#butterfly locks essek?

[kurosmind]

I have more to say about this

[glossolali]

a heart is hard to translate

shadowgast - cat café AU

coda to chanse @spottedenchants cute catfé fic (tumblr, ao3)

—

Caleb's ginger waves are twisted into a simple braid today, and a beloved memory flips its dog-eared pages open for Essek, warming him inside and out.

"Do you remember when we first met and you were wearing your hair up with one fishtail braid on each side?"

His partner looks up at him with an amused half-smile, "Yes."

"I recall thinking it was on purpose for a moment. It took me by surprise, and I got even more nervous. I always wondered if you knew what it meant."

Caleb's brow furrows further.

"I suppose from the mystified look on your face that you don't, then."

Caleb slots a postcard into his book and shuts it and lays it in his lap, then looks intently at Essek.

"Am I supposed to?"

"Not necessarily."

Caleb quirks a brow at him, squints and waits, then smiles again when nothing more is proffered.

"Alright."

And he makes to go back to his book, a little smile still curling his lip.

Infuriating man.

In bringing this up, something in his belly flutters, dormant butterflies from their first meeting awakening from their slumber.

read the rest on AO3

"Hair and hairstyles have some significance in Kryn culture. As does its lack, but that's a story for a different time." He smiles ruefully when he catches Caleb's eye again, who gazes back at him, curious and attentive once more.

"Some styles are meant to indicate status, wealth. Some more complex styles are specific to specific dens. Yours, however, was something different. The style is called Nau'shindcal, meaning fruit."

"Fruit.. What is that referring to?"

Essek regards him meaningfully and then says in a matter-of-fact tone, "Well.. fruit is meant to be picked, and eaten."

It is a rare thing, but it always makes Essek even more utterly taken with him to see Caleb blush as he does now, how it colors his pale skin rosy, all the way down his neck and up to the tips of his ears.

Eyes round, he blinks a few times, seemingly speechless.

Essek carries on, so very delighted, and curious to see how he reacts further.

"Literally, the word comes from the root words 'forbidden' and 'eat'. It is meant to indicate one's availability and willingness to be courted. And imply others' temptation to do so. Not unlike the temptation to pick a piece of fruit from a tree."

Caleb's eyes widen and he processes for a few more moments then, adorably, he hides his face in his open book and grumbles loudly.

"Ugh.. Jester. Jessie knew. That's why she insisted," his muffled voice says.

Essek is taken aback, and it makes him laugh, sudden and wholehearted.

"Ah. It actually makes a lot of sense that she was involved."

Exasperating as she is, he loves that meddling girl very much.

Caleb has now laid his head on the table and is covering his head with his book.

Essek reaches over and gently moves the book aside, and cards his fingers through Caleb's auburn locks, curling a strand around his forefinger as he speaks.

"If it helps, it made you even more.. intriguing. And not just because you looked good in that hairstyle."

Caleb looks up at him from under lovely ginger lashes, embarrassment seemingly forgotten, and sends a smirk his way that makes the butterflies flit around even more aggressively.

"Noted."

Essek smiles back in much the same manner, and silently applauds himself that he succeeded in flustering Caleb a little. It's why he brought this up in the first place.

Caleb leans up and into the space between them and kisses him soundly and suddenly. Essek makes a surprised noise, then presses back into the kiss, reciprocating, drawn to him as if by something as irrefutable as gravity.

Caleb looks terribly self-satisfied when he pulls away. Essek's face warms, and he rolls his eyes, pushing on Caleb's chest playfully to get away from him.

"Caleb Widogast."

Caleb laughs, and it lights up his nerves in the best way, and Essek can't resist his infectious joy, his own irritated smile splitting into a laugh as he joins him right after.

He makes a mental note to thank Jester later.

[nellasbookplanet]

Will you believe me if I say the Molaesmyr au immediately morphed into a weird magic wild ride about the nein ending up in alternate realities and encountering different versions of themselves? Yeah.

Also, remember that one time when I talked longingly about an au where Caleb was too slow to bring out the Beacon in the Bright Queen's court and the gang were all captured? Because I sure remembered.

