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tickle-bugs · 1 year

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Ahh bug! You know I’m Weak for anything with Caleb Widogast 👀 Maybe with devious ler Molly? (And/or Essek 👀👀)

Oh drat forgot the second part of that—phrase to go along with Caleb/Molly (& also maybe Essek): “Come now, how are you still so *sensitive*, hmm?”

ily lexi mwah <3 also sorry if i have butchered ur boys but i still hope u enjoy this <3 started thinking about molly being overly cautious with courting caleb because his feelings are real and caleb being like. i wanna kiss you so bad please stop pretending to be normal. which led to this

Resonance

not rly nsfw but the first half is somewhat suggestive? intimate? *vague handwaving* just keep that in mind idk

Caleb’s not sure what they’re doing here, really. Molly’s draped and redraped himself over Caleb every which way for the past hour, but they haven’t gotten close to the substance of their evening’s meet. Caleb had long-since shucked his coat and scarf, but not quite the rest of his clothes--that was supposed to be Molly’s job, or so he thought.

Molly’s invitation to join him for the evening had been whispered to him over a too-expensive glass of whiskey. Molly’s eyes were lidded, his forked tongue curled--Caleb had thought he’d read every sign correctly. But here they were. Stalled.

“Mr. Mollymauk--” He tries, but Molly coos at him.

“So formal? I thought we were closer than that, dearest.” Molly blinks languidly and settles down properly atop Caleb. They both sink just slightly into the mattress as he does. Molly walks his fingers down Caleb’s abdomen, pauses at his waistband, then walks them back up.

Always with the teasing.

“Mollymauk. Molly.” Caleb watches him warily. When claws don’t yet again touch down, he swallows and continues-- “What, ah, are you trying to accomplish here?”

“I’m glad you asked. You see, I’m quite fond of you, Caleb.” Molly fiddles with one of his holster buckles. It catches the light of the inn lanterns in mesmerizing patterns far too grand for such dull brass.

“Oh.” Caleb’s face grows warm. “I am…fond of you as well.”

“Hm, thank you. I would hope so. Otherwise, this whole thing would be quite awkward.” Molly’s laugh is rich and boisterous. Caleb turns the tones of it over in his mind.

“When you said you wanted, ah, companionship for the evening, I’d thought you meant--”

“Sex?” Molly’s tail sways behind him. “Is that what you’d like?”

“Did you…have something else in mind?” Caleb winces at his own indelicacy. Molly looks touched--no, maybe fond? It shouldn’t baffle him so much, he knows, but the visual proof is…unbalancing.

“With you? Ideas beyond number.” Molly’s piercing gaze pins Caleb further still to the bed. He’s beautiful in an elusive sense. When Caleb gazes upon Molly, he gets the distinct sense that somehow he’s going to disappear, as if someone so breathtaking could only exist in tricks of the mind.

Caleb’s face heats to a point of concern. Molly chuckles, low as the lamplight.

“I digress.” Molly leans close enough for their noses to touch. “I’d like to conduct an experiment, Caleb. Involving you.”

“Oh?” Caleb cannot for the life of him keep his eyes away from the softness of Molly’s lips.

“Yes, if you’d let me.” Molly’s hand finds his, both scarred in different ways. It’s one of the few times that feeling heat in the palm of his hand has been welcome.

“Do what you will.” Caleb nods.

“That’s the spirit.” Molly beams and pulls Caleb’s hand up his body, skirting along his thigh and the soft silk of his shirt, until finally their hands, as one, rest on his sternum. The warmth of Molly’s skin is a kiss that blooms.

“You feel that?” Molly hums, and it resonates through Caleb’s fingertips. He’d always thought Molly was a bit thin, but the way breath moves through him…it reminds Caleb of Nott’s brief and consuming obsession with blowing into glass bottles like flutes. There’s a pitch to Molly’s resonance—not one he’s equipped to understand, but there nonetheless.

“They say you can hear a soul best through laughter or through tears. I prefer the former.” Molly gestures flippantly, brushing his thumb over the back of Caleb’s hand. As he speaks, Caleb can feel the rise and fall of his breath, the resonance of his voice--as if Molly’s entire being has been shaped to carry sound to the very tip of his horns. The jewelry hanging from his ears and horns jingles of its own accord, like a windchime.

He’s the loveliest windchime I’ve ever seen, Caleb thinks, a bit hysterical.

“I want to hear what your soul sounds like, Caleb.”

It’s so intimate and innocent that Caleb finds his breath utterly lost. He blinks up at Molly and tries to counteract the sudden and reeling incoherence of his mind.

