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dnd_drow

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"I – Oh, Gods, Tav. I need – " Geraldus sighs as he withdraws his hands, clenching them between you. He’s panting against your lips. "Can I see you? Please." His fingers play with the belt of your robe.

You straighten up, bearing your full weight on his swollen cock. He shivers and sighs as you loom over him. You untie and open your robe, letting it drop around you, revealing your body in its full glory. Geraldus’ eyes rake over your chest, taking in your breasts. His clenched hands unfurl, and he raises one to your breast, scooping it gently in his hand. He brushes a thumb over your nipple and watches in amazement as it hardens under his touch. His other hand caresses your thigh, and his gaze lowers down your torso. His breath hitches a moment when his eyes meet your visibly drenched pussy pressing into his hard cock, only his breeches separating you.

"You’re so beautiful." He breathes, desperate to find the right words.

"So are you." You rub his chest, pressing your breasts together. You feel his cock twitch between you. "Can I see you now?" You slide your hands to his waistband, stopping at his drawstring and waiting for his approval.

You untie his breeches and shimmy them down, freeing his gorgeous cock. It springs free, bouncing against his stomach. It’s average in length, but impressively thick, with a delicious blushing pink head. He’s already dribbling with precome. You reach behind you to help him kick his breeches off the rest of the way. Geraldus sits up to take his nightshirt off, kissing you between each step. You giggle softly and follow him down, kissing him some more. He feels your wet pussy plant squarely onto his cock, ensconcing it with your folds.

"Geraldus – " You sigh sweetly. "Touch me. Down here." You begin to lead his hand down to touch you, but Geraldus takes the rest of the initiative on his own. He hesitantly touches the pads of his two middle fingers as carefully as he can to your pussy. You can feel his hand trembling. "It’s alright, you won’t hurt me. It’ll feel good, I promise." Geraldus takes the guidance well and deftly slides his fingers over your slit. He gasps as his fingers slide effortlessly over slick velvet. He closes his eyes in disbelief as he imagines how it will feel around him. His cock responds to the thought. Geraldus is eager, yes, but he wants to take his time and enjoy every bit of this experience he can. He mentally studies what he feels. You respond keenly to Geraldus’ touch. Although unskilled, Geraldus’ touch is gentle and meaningful. He repeats everything you react to. Noticing how you like your folds massaged before he swirls his fingertips against your clit. He measures your sensitivity with impressive ease. Geraldus is a quick learner, and it makes you want more.

You grind with his hand movements until his fingers threaten to enter you. You want them to. Geraldus’ fingers withdraw for a moment before he begins to understand. He cautiously teases your entrance, feeling for how it will accept him and at what angle, before slipping in his middle finger. Your arousal is apparent, and it shows in the way your pussy easily accepts his finger with little resistance. Geraldus breath catches. He can’t believe how wet, warm and alive pussy feels. He gently adds another finger, gasping in awe at how you stretch around his fingers. The air cooling your slick as it drips down his knuckles onto his hand. You moan quietly, bracing yourself on his shoulders as he explores your soaked, spongy insides.

Geraldus watches your face with tenderness. Gazing lovingly at how your body responds to his touch. He continues to gently massage into you as you gain more purchase against him.

"Geraldus, don’t stop please. You’re going to make me come." Geraldus resists the urge to quicken his pace or increase pressure. He does as he’s told and diligently works his fingers inside you. He stares up at you in amazement as your walls flutter around his fingers. Before he can admire it you come onto his hand, letting your head fall to the side as pleasure takes you over. Your pussy clenches around his fingers, releasing more slick. Geraldus waits until your pussy stills before withdrawing his hand from between you and wrapping his arms around you. He embraces you, gathering your face in his hands as he pulls you into his kiss.

"I’ve never witnessed anything so lovely." Geraldus is kissing you hungrily, lips crashing and tongue plundering. "Did I – Did I get it right?"

"I want to make you do that again. Please." More pleading. It sends waves of arousal through you. Geraldus’ hands roam over your entire body and through your hair.

"Are you ready?" You whisper against his lips.

