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underdark-dreams · 7 months

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Rolan putting Tav in their place? But like….in a frisky way 👀🔥

Rolan x fem!Tav

Master

"Sit still and behave." She's feeling impatient for some attention from the Master of Ramazith's Tower. She decides he needs to let off some steam; Rolan decides to teach her some proper respect.

Tags: Obedience, Praise Kink, Soft Dom, Explicit Sexual Content | Word Count: 3,875 [Read on AO3]

“Did they even do the readings? Half of these are wrong…I’ll have to regive all the illusory lectures…”

Rolan’s brow furrowed deeper as he read down the page. Frustration practically radiated from the way he hunched over his desk, and she wished for the umpteenth time that he would just take a break.

“I’m sure they’ll get it with time,” she told him, gently rubbing his shoulders.

Inwardly, she found it difficult to feel concerned about his students’ grades at the moment. She was far too busy admiring how good Rolan looked when he was a bit disheveled.

It was a rare sight; he preferred to keep his appearance clean and tidy at all times, his robes neatly pressed and hair half-pulled back to keep it out of his eyes.

Right now, this was about as unkempt as she’d ever seen Rolan outside their bedroom. His hair was loose from its tie. As he worked, one lock swung forward between his horns, and he impatiently swept it away with the feather of his quill. He had pushed the sleeves of his underrobe up to his elbows. She watched the sinews of his forearm flex under his crimson skin as he scrawled a severe note on his student's parchment.

She knew his state was a testament to the stress he’d been under lately. Beyond her love for the petulant wizard seated in front of her, she didn’t have much personal experience with wizardry. But Rolan had said enough to impress upon her how important these upcoming exams were for his young pupils. For the oldest of them, their results could mean the difference between continuing their studies or finding another vocation. Rolan took the task of preparing them quite seriously.

Perhaps too seriously, she thought to herself, watching the muscle of his jaw flex with concentration. The candles standing beside his desk were burned down to dripping puddles of wax.

He needed a good distraction, and that she could help with. She crossed forearms along the back of his chair and perched her chin on his shoulder.

“Come to bed?” She asked him. “You’ve been grading for hours.”

Rolan hardly seemed to hear her. "In a moment," he murmured.

It wasn't his usual response to a proposition. Teasing or enthusiasm she was used to, but flat out disinterest was new. It stung a little more than it had a right to.

She knew she should respect his work at hand. If he didn't look so downright frazzled, she might have.

Instead, she gave into the temptation to take advantage of his concentration. She slid one arm down around Rolan's shoulders and leaned in to tuck the curtain of his hair back behind one long red ear.

Then she kissed along the line of it from lobe to pointed tip. She'd always been fond of Rolan's Infernal gifts, particularly his sharply tapered ears—even more so as one of the few people allowed to appreciate them. His usual style kept them tucked and hidden behind his hair.

Rolan sighed slowly as her lips made their soft journey, just enough to satisfy her that she was getting to him. She knew she was being a nuisance, but it had been days since she had him to herself. Rolan was passionate about his work—she couldn’t help selfishly wanting a little of it for herself tonight.

“You’ve been sleeping at your desk too much lately,” she murmured against the shell of his ear.

“Can’t be helped,” Rolan replied, although the fingers of his free hand raised to the arm she had curled over his collar. “These exams are the most consequential step in an apprenticeship. I’d be a worthless archmage if I let my students arrive at Blackstaff unprepared.”

“Rolan, there’s no way that would happen.” She broke away slightly to look at the thick stack of assignments he was grading. “Don’t you think…maybe you’re overworking them? You’re definitely overworking yourself.”

“I’m fine,” Rolan said a bit sharply, turning to the next student’s parchment. “I can certainly handle a little paperwork.”

She pouted slightly at the back of his head, then leaned in to place a kiss under his ear. “That’s not what I meant.”

Rolan let out a short huff as he set down his quill. Feeling a bit smug with herself, she let his grip over her arm draw her around beside him, quite unsuspecting.

Before she could tense her relaxed muscles, Rolan’s grip jerked her down. One of her hands flew to grab the far edge of the wooden seat, but she still landed hard on his lap, her back thumping against his chest.

“After all our time together, I’d expect you to understand the duties of an archwizard,” Rolan scolded her. His voice reverberated against her back as he tucked her slightly to one of his legs so he could keep working. Then his fingers plucked up his quill, even as his other forearm wrapped tighter below her navel to keep her firmly planted.

After a week starved from his attention, the humbling position made her face grow warm. "Rolan, I do understand. I just think y—"

“Good,” Rolan cut her off. “Then sit still and behave.” He was ordering her in the same tone she sometimes heard him use with his apprentices—as if she was nothing but another naughty pupil.

