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cute-angi · 2 days

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I'm not really sure how to introduce this one. It's a continuation of the Zevlor story that's quickly becoming a novel. But I'm posting it for you guys because it's kind of a snippet. It's after we find our man in the illithid colony, and he finds out what happened while he was enthralled. A brief warning. There is some angst, emotional pain, a little self-harm, and major feelings here. No smut in this one. It's also a pretty long scene. I did cry while writing it. I'm not sorry.

Tav is based on my current, who is a noble high elf silver dragon disciple. Highfalutin, I know, but that's what was in my head.

You approach Gale with a bit of trepidation. You're not sure if he'll agree, or even if your idea will work, but you have to try. Zevlor needs his people on his side. Or, at least, for them to understand what actually happened in those dark lands, when he was taken by the Absolute. But you couldn't be the one to do it.

As you move to stand near the wizard, sitting cross-legged on a mat and reading some dusty book you'd found in the house of healing, he looks up and smiles. "Greetings, Tav." Seeing the expression on your face, he rises with a look of concern. "My, you seem agitated. How can I help?"

You bite your lip and take a breath, then speak, your voice tight and apologetic. "I need a favor. If it's not... if you can manage it."

He nods, taking your hand and pressing it. He can be so sweet sometimes. "If it is in my power, I shall do my utmost. What do you need?"

You nod and squeeze his hand, grateful for his friendly devotion. "How are you with... mental domination?"

His eyes widen a little, but he smiles. "I can cast the spell. Depending on the intended victim, I suppose I could maintain it almost indefinitely, as long as there are no other distractions. The power and duration really depend upon my concentration and the target's resistance. But so can you. Why? Who are we dominating today?"

You worry your lower lip with your teeth again and shake your head before continuing. "It cannot be me. They all know... look, Gale. We both know how powerful the elder brain is... with an unprepared mind, it would be almost impossible to resist its influence. Is that right?"

He nods slowly. "Yes, of course, but... oh, I see." He catches on quickly, you reflect, as he works out for himself what you want. "Let me see if I can guess your thought process. I assume this is in reference to your Hellrider and how his people have been treating him since... all that. You want to show them that what happened was not his fault, and you think a little demonstration of that kind of power would be a good way to do that. You can not perform this feat yourself because of your known association with him, so you want me to make a tiefling stand on one foot or something to demonstrate how easy it is to lose oneself in the face of strong magic." He ruminates for a moment, looking thoughtful, then shrugs and smiles. "I don't see that it could hurt to try. Courtesy dictates that I must warn the person I am to control, but even then, I should be able to hold them to my will for some time. May I involve another of our group?"

You nod. "If you think it will help. I can't really keep secrets from any of you anyway. Who are you planning to bring?"

He squeezes your hand and nods decisively before releasing you. "I had a thought to take Karlach with me. She's a tiefling, and she well knows how it is to be compelled to do things she doesn't want. I will go immediately. I saw a group of refugees in the inn recently. I imagine they haven't gone anywhere. I shall do my best to make them understand. Who is the intended target?"

You watch Gale as he nearly bounces on his toes, seeming eager, as always, to demonstrate his skill. "Whoever is the strongest. But... well, don't hurt anyone or humiliate them too much. Just... never mind, you know what to do. It is in your capable hands."

Gale grins and bows. "My lady, I live to serve. Rest a while. You've been burning the candle at both ends lately, and you're a bit overwrought. Stay near. I'll come find you when I'm finished."

You watch him as he heads off to find Karlach and the other tieflings. You are overwrought, nervous, your concern over Zevlor and the refugees, the remaining Chosen, and the Elder Brain mingling and draining your mental faculties. You wander back to your own tent, sitting on a cushion just outside the flap and trying to meditate for a little while to clear your head.

