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ymaohoh · 7 months

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Beltane Eve - Halsin x Female Tav (NSFW)

Just a one-shot between our favourite druid and a druid Tav character. I've purposefully tried to make her as vague as possible so this could be a Halsin x reader. Definitely NSFW.

(Words - 8,549)

Warnings: lots of smut, kinky druid sex, oral, size kink

Also on AOO

Beltane Eve

She breathed in the warm springtime air and let it fill her lungs. The weather was getting hotter now and she relished the feeling of sunlight grazing and caressing her skin after so many long days of darkness. The light tickled her skin like loving fingers and she sighed happily. It made her feel cheerful. Joyful even.

She had spent those hard days in the dank cities of the Underdark and the terrifying Shadowlands. Both of those places had sickened her to her soul and nearly made her forget what a starry night sky looked like. She had bravely persevered and battled on because she knew what she and her companions were doing was bigger and more important than her own wellbeing. She would gladly sacrifice her peace of mind for what they were fighting to achieve.

A safe and thriving world. She thought about the Shadowlands and how they were already mending from the curse. That was worth all of the heartache.

Still, that very first moment of stepping out into the fresh air was as good as a health tonic. It tended to her battered body and stitched up the fibres of her being so that she was once again whole.

As a druid she understandably felt more connected to the world around her than maybe the wizards or barbarians in her company did. She drew strength from the rich tapestry of life all around; the feeling of velvet grass beneath her feet, the murmur of birdsong, the tart smell of some flowers growing close by that were on the turn. These primal things gave her life and sustained her.

Life sustained her.

It was just after midday and she had walked a mile or so from the main camp in pursuit of a quiet spot where she could meditate and embrace the new lush scenery around them. Nobody from her camp had noticed though she left a scribbled note saying she would be safe. They were camped on the outskirts of Baldur’s Gate now and everyone in her party was distracted by the idea of exploring the nearby village of Rivington. The thought was tempting and she too was excited by the idea of jumping back into the hustle and bustle of city life after being on the quiet road for so long. Even Astarion, who had dubbed the people of the town ‘boors’, looked eager to reacquaint himself with some hard liquor and soft bedding.

She thought about the opportunities that such a place could offer; good food, merry music, hopefully some stimulating companionship. She had spent time in many human cities around the land and found them all to be similar in their pursuits, and expected that Rivington and Baldur’s Gate would be no different.

She was eager to drink it all in.

Though perhaps she should bathe and comb out her hair first?

Eyeing a secluded riverbank, she decided that this spot was as good as any. The water of the river seemed to beckon to her and she untied the belt at her waist. She shrugged the worn fabric of her robes from her shoulders and let them drop to a heap on the muddy bank. The robes had cost her a moderate pile of gold from Dammon but she had no real attachment to her clothing or belongings. Let them get creased and muddy - who cared? Her feet were already unbound as was her preference and she dipped them into the refreshing chill of the river. A moan of sorts escaped her lips when the water lapped against the skin of her thighs.

She took her time bathing in the river and washing herself. Her hands caressed her skin and she even let her fingers dip down between her legs to touch herself. It had been almost two weeks since she’d felt any pleasure there and the absence of touch - of any contact - was something she was unused to.

Eventually she returned to the bank and eyed her flimsy smallclothes. She hesitated for only a second before she reluctantly slipped them on. She didn’t know the area well and it would be unfortunate if some farmer or woodsman stumbled upon her in nothing but her skin.

She wouldn’t have minded. She felt so at ease naked that clothing made no real difference to her but she knew humans had silly ideas about such matters.

She recalled the early days of their adventures and one incident when she innocently walked naked back to her tent after bathing. Such an action was as normal to her as breathing and she paid no notice to her companions as she knelt by the fire and twisted the water from her hair. Back in her grove nobody would have cared one bit yet she’d looked up to see them all staring at her. Some, she’d noted wryly, with wanton smiles but poor Wyll and Gale looked as if they’d been dunked in cold water. Though she didn’t agree with human expectations, she still didn’t want her companions - and later friends - to feel awkward in their shared living space. She’d made sure to at least wear her smallclothes around the camp following that night though she still slept unclothed.

Interestingly the only one of her companions who had not looked at all was Halsin. Her gaze had flitted across to where he usually made camp (as it seemed to do more and more these days) but found him stoically looking elsewhere. This had intrigued her as she assumed he’d be the last person to care about such things. She found him intriguing. He was a figure from campfire stories and legends and was renowned throughout the land by elves and humans alike. She’d heard tales about his mighty deeds ever since she was a babe nursing at her mother’s breast. That he should be journeying with her now - and actually pledged her his loyalty - was almost unimaginable. She wanted sorely to get to know him better.

Yet…would he even want to share with her? She was twenty-six years of age. A grown woman in the eyes of the human world (long past marrying age in truth) but to a wood elf this meant she was still a child in the eyes of some. Young, inexperienced, undisciplined. What could he possibly want to know about her?

She had known some of her other companions. She’d made love to Astarion that very night by the campfire but denied his bite. She’d also known Shadowheart’s gentle love a few nights following under the blazing stars. Then there had been others - Tieflings, Harpers, tavern bards - who she’d come to love and share her heart and body with. She’d been interested to pursue a night with Gale after a moment channelling the weave but after knowing more about his nature (that he could only pledge his desire to one and expect the same in return) she’d had to let him down gently. She respected that other people lived their lives that way but it was not for her and she didn’t want to give hope where there was none.

She remained in her smallclothes and stretched out on the grass. The sun was high in the sky now and she bathed in its warmth. She allowed herself to breathe in and out slowly and let her eyelids flutter close. She focused on the world and noises around her and felt herself fall into a deep trance of meditation. Meditation had always soothed her mind and refreshed her body. She felt that it helped with her spellcasting too. In her mind, a druid couldn’t manipulate nature completely if they didn’t know it well. It was important that she take the time to immerse herself in it. Breathe it in.

She wasn’t sure how long she lay there for. It could have been minutes or hours, it mattered not to her.

But then - a noise.

It was as faint as a whisper but still she heard it. She wasn’t sure if it was through her own ears or through the vibrations of the air. An attack? An ambush? A split second pause and then she felt the corners of her lips lift into a smile.

She knew that Halsin was standing a few paces away among the trees behind her. She could tell that he had not meant to stumble upon her now but he didn’t want to leave either. He was letting her choose whether or not to invite him into her moment of tranquillity.

She did. “Aerister.” Teacher.

“Forgive the interruption, little one. I was hunting nearby for our evening meal and would not have disturbed you, but then I saw how at peace you looked here among the wilds. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen such a welcome sight.”

She liked the way he spoke and the warmth she heard there. Ever since meeting the acclaimed druid she’d always taken pleasure in the rich sound of his voice - whether it was gentle like now or roaring commands on the battlefield. His words always held weight and meaning.

And she trusted him. As a fellow wood elf and first druid he was her elder (in rank, ability, age) and naturally she owed him her respect, but she gave it freely.

She also liked the way he called her little one. It was an ongoing jest following her comment on his size when they first met.

“There’s nothing to forgive. Your presence soothes me,” she spoke quietly. “Stay with me.”

At her invitation Halsin sat down and lay his weapon on the grass. Even without looking she could smell fresh blood on his knife and knew he’d been successful on his hunt. A deer or boar carcass would be sat somewhere nearby, ready to nourish them later. She wondered that he’d used a weapon to hunt with at all when he could just as easily shapeshift.

“You’ve been in the water,” he noted, breaking up her thoughts. “I too found a moment to enjoy the lake further along the bank but I admit I’m not one for swimming. I imagine you spent a lot of your childhood swimming and playing on a riverbank someplace in the south. You didn’t grow up in the Emerald Grove.”

“Good guess. We spent more time in the water than in the woods, truth be told. Being here like this makes me think about those days. They were happy, safe…or at least they felt that way to a child.”

She imagined she sounded very naive to someone like him. He would have been one of the warriors fighting to ensure those years for her and the other children did indeed feel safe.

She went on…“I can’t find the right words but laying like this in the sunlight...it is magic. It gives me life. I have missed it greatly. I’m not a creature for dark and cruel spaces. Now that we are finally here in the open again I want to make the most of it. Who knows where we will venture next…”

“I understand.”

“I know. I think you’re the only one here who could.”