You reach between your bodies and take his cock in your hand. It’s hard as steel, but soft as petals. He shivers at your touch and bucks his hips involuntarily. You kiss his lips to distract him, but he’s too absorbed to follow along. You firmly grasp the base of his dick and guide the tip of it against you. Geraldus cries out in surprise.

"I’m sorry – " He mutters against your lips.

"Don’t be. It’s normal." You kiss him. "It won’t be the first time that happens."

You kiss Geraldus deeply before slipping in the tip of his cock into you. He gasps in your mouth, and you eagerly swallow it. You trap him in another kiss to ensnare another beautiful sound before letting yourself sink slowly onto his cock. You catch another delightful moan as your pussy welcomes the entirety of his length and girth. Geraldus shudders, his eyes fluttering closed as he feels you stretch all around him. Warmth spreads through his loins into his body. You feel the emptiness within you disappear as you take all his virgin cock. You squelch around him as you rotate your hips, feeling every stretch. Geraldus’ head presses back into his pillow as stars dance behind his eyelids. He forgets every part of himself that isn’t his cock. It isn’t until you start to move your hips against his does he remember he has hands. He holds you steady, his instinct screaming for him to move. Geraldus pulls your hips down, increasing the pressure between your coupling.

Geraldus finally opens his eyes. What he sees upon opening them is something he will always remember. Your hair comb had fallen out and your hair had loosened all around your face. He continues to hold on while you begin to lift off his cock, your velvety insides stroking him sweetly. Geraldus whines preciously as you drag along him, stopping half-way before collapsing onto his cock again. A moan punches through Geraldus’ stomach and out of his throat. He sank into your pussy so wonderfully, only meeting resistance against your cervix. You repeat the action more smoothly and with more vigor this time.

Geraldus’ eyes roll before he blinks. He gazes up at you with tenderness as you ride him. Your eyes are closed, brows pinched in concentration as you chase your pleasure. The pace quickens and the warmth growing in Geraldus’ core begins to ignite hotter and hotter. He bucks his hips to meet you. His vision narrows in on your bouncing breasts. He reaches out for them with one hand, taking turns with each one. Cupping and squeezing it gently. Geraldus’ eye roam further down as he dares to watch himself disappear inside of you over and over and over again. The look and sound of your wet flesh slapping gripping his attention. He feels himself hitch, his breath getting shallow. A familiar tightening tugs at his core.

"Tav." Geraldus chokes. "I’m going – I’m going to come."

"It’s alright." You breathe sweetly. "Come for me, Geraldus."

Geraldus is inflamed by your command, eyes fixed where you two join. He braces his heels against the mattress below him and fucks into you harder and faster until his pace begins to falter. He screws his eyes shut as red-hot pleasure explodes into blinding white bliss. He cries out, a quaking moan ripping from his soul. Geraldus’ cock pulses and ropes of come spurt deep within you. He pounds into you, riding out his orgasm. You watch his eagerness consume him as he loses himself in you, panting and sweating. Geraldus doesn’t stop when his orgasm begins to die down. He watches in astonishment as a thick white ring of frothy come coats the base of his cock. Geraldus throws his head back into his pillow and pulls you tighter against him, burying his cock mercilessly into your pussy. You moan and ride through it with him. He slows, gasping for air until he comes to a complete halt.

"That was – " Geraldus pants. "That was incredible. I love this feeling. I don’t want it to stop." He begins to mumble something, drunk on bliss. He pulls you against him, chest to chest, and holds you. You let him stay inside you, wanting to stay close.

"Mmm." You hum into his hair.

"I want to make you feel like that." Geraldus’ cock jumps inside of you. It hasn’t softened. "Can we do it again? Can I be on top this time?" He enthusiastically asks. You’re incredulous.

"Sit up and roll over with me. Don’t let me go." You guide gently, wrapping your arms around his neck. Geraldus eagerly clings to you and flips over. He feels the power shift to him, and his hips roll in response to the newfound sensation of dominance. He earns a sinful moan from you. He’s always been sweet and gentle, but in this position he feels eons of primal instinct take over. He is overcome with the need to take you. Geraldus kisses you passionately before he begins to work into you, burying his face in the crook of your neck. This angle isn’t as deep, but there’s something about it that promises an equal, if not better, experience. You sense his need for depth and put your leg onto his shoulder. Geraldus’ inexperience only keeps him from getting the hint briefly before he swings your opposite leg over his other shoulder. He descends impossibly deep into you, causing you to groan in pain. Geraldus stops suddenly.