After what seems like ages, but is probably closer to half an hour, you sense Gale and Karlach returning, open your eyes, and struggle to your feet, trying to read their expressions. As they draw near, you can see that they are both smiling. Gale with an expression of satisfaction and Karlach a cheeky grin, bouncing a little as she approaches. She looks around when she arrives, before speaking at half her normal volume. "It worked! You're a genius, Tav. Cal volunteered. He hopped on one foot and everything! Gale was even going to make him slap Lia, but I stopped him, so he grabbed Dammon with the spell too and made them dance together! There was nothing they could do about it." She slaps Gale on the back, and the wizard wheezes, but looks pleased nonetheless.

"Yes indeed," he continues with a smug expression. "Rolan has the strongest mind, but I do not think he would have taken my meddling with it lightly. So I thought maybe, if I dominated two of them at once, when they were prepared for it... and I made it quite clear that my powers do not nearly match those of the brain. I think it's had the desired effect. I believe Tilses went to look for him. She has been on his side the whole time anyway, and the others seem prepared both to apologize and forgive."

You blow out a breath and sag with relief. It was a long shot, and could have gone quite badly, especially with Rolan being so protective of his siblings... But hearing that your plan had worked was a welcome bright spot in an otherwise trying day. You pull them both into a hug, Gale grunting with wounded dignity and with the pressure of the grinning tiefling’s muscles crushing you both, thank them profusely, and then head off to look for Zevlor. Maybe this news would help with the deep depression he'd been struggling with since you rescued him.

The soft call of the scale you'd planted on him leads you toward Rethwin Town. As you approach the mason's guild, you see that Cerys, as well as Tilses, are standing near the doors, heads together in a fervent whispered discussion. You are opening your mouth to greet them when you're startled by a crash from inside, and the crunch and rattle of splintered wood. Cerys notices you first, and waits for you to arrive with a concerned expression. They're both looking at you nervously as another burst of noise echoes from beyond the half open doors, causing them both to flinch as you hurry over.

Noting your concern, Tilses raises her hands, palms facing you. "He's not in any trouble. At least, not from fiends or undead. His only enemy is... well, himself."

Your eyes widen. "Zevlor is making those noises?"

She nods, voice low, "yeah, the Commander is in a state at the moment. We came looking for him and heard the crashes... we thought he was being attacked. But... He's alone in there. At first he was shouting about being weak and unworthy, but then... well, he just started tearing the place apart."

You turn to go into the building, but Cerys catches your arm. "You might not want to go in there, Tav. He's unhinged. I've never seen him in this mood before. He might be... dangerous."

You smile reassuringly and pat her hand. "He won't hurt me." Though, with the sounds coming from beyond the doors, you're not quite so sure as you pretend. "Go back to the inn. Please. If... if anything goes wrong... I can defend myself, but I don't want you in the crossfire. Just in case."

They exchange a long look, but then nod. "Very well," Tilses says quietly. "If anyone can help him, it's you. We know him, but he may be embarrassed... I know he thinks very highly of you." She grips your arm, a plea in her eyes, and then she and the other woman move off, looking over their shoulders once or twice. You wait until they are out of sight, and then take a deep breath and turn toward the doors.

It is dim and dusty in the building, golden motes drifting through the newly revealed sunbeams that are filtering through holes in the battered roof. There is a flurry of movement in the back room, and you pass through the second set of doors just as Zevlor seizes a thick, rotten log from a cradle by the ruined fireplace and rips it in half with his bare hands. He casts the pieces aside and paces the width of the room, his hands shoved into his hair. There is blood on his face and hands, spattered on his dully gleaming armor, and a wreck of shattered crates and tools is scattered about. Your heart aches for him, but you hold your tongue for a moment as you sidle through the door and stand next to it, leaning your back against the wall.

He doesn't notice you at first, so great is his distress, and in the relative quiet, you can hear him whimpering to himself, his voice hovering on the raw edge of sanity. "I tried. I'm so sorry. I wasn't strong enough. They're dead. They hate me. They're right to hate me. It's all my fault. If I had only been stronger..." He grabs another crate and sends it hurtling into the stone wall, where it explodes in a shower of splinters and small nails. You turn your head, but don't move, feeling a few shards pepper the side of your face. He turns back to pace in the other direction, stumbling and nearly falling over as he finally catches sight of you. He freezes and his eyes go wide, orange rings in deep black, shining in the gloom. His mouth wags for a moment, but then firms as he turns his face away.

