false affection, and all the while he watched you. He waited. He held your chin in place and guided your legs further apart as you came undone from the powerful echoes of passion crossing planes of reality to reach your body.
“Show me how they are making you feel, I will see how well the rest of the outfit I had made for you fits.” Raphael tugged lightly at the edge of your clothing before withdrawing, leaning casually against the headboard as he sat to watch you undress. “We can make this take all night if you wish, but I warn you even my benign patience has a limit.”
Finally it seemed that the Archivist was finished using yo— …using Haarlep, as you felt the pressure ease enough to move more freely. Thankfully the outfit seemed to have been designed to be removed without difficulty, the finery sliding across your skin with sensual grace despite the haste with which you attempted to undress for him. Perhaps a teasing strip might have been fun if you weren’t already beyond desperate, hoping that he would either have Haarlep finish you off or let you leave to solve the aching need that was leaving you feeling hotter than if you were in Avernus yourself.
“Much better,” the devil nodded his approval, watching you closely even now. “I’m certain that is far more comfortable for you now, is it not? Do not think me unsympathetic to your…predicament…”
You shivered with his hand lingering a fraction away from your mostly bare body, tracing fingertips above the fine stitching of the lingerie that clearly showed your desperation. You could feel another sensation again, as if a hot breath were tickling at your thigh, but there was nothing there. At least, nothing here, on the original copy of your body.
“Surely you have realised by now,” he continued, still teasing with the lack of contact as Haarlep was clearly allowing someone to taste you this time, “that everything you did with the Harlot, whilst they were in my form…”
Finally he touched you, but it was a firm grip around your neck, ropes curling around your wrists and ankles as his voice dropped to a dangerous growl.
“I. Felt. Everything. And far more clearly than your current experience, I can assure you. My contract with that incubus has been sealed for centuries, the ink does not fade with time. Quite the opposite.” His eyes were blazing with a new fire as he transformed, horns curling up from his brow, skin deepening to a crimson hue, wings blocking out everything from your view that was not him.
You yelped as his tail struck at your hip, though it was little more than a playful whip before he moved above you, straddling you with one hand either side of your head on the pillows.
“Do you understand, Little Mouse? What it is to want and to be denied?” Raphael stooped lower, his lips a whisper away from the edge of your ear. “Did you fail to consider that the copy is no substitute for the real thing?”
The weight of his words sank straight to your core with an infernal inferno, fiery lust coursing through your veins as you moaned through the pleasure of the phantom lips and tongue devouring under Haarlep’s instructions.
Of course it made sense. Wherever he was when you crept into the House of Hope, where you took your opportunity to experience his body – or at least as close as you ever thought you would get to it – he…he knew. The whole time, he felt every devious little desire that you indulged in, experienced every salacious kink that the incubus goaded you into trying, and all the while he was likely here trying to conduct business with other clients.
You never imagined he would even entertain the idea of…of any of this. Then again, you were not oblivious to the way he spoke, the special attention he gave to you over any of your companions. His voice alone often drew you in, and there was no denying that he was attractive. Even when he loomed over you like this, a threatening smile playing on his features.
“Unlike you I resisted the temptation to toy with the incubus wearing your face,” his claw drew a line along your lower lip, coaxing your mouth to open beneath his touch. “Can you still feel them? Such a delightful colour in your cheeks, but I believe that’s quite enough of that, don’t you agree?”
You nodded slowly, wondering if Raphael could hear the pounding of your heart as it tried to beat clear out of your chest. Could he sense the blend of fear, anticipation, and arousal that refused to calm even when the phantom sensations came to an end with a snap of his fingers?
“You do not belong to that Harlot, Mouse,” his teeth grazed the tip of your ear gently, bringing a quiet whimper to your lips. “There is only one voice you should be listening to: mine.”
It felt like every cell in your body responded instinctively to his words, lighting up with a fresh fire, almost desperate enough to try and tear free from the bindings that held you tight to the bed…but instinct told you to remain still.
Instinct that recognised the danger looming over you with crimson wings.
Instinct that sent adrenaline rushing through you at the sound of his growled laughter.
And a whole other instinct that tilted your head as the heat of his breath tickled your neck.
Raphael bit down hard on your tender flesh, sucking a harsh mark that would be almost impossible to hide without the covering looking all too obvious. But…but this was a whole new thrill, that he wanted to mark you, that he was so intent on claiming you that the bruise would take more than a tenday to fade.
“Do not mistake this for affection. You have long been aware that you have invited a devil to your bed, not a wretched sanctimonious Aasimar, or one of those pitiful creatures that dare to call themselves gods.” There was a threat in his voice, but not one that portended your demise. This was a reminder, that a cambion was not a gentle lover. “I am, however, the only saviour that you can truly rely upon. Beyond your little illithid predicament, I can surely save you from the desperation boiling in your blood. All you need do, Little Mouse, is beg.”
You bit your lip as he pulled away from your ear, glaring down as he knelt above you, tail swishing dangerously behind him. It was only when he rose up that you noticed his clothes had disappeared, though somehow laying there in the silken undergarments you felt far more naked than he was.
You could also see that he was already aroused, ridges along his length as tempting as they were intimidating…
“Raphael,” you began, finding your mouth dry as you tried to remember what words even were beneath your own surge of lust fogging your better senses, “Raphael, please…”
“Please what, Little Mouse?” One claw traced along your cheek, curling beneath your chin as he waited. “As you can see I am presently amenable to your requests, but a deal requires terms. Simply, I cannot grant your wish if you refuse to speak it.”
You swallowed the last of your pride. There was no point denying what you wanted from him, particularly as you lay beneath him with no intention of asking to leave. “Please, Raphael, take me, use me, I want to know what it is like to be with the real you, all of you. Please…I want you, I need you, I have since the first moment we met. That’s why…why I couldn’t resist the temptation that lay on your bed. But you were right, they’re not you.”
Ah, that was it. You’d said everything he had been waiting to hear, stroking his ego as surely as he was stroking his shaft whilst listening to your plea. “That will do, Little Mouse. Now still your tongue, unless you are using it to cry out my name.”