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noroamenial · 7 months

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Light my Heart Aflame

Here is my full Raphael x Tav fanfiction!! Tav is afab and I doooon't think I gave them specific pronouns (I wrote in second person)

I AM SUCH A SUCKER FOR POETRY

Spoilers for end of Act 2

cw: smut!

Summary: you and Raphael have a sweet consummation in an empty bedroom in moonrise

You sat on the steps of the main throne room. Ketheric’s empty throne sat behind you as you stared through the hallway’s open doors to the vestibule and out into the night. The only lights were the flickering torches mounted on the wall. The air still smelled like blood and the dead, even with most of the bodies removed. Only a few hours ago you were grappling with an avatar of Myrkul. You can still recall the exact feeling: your heart beating so loudly you thought it would jump from your throat, the smell of necrotic undead, and the weight of the glaive in your hands. You had witnessed your own death a hundred times over in the moment you had looked into its eyes.

You inhaled deeply, it didn’t matter that the air was tinged with iron, the upper floors of the tower breathed with relief. You yawned, shucking your gauntlets for the freedom of your hands, you had been waiting for this moment of relief. You rotated a wooden pipe in your hands, it was packed and slender with a curve. Halsin had handed it to you before you had slinked away from the night’s camp. ‘My gratitude can not be contained to only a gift, but allow this to be the start of my many thanks to you.’ He had said softly, with a hand on your shoulder before sending you off with an understanding nod. You puzzled over it for a moment, in your haste to escape socializing, you had forgotten a light.

“Even the smallest embers can be stoked to a wildfire. It is the consumer, fueling on whatever its claws can grasp.” A voice echoes off of the brick from behind you. And as soon as you are able to turn, Raphael stands above you, leaned over at the waist to stare curiously down.

“If you’ve come to deal, I’m in no mood.” You sigh, turning around. Your body aches too much to stand up in your armor and face him.

“A bird in the hand is worth more than two in the bush. I have what I want.” He sits down beside you with a shrug. “I thought perhaps you could use a lighter.”

You don’t even realize how much your reaction time has slowed until he’s lifting your hand with the pipe by the wrist, and has vastly closed the difference between the two of you. He offers you a light—a small burning flame, produced from one finger. And as you light the pipe and test the contents—something herby yet sweet Halsin must have put together—you’re greeted with a pleased smile from Raphael.

“It’s the least I can do for my little mouse.” He hums, and you’re so close you can pick out the streaks of white scattered through his black hair. “You went out of your way to take care of a deal meant for the vampire spawn. I feel as though I owe you more than him.”

You shake your head, before sighing.

“I would never let Astarion do that alone, much like he would not let me do that alone.” You explain, looking down. “I did it for him, so you don’t owe me anything.”

“Then allow me to wipe our slates clean, if not for you, then for me.” He hums, “allow me to service for what has been paid.”

“What service?” You laugh, rolling your eyes “what could you possibly give me right now that can be achieved? Bring me the netherstones? Remove the tadpole from my brain?”

“Alas, those are things I can not give you. But don’t underestimate me…I have tried. Had I the ability to succeed you would be indebted to me more than just one orthon.” His eyes glaze over, just a shimmer of an ember behind them. Perhaps lost in a fantasy, but he is back in a mere moment. “But no, what I offer is momentary relief. I can alleviate the ache in your mortal body, sate your mind, and in doing so allow you the pleasures that only the unholy can provide.”

If not for the seriousness in his tone and how close he had sidled up to you, you would’ve laughed. Instead you sputtered choking on your pipe and he tenderly had your wrist in his hand again, moving the pipe away from you.

“…free of charge?” You ask quietly, your voice catching as you regain your composure.

“Darling, you already paid.” He chuckles, face so close to yours you could smell brimstone and just about taste his lips.

“You’re going to kiss me here?” You hum, quiet enough just for him to hear—keeping this moment a secret from the ancient stone and battered walls.

“And on the throne, and in bed, and everywhere I can reach on your flesh.” He murmurs back, equally quiet and no less sultry.

The wooden pipe is carefully stowed, and for a moment you hesitate regarding your bulky and bloody armor, but you aren’t given the option to think for long as Raphael’s hand guides your face back to him.

The kiss is surprisingly sweet and a little clumsy, but his tongue deepens it so easily you forget. His hand graces the side of your face, thumb rubbing gently across your cheek. Maybe it was your own emotion or maybe it was an infernal charm but a sense of adoration bloomed from your chest and replaced the biting cold. Tentatively one of your hands weaved into his hair, well groomed, soft, and warm, he was so very warm.

One of his hands goes to your chest and you have to stop him.

“Not here,” you sigh, leaning back.

“Not interested in prying eyes, dove?” He asks, a slight tilt of his head. “Or do you recoil in the cold despite the warmth I will bring you.”

“Somewhere softer, somewhere private, if this truly is for me then let it be so.” You say back, allowing his words to roll off of you. If he was going to fuck you, it sure as the hells will be in a bed.