"Did I hurt you?" He lifts his head and sweeps your hair out of your face to look at you.

"It’s a good hurt keep going." You gasp, struggling to breath with his cock wedged into your folded body. Geraldus continues to let himself sink further into you, your knees nearly touching your ears. Geraldus gasps in pleasure as he lets his head hang between you. He opens his eyes and is greeted by the view of his cock once again splitting you open, come smeared into generous webs between you.

"Hells." Geraldus croaks before lifting his head and rocking his hips into yours. The position is unforgiving, and you threaten to come undone almost immediately. He’s so deep inside and the angle presses his shaft into your clit relentlessly. Geraldus pace quickens, his knees digging deep into the mattress, caging you beneath him in his arms. The crude slapping of skin and desperate moaning is all that you hear in this dim room. The candles are shrinking as you get lost in one another’s bodies. You can feel yourself getting close, your pussy clenching once more. Geraldus feels the familiar flutter and he chases it, breaking a sweat that glistens over his body. Your insides tighten, your legs begin to shake. You rake your fingers down Geraldus’ back, willing his ministrations.

"You’re doing so well, Geraldus. Don’t stop, please." It’s your turn to plead. He doesn’t relent, pounding into you with precision. You tighten around him, your pussy thrumming with tension. You feel yourself nearing the edge, the pressure within you building into agony until you tumble listlessly over the edge. You clasp a hand over your mouth and scream helplessly into it as your lover drives into you mercilessly. Geraldus thrusts into your flooding pussy as you come undone around his cock. He drowns in the feel and sound of it until his own orgasm rips through him again behind you. He spills once more into you as he moans pitifully into your hair. Geraldus slumps over you, letting himself feel the emulsion of your spend leaking out of you and all around him. He’s never felt so close to someone. He almost doesn’t want to pull out, but he does.

You immediately miss the fullness and closeness of Geraldus. You each lie next to each other panting and slick with sweat and come, staring into the ceiling above you. You blindly feel around the bed for Geraldus’ hand. He grasps it tightly when your hand finds his. He brings your hand to his face and places a delicate kiss onto your knuckles.

"Thank you. That – " Geraldus chuckles drunkenly. " – that was heavenly."

"It was. I haven’t felt like that in ages." You giggle and smile to yourself. "You did wonderfully. Are you sure you haven’t done that before?"

Geraldus laughs loudly. "I promise. I wasn’t lying about that." He rolls over onto his side to face you. "Can I hold you? Can we hold each other?"

You scoot closer to him, and he quickly pulls you against him, spooning you. He all but wraps his entire body around you, enveloping you in his lean, pale legs and arms. You lie with one another naked until morning comes. You both napped for only a few hours before the sun rose. You needed to get going to help Jaheira and to save Baldur’s Gate. You want nothing more than to stay in bed with the sweet half-elf man that offered himself so preciously to you. You hold one another for a few moments and share a kiss before you unwillingly pull away from one another. Geraldus watches you leave, tears threatening to spill for a woman he only knew for a night.

As Geraldus readies himself for his day and dons his armor. He wears it knowing it will be the last time because being a Harper is not for him. He’s experienced something that he wants to live to see again. He wants to live to see you again and he will patiently await the day until he can seek you out.

Vex was bored. Bored, bored, bored.

Every time she turned around, someone asked for her help. She couldn’t fathom why. It wasn’t as if she had a history of being particularly helpful. The last simpering peasant who had had the audacity to bleat at her about the terrible condition of some distant village had ended up less a shirt, several gold and very nearly one eye, until Viconia had hauled her back and pointed out that they couldn’t afford more attempted arrests. The whole "Hero of Baldur’s Gate" thing had seemed like a free ticket to her wildest dreams – who would believe the Hero had anything other than noble reasons, after all? – but had rapidly become an irritation, and then a chore. The elves of Suldanessellar must have been desperate indeed to seek aid from a woman of her nature, even allowing for their hunting down of the mage into the bargain.