“Not the most resounding enthusiasm, but I understand.” Molly stands and brushes himself off. The aloofness of his tone is betrayed by the way he can’t seem to quite look at Caleb. It must be so easy for him to escape this way. Mollymauk, ever-balancing on a tightrope, with the most convincing lack of fear of falling.

“Wait!” Caleb grabs Molly’s wrist before he can slip away. Gently, he tugs him back down. Molly’s eyes shine alluringly in the dim.

“I was…caught off guard. No one has ever expressed an interest of this kind to me before.” Caleb slides his hands up Molly’s thighs. He gives a comforting squeeze, at least what he hopes is comforting, and Molly twitches with a quiet laugh.

“Shame.” Molly’s gaze roves over Caleb appreciatively, but not with the hunger he expects. It’s constructive. Encompassing. Warm. Caleb basks in it, even as Molly grows uncharacteristically quiet. He takes one of his claws between his teeth as his stare grows distant.

“What is rattling through that brain of yours, hm?” Caleb knits his brow. Molly sits up a bit, stretching their intimate bubble. Caleb clenches his fist and concentrates on not keening after him.

“How thoroughly I’m about to ruin the mood,” Molly mutters, likely not meaning for Caleb to hear. Caleb furrows his brow, but before he can speak, Molly kneads curiously into his stomach.

A chuckle bubbles from a deep, unknowable place in Caleb, somewhere nestled just beyond the darkness clinging listlessly to his soul. Then another, then another, until his whole body is racked with quiet sounds he tries to smother. Claws trip maddeningly upwards to his ribs and Caleb cracks into snickers that overwhelm him with force. He slams his arms back down towards his sides and curls as much as physically possible.

“Scheiße, Molly--”

“Do you want me to stop?” Molly stills, stiff and unnatural. He reminds Caleb of a wild hare, all of his muscles coiled and ready to flee--except for his tail, of course, which lashes in nonsensical patterns as if it has a life of its own.

He’s nervous, Caleb realizes. How endearing.

“Did I say ‘silvervine’?” Caleb huffs, still battling the wobbly smile on his face. Molly’s eyes widen.

“No, I suppose you didn’t.” Molly chuckles, shaking his head. Before Caleb can think to steel his defenses, Molly drags his claws down every inch of his captive torso that he can reach. Caleb jackknifes with the kind of giggles that fizzle in his lungs before they leave. It’s a maddening type of touch and he kind of wants more, but Molly continues in his steadfast teasing.

“You’re going to be the death of me, Caleb Widogast,” Molly murmurs, leaning down to kiss him sweetly. Caleb laughs into Molly’s mouth, soft as he imagined, and allows himself to fall slowly apart.

…

Caleb’s love, it turns out, is born from the same place as his laughter. Both have become easy to coax into the light with time. Like weeds breaking free of cobblestone streets, love has gripped the hopeful parts of him and refused to let go. Love has made him all the things he feared it would--weak, compromised, and clouded--and he wouldn’t trade it for anything, mortal or otherwise.

“Liebling, I have research to complete.” Caleb pauses at the bookshelf, letting Molly coil his arms around him. Molly’s face finds its usual place between his shoulder blades for a moment before his hands slide a bit…lower.

“Conveniently, so do I. My thesis is on the kinds of noises you’ll make when you’re overworked and I have time.” Molly’s breath curls hot against his ear. There’s a sweet center to the devilish lilt of his tone, though, and it makes Caleb smile.

“I’d love to hear you defend this thesis of yours, hm?” He turns to face Molly and the full force of his pout.

“You have utterly killed the mood,” Molly grumbles, but his tail is busy curling in content little loops. Caleb hums noncommittally and kisses him again, far more occupied about the way Molly’s cheeks squish between his hands when he smiles.

“If you can be patient, perhaps I’ll make it up to you.” Caleb shifts his grip to hold Molly’s chin, brushing his thumb across his bottom lip. He likes the spark of excited desire that flashes through Molly’s eyes.

“Promise?”

“However you’d like.” Caleb kisses him once more, more to sate himself than anything. Molly throws himself upon the nearest divan with expedience. As he settles in among the cushions, Caleb thumbs through the nearby shelves and starts a stack of relevant texts on one of the worktables.

The first hour rolls by without much event and by the second, Caleb is focused enough to ignore Molly’s dramatic sighs. By hour three, Caleb’s read what he needed. Some for research, some for pleasure, but he’s taken in enough to make his mind buzz.

Molly’s arms wind around his waist and Caleb jumps, then settles.

“One of these days, I’ll put a bell on you.” Caleb reshelves a few tomes with a reverent hand.