His words are a low, pained growl when he finally speaks. "You shouldn't be here." His hands flex, and you see that some of his claws are broken, his fingertips bloody. "I couldn't bear it if I... I killed them. Leave, before I..."

You stand away from the wall, approaching him slowly, staying well out of his reach, but preparing a shield just in case. "We both know that's not true," you say quietly, your own hands wringing at your robes. "You weren't in control of..."

He cuts you off with a roar, swinging his fist until it meets a supporting beam with a loud crack of splintered wood. The edifice sways, and dust and bits of ancient birds nests filter down from above. He's not a big man, but in this extremis he's terrifyingly strong, and you hope he doesn't manage to bring the whole roof down on your heads. "But I am responsible! I led them, it was me that... I..." He winces, looking at his hand in confusion, and you see the flash of white bone peeking through his scraped, ruby skin. Dark blood drips onto the floor from his torn flesh, drops scattering among the dust and ashes. "I wasn't good enough for them. I'm not strong enough, couldn't resist her. They're dead because of me. You don't want to associate... I've failed everyone. You deserve someone who..."

He stands there trembling for a moment before looking up and quickly striding toward you, raising his wounded hand to shove you back against the wall, your head hitting the stone so hard you see brief stars drift across your vision. He's on you in an instant, mouth crushing yours, bloody fingers pulling at your clothes. You feel all of his rage and shame and desperation as he kisses you frantically, his teeth cutting into your lips. You let him tear at you, neither returning his violent kiss nor trying to push him away. You're slightly dazed when he suddenly gasps and rips himself away from you. He pants, eyes blazing... "Gods I... I'm... you see? Im no good to anyone. I could have..." He reaches out as if to touch the drop of blood oozing from your bruised lips, a horrified expression on his face, but the lowers his eyes and drops to his knees before you. He covers his face with his hands and keens. "You don't want to be near me. Nobody wants to be near me. I see their faces when... you should leave me. I could never... never be good enough for... I'm not the man you..." he stops, shaking silently in the dust, ragged breaths filtering through his hands.

You stand still for a moment, stunned, but then slowly let yourself sink to the floor, sliding your back down the wall until you’re sitting before him. You keep your tone gentle, "I am perfectly capable of judging for myself what kind of man you are. Here." You reach out and, ever so gently, ease his hands from his face, being careful not to put pressure on the broken one. He resists at first, but then relents. You inspect his bloody hand, lamenting to yourself that you cannot heal him, but you let coolness flow from your fingers, hoping to soothe him and ease the pain into numbness. "Hold still," you say as you release his fingers and reach beneath the hem of your robe to tear a strip from your linen under tunic. He flinches at the ripping sound, but keeps his hand stretched out before him, breathing harshly. You carefully wrap the linen around his hand, sinking a deeper cold into his inflamed flesh as you delicately press on the exposed little bone, easing it back into place and pinching the skin together before wrapping his palm firmly and tucking the end of the makeshift bandage under itself. You cradle the wounded appendage and reach out with your other hand, cupping his cheek lightly. His eyes are wide, sparkling with unshed tears, his mouth working in shock, lip trembling. You lean forward a little to hold his eyes, keeping your voice soft, soothing, "you do not have to carry the world on your shoulders, my love. Let me take some of the weight. Come here."

A silent tear tracks down his ravaged cheek, but he allows you to draw him toward you, laying his bandaged hand on your lap and shifting him so he's sitting before you before pressing his face into your shoulder, lifting your chin to avoid his horns. He curls his tail around himself and hesitantly wraps his good arm around your back, and you hold the armored tiefling close as his lean frame hitches and trembes with silent, heart-wrenching sobs.