And Vex would hunt him down.

The Underdark had been entertaining enough, she supposed, filled with the twisted words from smiling faces which were second nature to her and enough bloodshed to sate all but the most unbalanced mind. Prior to that, the asylum had been a delightfully twisted puzzle, of the kind she adored, despite the sorcerer’s snide comments about her mental state, and despite- no. Not despite that.

The Shadow Thieves had been an interesting diversion for a while, with the plots and the vampires and the general chaos she loved to spin around her - and the charming Bloodscalp had almost been worth not assassinating. But no, ultimately, they had pressed and pushed and made yet more demands on her time. They had offered her a little side chapter, as if it was a great honour to be allowed to run their petty errands. She had had to laugh in their gaping faces. Why would Vex, infamous, powerful, half-goddess daughter of a dead god, want the tedious monotony of running their little safehouse? Not even a whole city!

She had bigger plans. 

Right here and now, though, those plans mostly involved staying alive long enough to reduce the soul-shattering – hah, soul-shattering - boredom of her current life. She could feel the eyes on her in the cheap inn, and not just the curious or wary stares which followed her like shadows everywhere. Any other day she would have followed the gazes back to their source, thrown a knife, blown a kiss and a grin, but she was weary to her bones in a way no whole woman would ever know and her head ached fiercely. Still, she maintained enough of her usual flair to link her hands behind her head, close her eyes and tilt back on her chair, crossing her legs at the ankles as she rested her feet insouciantly on the table.

<You are drawing attention to yourself again.>

It took her a moment to switch languages, as it always did when Viconia spoke to her. Once she sorted it out, she blinked, then grinned lazily.

<And why would I not want to do that, sister mine?>

The taller drow woman’s lip curled in a half-smile, amused as she continued calmly sorting through potions. <I cannot think why I thought you would think otherwise, but I would just as soon not end up at the hands of a mob again. Is there no other outlet for your nervous energy?>

<Nervous implies fear, darling. I prefer to think of it as readiness> Vex’s voice was bland, her face amused, but her eyes flickered sideways to Dorn’s imposing figure, fully absorbed in cleaning a greatsword on the tabletop, oh-so-tantalisingly close, and yet so far. Viconia’s eyes followed.

<Ah. Of course. That explains it.>

A hot flare of irritation, coupled with a stab of pain form her head, flashed through her, making the edges of her vision red. <Nothing explains nothing.> She snapped. <Keep your tongue behind your teeth where it belongs before I rip it out.>

The other woman snorted, but returned to her potion bottles. Vex glared at her for a moment, just long enough to show that she was doing it because she wanted to, then pulled her legs back and settled them under the table into the half-orc’s lap. He grunted in surprise, pausing in his task to glance at her. She gave him that same gem-brilliant grin before settling her head back onto her hands and closing her eyes. He regarded her for a moment stoically, then grunted again, and returned to his weapon.

<How charming> The drawl from the other side of the table cut across her private reverie of those battle-scarred hands sliding up her thighs. <Not to criticise, but you really ought to select a better class of mate than that hulking half-breed.>  

She didn’t even open her eyes. <Shut it, male.>

<Oh, you don’t even remotely pull that off, my ridiculous rogue. Besides, mightier matrons than you have tried and failed to silence my fabulous wit.>

She chuckled softly, wriggling her feet against the blackguard’s thigh to see if she could get a reaction. Probably not, the thickness of his armour was ridiculous.

The server came and cautiously placed down pitchers of ale and carafes of wine, glancing uneasily sidelong at the members of their little group – the drinks would be good, she knew. Baeloth had a way of ensuring the best the inns had. Perhaps she could persuade Dorn to drink enough to loosen up a little. He had barely spoken to her since the night under Spellhold which had left her shaky and breathless, with dark lines scored down her back. She still held vivid memories of his warm weight between her hips, calloused fingers dug into her skin, hot breath and sharp teeth on her neck and shoulder sending lightning waves of heat from her jaw to her belly. 