She bit her lip. That could work. Oh, could it ever. “All right.”

After that, they both sat in silence. The steady scratch of quill tip against parchment was the only sound drifting through the candlelight. She kept herself perched quietly on Rolan’s thighs, watching the neat movements of his writing hand, feeling the steady beat of his heart between her shoulder blades. Of all the positions she hoped to find herself in tonight, fully clothed and trapped on his lap wasn't one of them.

But she could certainly work with it.

Carefully, as if just adjusting to a more comfortable position, she wiggled her hips up higher against his lap. She felt the muscle in Rolan’s forearm clench slightly over her, but he said nothing as he turned to another page.

Testing his patience, she scooted back toward him again. This time she pressed her palms against his thighs for balance, letting her hips bounce slightly down against him. The game was rapidly becoming unsubtle.

It wasn’t lost on her wizard. “That won't get you anything,” Rolan warned her.

But despite his words, she could already feel him stirring underneath her. Lovely heat coiled in her stomach in response. “Will from where I’m sitting,” she answered back saucily.

“Hmm.” His monotone hum reverberated against her back, but Rolan didn’t look up from the note he was scribbling. However disappointing his verbal responses, Rolan’s body gave him away the same way it always did.

It only made her braver. She leaned forward on an elbow as if to read his work. In the same motion, she nudged her hips back to press herself more firmly against the growing hardness under his robes, dragging her center across his clothed thigh at the same time. She’d prefer to make use of the lovely ridges near his knee, but that would have to wait for another night.

“Take off your clothes.”

She blinked at him over her shoulder. “What?” Surely she had misheard—Rolan’s expression was impassive, eyes still on the pages scattered over his desk.

“Take off your clothes,” he calmly repeated, still not looking at her. “Now.”

If he was calling her bluff, he wouldn’t get the satisfaction. Slowly, she leaned back against his chest. She would go along with whatever game he wanted to play.

She began with her bodice. Her fingers ran down the lacings, plucking them open like harp strings, feeling the heat already starting to pool between her thighs in anticipation. With her head leaned back over Rolan’s shoulder, she could feel the steady tickle of his breath down her collar and chest, though he was still steadfastly marking the parchment before him.

Rolan was studiously ignoring her, even as she undressed. It was new, and it made something shy and uncertain coil in her chest. When they were together normally he liked to be the one removing her clothes. He practically insisted on it.

But tonight he made no move, apparently content to let her take as much or as little time as she liked.

She favored the latter. With that thought in mind, she pressed herself forward to shuck the unlaced bodice back over her shoulders. Rolan’s arm over her loosened to allow her undershirt to follow. When both garments were discarded on the floor beside his chair, she leaned back against him, bare above the waist. She couldn’t help arching her chest up a little as Rolan’s loose hair tickled against her neck.

"Everything," Rolan directed her. His arm remained draped unmoving over her belly. He either didn't notice her body language or was choosing to ignore the invitation to grope her.

It made her feel even needier for him. Perhaps that's why she wiggled out of her pants and smallclothes so eagerly, nearly tipping sideways off Rolan’s clothed lap in the process. His palm splayed up against her sternum to catch her, and the sharp nail of his thumb pressed into one of her breasts. A small gasp escaped her.

Rolan made a noise low in his throat, and when his hand raised from her chest toward her chin, she understood his intention with eagerness.

She parted her lips to take two of his long, slender fingers into her mouth, licking and swirling her tongue to wet them completely. Her cheeks hollowed as she sucked his digits in deeper over her tongue. Rolan needed reminding of what her mouth could do, and she was pleased to feel his length twitch under her in response. She hummed in satisfaction over his fingers.

Rolan pulled them from her mouth then, and she felt a string of saliva stretch and land across her chin. Before she could wipe it away, two slickened fingertips nudged at the hot apex of her thighs.

She let out a needy groan as her head tipped back over Rolan’s shoulder; her warm cheek pressed against his. She let her thighs fall open for him. But Rolan only continued to make soft and idle circles over her folds, dragging the wetness that was already pooling there up around her entrance, not quite hitting the aching spot above. Her hips rolled forward greedily toward his palm.

“I told you, sit still.” How could he possibly have the nerve to keep writing at a moment like this? She did her best to obey his command, but the way Rolan’s breath had quickened behind her made it difficult.

“Rolan…” His name left her in another groan, this time almost begging. She arched her back to curl an arm around behind him. Her fingers found the curve of one of his horns, and her grip tugged up and down the hard ridged length of it—wishing it was the hard ridged length nudging up against her backside.

In one movement, Rolan’s writing hand swept up the stack of papers from the desk in front of them and deposited them on the floor.