The fading beams have crawled a long way up the wall before a low voice nudges you out of your doze. "My. Aren't you two a mess." Zevlor is cradled in your arms, having fallen into a deep sleep after crying himself out. Shadowheart crouches next to you, her expression unusually soft, and looks you over. You know you must look shocking, with your lips bruised and cut, and little streaks of dried blood on your face, your eyes puffy from weeping with heartache over Zevlor's pain. She reaches out and brushes a lock of hair out of your eyes, dropping her voice to a quiet whisper. "We saw the other two return, but it took a while to get it out of them. We waited as long as we dared, and then I came because, well, I'm the most subtle." She smiles. "Good thing too. You look like you both could use a little attention." You nod and shift slightly, letting her see Zevlor's hand, wrapped in the bloody bandage on your lap. He tenses a little, tightening his grip on you and murmuring into your robe, but doesn't wake, such is his exhaustion. Shadowheart reaches out, very lightly touching her fingers to his, and whispers the spell. His breath hitches and he shudders as the tingling power filters through him, but then sighs, seeming to feel the relief even in his sleep. She heals you next, the sensation making your skin prickle with gooseflesh, but you feel the small cuts close and the bruises fade.

"Thank you," you mouth silently, and she nods, leaning back on her heels.

"We will leave you alone as long as you wish. We just wanted to know you were safe." Her expression becomes thoughtful. "You love him." Her own nod follows yours, and she reaches out to brush one knuckle down your cheek before standing. "I'm happy for you. Truly. I will tell the others you are both alright. Take as long as you need. You deserve to be happy." Her smile is almost sweet as she turns away and silently exits the room.

The last light is fading when Zevlor stirs against you. Slowly he turns, easing himself around in your grasp until his eyes, just a flicker of fire in the darkness now, gaze up at you. His voice is a husky whisper, "did you mean it? What you said, before. You called me... or, maybe I was dreaming." He closes his eyes for a moment and sighs, a soft, happy sound. "If so, it was a wonderful dream."

You look down at him with a soft smile and bend your head to place a light kiss on his full lips. "I did. And you are. Ai armiel telere maenen hir, Zevlor, and I can only hope you feel the same." He sits up, keeping his arm about you and chuckling softly, looking at you with undisguised adoration.

"I don't know what that means, but I think I can guess. I can see it now, in your eyes." He cups your cheek with a gentle hand. "Are you certain this is what you want? Me? Because, I know... my heart is yours for as long as I draw breath. I love you. So very much." You nod yes, and he slowly leans toward you, taking a deep trembling breath before pressing his lips softly to yours.

Zevlor kisses you chastely for a little while, his lips and hands full of tenderness, before placing a kiss on your forehead, and then resting his own against yours. "Very well, my lady. Together, then." His words are a feather brush against your lips. "But you need me at my best if we are to prevail in this... I will seek the Oathbreaker Knight."

#zevlor #bg3 zevlor #i am crying #that was beautiful #❤️

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cute-angi · 4 days

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Oh, I gotchu @cute-angi and @fabimaou 😏❤️

But, Raphael Wants Something More

*Raphael X GN Tav

*WARNINGS: Raphael being true to his nature, Haarlep being a sour cream, and Tav giving off INT 8 vibes. Also somehow mature and suggestive, very suggestive. With swearing. MINORS DNI

Tav Just Wants Chocolate ( Part 1 )

***

A week!

A fucking week had gone by and still, the tadpoled mortal refused to eat a single piece of the exquisite confectionery that he had gone out of his own way to send.

"Master, it's only chocolate," Haarlep attempted to soothe Raphael's tempestuous anger, but his efforts fell short. Narrowly dodging a projectile paintbrush, the Incubus sighed and spoke as calmly as he could, “Should we be unreasonable over a single piece of -”

“Get out of my sight.” The Devil’s low and yet dangerously calm voice was enough for the Incubus to leave the Boudoir.