Raphael makes a noncommittal noise that is between a huff and a laugh, an amused smile gracing his expression. “Let it be so.” He murmurs.

You barely blink and suddenly you’re on a bed, you recognize it, an upper floor room you had ransacked earlier. It smelled less like blood and more like old books. Raphael is standing at the edge of the bed, surveying the room. He snaps his fingers and the oil lamp on the bedside table illuminates his face. His gaze lands on you, and suddenly you’re all too aware of the devil who will be bedding you tonight.

Imposing figure, horns, wings, tail and ember eyes trained on yours. With the mere flick of his wrist he’s in a silk robe. If you knew him better, you’d understand how important this performance he was putting on for you was. Not only was this a show of his autonomy—but of yours, a performance to convey the delicate trust he has placed in you in hope of a continued alliance. Tonight, you’re the one thing he’ll let break his fetish for control.

You swallowed, pushing any fear down with the rationalization that Raphael would not let up on his side of a deal—even if it was a deal you didn’t know was happening. You sat up to sit on the edge of the bed, removing your boots, undoing the straps of your armor. In doing so Raphael came to sit beside you, unusually quiet, perhaps mulling something over with the look he had on his face. You felt very dirty in comparison to him with dried blood and slowly healing wounds, this was the first time in a few days you were able to let down your hair—it sent pangs of shame to your stomach.

“Don’t look like that,” he hums, “Shame isn’t pretty on you, dove.” He reaches over to undo your breastplate and your shoulder armor comes off with it.

“In an ideal world I am not dirty and bleeding as you come to me in the night.” You sigh, finally shucking the rest to your feet and scooting back on the bed to lean against the headboard.

“My ideal world is having you as you are now.” He turns to sit on his knees, hands folded in his lap neatly. Even now he was gentlemanly, but the way he looked at you with a piercing primal gaze made your stomach flutter. “What a waste it would be to tame you in any way.”

“I like being tame.” You counter as he crawls toward you, “and well kept, and bathed.”

“Not in that way, dove.” Raphael reaches for your cheek with one hand, his other steadying himself in the sheets. “Not like that.”

He smiles slowly, wings splaying behind him and half of your face has a shadow cast over it. He’s waiting for something…he’s waiting for you.

So you reach for him, bringing him in and he accepts so easily. His kiss is ravenous, eager to fulfill its promise. His hand on your cheek traces gentle circles as if comforting a lover, and his other cups your waist. After such an overwhelming lack of affection as of late, Raphael easily coerced a flame to ignite in the pit of your stomach.

“Sweet thing,” he coos, leaving sultry kisses down your jaw to the softest parts of your neck. You allow a relieved sigh to escape you. Your hands trail down his back and you make an amused noise finding the slits in his robe for his wings. His tail flicks and you gasp as he nips you. Your attention returns to him as his hands squeeze your thighs, parting your legs further for him. Raphael slots himself between them with a content hum.

“Tell me, dove. What do you desire?”

You. Was your first thought, and your heart fluttered as you hesitated to speak. This side of Raphael you had only seen in bits and pieces. In the brief moments he could catch you alone: a touch to the shoulder, a more genuine conversation, poetry, letters…You could describe your relationship to him as more than a potential victim to barter with…but perhaps a confidant.

And if only you could see behind his eyes. Raphael was searching for your answer, for whatever unspoken thing you could tell him with your body language. He wanted to trust you, he wanted to want you.

You were brought back with the flick of his tail in the corner of your vision. You weighed your options while gazing at him.

“I desire you,” you hum languidly, “To have you in this manner. To kiss you. To have you come to me as you did; wanting to be the means to the end of my suffering, and I want to be able to come to you, to be yours.”

Raphael’s hesitation told you he didn’t expect that answer. Perhaps he had run over all of the possibilities in the several moments you were allowed to think, and your answer hadn’t even graced his thoughts. He was a creature of well controlled performance masking something that you had only seen glimmers of, like sunlight through barely parted curtains.

And so you responded for him, kissing him sweetly. That seemed to pull him back as he cupped your face and returned the action. His hips roll against yours as his wings flutter and span out behind him. One of his hands guides your hips along as his kiss trails down your jaw and to your neck.

You let out a pleased and almost relieved sigh, nuzzling him as he marked your neck. You grind your hips against him, eager to gain more friction as heat pools in your stomach.

“You are mine.” He affirms, pulling up to look down at you, and his claws are able to so easily tear through the fabric on your chest. You think he must be using magic because how else could his other hand so gently hold your face. “And I would do anything for you if you asked.” He spoke so plainly it made your breath hitch.

You splayed your hands against his chest, parting the silk of his robe.

“Right now, all you have to do for me is make passionate love to me.” you laugh, “I have already chosen to be yours.”

A ghost of a laugh leaves him in return as he kisses down your sternum, fondling your chest as he goes.