Excerpt under readmore.

It comes to him all at once. He’s only been here once before, but the memory is bright like a flash of lightning in his mind: a breakfast of slightly stale pastries and cheeses, digging up clay in the backyard, pouring over arcane notes in the laboratory tower. This is—was—Essek’s home.

Just as the thought settles at the front of his mind, dazing in its unexpectedness, the door at the far end of the room opens and a figure glides through, perusing a stack of papers, a pinched expression on his face. Caleb, unwillingly, sucks in a breath, and Essek looks up. Their gazes lock, and both of them freeze.

Essek recovers first, letting the stack of papers fall as he flings out a hand, barking a word in Undercommon. Caleb recognizes the call for arcane Lightning and reacts reflexively by mirroring the motion, lifting his own hand and shouting an invocation. Black lightning zigzags toward him, throwing the room in stark black-and-white relief, but as it meets his Counterspell it cleaves, splitting on either side of him before dissipating fully. The air is left dry and staticky. Small sparks leap from metal objects around the room, and Caleb’s and Essek’s hair both stand on end. Caleb gives another gasp, feeling his lungs burn and eyes water from the near hit.

Essek doesn’t give him a moment’s reprieve. His other hand rises to join the first, and this time Caleb isn’t quick enough; the Counterspell is knocked from his mouth and he’s not so much lifted into the air as sucked up and forward. Force crushes him from all sides, and he’s left like a crinkled piece of paper, hanging suspended and paralyzed.

“You,” says this strange Essek, “should not be here.”

Caleb would very much like to respond, but his lungs are being crushed and his mouth is full of blood. In his ears is the roar of his own heartbeat, loud enough to almost drown out the words of his friend.

Essek stares at him for a moment, still that pinched expression to his face, before lowering Caleb to the floor with perhaps a bit too much force. Caleb hits the ground back first, head ringing, and lies pinned like a butterfly to a board. The crushing force eases slightly, just enough for him to breathe but not so much his bones stop creaking. He still cannot move.

Above him, the ceiling and its intricate geometric patterns is blotted out by Essek, head tilted as he stares down at his captive.

“Essek,” Caleb manages to wheeze, “what are you doing? It is me.” 

Essek flinches. The spell does not let up.

“How did you get here?” he says curtly, cutting. “Did someone help you? You are supposed to be—”

The words stop, and he narrows his pale eyes. In a flash, he’s on the floor with Caleb, hovering still but kneeling, close enough to touch. Which he does; his hand reaches out and grabs Caleb’s chin, tilting his head to the side as if inspecting it. The motion makes Caleb’s neck, still crushed under that unnatural gravity, complain loudly. Essek releases him, looking anything but pleased.

“You aren’t him.”

“I am a friend,” Caleb responds, perhaps a bit desperately. He’s not sure how much longer his ribcage will hold up before collapsing into his lungs. “Essek, please—”

“Who are you?”

“I am Caleb. You know this, you know me, dammit!”

Essek’s eyes gleam. He lifts one hand, lets it hover just above Caleb’s trembling chest. The pressure grows incrementally worse. 

“Do you think me a fool?” he says, slowly crushing the life out of Caleb. “I am perfectly capable of recognizing the face of my own prisoner when presented it. You are not him. What kind of trap is this supposed to be?” His lips purse, expression irked. “Did you think me soft on him? That his face would make me lapse in my security?”

The edges of Caleb’s vision have started to turn black. He doesn’t have much time. His fuzzy mind desperately tries to fit the pieces together in time to save him. Essek, but not Essek, dressed in Shadowhand regalia and evidently thinking of Caleb as an enemy. The traces of dunamancy before he found himself here, a place that should no longer exist in a manner such as this. Has he time traveled? Is this Essek before the Nein befriended him? But no; he’d called Caleb a prisoner, not a hero of the Dynasty.

This isn’t Caleb’s Essek. This isn’t Caleb’s world.

“Well?” Essek—the Shadowhand—says. “Who sent you?”

“You!” Caleb says. “You sent me.”