His grip on her arms was rougher than she was used to as he jerked their connected bodies upright, but it was somehow exactly what she craved. She heard his chair clatter to the floor behind them—her hands flew to the now-empty desk for balance as she landed on her feet.

“I’m a very busy man, you know,” Rolan hissed into her ear; he kept her facing away with nails dimpling against the flesh of her hips. “I don't have time for these games.”

“Sorry,” she lied, breathless. “Let me make it up to you?” She reached eagerly back for him, wanting to pull him closer by his robes, before something drew her palms together behind her back.

Rolan’s tail coiled around her wrists in a makeshift binding. Its soft ridges rubbed over her skin, the sudden friction causing her to freeze in place.

"You can tell me to stop.”

Rolan’s voice was suddenly low, and she glanced back over her shoulder to his face. His eyes burned molten gold, but she caught hesitation beneath and realized what he was looking for. She nodded her head yes.

Then the palm of Rolan’s hand settled between her shoulder blades, and steadily, he pushed down.

Her body bent at the waist over the hard surface, goosebumps tickling her skin where her bare chest met the cool wood. She shivered from the cold, and more so from the delicious uncertainty of whatever he was planning to do with her. The firm coil of Rolan’s tail trailed from her wrists across the bare skin of her back.

"Do you know how infuriating you can be?" Rolan's voice chided behind her, even as his hands on her ass massaged and spread her apart for him. "I have a great deal of work to do, yet you insist on interrupting."

"Why don't you give me something to shut me up, then?" She did her best to tease back, but she could only imagine the view Rolan had of her slick folds as his hands pulled to expose her. She ached for his fingers and mouth and cock—for any part of him to touch her again and provide release.

"Always so greedy for my attention," Rolan said, as if he could read her thoughts. "High time you learned a little discipline."

The warmth of one hand left her. Then, without warning, his palm reconnected with a stinging slap against her ass. The shock lurched her body forward, grinding the ache between her legs against the hard edge of his desk. A shameless mewl escaped her throat.

“Hush,” Rolan tutted softly from behind. “I run a reputable business here, you know. Unless you want everyone below to learn what a state you’re in?”

“Oh yes—” From her prone position, she still tried to crane her neck back at him. “I’m sure your patrons would love to know that the new mage of Ramazith’s Tower is a perverted little—”

His palm smacked against her a second and third time, once on either side, the lewd sounds echoing all around the cavernous room and causing her words to stutter into an incoherent moan. She just barely bit it back this time.

“Good girl,” Rolan hummed in approval, and she couldn’t ignore the way her insides quivered from the praise. He smoothed both hands over the heated skin on her flanks as if rewarding her obedience. “Now spread for me.”

Incredible how four little words could make her throb and drip for him. It was vulgar and irresistible, and she obeyed wordlessly, shifting her bare feet further apart to expose herself more fully to him. The rush of cool air between her legs was almost too much to bear.

There was the soft rustle of movement behind her—she could practically feel Rolan’s body heat moving closer. In the next moment the length underneath his robes pressed firmly in between her legs.

She dug teeth into her lower lip to restrain another wanton groan. He was so hard already—was it all from this little game? Sweet hells, if only she'd tried his patience like this before. She couldn’t spare a thought to wonder, could only fixate on the anticipation of Rolan filling her. Her cunt throbbed against the fabric between them at the thought.

She heard Rolan inhale through his teeth. "So desperate even now. Gods, you're shameless." But his hands traveled up the arch of her back, his softly filed nails whispering against the skin under her bound arms from her ass to her shoulder blades, as if relishing the position he had her in.

Then his grip cupped down over each of her hip bones, and he ground her back against his hardness.

The gesture dragged the bare front of her against the cool wood surface, and a shuddering exhale fell from her lips. “Fuck, Rolan—”

“Is this not what you wanted?” Rolan asked her, calling down patience from gods knew where. “Tell me, then.”

"I want you to fuck me,” she gasped out, ready to be done with the teasing. The words formed a heated fog across the wood surface underneath her.

"Ask nicely, then." One of Rolan’s thumbs pulled at her flesh, no doubt giving himself another view of her wet slit, teasing her open again without touching her where she needed it most.

“Please—” Maybe she'd never been more desperate for him; or maybe she'd always known he would love it. "Master Rolan, please fuck me—"

Rolan's hands were gone from her in a flash, and she heard and felt them working on the laces of his pants.

She’d never been more ready for him. Shamefully eager, she craned her head as best she could from her bent and bound position to watch him reach through the slits in his robe to unfasten his pants. Then his beautiful red cock sprang free from the fabric, deliciously hard and lined with those angled, concentric ridges that she knew could make her see stars. Her mouth watered at the sight of him.

She must look positively desperate for it, because Rolan was watching her face with a dark glint of approval in his eyes. As he did, one of his elegant hands closed around his cock and pumped lazily. She squirmed with impatience.

