Archive of Our Own

“Welcome home.” Raphael wore his human pelt tonight—all ivory skin against dark eyes and hair, dressed in the finest silks this side of the Sword Coast. He glittered in front of the blooming fireplace wetting the dining room in the House of Hope with shadow.

The neatly set table, the giant portrait of Raphael in his true form, the dim lighting making everything shimmer, the smell of the garden of Eden bathed in hellfire, and the heat pressing down on him like being enclosed in a sweaty fist, —Enver Gortash hadn’t seen this place in years, though his stomach tossed like a storm, like the night he escaped. A part of him never left this room.

One minute Enver dwelled in his foundry, over seeing construction of his Steel Watchers. The next he was stolen with a snap of fingers and whisked down to Avernus to stand in front of his former master. His heart beat prey animal fast, though he smiled like he’d met an old friend.

“Ah, Raphael. What a lovely surprise. I wasn’t expecting to see you today.”

“If you were I would assume you wouldn’t stand before me in such a shabby state.” Raphael said. “I still abhor the hair.”

That’s why I kept it. Enver doesn’t say. Back when he was enslaved by the devil, he enacted his own little rebellion with his appearance—unkempt because Raphael liked control. No matter how hard he was punished, he did not change his clothes or his hair. He may have lied, killed, threatened for Raphael, —obeyed the devil like he was a God, but the way he dressed was his profane vanity.

“May I ask why I’m here?” Enver asked.

“You may.”

“Well, it isn’t just to chat, of that I’m sure.” Enver said. “Why am I here?”

“My father is missing an item most important from his vault.” Raphael said.

“Is that so?”

“That is so.”

“I haven’t the foggiest—“

“Lies work better when I accuse you first, Pup.”

“You would know a thing or two about lies.” Enver said.

“Don’t get smart with me, little tyrant.”

Tyrant? Enver liked the sound of that—especially more than Eromenos, Pup, or Child, what Raphael used to call him. He is Lord Enver Gortash—soon to be savior of the city. His name is going to mean something to Baldur’s Gate, and with the crown Raphael spoke so much about and his new ‘allies,’ he will make the city bow. He will rule the corpse of a city that has taken so much from him. The city that gave him to Raphael.

“I would never dream of it, Raphael.” Enver said.

“There is that little grin. You do know something, don’t you?” Raphael asked. “And you will address me as Master.”

“Master, you still haven’t told me what you are missing.” Enver said.

“The crown of Karsus. Trapped in Mephistopheles vault for a thousand years, has somehow vanished into thin air…right around the time you started your bid for Archduke.” Raphael said. “Now, imagine that.”

“Absolutely funny how things work out.” Enver said.  

“Support for you in Baldur’s Gate has been very strong.” Raphael said. “You. A little nobody.”

“The people want fresh blood, Master, and who am I to deny them?”

“Who are you is exactly the question.” Raphael said with thinly veiled disgust. “You’re just another ankle biter upstart born in a rotting wound of a city meant to destroy you. How very sad, indeed.”

An ankle bitter upstart that stole the crown when you couldn’t. Enver doesn’t say.

“I saved you from all that, you know? Took you into my home, clothed and fed you. I gave you work and a purpose.”

“Work and purpose. Hm. Interesting ways to define slavery and pederasty.”

“A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.” Raphael said in that coy, mocking tone he used when he knew more than he was letting on. Enver’s stomach soured but he didn’t let it show on his face.

“Quite.”

“Now, the crown of Karsus. Where is it?”

“I’m afraid I don’t have it, old friend.” Enver said. “If I did, I would be dining with the Gods by now.”

“You were always a clever lad, far too clever for your own good. You wouldn’t settle for dining with Gods when you can overthrow them and rule the entire world yourself. That’s the kind of child you are. Ambitious. Rotten.”

“I am but a simple man with a dream for Baldur’s Gate. I want to save the city from itself. I don’t need the world, Master. You’re the one who wants it.”