Finally something to catch him off-guard. Essek’s eyes go wide with surprise, the hand over Caleb’s chest twitching. Some of the pressure lets up. Not so much Caleb can stand or even sit up, but he can move his fingers, can suck in a full breath of air. Not moving his eyes so as not to give anything away, he sketches a sigil on the floor with his fingertips, not speaking the incantation until the very last second, as he feels the dispelling magic already gathering to be released.

The graviturgy magic frees him all at once.

Essek rears back, but isn’t fast enough to recast or counterspell. Caleb grips him with Telekinesis and flings him away. There’s more desperation than finesse in the motion and Essek hits the wall hard enough to knock down a couple of paintings. He hisses and squirms but Caleb doesn’t let him go.

As he sits up, one arm still outstretch toward Essek, there are crunching noises inside his chest. Caleb groans and bends double over his knees. Blood drips from his face onto his trousers and his vision swims. He realizes, belatedly, that Essek has stopped struggling. When Caleb looks up, even that small motion paining him, the drow meets his gaze with outward calm, but a fierce burning in his eyes.

“It would,” he says, with barely concealed fury, “be in your best interest to let me go.”

Caleb can’t help but laugh. Droplets of blood splatter his lips. “You will have to excuse me if I do not believe that, friend.”

Essek narrows his eyes at him and says, deadpan, “Friend.”

“Ja.”

“Who are you?” A twitch, as if he’s trying to move his head, but the spell holds him tight. “You admittedly look like him, though not so much as to be a deliberate disguise spell. You are older. Different scars, different hair.” He frowns. “A relative? Older brother, perhaps, here to save a loved one? Bold move, I must admit, for a human not only to walk alone into the Dynasty but into the home of the Shadowhand himself.”

“No risk, no reward,” Caleb mumbles, finding it oddly funny. His head is starting to get fuzzy. “I did not lie to you. You and I, we know each other. Just not…” He frowns. “Just not here, it seems.” He looks up. “I do not know where I am, Thelyss.”

Essek is staring at him. Then, Caleb doesn’t see anything more, because the floor is rushing up to meet his face and he blacks out.

[sapphicquill]

congrats on 100 followers friend <3 may I ask for anything with ler!Fjord bc the way you wrote teasing in your TAZ fic was so good? or lee!Lucretia during the Stolen Century arc being tickled out of her antisocial little shell if you're in a TAZ mood :) -Chock

Whoops. This is what happens when my whole life gets flipped upside down and I have to move cross-country back home out of no where! Sorry for the long wait, I'm finally making headway on these fics. I owe the entirety of this fic to @ticklishnonsense's honey-tongued because that’s the Ultimate Teasey Ler!Fjord fic and to @poesparakeet-fics for the plot because my smol brain could not come up with anything good and she gave me THE GOODS. Hope you enjoy, @chockfullofsecrets!

(ao3 link!)

Rating: Teen

Characters: Fjord, Caleb Widogast

Wordcount: 2423

After everything they’ve all been through, Fjord thinks he can handle most things. Spitting up salt water in the mornings, nearly getting impaled by strangers on a regular basis, Nott rifling through his shit—while he’d rather not deal with all of that bullshit, he can and that’s the important thing.

But the crushing weight of all the damn pining happening between Caleb and Essek might be the one thing Fjord absolutely cannot handle for any longer.

It had started innocently enough. Hands brushing and secret smiles and eyes briefly meeting before diverting, full of nerves and excitement and swirling butterflies. He’d experienced some of the same with Jester, but the two wizards were starting to get insufferable. It was painfully obvious to anyone in the room that they had a thing for one another, and even if it wasn’t, Fjord had overheard Caleb whining to Jester more than once about the entire situation, so it wasn’t like he was entirely oblivious to his own crush.

But apparently perpetually sad and stuffy wizards are really bad at just admitting what was right in front of their faces. Fjord’s worried that one of them might just explode soon, and that’s the entirely altruistic reasoning that finally inspires him to insert himself into the situation.

Caleb’s problem, Fjord thinks, is one of confidence. He gets too caught up in his own keen mind, tangling everything up in his head and overthinking and overanalyzing and panicking and deconstructing until everything’s just a jumbled mess of knots. He just needs a little push is all. A little something to nudge him past the trouble that is thinking and into acting. And Fjord thinks he knows a fairly good method of encouragement.

