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When you spend a good chunk of your childhood and teen years somewhere, you can't help but think of it as home. Even if it's awful, even if you hate it and wish never to go back, it's still where you grew up. The formative years are crucial to every person. It's just how it is. When you learn how life works, learn your morals, see the world become less and less of a mystery as you grow up more and more, it just shapes you. There's really no point in resisting it. Even by doing that, the clay that is your personality is shaped by your surroundings, either by acceptance or complete and utter denial.
Gortash had long since learned to embrace his growing up in the hells. Avernus, specifically the House of Hope, had been utterly awful but it had also been educational. When not getting beat, Rapheal expected him to be clean and healthy enough to do his duties. His meals were decent enough, better than the gruel his mother had made him, and when his torment got too bad there was usually a potion to handle the occasional broken wrist or ankle. He knew he was no son to Raphael, or even a servant, really. He was but a tool, but a tool that had been paid well for and therefore could expect some level of maintenance.
He took more stock in the 'lessons' Raphael inadvertently taught. The bastard loved to hear himself talk, and growing up as pathetic little Enver, the boy was easy to ignore. He often was in the background, just listening to the cambion, learning slowly and surely about anything he could. There were often guests for deals, or some devil or demon Raphael wished to take advantage of. His 'master' loved to go on about any topic possible, ranging from poetry and old glory and the history of his realm to his eventual plans to make all nine of the hells bow to him. Enver grew into Gortash and learned about politics and power, how to use honeyed words or threats depending on what was needed. It was, admittedly, not the worst education to receive, even if he knew he was paying deeply for it.
Upon his escape back to Baldur's Gate, there was no denying the years in such a place had shaped his personality in other ways too. Oh sure, he was distrustful, eager for power, and a downright bastard, but there was more than that.
He missed the smell of brimstone, and found a good fireplace with the smell of burning wood gave him a pleasant experience. Shades of red and black actually fit an aesthetic that he quite enjoyed.
And tieflings, oh the tieflings. Something about them, to the way they were a little warmer than other people and how they just looked demonic felt… well, familiar to him. It was no surprise when he found himself needing a bodyguard, he picked the giant of a woman with the reddest skin he'd ever seen and a powerful feeling of the hells about her. Oh sure, she had the personality of an eager puppy, but she was still utterly of the lower planes. It felt comfortable, familiar to him.
It was almost a shame to have sold her out. He'd liked her company, but business was business.
And then there was the bhaalspawn. He'd heard about the creature before he'd seen him, a thing in the shadows that struck out and hurt all he got close to, murdering in the name of his vile deity of a father. Gortash had been interested as a Bane worshiper, had thought perhaps an alliance would suit them both rather well.
Tracking him had been easy, only having to follow the blood, but pinning him down long enough to get a message to him was much tougher. It took several messengers and letters before he finally had any success. Most of the ones he paid with coin ended up missing, no doubt dead, but Gortash was nothing if not determined. He was sure the bhaalspawn would get tired of him long before he ran out of coin and desperate peasants who had no idea what they were talking in to.
Sure enough, he finally he got word back, an agreement to meet. He still didn't know exactly what the person was, only had images in his head of someone with far too many teeth and claws and maybe a bit feral.
Pulse was… not what he'd been expecting, but there was a deep feeling in his chest that he could not deny was pleasure. A little beast of hell. How lovely.
Of course, Gortash would have been willing to work with him no matter what his race might have been, but there was no denying that life could sometimes be full of pleasant little surprises. Oh yes, he could work with this.
Convincing Pulse of his plans, of working together was fun in itself. It felt like a dance between the two of them, bringing in the brains and the raw strength of the two of them, conquering obstacle after obstacle. They worked well together, and Gortash wasn't sure if it was just his desire to see his power grow through the alliance or if perhaps the familiarity just helped his affection for the bhaalspawn grow. Unlike Karlach, Pulse was his equal. He was born of the gods, of the heavens themselves, even if that little slice of the gods' home was twisted and welcoming in death as opposed to life.
As time went on, it just felt good to be near Pulse. It was… well, like being home. Every little thing about him was fascinating, was something to be craved. The way Pulse spoke, the way he was eager for Gortash's company, even down to the way he moved was enticing to the man.
And Gortash did so like how he moved. When they became carnal, the human was all too happy to learn all of his body. He desired to learn every inch of the tiefling, of his body that was so eager and twisted in just the best ways. Of course, it wasn't just the sex. In some ways, Pulse was just intriguing in small ways, little ways maybe no one else would think about, but for a man who'd grown up in the hells, he could not help but notice.
Tails on tieflings tended to be expressive, but how much depended on the individual. For Pulse, it was like a window to his soul. His expressions could be honest, and sometimes a mask, but the tail was always a clue to what he was really thinking, if he was happy or furious, pleased or frisky. Gortash adored his tail, loved it honestly. The way it wrapped around him sometimes, or when it was sometimes used in rather naughty ways. Gortash knew he would have adored Pulse no matter who or what he was, but he had to admit, he was rather happy with what fate had bestowed him.
It was an afternoon one day, Gortash working in his shop and Pulse napping nearby. It had been a late night for the pale man, and he'd come to the Bane worshiper for some much-needed rest. Letting him be while he worked on schematics, he couldn't help but glance over at the tiefling every once and a while. He snoozed easily, looking at peace, and his tail wagged this way and that.
He should have been working, but he couldn't help but glance back over more and more often. The appendage was like a lure, as if in the water and Gortash was a hungry fish. He finally gave up and went over, watching eagerly. It swished playfully, tempting the man to touch it. His fingers twitched, smudged with ink, and aching a little but still so wanton to just reach out.
It would be polite to let Pulse sleep, to keep his hands to himself. Still, he didn't want to. Gortash was a selfish man, and he didn't truly care what other people needed. Pulse was different though.
Mostly because he'd probably claw Gortash's eyes out if woken up but he also didn't like making the tiefling unhappy, and really didn't that just make him kind of a sap.
One more flick, a tiny little movement, a wiggle of the tip and Gortash could no longer contain himself. He reached out, slowly, caressing the flesh gently. It felt rough, rougher than human skin anyway, but still smoother than the rough callouses of his own fingers. The rings on the tip of his tail felt warm, heated by Pulse's own body heat, and he loved how they connected so delicately to his body. He smiled and brought the tail up to his lips, kissing it softly.
"Are you having fun?" Pulse asked, causing Gortash to look over at the sleepy looking tiefling.
"Did I wake you?" he asked.
"Yes," he said bluntly, sounding terribly put out about it. "If you're going to feel me up in my sleep, there are better places you can do so."
"It wasn't that," the human informed him. "Well… not exactly that."
"Oh?"
"You just… feel familiar," he admitted as his fingers slowly stroked up his tail, creeping up to his back. The actions caused Pulse to shudder slightly, but he looked too tired to really participate. "It's complicated."
"Uh huh. Complicated," Pulse mused before shaking his head. "Fine, if it makes you happy. Just be gentle. I'm trying to sleep."
Gentle wasn't really them. Well, not all the time. There were times they could be downright cruel to one another, but they both did enjoy it. Still, Gortash smiled and sat down next to him and was actually gentle with him. If that was the price to indulge, then he'd gladly pay it.
Gortash's home had been horrid, awful, vile and so many other things. Pulse reminding him of home should not have been pleasant, but somehow it just was. It was enough for him to enjoy. Maybe Pulse understood and wanted to give him something nice, or just didn't care, but either way, he was going to allow himself to enjoy it.