She finally opened her eyes to look up at him and found his steady gaze already upon her. He smiled at her words - like one confidant to another. A thread of understanding seemed to flow between them and in that moment she felt that she did truly know him. Maybe she didn’t know what he liked best for supper, but she knew his heart. She watched as his eyes flickered to the light freckles that adorned her arms and then to the line of her sunlit body.

She was conscious that her cotton smallclothes were very light indeed and he would be able to see the outline of her breasts through the fabric should he wish to. As if reading her thoughts (maybe he did) he began to untie the laces of his own leather armour. He stopped when he was wearing only the bottom half of his robes and just like her he leant back on his forearms to enjoy the sunshine on his skin.

She would be lying to say she tried to look away.

His tanned chest was broad and powerful like the rest of him and she knew she could spend an age studying the muscles that lined his arms, his shoulders, his back. His waist was narrow in comparison but even that was thicker than both her palms laid out flat. When he reached up to re-tie his dark hair she watched how the muscles of his stomach moved and contracted.

She had seen Halsin fighting beside her on the battlefield and knew he was an impressively terrifying figure in the eyes of their enemies. His strong hands looked like they could easily crush a skull or wield a broadsword.

She imagined those same hands making love and a shiver ran down her back.

She suddenly wanted to trace the intricate lines of his ink markings with her fingers more than anything else in the world. Battle scars lined his figure and she wanted to know the story behind every one.

Calm yourself, she thought. Remember that he did not look upon you before.

So instead she sighed and she allowed her fingers to weave into the long grass beside her. It felt like an anchor almost. “Might I ask your counsel? Druid to druid. I feel so attune with everything today,” she admitted. “Every blade of grass…every leaf in the tree…I can even feel the heartbeats of the animals hiding underfoot. Is this truly just a reaction to being stifled in shadow for so long? I feel so strong today. So powerful. Do you feel it too?”

“I think you’ve been spending too much time with vampires and sages that you’ve forgotten your seasons. Today marks the first day of summer. It’s no wonder that you’re feeling this way, the world around us is calling to be heard.”

Understanding washed over her. “Ah…Beltane!”

“Beltane, Cétshamhain, Calan Mai…it’s known by so many different names but it remains the same in essence,” Halsin added. “A powerful day for those who are attune to the earth and its riches. It’s normal to feel more aware of your magic during this time. Were I back home we’d have a whole week of celebrations and festivities. I would be called upon to lead some of the ceremonies.”

“It was the same back home. We would have a great feast to mark the evening itself and then light a bonfire as big as a hillside. I would braid the yellow may flowers into my hair and dance around the fire with my sisters. We sometimes wouldn’t stop until sunrise.”

“I would have liked to see that. It’s one of my favourite celebrations.”

She heard the note of wistfulness in his tone. She thought about the many years she’s enjoyed the festival herself and felt for a moment very home sick. She used to love taking part in the dancing and feasting though due to her age she was not permitted to formally join in with the most important ceremony that always took place very late at night. Only the most privileged and experienced were allowed to do it.

All of a sudden she had a thought and spoke before she could stop herself. “You say you led some of the ceremonies. Did you…did you join in with the rite?”

Halsin burst into laughter and she smiled weakly, her cheeks suddenly aflame.

“Of course. Many times. It was expected that I perform it.”

The rite was a very important ritual where a chosen male (selected for his vigour and status) was expected to mate with many partners over the course of Beltane Eve. By spilling his seed into them and onto the earth beneath them, it was done as a way to honour the gods and increase the chances of a fertile summer. In addition, it was hoped that the blessed unions between man and woman might also produce children that were thought to be extra lucky.

There was also said to be a hunt involved in the ritual and she wondered if the Emerald Grove celebrated that particular part of the ritual too.

The idea of Halsin completing the rite was certainly intriguing to her though she should have known someone of his rank would be asked to complete it. She suddenly wanted to know all about it.

In her enthusiasm she sat up and leaned towards him. They were sitting very close to one another and as she moved the line of her thigh brushed against his own.

“I was never permitted to take part…though of course I always wanted the honour. One of my sisters was chosen last year and I remember helping her prepare though I was so twisted up with jealousy. I had hoped that this year might have been my time and I could be bred,” she admitted. “But here we are. I suppose fate has another plan for me. I should try and be content with that.”

In response to her words, Halsin placed his hand on top of hers and she liked how his fingers looked threaded against her own. His fingers were large which was expected for someone of his size and again she wondered how they might feel on her. His thumb brushed against her own and it made her shiver again.

She looked back up and met his gaze. She didn’t know what she was expecting to see in his eyes - sympathy maybe - but she was taken aback to find a blazing heat there. He was looking at her like he knew exactly what she was thinking about and he liked it. She thought that she might fall into that blaze if she didn’t catch herself.

“Had you been at the Emerald Grove, I would have mated with you gladly. More than gladly. I would have not been able to see anyone else’s face but yours. You must know that I can barely control myself around you.”

Her eyes widened and words spilled out of her without much thought. “But you don’t look at me. The others, they do. They’ve made their intentions and desires well known to me…but you…I had thought you were looking elsewhere. That someone else held your attention.”

He really desired her?

Halsin reached up and ever so gently brushed the back of his hand against her cheekbone. In response she turned her head and she pressed a soft kiss to his palm which made him draw in his breath.

“Then the fault is mine for not confessing this sooner. My heart, I believe that life has a plan for us all and our meeting was no mere coincidence. Even now, sitting here together on Beltane Eve, cannot be by chance. I admit you are not what I expected for one so young as yourself, but I have seen you show love to those who do not always deserve it and an openness which moves my heart. You show greater wisdom than even I at times,” he admitted. “My gaze has been drawn to you more often than not over the last few weeks. I, who have taken many lovers in my time and experienced all manner of love, feel such a stirring for you that it has taken me by surprise…I admit I have tried to look away from you at times but only to keep a leash on my desires. ”

His words made her tremble but she made herself bite out the next words so she knew exactly what it was he was asking of her and there could be no doubt. She wanted to know his heart truly before taking what could be an incredible plunge. “You want to be with me?”

“I’m saying that I want you. I want to taste you, to consume you, to give you such joy that will leave you weeping. I want you panting my name into my ear so hard that I can carry the memory of it with me into our final battle. You say that I have not looked at you but I have spent hours lying awake thinking about all the different ways I want to take my pleasure with you...”

He cut off and she saw a glow of light erupt from his body as he fought back his natural urge to change form. He took a deep breath to steady himself and the light disappeared.

“…Sitting so close to you now on this riverbank clouds my senses. It’s intoxicating. Your voice, your scent. I can see the dips and curves of your body beneath that shift and I want to rip it off you. It’s taking all I have not to lose control again, but I will not touch you unless you want me to. I swear it.”

His face was so close to her own that she could feel his hot breath against her skin. She took this opportunity to study his face and looked at the long jagged scars, the scarlet ink markings, the liquid gold in his eyes. She knew then that she had wanted him physically from the moment she first saw him.

“You are so beautiful, Halsin.”

Her reply served to soothe some of the strain away from his shoulders and instead he grinned at her. “I am nothing in comparison to you. You who draws the eye and enchants everyone we meet. Your beauty must be the envy of even the gods above.”

She pressed another kiss to his hand - but this time allowed her lips to brush over one of his fingers too. She made sure not to break eye contact as she let it pass through her lips and onto her eager tongue. She heard the rumblings of a growl come from his chest. Elated, she licked along its length and then slowly pulled away.

She saw him shudder with want.

“How many times have I been distracted by that little mouth? Your lips feel as soft as woven silk,” he murmured. “Tell me that you want me too. I must hear it from those lips.”

“I’ve wanted you since the moment we met.”

He groaned in relief and pulled her fully into the strong embrace of his arms. “You are not bound to another?” he insisted. “I know that you’ve shared your time with the vampire and some of our other bold companions. Do they not have some hold over you?”

She smiled widely. “Aerister teacher, it is not in my nature to belong to only one person. I may be young like you say but I have had my fair share of lovers and have always loved fiercely and freely. I believe that to share your heart and body with another person is one of life’s greatest pleasures. Even if only for one glorious moment. I am not bound to anyone and I feel that you may feel the same way…Halsin, I will gladly share this day with you.”

“You are a wondrous creature,” he said in awe and tightened his hold. “Then let us celebrate this Beltane Eve together and be as one, as fate intended.”