Thus, Fjord is currently standing in the doorway of the mansion library, trying not to reveal his presence too early. Caleb is folded over a desk with a pinched expression on his face that Fjord knows by now means he’s reached some sort of roadblock in whatever he was working on. In other words: a perfect time for an interruption.

“Productive afternoon?”

It’s a testament to how close the group has gotten that Caleb only sort-of flinches at the sudden sound of Fjord’s voice.

“Ah, nein, not really,” the wizard replies as he straightens up. His back makes an ominous cracking noise as he sits up and Fjord winces in sympathy.

“Gods, then maybe it’s time to take a break, hm?”

“Ja, a break…” Caleb trails off, eyes drifting back to the scattered parchment and books on the desk. Fjord resists the temptation to roll his eyes at the utterly predictability of their headstrong wizard.

“Okay, well now I’m making you take a break, Widogast,” he says as he marches swiftly over to Caleb and practically hauls him out of his chair. Caleb, unsurprisingly, goes willingly, letting himself be shuffled over to a nearby sofa.

With a huff, Caleb sits and begins massaging his temples, willing away either a physical ache or a swirling mass of snarled thoughts and ideas. Fjord lowers himself down next to the human and pretends like he isn’t thrilled over what he’s about to do.

A comfortable silence descends then. After a few more vigorous rubs, Caleb leans his head back against the leather of the sofa and closes his eyes and Fjord figures this is the best chance to spring the trap.

Quick as a slash of his falchion, Fjord twists from his spot next to Caleb and pulls him down into a horizontal position before caging the human in from above. He hovers over the now-prone wizard and tries not to feel too smug as Caleb yelps but doesn’t move an inch to try to wiggle away.

“Scheiße, what the hell are you doing?”

“I’ve actually been meaning to talk to you about something,” Fjord says casually as he can. Caleb gives him an exasperated look, complete with raised eyebrow and suspicious frown.

“And this ‘something’ requires you to pin me to a sofa?”

Fjord grins before scooping both of Caleb’s wrists up with one hand and pulling them above his head. Exasperation shifts quickly into a mix of disbelief, fear, and anticipation and Fjord is lucky that around his friends, Caleb wears his emotions very clearly on his face.

“Well,” the warlock starts, “I kind of figured that this particular topic would send you scampering off if I didn’t take some preventative measures.”

A fiery blush colors Caleb’s cheeks and Fjord tries not to laugh.

“And something tells me I thought correctly.”

Caleb makes a noise not unlike one Fjord’s heard from Frumpkin and finally starts to struggle lightly in his grasp, like his body is only now catching up with the rest of him. Fjord lets him, figuring that letting the wizard work himself into a bit of a tizzy will just make his own task easier. Caleb’s terribly predictable. As the human squirms minutely under him, Fjord lets his free hand curve subtly into a claw and hovers it just next to Caleb’s lower ribs.

“Now, see, I also think you might benefit from a little preemptive encouragement, because you’re the most stubborn fucker I’ve ever met when you have to talk about anything personal...”

Fjord trails off when he notices that Caleb’s eyes have locked onto his hand, mostly because he knows that the brilliant mage has connected all of the appropriate dots and will voice a protest in three, two—

“N-nein, Fjord, wait just a moment, there is no need for—”

Fjord slowly flutters his fingers, still poised a hair’s breadth from the stretched expanse of Caleb’s ribs, and Caleb cuts himself off with a hitched laugh-gasp, eyes wide as saucers.

“I don’t think you’re in any position to negotiate right now,” Fjord says, the edges of his voice tinged with a low growl as he keeps the motion of his fingers going. Caleb doesn’t really do much aside from grow ever so slightly redder in the face.

Without further preamble, Fjord finally moves his hand to meet Caleb’s torso. It’s like the wizard has been hit with a successful Thunderwave—his whole body jolts before tensing up so tightly he trembles. Continuing the fluttering from before, Fjord traces across the space between Caleb’s two lowest ribs and grins when Caleb lets out something between a giggle and a whine.