“Caleb, you must know by now that patience is not my strongest suit.” Molly presses his face between Caleb’s shoulderblades again. Caleb shivers from the very tips of his toes and bites back a chuckle. Molly tends to grow needy when he’s ignored, they both know this, but the varying levels of petulance always make things entertaining.

“I am aware.” Caleb continues reshelving, a little faster now. Molly nuzzles into Caleb’s back again and, oh, he’s purring. That would be exceptionally sweet if Molly’s body didn’t carry the resonance like a tuning fork, right to the tips of his horns where they’re pressed into Caleb’s spine, making it tickle terribly. Caleb bites his lip and forces back the tide of laughter building in his shuddering chest.

“Come now, darling. Are you still so sensitive? I can feel you trying not to laugh.” Molly drapes his arms over Caleb’s shoulders and speaks into his spine, languid but calculated. It’s a nonsensical question but Molly himself is nonsensical, just as much a trickster as the shadowed being to whom Jester accredits her mischief.

“M-Mohohlly.” Caleb shivers, snickers jumping free in short and bright bursts. Caleb can hear Molly’s grin without needing to see it, but it doesn’t prepare him for the bundle of tiefling suddenly clambering atop his back. Molly should know better than this, really--Caleb has gotten stronger, but he is not strong.

“You’ve kept me waiting all this time and you have nothing to say for yourself?” Molly unleashes a flurry of kisses behind Caleb’s ear and the dam falls before he has a chance to defend it. Breathy, frantic giggles flow from Caleb with a fervor, spinning around the two of them in the warm, empty library.

“Well, that’s not a very good defense. We’ll have to work on that,” Molly grins, speaking directly into Caleb’s neck. Caleb squeals and doubles over, landing somewhere between Zemnian and Common as he tries to shake Molly loose. Molly laughs and tickles his stomach, sending Caleb snapping upright with a dangerous sway.

“Tongue-tied already?” Molly leans back a dangerous amount, forcing Caleb to back up towards the divan to avoid a nasty fall. They collapse on it in a tangled heap of shouts and curses. Caleb immediately grabs Molly’s hip in his hand and starts murmuring an incantation. He can feel the gentle sparks of magic beginning to take effect--and Molly can too, if the sudden hitch in his breath is anything to go by.

“Ah-ah, none of that. You casters never play fair.” Molly worms his fingers up, up, until he can fiddle with the ribs supporting Caleb’s beloved book holsters. The magic, along with Caleb, dissolves into sparks and high-pitched bouts of noise. Caleb writhes and shrieks, his hair flying loose of its ponytail and into disarray. Molly rubs his knuckles between the grooves of his ribs and Caleb arches with a shout. Molly laughs and starts tickling at the back of his ribs.

They roll around like unruly kittens, kicking cushions every which way as if it were a sport. Molly still lands on top of him, breathless and vibrating with joy. He chirps something that sounds suspiciously like ‘squishy wizards’ before tickling up under Caleb’s arms, taking ample time to try and wiggle beneath the straps of the holsters.

Caleb grabs at Molly’s thighs to brace himself, and Molly snorts. It’s a quiet sound, cushioned by soft laughter, but it’s there and it’s beautiful. Caleb knows Molly’s ticklish, of course--ample time with Jester has taught him what to expect of tieflings--but he’s never heard him make such an adorable noise before.

“Mollymauk,” Caleb says, a little breathless, but he’s grinning wider than he ever thought possible. Molly’s nervous grin is delectable.

“Surely we can talk about this--”

“I think you’ve talked enough, don’t you?” Caleb pulls Molly close by the ankle and starts kneading at his inner thigh. Molly wails, thrashing so hard that his top half slides off the divan and onto the floor. A slapdash mix of giggles, snorts, and wild cackles burst out of him, enough for Caleb to coo at him and bury his stubble into the stretched plane of Molly’s stomach.

Molly muffles a blood-curdling shriek into a wayward cushion. Caleb laughs and tickles harder.

“I have a thesis on the kinds of noises you’ll make--”

“C-Caleb!”

#this is probably ooc and definitely does not fit in canon im sorry </3 #i did my best #my fics #ticklish!caleb widogast #ticklish!molly #critical role #mollymauk tealeaf #caleb widogast #widomauk #i am never not thinking about them #doing my part for the tieflings are knismos agenda by giving u some of my own homebrew lore about tieflings #they are hollow in a spiritual sense due to *handwaves at the canon bullshit* despite having souls which is why so many pursue bardhood!#imagine ur homie plays a song so good ur entire body resonates like a tuning fork?#or the love of ur life laughs and you can feel it hum thru ur whole body? yeah. tieflings <3

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