#had this fun idea that Haarlep could totally have Gortash's glamour because you can't tell me bad shit like that didn't happen to him

[kawareo]

35.) ....to gain something, Durge and Haarleep?

Anon I love you

BG3 timeline Durge/Haarlep, implied nsfw, not nice implications, background Durgetash

606 words

“Does this form not appease you, little mouse?”

The devil grins, and Strike can’t breathe. He doesn’t know if it’s from the heavy weight that’s pinning him down, or the too-rich scents of sulfur and vanilla that pollute the air, or perhaps the fact that the sultrily dressed creature straddling him is wearing Raphael’s face. His hands move, uncharacteristically shy where they rest on the devil’s thighs.

“N- no, it’s. It’s fine, really.” He attempts to grin back, but for some reason, he can’t grasp at the usual string of humor that tends to lace every serious conversation he (assumes) has ever had. “Raphael’s not half bad looking, you’re fine, buddy.”

Astarion has volunteered to do this, but Strike shot that idea down before it even left the vampire’s lips. Only one of them was a whore per his own volition, after all... Even if right now, his chest felt far too tight for what he hoped he could pretend is just sex like any other.

“Nonsense,” Raphael’s voice chides him from the incubus’ lips, as they grind down on him – when did their clothes disappear?? Not that there was much of them to begin with, but-

A warm hand against his cheek reminds him of what he is supposed to be focusing on, and Strike looks back up at Haarlep’s face as it smiles down on him.

“I am here to provide your deepest, truest desires, how much of a fraud would I be if this experience is anything but positively sublime for you?~”

Strike has half a mind to laugh, his truest desires have been demanding of him to tear the creature’s wings off of its back since the moment they’ve met, but before he can say anything, Haarlep moves in and presses their lips together. A downright embarrassing moan gets kissed away before it could travel too far, and Strike finds himself grateful for his friends being allowed to leave the room. Then again, he was alone with an incubus now...

“Ah, I see it, I see~” Haarlep’s laugh is soft as they pull away, so endlessly amused; and just as Strike opens his mouth to ask what was so funny, the devil shifts form in front of him, grows smaller. Smaller. “How lucky for both of us, that I happen to have just what you desire, little mouse~”

“...” Strike has no idea who he’s looking at.

The man –boy? He looks young, could not be more than twenty, at most– is far from the elegance that was Raphael’s form, even if Strike suspects that Haarlep took some liberties to make him look nicer as well, but his dark hair is greasy and hangs low over his shoulders, slim body that now sits shorter than Strike’s own. He has dark eyes and full lips that could be pretty on someone else, but they don’t work on his face – a face that Strike can’t put a name to, but something about it’s nasty grin makes his heart throb with sudden desire.

“What- wait, who is-“

He doesn’t get to ask any more questions, it seems. With still demonic strength the boy (and Strike has to remind himself that it is still Haarlep) pins him down, and slides higher over his hips.

“Enough talking, dearest,” the creature laughs, short and ugly; and just as Strike attempts to speak up again, it silences him with a kiss, this time deeper, more passionate. Strike doesn’t know the face. Yet he still wraps his arms around the body it’s attached to, and as his fingers trace the whipping scars on his back, he feels like he’s home.