“Good,” he mutters, hands on your waist as he makes his way to your stomach. His lips were ticklish, and his claws were already curling under your waist band. And with a quick discard of your undergarments you are barely able to react before his mouth is on you.

Hot, wet, slick, his mouth gladly devours your cunt. With languorous strokes, his tongue teases your entrance only to slide up and hit your clit with the flat of it over and over. Your legs tense, but his hands hold them apart as he eats you.

Your cries of ecstasy only get louder as you grow closer to climax. Raphael’s piercing gaze is on you again as one of your hands curls into his hair and the other into the sheets. His claws hold you to his mouth as he focuses dutifully on your clit. All too suddenly you are coming undone, hands buried in his hair as you are gasping his name...an unholy prayer.

Raphael pulls away, your slick arousal on his lips. He wipes it away with an amused huff.

"Sweet thing, aren't you?"

Your chest rises and falls as he stares down at you. his hair is disheveled, his smirk lazy yet endearing and your cunt clenches down on nothing as you notice his erection. Raphael shifts, discarding the silk robe from his shoulders and giving you a great look at his exposed body.

The warm lighting really did him justice as you looked him up and down.

"I want you," you finally say, sitting up to face him.

"I know, I am glad you do, my dove." he laughs, "now give me your hands."

Your brows furrow, but you offer them up anyways. He turns them around in his own grip to have your knuckles up. As he does, you're more focused on watching his chest expand with each breath, steeling your resolve as your core continues to ache with arousal.

You are pulled back by the tingling warmth blooming from your palms, traveling up your arms and to your chest. You look up at him for an explanation.

"Relax," he coos, "I’ll allow you a taste of Avernus’ great fire, the seat of power in the hells. Consider it a gift and we can be on equal standing.”

“What does that even mean?” you scramble for words. The feeling now not only is physically warm, but mentally. As if Avernus could reach into your very desires and passions and stoke their flames.

Raphael doesn't answer, simply intertwines your fingers in his and guides your back to the bed. It is like he created a circuit, your connected palms the conduit. It made your eyelids heavy, you knew there was some importance to this carefully guided ritual, but you were not sure what it was yet. You had placed a great amount of trust in him and it seemed this might be part of the way he was placing trust in you.

Raphael kisses you again, and you don't think you could tire of it. As you kiss back the material plane wavers for a moment, allowing you a space between; your body a little lighter and your soul a little heavier.

One of his hands untwines from yours and instead slides across your slick aching cunt. You keen and gasp as his finger enters you, curling ever so slightly. He kisses your cheek, and you move your head to capture his lips in yours again. Your hips grind on his finger, eager for more stimulation.

Eventually you're sure he can't help himself anymore. Raphael pulls back, panting, fingers leaving you to instead wrap a hand around his cock. He pumps from base to weeping tip, coating what he can in your arousal. His hands settle at your waist. The sweet whisper of a groan that left him was heavenly as he entered you.

This was truly for you, while Raphael surely was getting something out of this: whether an orgasm or simply the pleasure of watching you plead and beg and shudder underneath him, this was all for you. He so softly wormed his way into your heart you almost didn't recognize him.

It was only with a, "yes, my dove?" and a confident kiss to your cheek did you recognize him again. Also were you suddenly aware of your trembling flushed body with his name perched on your tongue.

You've been to bed with a partner, had a myriad of experiences in your time courting, but nothing really compared to this. Perhaps it was the way the stroke of his cock that tugged you part way from the material plane that made it so good. Or it was the way the pleasure doubled back over through that tentative tether tied to your heart. Either way it made it easy for Raphael to make voracious love to you.

As the cambion pulls away, you're back. This night has been as though you have been through several states of limbo. Guided gently by Raphael as pleasure, form, and love collided.

"By sunrise, you should be well rested." Raphael pulls hair out of your face, laying at your side. His silks had been returned to gently hanging from his form. He was obscuring the bedside lamp, casting a shadow over your form, but his eyes remained as a soft glow.

There were words to say, words you wanted to say, but they were stuck at the back of your throat. Thankfully, your silence didn't seem to deter his claws running through your hair. It was hard not to drift off, your energy was fully and truly spent.

Your eyes flutter, you will them open just a bit longer to look at him.

"Sleep, dove." he chuckles, and it reverberates in your own chest. "This is not the last time you will set eyes upon me."

~~~

In the morning, you wake up as the sun peaks from the horizon. It should not have been a restful sleep, but sure enough the devil was true to his word. You were allowed a touch from Avernus’s flames. Your ambition had new fuel. Your body healed. The only thing he left was the ghost of a touch and a tether on your heart, marked dutifully by the master of the house of hope.

#bg3 #bg3 raphael #baldur's gate 3 #raphael #raphael bg3 #raphael the cambion #baldur's gate raphael #raphael x tav #raphael x reader #bg3 raphael x tav #cw:smut #they have sex #im very proud of this #even though it took forever #and I have a different idea of his character again #i love developing

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