“Gods, you’re so easy to rile up, you know that?”

Caleb’s giggling picks up at Fjord’s words. He’d have pity on the wizard if it wasn’t so adorable. Still gently teasing at the softness of Caleb’s lower ribs, the half-orc leans forward until his mouth is right next to his victim’s ear.

“You’re just that ticklish, huh?”

Caleb thrashes, throwing his head from side to side so rapidly Fjord would be worried the human would hurt himself if he hadn’t watched this happen numerous times before. For good measure, he lets his fingers drift up Caleb’s ribs and lets out a small laugh himself as the giggles morph into airy, full-blown laughter. Exactly as planned.

“So you and Essek,” Fjord says casually as he straightens back up, pitching his voice a little louder to be heard over Caleb’s bubbly laughter. The wizard definitely seems to register his words if the cut-off gasp and even more desperate wiggles are any indication. Fjord laughs a little to himself at the adorable way Caleb scrunches his nose when the increased movement does little to deter his attack. Taking a little pity, Fjord pushes on, his free fingers swirling tight circles up and down Caleb’s right side.

“You know he likes you too, right?”

Fjord’s not exactly sure humans are supposed to turn that shade of red, but Jester’s got healing spells to spare right now, so he continues.

“And as amusing as it is watching you two dance around each other, it’s getting a bit old.”

“B-bitte, Fjord—!”

Caleb’s own laughter cuts off whatever plea was going to escape next. The wizard flops his head a bit side to side, like if he shakes enough he’ll clear Fjord’s words like trapped water from his ears. It’s downright precious and one hundred percent ineffective.

Adjusting his grip on Caleb’s wrists, Fjord lets his fingers trail up his captive’s ribs in the same slow pace he knows will drive Caleb up the damn wall. It’s a little impressive, actually, how easily this light tickling can take their resident wizard apart. Particularly useful at certain times. He can feel Caleb trembling under him, laughs high and desperate as the light tracing fingertips slowly migrate up to what both Jester and Molly affectionately refer to as his worst “death spots.”

“So, here’s my idea.”

His fingers flutter just below the space where his holsters normally are—fortunate Caleb feels comfortable and safe enough to remove them when at the house—and the wizard groans through his laughter.

“Either you promise that you’ll confess to Essek the next time he’s around, or I’ll just have to keep tickling you forever. How’s that sound?”

“Wh-aaat? Bitte, no, that is e-eehviil!”

“That’s kind of the point, bud,” Fjord replies around another laugh of his own. He floats his fingers up the scant few millimeters to the space between Caleb’s uppermost ribs without prompting and hopes that the wail the human lets out doesn’t worry the rest of the Nein. (It shouldn’t, not with the frequency Caleb makes noises like that.)

“I’m not letting up until you tell me the first words out of your mouth when you see Essek next are ‘Can we talk somewhere privately, Shadowhand?’” Fjord pitches his voice into a terrifically awful imitation of a Zemnian accent that has Caleb laughing, somehow, even harder. Though, on second thought, that might have more to do with the rapid little scribbles he’s got focused on the space above Caleb’s top rib than his attempt at accentwork.

Unsurprisingly, Caleb doesn’t say anything much in response, instead throwing all of his effort into laughing and squirming ineffectively. Fjord keeps a careful ear out for any hint of the safeword Jester had insisted everyone know about and respect upon pain of near-death, but the only thing coming out of Caleb is whimpered begging and a spray of foreign curses. Perfect.

Fjord takes a split second to send a silent apology to Jester, who will no doubt be massively upset she missed out on assisting Fjord with this bit of encouragement, but this was his game right now, dammit, and it was time to go for the kill.

(Would it be worth the inevitable tickling the blue tiefling would dish out later? Most definitely.)

“Alright, well, suit yourself, Widogast.”

With that, Fjord moves the tickling to Caleb’s exposed underarm and focuses the entirety of his attention on making the human melt.

With an impressive amount of core strength, Caleb attempts to jackknife in half to throw Fjord off. Fortunately, their wizard’s tricks are well known by now. Fjord barely budges as he keeps up the spidering under Caleb’s arm, letting his fingers trail just the slightest bit up the underside of Caleb’s bicep before reversing back down to the soft spot just above Caleb’s uppermost rib.