The words had barely left his lips when they descended on her own. It was both everything she expected and surprising at the same time. She climbed onto his lap and pressed herself as closely as she could to the line of his body, aching for the heat of his skin against her own. Halsin’s kiss was hard and demanding and she gave into it gladly. She allowed her fingers to finally grip hold of his strong arms and then trace them up and down. She could feel the power and strength that lay untapped beneath his skin. It only fuelled her desire further.

His lips moved down from her mouth to her jaw, and then further to the skin of her throat. He kissed her like a man starved. When he reached the sensitive spot between her neck and shoulders and dragged his teeth against it, she hissed at the quick wave of pleasure.

She felt herself growing warm for him and he must have scented this.

“I must taste you, little one, I cannot wait any longer. Lay down here and bare yourself to me.”

Not needing to be asked twice, she lay back as he begged and opened her legs so that he could see her glistening core. Halsin breathed out when he saw that and gripped hold of her thighs so tightly she knew they would be marked tomorrow. He knelt down between her knees and ravenously licked his tongue into her juices. She allowed her head to fall back as another wave of pleasure took over and she uttered his name like it was a prayer. His tongue set to work immediately as he probed deeply into her flesh. His movements were slow and languorous. He was tasting her thoroughly and she enjoyed every sensation.

Above them she saw that the sun was beginning to dip low behind the mountains and they had maybe an hour left of light before it turned to dusk. She knew dusk was the time of romance, of secret trysts, of endless possibilities. It seemed rather too fitting for what they were doing now. The sight of Halsin between her legs like this, surrounded by nature’s beauty, seemed terribly poetic and right.

He made a noise that sounded like a growl and draped her legs over his massive shoulders so that he could explore her depths further. She felt one of his wonderful fingers probe gently into her fold alongside his tongue so she twisted her fingers through his dark hair and pulled him even closer.

She could feel the familiar waves of her pleasure begin to grow but she didn’t allow herself to fall apart completely. Before she reached the beginning of her climax, she pulled back on his hair to cease his efforts. She knew that her chest was pounding and he looked at her in surprise as he knelt back. She could see that his eager mouth shone with her juices. She sat up and licked carefully along his bottom lip so she could taste herself.

Halsin was looking at her with longing. “Tell me how you would have me, my heart. Be my guide. Tell me what your desires are and I will be at your command.”

Images crossed her vision of all the things she wanted to do with him then and it was difficult to choose. She found that she was usually the dominant partner in her coupling but that felt presumptuous when it came to someone like Halsin. She thought about the hardness she had felt when sitting atop his lap and knew then what she wanted most of all.

“I want you inside of me. I want to ride you.”

Heat smouldered within his eyes and she could see he wanted that too. He began unlacing the bottom half of his robes and her eyes widened at the measure of him.

“Amakiir flower…I would be gentle. I am…larger…than most and you have a slight frame. You may need to start slowly if you wish to ride me.” She knew that he wasn’t saying this out of ego like some men might but he was truly wanting to prepare her for his size which was very large. She had never been with a man with such a large member. She wasn’t even sure if she’d seen one.

Yet she was no blushing virgin either. She lifted her shift and then climbed on top of him. Her knees found purchase against the ground either side of his hips.

Halsin placed his hands on her waist to help hold her up as she positioned herself so that his tip aligned with her entrance. He was already hard and waiting for her. Slowly and carefully she began to lower herself onto his length. She could feel the skin of her core stretching in response and though it stung it made her desire for him only increase ten fold. He felt so thick and warm within her, filling her completely. She lowered herself another tortuous inch.

She could feel that she was getting so wet for him and that the scent of her arousal was making it hard for him to leash the animal in him. He was doing his best to hold himself still but the effort of this was making him grip onto her tight. She could see that the animal in him wanted to bury himself deep within her but Halsin, ever the considerate and giving partner, would never put his needs above her own.

She inched down bit by bit. When she thought that she had taken in as she could take, she began rocking her hips gently back and forth. Now pleasure began to wrap itself around any discomfort.

His hands moved from her hips across her body and she felt through her bliss him ripping apart the clasp of her smallclothes and tearing them from her flesh. Now her breasts were free Halsin made quick work of touching and admiring them. His touch was no longer gentle and she moaned when he took her nipple between his fingers and pinched.

“Oakfather preserve me. You feel so tight around me,” he murmured. “You look glorious. The most beautiful creature I have ever laid eyes on. That you’re here with me now…it is a gift that I cannot possibly deserve.”

Her movements began to quicken as she found her stride and she pushed down against his chest.

“You deserve it all and more. This feels so good, Halsin. So right. You fill me completely. ”

He tugged her down to him then and she relished the feel of her chest against his own. He pressed a searing kiss to her lips.

She cried out when he began to thrust his hips upwards into her, going suddenly deeper and deeper. She wrapped her thighs around him and tried her hardest to keep up but it was beginning to feel like a frenzy.

“Halsin,” she panted. She panted his name over and over without caring how loud she was being. Let her cries shatter the sky above. All that mattered to her right now was the wonderful feeling of him rutting up into her.

She had known love before and had known every sexual position conceivable, but she had never once felt this close to another person. It wasn’t just the feelings he was inspiring inside of her, but there was something deeper afoot taking place. She could feel it. Some magic that was unravelling all around them and tying the two of them together. She saw the glint of knowing in his eyes and knew he was thinking the same thing.

“We are becoming one,” he said. “And the earth around us is taking heed. It is blessing this union.”

“Then let us give it something it wants,” she replied before she could shatter completely.

Without another word she once again purposefully ceased her movements though it took everything in her to do so. She pressed her shaking hands against his chest and he immediately stopped as well though she could see the effort pained him. His hands came up to cradle her face and he looked startled.

“Wait, my love…” she whispered and he obliged. Shakily, she managed to climb to her feet and took a few steps back though her legs felt useless. The loss of his warmth and size inside her made her feel incomplete and her body ached for him. Her back came into contact with a tree and she leant back thankfully against the rough bark as she caught her breath.

She heard him say her name and ask if she was well. She nodded.

He rose and took a cautious step towards her. Her eyes fell again to his naked body and the strong powerful muscles of his thighs. If she were a fawn he would have no difficulty in hunting her.

She licked her lips before speaking. “I want to complete the rite with you. I want you to chase me.”

She hardly recognised her own voice for it sounded more wanton, more greedy, than she had ever felt towards anyone before. For a moment she was worried that she had annoyed Halsin but as he drew closer there was a look on his face that was both savage and full of heated desire which came close to overwhelming her. She could see that he liked this idea. He liked it a lot.

He wanted to chase her. Wanted to claim her as his partner. Wanted to complete the rite with her this Beltane Eve.

He had, of course, done this before (many times he’d said) but this would be her first time. She hoped she would be a match for him.

She was trembling in her desire but when he beamed at her she returned it. “You are sure? I won’t be able to stop myself again once we begin. It’ll only end with my taking you.”

She took another deep breath. She turned to face the wooded area behind them which was nearly dark now, save the last lingering rays of sunset that glittered through the leaves. She looked back over her shoulder at him and gave him a truly wicked smile. Her mind was set.

“Try and catch me, Oakfather. If you can.”

She used her powers to shapeshift and wasted no time in bolting into the darkness. She could hear laughter behind her and the familiar sound of Halsin changing shape as well, though she did not stop to check.

Her usual shape to transform into was a wolf and that’s what she changed into instinctively this evening. The sleekness of the animal made it possible for her to charge through the trees without worrying about the pesky roots below that might trip her. She bounded through the woods, propelling herself as quickly as she could forwards. She had no idea how far she’d come but the trees were getting larger and more dense. She didn’t know the layout of the forest though she could still hear the waters of the river somewhere to her left.

She knew she only had precious minutes before Halsin would catch her. Though he didn’t know the forest either, he was far more experienced with hunting in his bear form and more attune with its hearing and smell. He knew her scent already and would be using it to track her.

Though she was eager for his touch again, she didn’t want this to end so soon.

She veered to the right and kept on running.

She wondered if maybe she had a chance of actually winning this chase - could that even be possible? - but then the sound of padded feet came to her woof ears. No, there was no chance. He was close behind her.