“You are a lot of things, I must admit, but simple is not one of them.” Raphael said. “And you are completely wrong. This world is pure chaos. I want nothing to do with it. No, with the crown I will unite the nine Hells under my rule as Arch-devil supreme—“

“You’re a very excellent liar, but I doubt even Nubaldin would believe you’d stop at just the Hells. What more are you planning?”

Raphael smirked. “Little Tyrant, here is my offer—you give me the crown and I give you all of Faerûn. You can remake it in your image, if you so choose, or rain down sulfur and fire to destroy it, for all it has done to you. Divine retribution.  Nevertheless, we can rule together. You could rise beyond archduke. Stand beside me as an equal—as strange as that sounds.”

“Let me see the child.” The devil said to the gnome as nine-year-old Enver stood in front of them in chains. “Oh, he’ll do nicely.”

Once upon a time there was a child sold by his parents to a devil as red as hate. The child spent most of his time in a cage and was only let out to serve the devil’s immense appetites. The child was often punished for the most mundane of mistakes and strove for perfection to make the pain stop. The child would’ve given anything for the devil to see them as equals. He would’ve sold his soul if it weren’t already spoken for.

The child had his ribs broken for dropping a bottle of wine one night and was left to heal in the cage. The child prayed to all manner of Gods and none answered…until one did. Bane. The child died in the cage and a man took his place. The man, the tyrant, sought not to be the devil’s equal, but to surpass him, to bury him, to replace him. Such is the nature of fathers and sons.

“What a tempting offer. Though I do not have the crown. I wish I did. Think of the possibilities.” Enver said. “I wouldn’t lie to you, Master, because of our…history. You’re still very precious to me.”

“I’m sure.” Raphael said dryly.

“Well, best of luck finding it and all. I will take my leave now. I have other matters to attend to.”  Enver said before turning, heading to entrance where (hopefully) the summoning circle was. Yes, he was flicked to the House of Hope with the snapping of fingers, but he doubts Raphael would send him back that way. His old master was petty and vindictive when he didn’t get what he wanted. It’s best just to begin his journey back to Baldur’s Gate.

Raphael appeared in front of him, causing Enver to come to a stop. The devil had a hard frown. He had been outplayed by an upstart, his former slave, his ‘rotten’ child. He must be fuming hotter than all the Hells. Enver stopped himself from smiling.

“I did not say you can leave.” Raphael said.

“No, you didn’t.” Enver said. “My apologies.”

Raphael tipped his head to the side and regarded Enver with a small smile. His gaze held as much empathy as a viper’s. Enver swallowed dryly. That look used to be followed by sadism or sexual deviancy or both. Still, Enver will not step back.

“On your knees, little Tyrant.”

Enver thought of telling him no—while the crown was indeed in his possession, the elder brain was still fighting back. He wasn’t Archduke Gortash yet, the devil could still kill him…but he wouldn’t. The crown could be lost forever to Raphael upon Enver’s death. Ketheric and the Bhaalspawn didn’t do well without Enver tugging their leashes. They would most likely destroy the crown and the world along with it, with their petty grudges. No, it’s best to let Raphael feel as if he’s in control. That’s what the devil’s all about—control. He’ll let Raphael have him for the last time before infecting him with a parasite. Then the real retribution can begin. The devil will wish he’d never heard the name Enver Gortash.

Enver sank to his knees. The marble floor warm under him. He watched up into the dark eyes of the devil as if he were gazing into the infinite stars. Raphael watched Enver as if he were a hungry cat and Enver was a ship mouse—All amusement, interest, and desire…no empathy or mercy.

Raphael’s fingers tangled in Enver’s hair. Enver knew what that meant. He pressed his face to Raphael’s crotch, the devil’s arousal tenting in his trousers. Enver remembers this part—the only pleasure in the House of Hope he got, even if Raphael rarely allowed him to come. Enver parted his lips and mouthed Raphael through his pants. The devil sighed as he gripped the hair at the back of Enver’s head and forced him even closer to his cock. Enver got the fabric between Raphael’s legs wet with spit before tracing the shape of his arousal with his tongue. The familiar smell of cherries, musk, and sulfur assaulted his senses. It caused him to harden in his own pants. His first and only sexual experiences has been with Raphael—the same devil that tormented him.  Pleasure and pain had twisted in his psyche like rose thorns long ago.

