Sword of St. Michael #7
#37 of Sampson and Devilah
Homecoming
In which Devilah returns to drunken Sampson.
Yes, I went there. But it's not intended as a sexual thing. It's intended as commitment. If you've ever had a truly sick friend or relative, you know that sometimes they need help with some pretty intimate needs. I have. Changing bedpans isn't glamorous, and the poor sod that needs your help doesn't want you to have to do it. But somebody has to, and best if it's someone who cares deeply about them. That's what this is intended to convey. Devilah knows what led this man to this state, and will help in any way needed to get him back on his feet.
So, with all the crude sexual stuff I put in here, that scene isn't intended to be one of them.
| The streets of Riften were quiet when Devilah stepped through her portal. She looked up at the sign for the Bee and Barb and wondered what had gone on while she had been gone. And not for the first time she wondered why the hell Sampson was still here. Then with a deep breath she stepped into the tavern. | 
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| Looking around, she didn't see Sampson anywhere. But eyes began to turn and widen when they recognized who had just walked in the door. Conversations ceased and mouths gaped. She crossed to the bar when the barmaid looked up from putting something away. Argonian eyes were difficult to read at the best of times, but the intake of breath was unmistakable.
Devilah recalled her name, as well as some very personal attributes, immediately. "Keerava?"
"Devilah," said the barmaid, less as a greeting than a statement to make what she was seeing a reality.
The succubus nodded. "Yes. I've... been away. I wonder if maybe Sampson is..."
"He's in the same room. Hasn't left." | 
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| Devilah thanked her and turned to go up stairs.
"Devilah! Wait."
She turned back, curious. All eyes still watched her every move. What had happened here? Surely a little orgy wouldn't be that big of a deal?
"Devilah, be gentle. He's not the same man you left. He's going to have a hard time seeing you again." | 
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| "Thank you Keerava. I will."
"One more thing. You've got a good man there Devilah. You may have ruined him. I don't think you deserve him."
Devilah looked down at her hands and replied quietly as she turned to climb the stairs. "That's for damned sure." | 
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| Upstairs, she stepped to the door and opened it quietly. The room stank and the figure on the bed was turned away from her. She walked up to him and knelt by the bed. He reeked of alcohol and neglect.
Quietly, she said "Sampson?"
The big man turned over and opened his eyes blearily but recognized her immediately. Through a drunken haze, he smiled at her. "Devilah. Won't you come back? Where have you gone?" | 
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| Devilah stood, walked back to the door and locked it. Then she removed her outfit and lay down atop the stinking drunk, enfolding him in her arms. His eyes never left her as he returned the embrace. He didn't even blink, as if fearing that doing so would break the enchantment.
Perhaps another person would have recoiled at his appearance and neglect. But compared to the place she had just come from, his breath smelled of lilac and cinnamon. "Sampson. I'm back." | 
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| His eyes welled with tears as he held her tighter. Finally he closed them and said, "This... is a good dream."
Devilah felt something wrong with her own eyes, but closed them and felt the big man's breathing stutter a few times. "It's not a dream, Sampson. I am here." | 
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| He opened his eyes again and looked at her. "I'm sorry Devilah. For whatever I did, I'm sorry. If you're still here in the morning, I'll never touch another drop again. Just please be here in the morning."
She laughed quietly. "I'm not going anywhere you big lunk." | 
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| They just held each other for a long time. Finally Sampson stumbled out of bed. "I've... got to go downstairs for a minute. But will you really still be here when I get back?"
Devilah noticed the awkwardness and unbalanced state of the big man and shook her head. "I'll go with you."
The tavern below once again went quiet when a still-drunk Sampson staggered through the tavern with a naked Khajiit steadying him. She held his penis as he relieved himself in the privy, and they both returned back to their room. Sampson never took his eyes off of her, and she felt more than a little guilty for this amount of adulation from a man she had promised to murder. | 
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| Back in bed, she snuggled up and pulled his arms back around her as he murmered something in her ear and fell back to sleep, breathing in the smell of her to mix with his dreams all night long. "Stupid lunk," she thought to herself as she let herself drift off too. "Idiotic, brain-dead sod. Why in hell do I like you so much? Here I am naked next to a man with a penis that could rock my world and instead of fucking his brains out, I'm letting him sleep. Damn girl, you've changed!" | 
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