What to do then if she couldn’t outrun him? She could hide. She came to a small clearing and quickly swerved behind a knot of old twisted trees. She flattened herself against the floor of the forest amongst the pine needles and grass. If she kept very very still then there was a possibility that he might race past without thinking and she could use that hiccup to give him the slip. She kept as still as she could as she heard the noise of his massive bear form come into sight. Though she knew it was Halsin the huge beast was scary nonetheless with its sharp teeth and claws. To her surprise it didn’t look like he meant to stop and her plan might actually work, but then he slowed in his movements.

He knew she was hiding but he didn’t know where yet.

She kept low to the ground and moved very slowly. If she timed this right she might be able to slip past while he was still working out her scent.

She should have known that Halsin knew exactly what she was planning. He was not going to let his prey get away from him that easily.

And so she leapt - and he leapt - and she felt herself being tackled mid air by his large frame. As they came tumbling to the forest floor she managed to change back into her human form and she landed with a soft thump on the grass.

She lay there panting, listening hard, and then…movement beside her.

Halsin had changed back into his usual form too and was reaching for her. She pushed herself up on her elbows and opened her mouth to tell him I’m okay... but the words never left her lips because as soon as he caught hold he climbed on top of her and pinned her down. She recognised his movements without even needing words. He had caught her. She was his. He would claim her. This was the rite.

A wave of absolute lust and frenzy took over them both then. He gripped hold of her legs to pull them up around his waist and then he pushed with all of his considerable might right into her.

She cried out at the bittersweet feeling of pain and pleasure as he drove right into her core but all she could think about was wanting him deeper and deeper inside of her. It was an urge now - a dark urge - one that demanded satisfaction or be damned. Unlike before when they were inspired by their desires this had turned into something primal and primitive like the world around them. He was thrusting into her with pure animalistic need now.

She twisted her legs up around his waist tightly as he slammed her back again and again into the ground beneath them. Her fingers scraped against the soil and earth and it drove up between her nails. His own hands were gripping hold of her so tightly that she couldn’t move away even if she wanted to. He had her completely in his thrall.

Heat rolled off him in waves and she clung to him, pressing herself as close to his fiery body as she could.

He was so thick and deep inside of her now that moaning was not enough and she began screaming out her desire. The pleasure that she was feeling was like nothing she had ever felt before and it began to edge her completely to the brink of destruction. She screamed out into the night air and felt herself raking her nails down his arms and back. She bit down hard onto his shoulder and she tasted blood.

When she came, she came sudden and hard and it felt like a thunderbolt had struck her.

When he came it was with a roar that had the very trees around them trembling.

Hearts racing, they collapsed against one another and lay very still. She thought she could sense the world around them taking a deep breath too. Whatever magic they had woven this night with their passionate mating - it had surely been accepted and blessed.

She felt a soft brush of lips against her forehead and then again at her temple. Halsin was very gently moving to his elbows in an effort to shift his weight from her.

He looked at her and she found she had tears in her eyes. She began to smile. She began to laugh.

“That was magical.”

Halsin laughed too and the kiss he pressed to her lips was so full of affection and love that it threatened to unravel her into desire again.

“You are not injured?” he asked. “The rite can be overwhelming, especially on your first attempt. It’s a very old and powerful ritual but the forces at play are not necessarily gentle or kind. I am sorry if I caused you any harm in my pursuit.”

“Some soreness probably, but I can heal that myself. Halsin, I’m…I have so many questions but I also need to rest…I…”

She could feel every nerve in her body tingling and it felt like her body was alight with some force she could not name. It felt as if she’d taken three health tonics all at once. She felt that right now she was at the pinnacle of her magic and could level an entire city in a blaze of cinders should she wish to. Her words came out in a rush as she was unable to focus her thoughts.

He interrupted her before she could go on. “Peace. I understand how you’re feeling and I will answer any questions you have, but first of all let me take care of you. We have mated now on Beltane Eve and it’s my responsibility as your mate to make sure you are cared for. I will make us a fire and find some nourishment. Under other circumstances there would be a grand feast to follow but I’m sure I can find us something.”

She trusted him. He pulled out from her but as he did so his seed ran down her body to the back of her legs. There seemed to be so much of it. She sat up herself and ran a finger down her stomach where some of it gathered. She caught his eye and she could’ve sworn she saw a proud glimmer there.

“Kyre…” he murmured, kissing her cheek. Perfect.

He did as he promised and found them a safe spot to rest close to the riveredge. She cast her gaze over their surroundings and if she squinted hard enough she could make out some lights far back along the river where she thought their main camp might be. No doubt her companions would see that she and Halsin were both missing and put two and two together.

He offered to carry her but she felt fine walking unaided, though she spotted some blood running down her legs as well as his seed. It was not surprising given the passion in their mating and his size. She cast a quick healing spell on herself to mend any internal harm yet did nothing to clean herself right away as it was a testament to their act. Bruises would come along soon also and she could see scratch marks on her arms and knees.

She felt a wave of pride in the thought of what she’d just done. In what they had done together. Nobody she knew had ever mated like that on a Beltane Eve. With a first druid, no less. The stories told around the campfire had left her utterly unprepared but she knew now there could be no human or Elvish words to paint it just right.

She watched silently as he summoned a fire and gathered something for them to eat. As he did so she noted again the strong hard lines of his naked body and allowed herself to eye the frenzied scratches that now graced his back. She could see the bite mark she had left on his shoulder too. Again, she felt proud about this. She had marked him too.

Incredibly, she felt another glimmer of desire and longing fill her belly at the sight of him but she knew he was right and she should eat something. It was important that those who joined in with the rite were cared for and looked after their coupling. During usual Beltane celebrations there would be a great feast following the mating where they would eat and drink their fill and celebrate with music and laughter.

As it was they sat alone together on the riverbank in the glow of the fire, and they were at peace. The world around them was the only witness to their union.

When Halsin sat down behind her, he gently wrapped one of his large arms around her shoulders and drew her to him so that she was leaning back against his chest. His powerful legs were sprayed out beside her own. The gesture was tender. Comforting. She allowed her head to roll back so that her pointed ear was next to his skin. She could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

He presented her with an offering of some fruits and goodberries and she fell on it ravenously. “Eat, little one. Tend to your needs.”

“Are you not hungry?”

He smiled. He began to use his fingers to comb out the new snarls in her long hair. “The rite does different things to everyone and I’ve found that I do not require as much rest as others after it. I am well sustained on the magic around us and by the rite itself. You need not worry. But it is a pleasure to care for you and see to your needs. It is thought in my grove that by doing so any fruits of our union may be doubly blessed. Though…I admit I wish to care for you regardless. You were wonderful, by the way, I could not have prayed for a better partner in this. I’m very very thankful that you gave me the gift of chasing you too.”

She smiled, though she probably had berry juice around her lips. She could feel that she was still shaking but Halsin’s free hand moved up and down her arms slowly to try and steady her.

“The fruits of our labour…the offering to the gods for a fertile and bountiful summer…but there may be a child as well,” she said. “I could feel a twist of something while you were inside of me. Something was blessing us. I could feel it.”

He didn’t hesitate in his motions for even a second. “If such a child is born from this union then I will count myself very fortunate. I will love and care for any child of ours that is born from your flesh, as is my nature. Granted a pregnancy is not ideal given our present circumstances and the dangers we face, but ignoring our way of life and setting aside such an important ritual? It would be the same as letting the shadows win, in my eyes.”

She found herself in agreement with that and wondered how many children he'd sired in his lifetime. It was foolish to think that someone such as he had not fathered dozens by now. She, like the rest of her people, had a very relaxed attitude when it came to bearing children and she would leave the outcome to fate as intended.

She put aside the empty bowl and she found herself twisting around to look at him. He was looking at her with such tenderness that she knew in this moment he truly loved her and she him. Their hearts beat as one this night.

“Is it always like this?” she asked. “The rite?”

“No. The chase itself is usually the same, although you got further than most,” he complimented. “But the mating afterwards did, in my experience, feel very different. I have never ended a coupling so sure that it had been seen and blessed. With you it was like the very heavens were watching us and were pleased by what they saw. And you are so very lovely.”

A fleeting but sad thought crossed her mind.

“I feel more alive than I have done so in a long time. So attune with the nature around us. I can actually feel the blood pumping around my body. I admit that a part of me is saddened to think that I may never experience such a thing again. You’ve quite ruined me for any other partner,” she teased. “Know that if we survive this next battle, I will come back to the Emerald Grove next year and demand another chance.”