Raphael tightened his grip until it’s painful and yanked Enver away from his cock while he used his other hand to nimbly untie his trousers until they and his underwear were crushed down mid thigh. His cock sprung free. Enver parts his lips and dragged them up the length of Raphael’s cock before pulling them back down and sucking the wet tip into his mouth. Raphael sighed.

“You always had a silver tongue.” He breathed out, as easy as pipe smoke. Enver takes that as a cue to go lower, the spit pooled under his tongue. Raphael’s cock stretches his mouth so Enver turns his head, the tip of Raphael’s cock nudging his cheek and making it buldge out. Raphael’s soft fingers cup the side of Enver’s jaw to feel himself inside Enver—the devil was always obsessed with himself.

Enver moved back until the tip of Raphael’s cock rested against his lips. He took a deep breath before taking Raphael in again. He swallowed until the devil was to the back of his throat, causing him to choke when Raphael began to move. Sick, wet noises fell from Enver’s lips every time Raphael thrusted in, hitting that little flutter in the back of Enver’s throat. He thrusted in hard, until Enver’s nose was pressed into fine pubic hair, the devil’s cock rammed down his throat. Raphael kept a tight grip on the back of Enver’s head to keep him in place. Enver’s eyes pricked with tears as he used his hand to push at Raphael’s hips, but the devil kept his cock firmly down Enver’s throat, seemingly enjoying watching Enver choke on him. Finally, Raphael pulled back, his cock shiny and dripping with spit, a line of saliva attached from the head of his cock to Enver’s lips.

Enver dragged in breath and coughed, his throat burning. He didn’t wipe the wet mess from his mouth because Raphael only liked him ruined when it was by his hand. He instead looked up at the devil, waiting to be dismissed, just like the child used to.

Raphael snapped his fingers instead, transporting them to his private quarters. This was always the hottest room and moist, due to the bath water that always ran but never overflowed. Enver took a shuddery breath. The last time he was here, the devil wasn’t exactly kind with him in bed. Enver had slashed Raphael’s portrait the night before his escape into the world—the devil had reacted as if it was his true form cut navel to nape. They exchanged words:

“You are a rotten, cruel child.”

“I am the shape you made me. Filth teaches filth.”

Enver was pushed on to the bed. Raphael always liked to be over him, so Enver got to his hands and knees. He unbuckled his belt, pulling his pants and underwear down to his knees. He got on all fours again as Raphael gripped his hips tight enough to bruise. Enver flinched in pain as the devil put his unoccupied hand in Enver’s hair and yanked until his neck was arched.

The slick head of Raphael’s cock dipped into Enver and he gasped—too much, too fast, too dry.  He reached down to stroke his own arousal, letting the pleasure wash over him while Raphael pushed in until he was fully seated inside him. Enver felt a burning spread across his skin, Raphael’s form felt like it was on fire. Enver was impaled, full. He twisted his fingers in the sheets and curled his toes to get adjusted. He cried out as Raphael rocked his hips slightly and hit that bundle of nerves to make Enver see fireworks bloom and fade behind his eyelids. He couldn’t help but moan. He could basically feel Raphael smirk before the devil slammed into him. Enver cried out as that spot inside him was stabbed, causing him to leak come onto silk sheets on the bed.

“Raphael.” Enver sighed out as the devil pulled out and slammed back into him again.

“Master.” Raphael corrected as he started a punishing pace. He gripped Enver’s hips to stop him from moving, to make him take all of him. The bed slipped against the marble floor causing squeaks to travel through the quiet room, adding to the squelch of being taken. Enver’s breath was knocked out of him with every push of hips—he was so full of Raphael’s cock; pleasure lit a fire under his skin.