"Say it again." Rolan's dark-set eyes watched her with something like anticipation, his baritone husky with desire.

Her mind was so addled from the delicious sight of him stroking himself that it took a moment to grasp what he was requesting.

"You like that?" She asked suddenly, licking her lips. "When I call you Master?”

Rolan's hips bucked forward into his own grip, almost involuntary. Despite her position naked and prone on his desk, she felt a kind of power tip back into her hands.

“Because that's what you are, Rolan…” She looked back at him from under her lashes, wanting to see what the words might do to him. “Master of this tower, Master of the Weave—Master of me—”

Rolan's face was flushing burgundy, his eyes smoldering into her as if hanging on every word. His tail unwound from her wrists to shudder and flick behind him in a motion she’d grown to recognize as pure desire.

“Just look at what you do to me,” she breathed. Wetness leaked down her inner thighs as she spoke. “No one else fucks me like you. You're so good—so powerful—fuck, just please Rolan, I need you—”

With a guttural sound, Rolan pressed and sheathed himself in her completely.

The abrupt stretch between her legs made her cry out and clutch at the far edge of his desk. Rolan hadn't readied her with his fingers the way he usually did—very little about tonight was usual. His ridges were hot and tight against her walls, but the ache was exactly what she craved.

Before she had fully adjusted, Rolan pulled out from her almost completely, and then his hips snapped back into her a second and third time. The pressure almost made her sob in relief.

Rolan’s hands landed on either side of hers, sharp nails digging into the wood underneath them as his body pressed down over her. He was truly, finally fucking her; she felt the silk of his robes drag against her overheated skin with each thrust, and then the shift of his body hit a new angle inside her.

His tip abruptly met with that deep and sensitive spot, pounding into the aching nerves there again and again. Her eyes rolled back with an unrestrained moan.

"Again," he panted, his face close behind her ear. The control in his voice was fading with each jerk of his hips.

Her skin was on fire; all she could concentrate on was the ridged length of him rapidly filling and stretching her, each quick thrust grinding and rocking her clit against the smooth wood under their bodies.

"Master Rolan, plea-se—" The last word was jerked in two by the force of him fucking her into his desk—"just like this, fuck, I’ve wanted this for weeks—you’re so—so fucking good—”

The words were babbling incoherently from her, but they seemed to be what he needed. Rolan let out a broken groan into the skin of her back as he twitched and spilled inside her. But he didn’t slow his rhythm. Instead his hands gripped either side of her hips, sharp nails digging into her skin, fucking his spend deep into her with driving force.

It was possessive and raw and hot and the feeling made her own orgasm crash down around her, her walls spasming and clutching around him as if to keep him there. She felt the gush of heat from her center leaking out all around him and spilling down her legs.

Her arms and legs trembled weakly; she was grateful for the support of Rolan’s desk holding her up, hard and cold though it was. She gathered enough strength to glance back at him as he straightened and pulled out of her, just in time to catch Rolan admiring the way his come dripped from her opening.

“I love you,” she panted up at him. “That was…gods, Rolan.”

He looked just as dazed as she felt as he stood with hands still resting on her hips for balance. But Rolan said nothing in response, only drew one of her limp hands from the desk up to his lips. Then he shook his shoulders slightly as if to rouse his senses, tucking himself back into his pants.

Dipping a hand to the floor, Rolan thrust a bundle of her clothes unceremoniously toward her. “Clean yourself up. I have more work to do.”

She would have laughed if she wasn’t so spent. He was being intentionally brusque; perhaps embarrassed by how far he’d let himself go. The lingering flush on his cheeks and the way his outstretched arm shook both undercut the attempt slightly.

She straightened up on wobbling legs to pluck the clothes from him. Despite his rudeness, she felt satisfied with the knowledge that the heavy smell of sex and the image of her spread open for him on that very desk would make concentrating on his menial paperwork a near-impossible task.

Before he’d let go of her wrinkled garments, she pulled him by them into a quick kiss. “Come to bed soon,” she told him firmly. “Or else I’ll come back and carry you there.”

Rolan exhaled through his nose, the bare hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Give me an hour.”

An unthinkable wait after the lay he’d just given her. But she made no complaints as she turned—it wouldn’t do to let him have too much power.

“Fine,” she called over her shoulder. She put a little sway in her hips as she sauntered toward the bedroom staircase, strongly suspecting that his eyes were following her. “But this time, Master Rolan, I’m getting you naked.”

#nsft #spicy #rolan x tav #tav x rolan #bg3 rolan #rolan bg3 #rolan #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 smut #bg3 fic #this one took me forever #rewrote it about 4 times #but omg i love this look for him

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