“I will hold you to that. We have Beltane Eve, but there are other important rituals I observe throughout the year. Each one holds its own magic and promise. My heart, you’ll find that coupling with a first druid will never get tiring.” He leant down to capture her lips and when he whispered into the shell of her ear she felt herself shiver. “And I would say that even without those sacred days, I am regarded as a very good lover. I would never leave you wanting. As I told you before I have not felt such a desire for someone in a long time. You have stirred something deep within this old heart whether you meant to or not.”

“You’re saying that even after all of that you desire me still?” she whispered.

She knew that right now she looked like the very crude image Human’s often had of wood elves with her tangled hair, her brazen nakedness, and the mud that still coated her hands and knees. Her lips were stained red with berry juice but she made no effort to rub this away. She looked as wild as she had ever done.

The look in his eyes told her that it was all for the better.

“More.” He stroked his hand down the length of her back. “And if it pleases you I will continue to share my nights with you until a time comes where we must be parted. Just say the word and I will be at your service. Whether you want me alone as we are now…or with another of your choosing.”

Thoughts of sharing Halsin with a third party was enough to make her moan and her fingers moved of their own accord. She trailed them down his stomach and to the hardness that she found waiting below his waist. He was ready for her again. She found herself aching for him.

His hand moved lower to grasp her waist. “The night is still young.”

“And I will have you again, my love.”

Without looking away, she lowered herself down between his legs and she took his full length into her mouth. Halsin hissed with pleasure and the noise drummed through her body, urging her onwards.

He took her again on that riverbank and again in the lake afterwards. He showed her what he liked best (mostly having his mouth on her) and in turn she taught him what she liked (which featured him ramming into her from behind). They learned each other's bodies thoroughly and blessed the night over and over. They spent the entire night pleasing one another in every way they knew how and when the sun rose the next morning they found themselves aching and thoroughly spent.

A/N: Let me know if I should do another one. I'm thinking of doing a Gale/Female Tav next but LOVE this kink honestly.

#halsin #halsin x reader #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #fanfic #smut #halsin x tav #halsin x female tav #halsin bg3 #tav x halsin #baldurs gate

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utilitycaster · 10 months

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In honor of that poll, which has apparently been answered by a bunch of loser rogue-fuckers, and was also written by someone who doesn't even have the update that gives you twelve poll options, please have a good ranking of sexiest D&D 5e classes, from me.

This only has the 13 officially published 5e classes so do not ask me about classes that are not that. Also, the existence of a handful of sexy or unsexy characters of that class does not a sexy or unsexy class overall make. I'm sure these two statements will not shut down all annoying people but by god I hope they shut down some.

Paladin. Self-explanatory: if you don't agree, you better explain yourself, unless you think they are outranked by...

Wizard. As Liam O'Brien said, what's sexier than wizards? And I said "paladins, but no one else." I'm also going to fuck up an Octavia Butler quote and say that her journal did not explicitly state that single-minded devotion is sexy but it is, and that's why wizards and paladins are, undisputably, the top two.

Warlock. Would be higher than wizards on the basis of sheer raw charisma but some warlock classes (archfey, hexblade) are extremely sexy and some are...pots in need of very unique lids, shall we say.

Bard. This is for competency and knowledge of mythology and musical instruments. If you're into some kind of memeriffic 20 CHA 7 INT Roll To Seduce bro shit, get the fuck out of here.

Ranger. Their combat abilities are not as great as they could be but this is also without a doubt the class that will invite you over and make a delicious foraged mushroom risotto and have lit candles they made themself. They are good with animals and can identify constellations. Entire package.

Barbarian and Fighter are tied. Do you prefer a flow state and passion or do you prefer dedication and persistence? Axe or sword? Raw power or precision? Equally valid; it's a matter of personal taste.

Cleric. One of the gods thinks they're special; it's hard not to be drawn in by that. Also, healing is the sexiest magical ability. Points off for the possibility of sanctimonious behavior.

Druid. This is just personal taste but I would find it weird if my partner was sometimes a giant scorpion, and I feel rangers are just the far sexier nature-loving option. People for whom druids are #1, I see you, I respect you, I disagree with you, but I do think you're valid.

Monk. Here's the problem. Yes flexible; everything else is kind of a solid "eh" for me. Honestly I think it's because D&D separates out dexterity and strength even though monks technically need both, and so the low-strength monk archetype really doesn't do it for me. It's not unsexy but it never wows me, and honestly in real life martial arts is usually more an aesthetic joy than a sexy one for me.

Sorcerer. Often physically attractive but I do not love a nepo baby, and absolutely the class least able to make you breakfast. Class most likely to attempt to make you breakfast and manage to fuck up scrambled eggs.

Artificer. Love the class but unfortunately I can only think of Belle's father in Beauty and the Beast (1991) when I think of what an artificer looks like. Wizards claimed the hot nerd spot; artificers never had a chance.

Rogue. Anyone can wear black leather. Anyone can twirl a butterfly knife and the ranger is going to be better at using it. You know what rogues are best at? Leaving through the window without waking you up. That's it. Bards have the same skills and then some and they're hotter by design. There are other classes with superior physical skills. Burst damage is already not actually that useful in 5e combat and even less so in the bedroom.

#people will be into rogues for the aesthetic and forget that studded leather armor is widely available #tentatively making rebloggable again but artificerfuckers you're on the THINNEST of ice and it's cracking.#maybe use your technological knowledge to make your own post? just a thought.

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pluviowriting · 13 days

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Study Break

18+ || MDNI || Content Warnings: SMUT, characters aged up, established relationship, language, praise kink, thigh riding, lil bit of breeding kink, semi public sex I think that covers it all

Word Count: 1480 exactly

Repost from original blog @/pluvpluvpluv

Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

A/N: Happy Thirsty Thursday :) This was written in one sitting and not edited at all. I read through it once before going “yeah post it”

MC was ready for summer. Summer meant NEWTs were done and she could take a month or so off to celebrate and relax before diving headfirst into her next adventure. She had spent the last two summers under an apprenticeship with Fatima Lawang, making the trip from Feldcroft to Keenbridge every day to study and learn business from someone she truly looked up to. She would be opening a small apothecary in the hamlet she now called home. It was a wonderful location, since she knew Bernard really stuck to selling beast byproducts and plants. She wouldn’t be encroaching on his market, and she could also source ingredients from him. It was going to be, thankfully, a mutually beneficial existence.

She had moved to Feldcroft at the end of their fifth year. Sebastian had nowhere else to live over the summer months, she really had nowhere to live over that time, and neither wanted to be alone. So, when that first year had come to an end, she just followed him home. He had started courting her about halfway through that summer. She had accepted and they had practically lived together like a married couple ever since.

Before she could get to the summer and enjoy her newfound freedom with the love of her life, she had to pass the NEWTs. In order to get her apothecary license, she needed to score high in Potions and Herbology at the very least, but that wasn’t going to be enough for her. The reputation of saving the wizarding world at fifteen years old meant she was expected to do exceedingly well on all of her NEWTs, and she was determined to do so.

She had taken up residence in one of the more secluded corners of the library. It always ensured that MC wouldn’t have to share the table and she could have all of her books open and spread out. Only a select few people knew of where she hid out to study, which limited the interruptions. Except in the case of her boyfriend.

She didn’t know how long she had really been studying when Sebastian finally sat beside her. She didn’t even look up from rereading a paragraph she had already read ten times before. She still retained nothing.

“MC. Love, you missed lunch. I brought you some food.”

“Thanks Bash. I’ll eat it in a minute. I just need to understand what this page is saying.”

He set the plate down and moved the book.

“Considering it’s well past lunch and I didn’t even see you at breakfast, I think you can’t understand the page because you’re hungry. Eat and take a break.”

MC glared at him, debating whether or not it would be worth the argument since they were both the most stubborn person the other had met. That train of thought was interrupted by a rather loud growl as she was betrayed by her own stomach. She ate the food that he brought her without further complaint.