On his way out, he was greeted by his Warlock, Korrilla, who was concerned about her Patron’s well-being.

“How is he?”

“Who? The brat?”

“Haarlep, I want you to see sense.” The Dwarven Warlock sighed. “This is no mere mortal. They are Raphael’s favorite. His most cherished one.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’ve always been used to being the one who is the most cherished.”

“Yes, but you are never his favorite.”

The mirth instantly vanished from the Incubus’ eyes and mouth. “You’re no fun.” The creature then projected the most displeased and unsatisfied look and sauntered his way toward the dining area, probably searching for a soul to take his frustrations out on.

Ignoring the Incubus’ petty reaction, Korrilla, ever the cautious creature, made her way toward the threshold of the Boudoir, anxious to see how her Patron was holding up. She found him near the balcony, working on a painting, ever the image of immaculate perfection and destructive wrath.

“You can call on me if you need anything, Boss.” The Warlock quietly said, to only be regarded with silence. The Devil continued his work as if no soul existed within his vicinity.

The Warlock bowed and left the Devil with his work.

Raphael, on the other hand, had no thoughts aside from that damned mortal.

How could they not get his hints?! How could they be so blatantly stupid?! He must’ve made a mistake. He mustn’t have trusted them with the task of retrieving the Crown -!

“WHAT IN THE NINE HELLS?!” A voice so annoyingly familiar, and yet so achingly beautiful, assaulted the Devil’s eardrums like fireworks on New Year’s Eve, compelling him to turn toward the direction.

And sure enough, there, sitting on the table next to his massive bed like an antique decoration, wearing a reaction so unbecoming and hilarious, it took Raphael’s entire prowess to prevent himself from roaring in laughter, was the mortal itself.

Dressed in nothing but silks tied together with gold bands, leaving nothing to the imagination.

And on their fingers was a single piece of the accursed chocolate that Raphael sent over an entire week ago, their lower lip stained with the confectionery after indulging in a single bite.

Of all the places they could appear, it had to be on one of his tables…

“GODS!” Tav screeched like a bat and covered their upper body when they realized that the Devil’s eyes were drawn to their clothes or almost a lack thereof. “Keep your eyes to yourself, Devil!”

“I didn’t expect my esteemed guest to be so… modest… despite their… ample generosity.”

“Forget modest. You did something to those chocolates!”

"Yet you dared to indulge, despite the forewarning, did you not, little mouse?”

Tav didn’t have an answer. Instead, they swallowed the piece of chocolate that was stuck in their mouth when they were suddenly transported from the Elfsong Tavern to none other than the House of Hope itself, where Raphael proudly resided.

It tasted so damn good.

With a smug and satisfied smile, the Devil walked over to Tav’s side and offered them a hand to help them get down from the table. And with a snap of his fingers, an exquisite robe made of gold-colored silk appeared on his hands. He politely covered Tav’s body with it and took their hand, spinning them elegantly as if in a dance.

Hiding their smile, Tav said, “Must you always be this entertaining?”

Still seeing the mortal’s reaction anyway, Raphael leaned down and whispered in their ear, “I can provide more than just… entertainment… my dear.”

And once again, like what happened in the Circus of The Last Days, the Devil need not emphasize the suggestion further.

Feeling that, perhaps, the heat was too much for their body, Tav looked around the room, looking for something to distract them with, until their eyes landed on the painting that Raphael was working on before they arrived.

“Did you paint this?” Raphael felt the mortal slip through his grasp like water, drifting away from him. He knew the effect he had on them, he knew they were only denying the feeling.

No matter. I love a good challenge. “Indeed.”

Tav gave him a look of utter disapproval. “I don’t like it.”

How could he blame their simple-mindedness? After all, the painting depicted a war so violent and bloody, that he was certain it was not at all for the faint of heart.

“I would not expect you to.” With a snap of his fingers, the painting itself and his art materials vanished into thin air, to be replaced with a table and two chairs for each of them. Helping Tav to sit on one of the chairs, he added, “You sure took your sweet time. Now, tell me…

“...what took you so long?”