The fight drains out of the mage just as quickly as it revved up, leaving him loose and floppy and lost in the throws of his own cackling. Fjord would feel bad if he didn’t know how much Caleb was enjoying himself. Time to step things up a notch.

“You know how to get me to stop, Caleb. Do you really like the thought of me tickling you like this more than the idea of confessing to a crush you know is damn-well mutual? Really seems like it.”

More wailing, more thrashing, but still, no dice. Maybe a slightly different approach…

“Gods above, you’re just too ticklish for your own good, aren’t you?”

As always, Caleb responds viscerally to the mere word and that, of all things, seems to be the final straw.

“Scheiße, bitte! Habt mitleid! Ohhkay, I pr-promise!”

“You promise what?”

“Oh please, I caa-aan’t—!”

Fjord shifts from light tracing along Caleb’s top ribs to a solid press of his palm, steadying the human as his laughter slowly eases up. After a few gulps of air, Caleb continues.

“I will tell Essek how I truly feel when we next encounter him, I swear to you!”

“You’re absolutely promising me you’ll spill about your deep, undying love for Essek Thelyss the very moment he’s within twenty yards of you?” Fjord taunts, curling his fingers back into a claw at Caleb’s right side. The human tenses and anticipatory giggles start bubbling from him almost instantly.

“Ja, ja, I a-ahh-m!”

“Good!” Fjord says brightly, pulling his hand away from Caleb’s squirming form. He smiles down at Caleb, who looks about ready to protest the large hand still pining his wrists to the sofa, before lowering himself to speak directly into the wizard’s ear.

“And maybe after you two have worked everything out, I’ll have a little chat with Essek myself about how much you like this particular method of torture.”

Caleb looks a bit like he’s swallowed a toad.

“F-fjord, mein Gott, wait—”

“I’m sure Molly and Jester would be more than happy to help me tell him all of the best ways to tickle you senseless, hmm? They’re tieflings, you know how honest they get when tickling comes up. They’ll just gush about how much you love it when we wreck you until you can’t remember your own name.”

He isn’t even tickling him anymore, but Caleb is giggling, light and bubbly and tortured, all from Fjord’s teasing alone.

“Hell, maybe we’ll all get you the next time Essek comes by the tower. How’d you like that, him watching you get tickled by every single one of us until you cry and knowing you love every minute of it?”

Caleb’s just babbling in Zemnian through his laughter, eyes squeezed shut and a grin pulling wide at his lips.

“D’you think he’d join in if we asked him to?”

Caleb just keeps laughing. Fjord grins. Mission successful.

[villainandhero]

Sooo anything......... okay how about spicy shadowgast with Dom Essek "taking care" of Sub Caleb who hasn't actually been taking care of himself.

Welp this ended up longer and kinkier than I intended. My smut is rusty so enjoy it!?

It had been a very long month. An exciting promise of artifacts had drawn him to join Reani's expedition to the Savalirwoods. When he finally returned, he was tired, dirty and -for the first time in years- actually smelly.

Essek had cast one gaze at his returning lover and had smirked, clacking his tongue. "Oh but Widogast, that won't do". He'd murmured in the Wizard's ear.

So now he was seated in his luxurious brass bathtub. A shallow layer of water barely covered his nude form as he was watching Essek, who appeared to be gathering some oils and other materials. "We're going to have to clean you up a bit, Widogast, before we do anything else."

Widogast. The name rolling off his lovers tongue already made his heart beat faster. He knew what it meant, and so did his body. He let out a shaky breath. Yes.

"Close your eyes" Essek commanded softly. Caleb obeyed and moments later felt warm water running across his scalp. "Wouldn't want the soap to sting" the drow whispered, and Caleb felt soft lithe hands run through his hair. The smell of Lavender filled the space as Essek moved his hands down to his neck, and then to his beard, then almost, but not really, stroking his lips. "You don't take care of yourself do you Widogast? Don't you think you're worth it?"