“This is what you were made for.” Raphael said breathlessly. He never stopped fucking him. “Not to rule worlds, but to lie under me as I rule them.”

Enver’s stomach sank. This is the reason why he ran away all those years ago. It wasn’t just the abuse; it was the total domination of him—Raphael had Enver’s life planned out for him. He would serve and pleasure Raphael until the devil got tired of him and killed him. Enver destroyed the infernal contract keeping him enslaved before escaping out into Baldur’s Gate. He would’ve been Raphael’s plaything forever if he didn’t. He’d sooner throw himself opened mouthed into the river Chionthar.

He’d infected his parents for selling him to the devil and made them the type of family he always wanted. Loyal, devoted, speaking his name like he was divinity. They should consider it a small mercy. He should’ve killed them. There is still time for that.

He was shaken from his thoughts by a particularly painful thrust that caused him to cry out.

“The crown won’t help you because you are nothing.” Raphael said. “You will repeat Karsus folly because that is your very nature and when your wings turn to fire and you plummet, don’t expect me to be there to catch you.”

Enver would never depend on Raphael for anything besides cruelty, but he doesn’t say it. He instead moans and presses his hips back to meet Raphael’s thrust.

“I know everything you’re capable of because I’ve raised you. You think you’re so clever when you’re actually just a child, grasping at a glory you will never have or comprehend. I almost pity you.”

The slapping of stinging skin filled the room as Raphael took him as hard as he could. Enver was near panting as he held on to the bed like the world turned upside down and he was trying not to fall off. There’s a familiar pang in his cock as he got closer to sweet release—the only thing that has ever felt holy to him in the House of Hope. His body goes loose as his groans get pitched up to a whine. His cock leaks as his body reaches a precipice, itching to fall over. He’s so close.

Raphael stilled, the feeling of the devil pulsing and spilling inside him was almost enough to make him unlatch too—almost. The devil moved his hips again, slowly rocking into him for a few seconds until he was spent and pulling out. Enver groaned in frustration. His body was still tight and heavy with lust, but he will not beg Raphael for completion, for absolution, for acceptance.

He instead stood and righted his pants, taking deep breath, silky sweat cooling on his skin. Raphael was fully dressed again and smiled at him—he looked a little proud. Enver hated that it made him a little proud as well.

“Well, I don’t suppose you have it.” Raphael said sarcastically. “I will be at Sharess’ Caress should you stumble upon it…and, oh, give my best the Bhaalspawn and Ketheric. I will be seeing them soon enough.”

Raphael snapped his fingers and Enver was met with the stink infernal metal. The heat made him sweat pebbled as he stared over his workers. Transported back to his foundry without issue. How…unnerving.

The devil’s parting words, his mention of the general and the Bhaalspawn sunk Enver’s stomach. Raphael knew more than Enver was comfortable with. Shit. They needed to move to the next phase of the plan quickly. He needed to infect Raphael with a parasite, the devil was the only thorn he could see in this plan.  He needed to meet with the other chosen. The plan must move forward.

Enver was still unbelievably hard. He dragged in a breath as deep as he could in the hot foundry. He scanned his workers until his gaze landed on Yves. The only human among the bunch.

Yves was an engineer Enver employed to work on one of his ships. The man had mint green eyes, tan skin, and golden hair. He was shirtless—lightly muscled as he stood talking to one of the Gondians. Yves had married a couple of months ago and was expecting a child with his wife. Enver overheard him talking about not knowing how he’ll pay next month’s rent. Oh, he’ll do nicely.

Enver walked down the stairs and placed his hand on Yves’s shoulder. The man turned to him with a smile.

“Yves?”

“Yes, Lord Gortash?”

“My office.”

Enver locked the door to his office after Yves entered. The man stood in front of his desk as Enver went to sit in front of him, the giant mahogany desk dividing him. The man’s shoulders lowered. He must think he’s getting fired.

“I called you here to talk about a raise.” Enver said.

“Oh, my Lord! That would be most—“

“But there is something you must do for me first.” Enver said. “Get on your knees.”