She thought she had seen something like reverence in his face when she had woken up screaming at them to run. The sight of him half-naked, towering over her with his sword raised as the slayer had ripped and shredded its way out of her skin lit almost as much desire in her for him as it did fear, but it seemed now that what she had gained in a worshiper, she had lost in a lover. She would much have preferred both.

The server finished collecting up the last few empties. She shifted her foot against Dorn’s leg again, sliding her sole subtly up the inside of his thigh. His hands never paused in his task. Did she imagine the hitch in his breathing, the darkening of his eyes?

It was a soft mutter, under the server’s breath as he turned, but to the keen hearing of the three drow present it might as well have been a battle cry. The sound of shattering glass knifed through the idle chatter of the inn as the tray clattered to the floor. In less than a second, the assassin had spun off her chair and had one fist balled in the unfortunate man’s shirt. The other held the tip of a blade hooked between his lips, stretching the corner of his mouth and scraping uncomfortably against his teeth.

"What did you call me?"

Her tone was pleasant and conversational in the sudden silence, but her eyes in his face were hot and unhinged. Waves of red and black pulsed around the corners of her vision; furious heat coiled in her belly. He whimpered as she pushed the knife hard against his cheek and she grinned like Cyric. The urge rose up in her to cut him, to slice into his cheek and taste hot iron, and hear him screaming like a prayer, to feel his pulse ebb against her, to cutslicefeeltastehotandfuriousandwetandslick-

She took her hand from his shirt and wrapped it lovingly around the back of his head in the sudden, shocking silence, unaware of the creak of hands on weapons or the frozen stances of her companions behind her. She pressed the blade in harder, the scent of the blood welling up to trickle down his chin mixing with the scent of fear.

"Say it again."

Her voice slipped between her lips in a low hiss. Behind her, Viconia glanced at Hexxat, coiled like a snake and ready to spring, at Baeloth, already drawing in the shape of some spell, at Dorn, shifting his weight subtly away from the table, ready to burst into motion. Violence bubbled in the air.

"Vechsan! Vex!" She snapped.

The man’s desperate, whimpering sobs were the only sound in the inn, but Viconia was close enough to see Vex freeze. She drew in a shuddering breath, and stayed the motion of the knife. But she didn’t pull away. Viconia could see her shoulder heaving with laboured breaths, eyes still on the face of the dead man walking. From the side they were lit with a fey light, almost gold, a far cry from their usual pale grey.

"Vex, stop." She snapped again, mind racing. "There will be time enough for this another day with a more worthy prey."

"Why?" Her voice was raw, and strained, tension in the line of her shoulders. "Why not? Usstan ssinssrin ulu-"

A hissing crack shattered the silence, and she was cut off mid-sentence by the bolt of energy which scythed past Viconia’s shoulder, slamming into her back between her shoulder blades. Her body bowed as if struck by lightning, and the server let out a strangled sob of relief as the knife clattered to the floorboards. She sunk to her knees, eyelids fluttering, shock on her face.

The moment the knife dropped from her fingers, room exploded into action. Patrons dropped to the floor or crawled under tables as missiles flew in all directions across the room. Viconia lunged for Vex as Hexxat tumbled past her, lithe and graceful as she snapped the neck of a guardsman. The assassin lay unconscious on the ground, breathing shallowly. Viconia glanced back over her shoulder to see Baeloth throwing pulses of energy at an unfortunate dwarf who looked to have just been in the inn for a drink.

<Well?> He snapped. <Don’t just stand there, get her!>

Viconia swore under her breath in drow.

"Get the blackguard! I can’t carry her."

"Make it quick, darling." Hexxat flowed past her again in the other direction with a spray of gore strangely at odds with her fluid motion. "Someone called the big boys."

Sure enough, moments later the door slammed back against the wall and a squad of flaming fist waded into the battle. Fortunately for the group, the melee had escalated well past the point of clear sides into a general roiling brawl. Viconia tossed a confusion spell into the fray for good measure, relying on the natural resistance of her companions to minimise the damage, then threw a sanctuary up around herself and Vex.

"Blackguard!" She screamed.