While she ate, Sebastian sat beside her and scanned over the tomes she had laid out on the table. She was paying more attention to him instead. The way that his eyebrows furrowed when he was focused on a paragraph in one of the books and the way his lips moved silently with the words. She focused on his hands as he turned the page and the way that the muscles in his exposed forearms flexed even with that small movement. She could feel herself growing hotter by the second, and it led to the realization that she and Sebastian hadn’t been intimate in nearly three weeks. It could’ve been a record, honestly. Even before he was courting her, after they took each other’s virginities that first summer in Feldcroft, they hardly went more than a couple days without going after each other. The joys of two students living with no chaperone.

“I can feel you staring holes in the side of my head, MC. Have you finished eating? Do you want me to read to you to see if that helps you understand the material better?”

The way he cared for her had also always been one of her favorite things. She had never been good at keeping herself in check, but Sebastian always did his best to make sure she didn’t overextend herself.

“I—uh it’s mostly gone. But I was thinking about something else.”

“Were you? Care to share with the class, darling?”

“I could use your help. Just in a different way.”

He looked at her curiously for a moment before it seemed he registered the look on her face and his expression grew more heated.

“Have you been thinking too much? Do you want to turn that brilliant brain off for a minute?”

His tone was condescending, and while it would normally agitate her when he spoke to her that way, this time it felt different. She nodded slowly, her eyes not leaving his own while a smirk grew on his face.

“Do you remember over the winter holiday, you told me about how one of the girls had talked about grinding on a pillow when she didn’t want to do things herself and I made you do it for me? We don’t have a pillow here, but I bet I could have you grinding on something else and feeling as good as you did that night. Come sit on my thigh, darling. We’ll see if you can ride me like you rode that pillow. Maybe you’ll make just as big a mess on me.”

As she settled in on his lap, she was grateful she had opted for a skirt instead of one of the few outfits she had with pants. The back of the skirt that draped over her boyfriend’s knee would hopefully help hide what they were doing if anyone were to stumble back and find them.

She gave an experimental roll of her hips, and she felt Sebastian’s thigh flex beneath her. MC let out a shaky exhale as she did it again. The thin fabric of her knickers and the coarse fabric of Sebastian’s quidditch pants provided the most delicious friction to her clit. Sebastian’s large hands settled on her hips beneath her skirt, the feel of his fingertips on her bare skin lighting her nerves on fire.

“Make sure you stay quiet. Don’t need anyone hearing how I’m helping you study,” his voice purred, the effect going straight to her core.

As she grew more confident, her pace picked up. Sebastian helped, tensing his thigh and slightly pushing her hips down when she rolled them to make sure that the bundle of nerves she was focused on didn’t go a second without feeling something.

“That’s it, darling. Use me. Grind that needy little cunt on my thigh.”

MC gasped softly, biting her lip as the familiar tension in her lower stomach began to build. She was able to keep her volume down, but she couldn’t keep herself from whining and whimpering completely.

“Bash. Oh gods. I-I’m~”

“Keep going, darling. I can feel how bad you need it. That pretty pussy is drooling through my trousers. You’re making such a mess for me, my good girl. Go on. Cum on my thigh. You can do it, honey.”

With his encouragement and permission, she felt herself giving into the pleasure as her orgasm hit. Her hips stuttered, but Sebastian kept her in rhythm. She registered his low moan too, her chest heaving as she started to come down from her high.

MC’s hand moved to where she assumed she’d find Sebastian’s bulge, hard and aching for the attention she wanted to give it. Instead, her hand landed on a warm, wet patch on the front of his trousers.

“Sebastian Sallow,” she spoke his name low and soft, her frazzled brain slowly putting the pieces together as she looked up at him. “You came in your pants. Untouched. Because of me?”

The boy’s freckled cheeks flooded with color as he blushed. Her normally suave boyfriend seemed embarrassed by this turn of events.

“I may have. You didn’t see yourself. Or hear yourself for that matter. I didn’t realize it was going to happen until it just…happened.”

“That is one of the hottest things you’ve ever done. If we can sneak down to the library floo flame without getting caught, we can make it to the ROR. And I can give you something else to cum in.”

He let out a dark chuckle, looking at her with blown pupils.

“You think this is a game, MC? Hmm? Merlin, I’m gonna get you so fucking pregnant.”

Her eyes widened, and she couldn’t stop the giggle that fell from her lips. She was still giddy as she pulled him down the stairs and towards the floo flame on the back wall.

Thank Merlin for study breaks.

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow fanfiction #Sebastian sallow smut #Sebastian sallow x mc #Sebastian x mc #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fic #Sebastian sallow fic

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heartofsnark · 8 months

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A Simple Request For An Unsimple Man (Gale x Fem!Oc Tav)

Author's note: Hello, it's certainly been a minute since I've been able to post fic here without worrying about formatting bullshit (love so much that my longest running fic can't be posted here because it relies on italics/formatting techniques within the first 50ish chapters and tumblr makes that a headache)But, I've found myself sinking a bit into BG3/Gale hell and after some prompting my @shallow-gravy about a comment I left about Gale being able to summon a bed, I decided this might be a fun idea and oops have a thirty page one shot! So, have something featuring my tav- Petra and Gale. Still not sure of what I"m doing with these characters, but hey~

Summary: Petra and Gale are more than a little clumsy in the ways that they love, both having their own significant dry spell when it comes to romance and sexual desires. And while the two have shared themselves within the weave, Petra has made a simple request to share their physical bodies as well. Gale is not good at simple.

Warnings: Unprotected vaginal sex, praise kinks, creampies, cunnilingus (tav/petra in this is a cis female woman), fingering, mutual masturbation, tooth-rotting fluff (turns out I write fluff now), soft!dom Gale, and magical sex mishaps.

Petra's mind has been a maelstrom of worries for quite a while now, however, if someone had told her that amidst tadpoles, cults, and shadow cursed lands that her mind would be consumed with matters of the heart and loins- well, she'd think they were crazy.

But, perhaps she's the crazy one.

She never expected to love again, never expected to find someone who felt like home, or makes her heart stutter on every other beat. But she never expected to have a tadpole shoved into her eye or to pull a wizard from a stone- let alone for that very wizard be the one doing this to her. Life is full of surprises, as is her lover.

Ugh, gods- she has a lover.

The very thought makes her face burn, her heart pound, and her guts twist. If she didn't know any better she'd think herself ill, but alas- she's learned that's merely Gale's influence on her. The wizard needed no charms or illusions to win her affection, but he warned her early on- well before either of them had realized what was growing between them, that he had a taste for grand gestures.

And grand they were.

He conjured her stars and shifting auroras against an ink black night, he showed her his home, his sanctuary without her needing to step a foot into Waterdeep. And he plucked their very souls from their bodies, to kiss and touch and merge within a realm beyond their own. Glittering blue forms, never knowing quite where his touch ended and hers began, surrounded and consumed by him. An electric blur of his touch over her very being.

She would have been content with a flower and a bowl of his deer stew, but who is she to turn down the adoration fueled gestures of a man she does not deserve.

Which in part is why she can't help but suspect she might be being just a touch greedy…

Made all the worse by her greed and insecurity tugging her mind back and forth between them like rabid dogs would a slice of steak.

In some ways she's already done the hardest part, confessing her desire to Gale felt like a herculean task in itself, a stumble of poorly put together words while her face burned hotter than Karlach's engine. But ultimately, she got the message across and Gale as always was far too eager to oblige.

Though, he seems intent to oblige her request in his Gale way of obliging.

Because, you see, her request is incredibly simple. Despite her anxiety and insecurity- she wants to fuck Gale the old fashioned way. She loved the way they bonded before and truly will jump to do it again, but she just can't help but also want the more mundane variety. To feel flesh and bone, to touch his skin, to press her lips against his throat and feel his pulse race beneath her tongue. This of course means he'll also be seeing her naked properly without blue blurry auras smoothing out her every- less excited for that, but her desire for him outweighs her shame for herself.

And this simple request, frankly- could have been sated nearly the moment it was made in the privacy of his tent. He needed only to roll her onto her back or pull her to straddle his hips, a few garments tossed aside, the dark providing her with some some cloaking while still getting to feel and see him- gods bless darkvision.

But that would be far too simple, her request instead met with a wide smile a; "Say no more, consider it done, my love," a kiss goodnight, and the looming knowledge that he was planning something.

So, perhaps surprise is too strong a word when she returns to camp after a brief walk alone to find her companions snickering and Gale's mirror image standing outside his tent. Thin ripples of weave radiating through an otherwise perfect copy of her favorite wizard. She knows it could be perfect, saw him make one perfect before- the imperfections intentional, to let her know it's not him and instead a messenger.

