This started off as a drabble but it may end up being long enough for a one shot...
[Set in the House of Hope post-game.]
The air was heavy with wine and incense.
Tav lay back against silk-draped cushions, skin bare and warm, legs parted just enough to keep Haarlep near. His weight pressed against her, one arm braced beside her head, the other drawing lines over her ribs.
“You look like you're in love,” she whispered, breath catching when he tilted his hips forward, deliberately filling her again.
“You look like you’re mine” he purred back. “At least for tonight… At least whilst Raphael’s not around.”
Haarlep thrust slow and deep, the kind of rhythm made not for the chase of climax but for the pleasure of prolonging it.
Tav arched beneath him, teeth grazing her lower lip. “We can play pretend for the night.”
A chuckle. He kissed her then, a slow drag of lips and tongue, like he wanted to taste the words she hadn’t said. She kissed him back just as deeply, fingers curling through his hair, pulling him closer.
But just when her moans started to grow louder, when her legs began to tighten around his waist, he stopped.
Haarlep smirked against her throat, licking a line to her ear. “Not yet, little thief.”
“You’re crueller than he is, you know,” she said, half-laughing, half-frustrated.
“I’m indulgent,” he corrected. “And greedy.”
He snapped his hips forward once, hard enough to make her gasp, then stilled again. “And when I say I want to fuck you all night, I actually intend to.”
Letter from Raphael to Tav (sent during a period of separation due to political summons to Cania):
Little mouse,
Time has become such a graceless host—
The fires of Avernus still burn, but they do not warm.
The finest wines taste dull when not sampled from your tongue,
And there is no comfort to be found in silken sheets without you there beside me.
It seems you have spoiled me.
If you have not found sweeter wine or warmer sheets elsewhere,
meet me at the Devil’s Fee.
You need bring nothing.
You are all I require.
— R.
Teaching myself to make edits and the first thing I've learnt is that actually getting the right clips is half the battle. Let's just ignore the continuity error for now where the location and outfit just completely change. Anyway, this is the vision.
What if Raphael kissed Tav in front of an ascended Astarion to make him jealous?
I have so many ideas of how Tav and Raphael's first kiss could have gone. This one is set post break-up with AA.
Tav froze, just for a heartbeat, but that was all it took for Raphael to notice.
His gaze followed hers, his mouth curling into a knowing smile when he saw the vampire.
"Ahh. It's such a small, cruel world, isn't it?"
"Don't," Tav murmured.
"Don't what?" He took a sip of wine, watching her over the rim. "Don't notice how you've gone still and your jaw is tighter than a patriar's purse strings? Or that you're still holding your breath?"
"I'm fine."
"Of course you are." He stepped forward, closer than was required. "But let's play pretend anyway. Just for tonight."
"And what exactly are we pretending?"
"That you've moved on. That you're... indecently mine. "
She narrowed her eyes. "And is this little ruse for your benefit? Or for his?"
"Can it not be both? Can you not indulge me whilst ensuring he can't take his eyes off you at the same time?"
He lifted her chin until her eyes met his, looking at her like he saw every part she didn't want the rest of the world to see.
"You're enjoying this too much," she muttered.
"Hmm. But perhaps not for the reasons you think."
She let her palms rest lightly against his chest.
"So what would you do then? If I were indecently yours for the evening?"
"I'd kiss you," he said simply. "Right here. Slow enough to make him ache. Real enough to make you forget he ever mattered."
She leant in, close enough to feel his breath on her lips.
His arm slipped around her waist, pulling her flush to his chest, and then he leaned down and kissed her.
It was slow, as promised, his lips parting over hers.
Her eyes fluttered closed as she gave in to the press of his mouth. And the world fell silent, the ache in her chest slipping away.
She told herself it was performance, that it was nothing more than playing along with a devil’s game.
But it didn’t feel like nothing. It felt like fire after frost. Winter snow melting under the first rays of spring.
Raphael opened his mouth, his tongue daring to coax hers open. As much for himself as it was an audience.
His little mouse deserved that much, didn’t she? To make the vampling pine, if only a little?
He’d never cared for the pale wretch, so why not toy with him? Just for fun.
That was the story he told himself.
But there was another reason.
An itch beneath his skin. The moment her mouth parted for him only confirming what he had been trying not to name.
That despite a lifetime of scouring himself clean of mortal weakness, he seemed to be falling victim all the same.
This is how I imagine Raphael would kiss Tav after The Confession™
It was strange, wasn’t it? That he could take her apart in every conceivable way—could drag his claws down her back, bite into the plush of her thighs, leave bruises in the shape of his fingers on her throat—and yet, now, the press of his hand to her waist would be a concession. A step too far.
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