In moments, Dorn was beside her, breathing hard but steadily. She dismissed the sanctuary as he reached down to lift the slim woman up one-handed, tossing her unceremoniously over one shoulder. She called for the others, but Hexxat was already tripping the broken lock on the closest exit, and with that they were running again, away into the night, with the unconscious Bhaalspawn draped over the Blackguard’s shoulder.

They made it out of the city with little further trouble. The brawl in the inn drew more people in out of curiosity or opportunity, and those who walked away were of little interest, even accounting for the hooded faces and the unconscious woman draped over Dorn. By tomorrow, their faces - or at least, Vex’s face - would be plastered all over the city gates and walls, but for tonight, they could rest easy, secure in the knowledge that their presence would be no more noticed than usual. They made out through the city gates, walking quickly, but casually, and headed out along the road into the safety of trees and farmland.

"Does she live?" Hexxat murmured, once they were out of earshot of the walls.

"Of course she lives." Snapped Viconia. "Do you see her turned to dust and blowing away on the wind?"

"A simple stun glyph, nothing more." Confirmed Baeloth, eyeing the assassin’s swaying arms as they hung down the half-orc’s back. "Although I must point out that ending the child of a god, even whilst unconscious, must yield some rewards, don’t you think?"

Viconia relaxed a little. Discussions of backstabbing and murder. This was much more comfortable ground than a soulless, half-crazy, half-goddess, half way to losing her mind.

 "Ending this particular godchild will result in no more "entertainment’ for you." She retorted.

"And far fewer routes to power." Rumbled Dorn. "If you wish to murder a Bhaalspawn for your own ends, choose one whose loss will not impact on my plans." He shifted her to a more comfortable position on his shoulder, and Baeloth took care to note of how his fingers wrapped needlessly around the top of her thigh.

They were half an hour out from the brawl when she groaned and opened her eyes. The world spun and turned around her, disorienting and nauseating.

"Oh, Gods." She slurred. "I’m going to throw up."

"Do and you will wish you hadn’t."

Dorn’s voice, and she couldn’t work out where it was coming from. She tried to push herself up on her hands, and failed when she found the surface beneath her was vertical and moving as she did.

"What the-?" She succeeded in pushing herself onto her elbows and peered groggily around. "Put me down."

He ignored her, and carried on walking, although his lips might have twitched into a faint smile. She twisted irritably and lashed a foot at him, then yelped as her booted foot hit solid metal. He just barely resisted the temptation to slap her rear, only stopping at the thought of the smug grin it would earn him from the sorcerer. She flailed ineffectually at him for a while, then settled into a moody sulk when she failed to free herself, pointedly ignoring the smirks and sniggers from the others.

Before long, they found a spot to make camp, a copse of trees sheltered on all sides by the hills. Packs were dropped and Hexxat had sauntered off to find wood for a fire, when she hammered on his back.

"Now, put me down."

He heaved his shoulder and dropped her. She heard snickers as she landed in a graceless sprawl of limbs and tried to roll onto her feet, but her aching head and bones prevented her from doing anything but flop uselessly onto her back. She snarled irritably.

"I swear, one night I will cut your throat whilst you sleep."

He looked down at her, prone and useless and still spitting venom. "Hrmm." His face was impassive. "You are vastly irritating, godchild. Has anyone ever told you this?"

She cackled from her position on the floor. "Ooh. Talk dirty to me."

He paused for a moment with something unidentifiable on his face, then snorted and turned back to the others. She lay there on her back waiting for the stars to stop spinning overhead and murmuring to herself.

<Oh, I am going to climb that man like a tree.>

A snort of laughter from the direction of the camp told her that she had not been quite as quiet as she had intended. After a moment, she pushed herself up onto her knees and managed to stumble over to where Viconia and Hexxat were building up a fire. Viconia glanced up at her as she approached.

<Next time you feel the need to follow the call of your sire, perhaps you could choose to do so in less restricted quarters.>

The priestess’ voice was dry, but there was a note of concern behind her words. Faint as it was, it stood starkly out in a language never designed for the tone. Irritation flashed in her chest again, hot and sharp, with another knife of pain driven into her skull. She gritted her teeth.