Petra skirts past her chattering friends, pretending she doesn't feel several sets of eyes following her as she stands before the replication of her dearest. Who merely beams with that bright smile that she's come to adore, even if it's merely a simulacrum of it.

"Heh, I take it Gale has some plans for us tonight?" She whispers towards the mirror image, trying to keep prying ears from learning too much. Not that her and Gale are secretive about their relationship by any means, but not every one of their friends needs to know when they're having sex.

"That he does and I have the most wonderous task of taking you to see him, words cannot begin to express how eager he is to see you tonight," the mirror image chirps, not even a hint of shame or volume control as his eyes burn with that same flame of adoration the real Gale always seems to carry- her face flushing beneath its heat.

"Ugh, hells you two are going to make me throw up a perfectly good meal, would you please take your simpering gazes elsewhere," Astarion calls out from around the campfire, a hint of a smile in his words, then his lips when Petra turns to glower at him.

"I hardly think whatever shadow cursed vermin you've managed to snack on out here counts as a good meal- but rest assured, I am leaving."

"But of course- after all your little magician is so very eager," he mocks again and if he weren't her friend, she'd kick his arse- still might.

"Oh lay off her, Fangs- it's cute, like two pups wagging their tails at each other."

"I believe nauseating is the word you're looking for," Shadowheart chimes in, "I mean really, not a drop of shame between the two, every time he leaves behind one of those mirror images- he might as well just declare that they're about to go rut around in the woods all night."

"Date nights are perfectly healthy for a newly bonded couple-"

"Dates- is that what you think they're doing out there? In the middle of nowhere, alone- you think they're, what, chatting about their favorite books over a glass of wine?" Astarion cuts Wyll off, incredulous that he would refer to Petra and Gale's outings as a date.

"I mean, wouldn't really be all that shocked if they were- it is Gale, after all…"

"Regardless, I think seeing our friends form such a union is something to be celebrated not mocked."

"Their carnal desires are hardly any of our concern, so long as they remain vigilant in battle- however, I must say I do find it curious that the wizard always seeks to be hunted, he might as well submit outright if he cannot best her in combat."

"Oh, I'm sure he does plenty of submitting."

"I don't know 'bout that, Petra may be bossier but look at the poor thing- redder than a devil's arsehole, probably turns into a mess the moment clothes start comin' off."

Petra grasps the mirror image's arm, her face burning hot and no doubt just as red as Karlach said. She hisses between gritted teeth; "Get me the fuck out of here."

"Your wish is my command, now- let us find more pleasant company," he assures her, quickly walking her away from the camp as their friends speculate about their sex life.

"And by that, you mean yourself," she teases, leaning against the mirror image's arm. The conjured form isn't a perfect match, both from the rippling static like eminence of weave and it being a little less shameful than her Gale. But it carries his warmth, his smell- like the innards of an old library, cozy and welcoming.

"Would you have it any other way?"

"Gods no," she admits, burrowing her face into his arm, hiding her flushed cheeks from his view.

"Careful now, I'd hate to be jealous of myself," Gale's voice rings out, more alive, more human and not right beside her- her head shoots up, the sky is bathed in shifting colors and twinkling lights. Her Gale just a short walk away; "Though I can hardly blame you, he is quite handsome."

And that’s all she needs, letting go of the mirror image, the half-elf rushes towards him- the real him, a small laugh escaping Gale’s lips as she throws her arms around him. As nice as the fake one is, it will never feel as good as touching the real thing. His heat seeping in between their clothes, warming her skin- that must of old books and lavender offset slightly by the salt of his sweat. His large hands holding her in kind, one settling on the small of her back and the other stroking through her hair. She takes a deep breath, a heavy inhale and exhale of him, before finally lifting her head ever so slightly- enough to look up at him,

The way he looks at her could melt all of Frostfell. Those soft brown eyes looking at her like she’s hung the stars and moon, all the while he’s the one who’s conjured the sky above them.

“A good evening to you too,” he greets, smiling so sweetly and she stands up on her tiptoes- Gale meeting her need as she presses a kiss to that very smile. The warm press of his mouth against hers sending heat and butterflies through her very veins, she breaks back before she can get carried away. Not wanting to ruin his plans, but struggling to stifle the desire to kiss him until her lungs ache.

“Good evening,” she hums back instead, squeezing him tighter, her eyes looking around the wide field bathed in the glow of soft purples and blues. It’s largely familiar, the same space and view he created the night he brought their very souls together- when he confessed his fear, his love, and so much more. Where she pleaded for him to stay, for him to live.

Though with one very new addition to the expanse of field- an extraordinarily out of place bed. Lavish and lush with deep indigo blankets, bathed in the glow of the sky and the burning of a torch mounted in the ground beside it- the addition betraying the reason they’re here tonight.

“You know what I can’t help but notice?” Petra remarks after a beat of silence, a quiet moment of simply sinking into one another’s hold- blinking up at her wizard.

“My dashing good looks?”He asks, a small smile and a raise of his brow.

“Mm, yes, but no more than usual,” she plays along, smiling against him. Knotting her fingers in the plush purple of his tunic,debating on if she should slip her hands beneath the fabric- wanting to feel more of his skin.

“My brilliant mind and ever expanding intellect?”

“Well, that just goes without saying,” she assures him, heaping on the praise for him.

“Hmm, than it must be my veritable wealth of charm and wit.”

“Close and before you ask- no, it’s not your modesty either,” she teases, scratching her nails over his back through his shirt- trying to sate her ache to touch him, “What I can’t help but notice is that whenever you pull me away for a night via your mirror image- it seems to mean I’m the one left dealing with the whispers of our companions.”

He grimaces slightly, somewhat between amusement and annoyance; “Ah, yes, a… much unfortunate consequence, but one we simply can’t avoid, I’m afraid.”

“Oh, is that so?” She teases, laughing through her smile, “Funny how that unavoidable consequence seems to benefit you.”

“Life is full of those funny little mysteries, I think it wise to embrace- not question, these curiosities.”

“Thats quite a fancy way of saying you intend to keep throwing me to the wolves,” she chirps, pulling a hand back to slap him playfully in the ribs, he merely laughs because he knows exactly what he’s doing; “Do you know that right now, at this very moment- our friends gossiping like hens about which one us… takes the lead?”

“Ah, yes, I’m… terribly sorry to have missed that conversation.”

“And yet, I suspect you’re not sorry at all,” she comments, reaching upward she strokes through his hair- tracing a streak of gray that curls around his ear, soft brown strands slipping between her fingers. He’s so lucky he’s so damned adorable.

“Oh, but I am- absolutely contrite that I could not steal you away before their sordid chatter reached your ears- after all, I’m no more keen on our proclivities being the subject of discussion than you are,” he admits and she hums, a small smirk on her lips as he continues on, trying to insist he definitely feels bad about leaving the gossipy shit for her to handle.

“Perhaps not, but you do seem keen on leaving me to handle it.” She points out again, cradling his jaw- his beard scratching her palm as she rubs her thumb along his cheekbone. Petra often wonders if he minds the callouses that cling to her skin. Her flesh so much rougher than his, he leans into her touch, presses his jaw to her hand.

“And my apologies are most sincere, however if you still find yourself unconvinced- perhaps I can show you the depth of my remorse?” He asks, pressing his forehead to hers, lips a breath away, “You need only ask, demand any penance you deem fit- and I will gladly pay it.”

“Is that so?”

“There is no sin against you, no matter size or severity, that I would not repent for.”

“Well, I mean, I wouldn’t mind a kiss,” she admits, the only thought on her mind when his face is so close to hers- when his lips are just a breath away. When one tilt of her head, one jolt would crash their lips together.

“Hmm, I think you may not have a full understanding of what penance means, my dear, typically-”

“Gale,” she says, looking up at him with the sternest eyes she can manage- no doubt stopping him from prattling off the definition of penance. Because she’s in love with a sentient thesaurus.

“Yes.”

“You have until the count of three to kiss me and if you don’t- I’m going to bite you,” she threatens, not sure how much she wants him to listen- she does like biting him, “One-”

“Thinking over my options,” he chimes, sing songy as he seems equally unsure of which choice he likes more.

“Two.”

“I do rather like your love bites, but your kisses are quite enchanting as well.”