Tav bit their lower lip. They expected the Devil to demand some answers. After all, they did take a week to finally answer his call. And they would be more than happy to provide him with those answers! Only that…

“It was Astarion.”

“Come again?”

“Astarion ate the chocolates while I was out investigating Felorgyr.” The Devil was dumbfounded. Nevertheless, he allowed them to continue. “Then, seeing Astarion enjoying himself, the others joined as well.”

“They… ate the entire box?”

“The Owlbear cub, who was worried about the frenzy that’s overtaking my companions, tried to snatch the box and save them.”

“The… Owlbear cub…”

“And Scratch. By the time I got back, there was nothing left, except a tiny piece of chocolate. Which -” Wait, there was more -?! “...I hid in my pocket for an entire week.”

“You… hid the chocolate…”

“Y-yes.” The mortal answered, becoming more and more nervous as Raphael’s expression started getting darker and darker. “I only realized I still had it until earlier when we got back from the Iron Throne, and -” AND?! “ …almost dropped it into the deep ocean.”

Tav, upon finishing their ridiculous story, smiled at the Devil, expecting him to believe the tale. However, he remained silent, his expression grave.

They cleared their throat and shifted uncomfortably on their chair. “Well, I still ate it, so…

“I guess you want something from me in return, then?”

“I have never met a mortal so utterly stupid and -”

“I get it! I get it! I’m sorry! Look, I -”

“ …awfully dense. I should have sold your soul for a pocketful of beans instead. Then, your pitiful self might have proven to be more useful!”

“I said I’m sorry!” Tav blurted out, cheeks turning red in embarrassment. “Look, I should have eaten it right away to not keep you waiting and -”

However, they were interrupted as the Devil let out a low laugh that sounded more like a rumble. It gradually turned more maniacal and louder, filling the entire room, and almost urging them to grab the nearest object they could find to hit his head with just in case things get worse.

But… it didn’t.

He was just… happy?

“R-raphael? Do you -?” Tav asked, taking great caution to not fully anger the Devil.

“Indeed, I do want something in return, little mouse. But first,” Raphael reached out his hand toward Tav’s face, and wiped the chocolate stain off their plump lips with his thumb, to their surprise. He raised his thumb to his own lips and started licking it, his eyes never leaving Tav’s, the slightest movements of his tongue very suggestive. “Exquisite, isn’t it? There are none like this in the entire Sword Coast. It would be a shame to see it go to waste.”

“It is.” Tav answered, their eyes ever so drawn to Raphael’s suave movements as he grabbed his own chair and sat next to her. “Where did you get them?”

“The question is not where, but how, my dear little mouse.”

The Devil snapped his fingers once more, and another box of chocolates suddenly appeared out of thin air. But this time, it contained more strange-shaped, different-colored treats, all made of chocolate mixed with various, exotic ingredients.

Tav’s eyes widened in delight, and it pleased Raphael.

“The ones I sent you, which were ungratefully devoured by your friends, were mere prototypes.” Raphael explained, grabbing a red-colored piece from the open box. “I strive to create the perfect treat that reflects each creature’s personality.”

“You mean… you created them yourself?”

“This is but one of my pet passions.”

“That’s amazing!”

There was no malice in Tav’s compliment. Raphael knew that whatever came out of their lips was genuine, whether it be fear or loathing, or sadness or bliss.

And maybe more.

He would soon find out.

“Now, I want you to do something for me.” The Devil said, offering the box of treats to Tav. “I want you to choose a piece of chocolate that… best describes who you are, or how you feel at the moment.”

The mortal looked down at the many pieces inside the elegant box, concentrating hard on each shape and color, until a particular one caught their eye and, surprisingly, instinct. Reaching out, Tav carefully picked up the chocolate that resonated with them the most.

Raphael hummed in delight. The piece they chose, it was…

“Now, I want you to taste it.”