Caleb didn't answer, too caught up in the sensation of finally being touched by the drow again. Essek hands, gods he'd missed them, had imagined them, had...

A sharp pull on his hair. A shockwave of excitement tinged in his extremities. He let out a soft moan. Fuck. It had been too long.

"No... Not worth it". He croaked.

A harsher pull, tilting his head backwards. Caleb felt himself let out another small sound and heard a chuckle above him. "So hard of learning for someone so smart, Widogast." Essek tutted, his free hand once cupping Caleb's brushy cheek. "Tell me you are worth it, my love". Caleb felt a finger softly stroke his lips, but going away too quickly before he could respond. He wanted to touch, nibble, suck, but Essek didn't let him.

"I..."

Another pull. "Be a good boy now." Essek crooned and Caleb moaned softly.

"I'm worth it". It was a soft whimper, but good enough to please. The tension on his scalp let up and Caleb let out a shuddered breath as Essek calmly rinsed off his hair.

"Good boy".

A brief rustling, and then the feeling of a cool knife against his cheek. He twitched at the contact and Essek tutted again. "Hold still now" he commanded, and suddenly Caleb felt his body freeze up, his arms stuck uselessly dancing over the sides of the bathtub. His heart raced as he felt Essek's soft breath in his ear. "Remember, butterflies to stop".

He let out a moan as he felt the sharp edge of the knife against his skin, Essek's soft hands carefully taking off the disheveled beard that he had neglected to shave off.

"Such trust in me, Widogast." he murmured as Caleb felt the knife scrape across his skin. "I could hurt you if I wanted to. Cut you, mark you, maybe my initials?"

Caleb let out a filthy moan.

"But I'm not going to." Essek continued. "Because you are a good boy, besides-" His next words were so close to his ear that Caleb could feel them rather than hear them. "- Everybody already knows you're mine. "

"Essek, touch me, bitte." Caleb whimpered, his body still locked up, unable to act on the ache that was growing ever more.

A chuckle. "I have been touching you. But you are impatient aren't you? You want me to touch you elsewhere?"

"Ja, bitte."

"Hm." Essek hummed softly. "Here, I wonder?" a sharp sting against his nipple as the knife brushed against it. Caleb moaned filthily again. "Ja... Nein..."

"Or rather here?" Without warning, a hand wrapping around his shaft. His body buckled, but stayed frustratingly still as he moaned again. "ja, Essek, bitte!"

The touch went away. "Impatient boy. We will get there." Essek crooned. "Now, let me take care of you first." the Drow's hands returned to his chest, the knife home now, slowly slathering him in more fragnant soap. Caleb let out a frustrated whimper.

"Such a pretty boy you are Widogast". The drow's hands ran down his back, nails trailing, softly scratching.

"So handsome." hands moving to his chest again, spreading soap across the soft smattering of hair there. "Mine to take care of". A growl and a sudden soft, possessive, pull on his nipples.

("Essek, bitte, please, ich... ")

"Mine to please." A hand around his shaft again. Caleb moaned. "ja, Essek, ja..."

The Drow's hand softly moved up the shaft, slathering soap across it. Caleb could only whimper as he felt the hand go away, but then reappear further down, ensuring everything would be clean.

"This soap is supposed to taste as good as it smells you know." Essek said airily (though Caleb was well aware of the well surpressed heavy breathing by the drow). It only made him whimper more.

Essek once again firmly closed his hand around his shaft, starting to rub up and down I earnest now. "I can't wait to try it out."

"Essek, bitte!" Caleb cried out. He wanted to clench his fists but couldn't to buckle but couldn't. He couldn't even throw his head back or open his eyes. Could only feel the pleasure build and build as Essek moved a soapy hand around him until..

The magic snapped and he was keeling backwards, staring at the ceiling, mouth falling open and bucking into Essek's touch with a litany of "Ja, bitte, Essek, ja, gott". Another two seconds and he felt his release finally, ripping across his body and splattering cum across his stomach until he was spent, sinking back into the water with Essek's soft touch still lingering on his body.

"Well Widogast, it seems are are sufficiently clean. Feel free to join me in bed whenever." The Drow smirked.