With complete trust in Raphael, Tav raised the small chocolate to their lips and put it in their mouth.

This taste! It was -

But even before Tav could utter a single word, the Devil pulled their body close to his, his lips crashing against theirs, their mouth locked in a kiss so passionate, they felt their entire world spin around them.

Raphael’s hunch was right all along. And as his mouth moved expertly on theirs, he remembered all the times he almost lost himself in their presence.

How they gingerly took food from his table the first day they met…

How they begged him to help Astarion with his scars…

How they stood up to him and declared how they would even sell their soul to save everyone…

The way those children flocked around her like sheep…

The way they reacted upon seeing the moldy button in their coin purse…

The way they sat on his table…

Their bravery…

Their defiance…

Their softness…

Their bright smile…

Their huge, curious, eyes…

Their musical laughter…

And now, the way they melted in his arms as one of his hands held their head and one of them moved to one of their thighs, urging their legs to part for him…

That piece of chocolate they chose…

… it tasted like cherries.

“Do you want me to stop?” His own rugged voice sounded too foreign to his ears. Tav sounded as though they were almost whining, so he needed to make sure they wanted the same thing as him. They needed only to say the word, and he would stop and forget that this ever happened. He would go on alone, as he always did, and wait until the day he receives the Crown. He would bury the memory of this sweet, innocent mortal deep within his memories and pledge to shape himself into the most frightening Archdevil Supreme.

One word, that’s all he needed.

And he’ll stop…

“No! Please…”

“Please what?” Raphael asked, feeling the cherry-flavored chocolate melt on both their mouths.

“Please, don’t stop…”

It was all he needed to hear.

Pulling Tav’s body closer to his until there were no spaces left, he teased her mouth to open up for him with his tongue, waiting for their permission. Tav parted their lips and felt their whole world crumble all around them in the name of passion. The Devil invaded them entirely, his tongue conquering theirs. And while he dominated them, his hand glided against their smooth skin, higher up their thigh until he reached the part where they ached and heated up the most.

Raphael felt so drunk on them, his moans, along with theirs, joining in a most heated chorus. He felt his control slowly dissipating, his longing and hunger taking hold of his entire body.

And before he completely lost all his senses, he stopped and locked Tav in an embrace. The feeling was so intimate, he was sure he felt both their hearts beating with the same rhythm.

With a gentle yet firm touch, Raphael tilted their chin upwards, urging them to meet his gaze. And in Tav’s eyes, he found only passion, and desire, and something he couldn’t quite explain.

It made his heart melt.

“Unfortunately, you did not eat the entire set I sent you. So, you only get a kiss.” Seeing the pout and visible disappointment on Tav’s face, he laughed and planted a chaste kiss on their forehead. “We would have more time for each other in the future. I promise.”

“Devils don’t make promises.” Tav muttered, leaning against Raphael’s chest.

“Indeed, we don’t. We only make fair deals.”

“Right. The Crown.”

“Yes, my thoughts exactly.”

After a few more minutes of intimacy, Raphael, against his wishes, made a portal for Tav so they could go back. Oh, they would soon be back, he would make sure of it. After all, he knew how to find them.

Raphael was a very patient man. He could wait, and he would do it for as long as he could. For as long as he needed.

He would soon have the Crown of Karsus, and only then could he finally claim Tav as his own. But for now, he must control himself. He must be more patient.

With a smile on his face, he snapped his fingers and a canvass appeared before him.

Thinking of how his dear little mouse landed on his table, he felt inspired to paint. And Raphael was sure his work would not turn out violent and bloody this time.

***

#thank you #Raph is so wonderful written #'Harleep being sour cream' my new favorite tag #that was wild #i am so in love #god i love this!!!!#love this so much #astarion no my chocolate 🍫#god that kiss #How do I get my irl husband to kiss me with chocolate?#i will print this and frame it.#BG3 #BG3 Raphael #BG3 Raphael X Tav #Raphael X Tav #BG3 Fanfiction #Baldur's Gate 3

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