“Thr-”

His lips press to hers, deeper than before. One of her hands twists in his tunic, the other in the his hair. He cradles her jaw and lower back, pulling each other closer, she can’t help the small sigh of happiness and bliss as his tongue pushes into her mouth. The faintest taste of his cooking still on his tongue, a hint of mint where he tried to clear it out- maybe she should have been so kind.

Their kisses are still clumsy, a slightly awkward press and swirl of tongues, both single and isolated for a year or more. But it feels like warmth and love and home in a way she can’t define, heat simmering between her thighs when the hand on her back moves lower. A broad palm playfully squeezing at her ass, tugging her closer, the grope of his fingers sinking into the plush of her flesh- a soft moan echoing from her throat, muffled by his tongue.

They break apart, breathing ragged- hot puffs of air across each other’s lips. She can feel the heat clinging to the apples of her cheeks, mirrored in the flush that creeps beneath Gale’s beard. Petra grins up at his beautiful red face, the brown of his eyes nearly swallowed by the black of his pupil.

“Three,” she whispers, catching his lower lip between her teeth and nipping playfully at the kiss swollen flesh. Gale groans, deep and throaty, sending molten heat right to her cunt. His lips pulls out from between her teeth as he pulls her into a desperate hungered kiss.

It’s deeper than the last, even more ravenous and rough, both of his hands now groping at her backside- kneading at her flesh, feeling his fingers sinking into the plush of her flesh through her clothing. Wishing his hands were beneath her clothes, on her skin, pressing into her properly.

She tugs at his hair, scratches her nails along his scalp as he kisses her deeper and deeper, her lungs burning by the time she feels the back of her thighs bumping something soft. Breaking off the kiss to see she’s somehow been staggered back to the bed. It’s plush blankets and rows of pillows beckoning her. She can’t help but giggle.

“Couldn’t settle for a dirty bedroll, could you?” She teases, stealing another soft kiss.

“The least I could do for your comfort, time spent together in the flesh should be no less beautiful than that spent in the celestial- whatever way you’ll have me, I wish only to make it perfect for you.”

“Then… wish no more,” she murmurs, voice soft as she avoids the intensity of his gaze, the adoration that consumes his words and expression, “You’re here with me, I could not imagine anything more perfect than that.”

“Careful now, keep talking that way- you may never be rid of me,” he tries to joke, to tease- but when she forces herself to look back up at him, she can see the flush of his cheeks deepening as his smile widens.

And with everything that still hangs in the air- Mystra’s unreasonable request, the knowledge that a part of him still doesn’t feel certain of whether he’ll see the end of this journey. The fact he may still make that choice, that he very well still might leave her in some desperate attempt to save the world. She throws her arms tight around his neck, latches her nails into his skin as she tugs him closer, closer. His nose bumping her own, his forehead back flush against hers.

“I truly hope that I could be so lucky,” she rushes out, reiterating her wish- her plead again. That he’ll stay here with her, that she will never be rid of him- that on the other side of this whole ordeal is a future where his story stays enmeshed with her own. That she’ll not have to lose another love, not sure her heart could stand it.

Then it’s another clash of lips, tongue, and teeth- not even sure who started this one, both desperate to get their mouths on each other. And for a moment, she feels herself lifted, feet off the air- she giggles into his kiss before the world shifts every so slightly, her back thumping down onto the soft blankets. Her weight sinking into the plush of the mattress, Gale smiling at her lowers a knee to the bed and climbs up, settling above her.

Adoration, the word comes to mind over and over again whenever he looks at her. Brown eyes soft and clear with nothing but that emotion, letting it sink in through her skin and into her bones, consuming her wholly. She never thought she loved brown eyes so much, disliking her own for so long- but on him they’re so beautiful. Warm and filled with more love than she’s could ever hope to deserve.

She cups his face and pulls him down for another kiss, never satisfied. He said before that moment with her could sate him for a lifetime and while the sentiment still rattles her to her very soul- she can’t say she relates, feeling as if she could have a million with him and still beg for one more, for another, another, another. Not enough time in the universe for how much she wishes to spend with him.

Her hands tug at his tunic, reaching one beneath- no longer able to suppress the desperate need to just touch him. To feel his skin beneath her fingers, warm flesh and coarse body hair, the soft skin of his stomach. A layer of plush with a hint of firmer muscle beneath, when she presses a little harder. Their lips part again as Gale leans back onto his knees, which sink into the bed on either side of her hips.

She skims her hands down his hips and thighs as Gale grips at his shirt, tugging it off- carefully putting it aside. Petra’s eyes roaming the open exposed flesh of his chest and stomach. The celestial version of him gorgeous, but not truly doing him justice. Smooth glowing blue aura not showing the dark body hair that scatters across his chest, trailing down his stomach and leading to below his waistband. The occasional freckle and even rarer scar that decorate his skin.

Even the mark on his chest, the symbol where the orb took root in his chest. Bruised in the middle, tendrils sweeping out from it- the ones that curl up the left side of his throat growing fainter as they stretch out to vanish beneath his beard- connected faintly to the prominent veins that ghost below his eye. She hates what that thing has done to him, how it’s hurt him- how it’s not being used as a threat against his very life, but even that she finds beautiful on his flesh. The mark of his mistakes, of his devotion to one who never deserved it, proof of him as a man who sought love in worship. His folly is as much a part of the man she loves as every virtue he carries in kind.

“Fuck,” she curses, all the words she can utter as she gazes at him. Admiring every inch of his body that’s been revealed to her. Realizing she’s rarely seen him shirtless, not counting the celestial plane and a few brief, awkward mistakes while navigating river baths in the early days of their travel. How odd that they’ve been so deeply intimate, yet she can’t say she’s seen him fully naked.

Which means he has yet to see her fully naked as well- which scares her even more than the tadpole gnawing at the inside of her skull.

“If you ever sought to deflate my ego, I must say- you’re doing a terrible job at it,” he teases, a brilliant grin on his face as her own burns with heat.

"As if I'd ever embark on a such a fool's errand," she taunts, skimming her hands upward and feeling the heat of his skin. Raking her nails along his lower stomach, feeling the muscles tense beneath her hand, biting her tongue to not make any comments about belly rubs.

"Hmm, given your…tendencies, forgive me if I remain unconvinced."

She lets out a breath of a laugh- "You know, you're astoundingly disagreeable, for a man attempting to bed me."

"Not to add to the matter, but I do believe we've past the point of 'attempting.'"

"I swear to the gods, I'm gonna learn magic just so I can cast silence on you one of these days," she threatens, pinching playfully at his flesh.

"And I'd be honored to teach you, but for now- I hope finding other uses for my mouth will suffice," he offers, dipping down to kiss her again, bracing one hand to the pillows by her head- the other cupping her jaw. His thumb brushing along her cheekbone, a soft sigh muffled by his tongue pushing into her mouth. Her hands roam his torso, unable to settle fully on which part of him she wants to touch- his stomach, chest, sides, back, and shoulders all feeling so perfect beneath her fingers.

His warm wide palm brushes down her jaw to her neck, heat and sparks rising to her skin wherever his fingers touch. Unable to help the way she squirms beneath his mouth and hands, the soft noises she whimpers into his kiss, against his tongue as her own presses into his mouth in kind. Burning heat aches between her thighs, barely touched but even the faintest of his kisses or the briefest brush of his fingers pulls desperation from her very soul. Pathetic in her need for him,

Gale's hand leaves her skin for a moment, already cold without his touch, she drags her nails along his shoulder blades- tries to pull him down closer. Then his hand finds her ribs, presses against her side molten warm on her chilled skin. Caught between relishing in the brush of his fingers and the way her insecurities make her body go rigid. Her hope that he may not notice dashed the moment their kiss breaks apart, ragged breath and flushed face not betraying the concern that knits his brows- the worry carved into every line of his face.

"Is everything alright?" He asks, voice lower and rougher, lips swollen and wet- strands of hair beginning to fall and stick against the sweat that beads along his forehead.

"Yeah, yes, of course," she insists, her own voice rougher than she expects as she tries to cram down the bubble of anxiety in her ches- desperate not to ruin her or Gale's night.

"Petra, I would never claim you to be an open book, but you are one that I feel most adept at reading- though, I could still clearly still use some slight guidance and for that I'll need your words. Tell me what is wrong, so I may make it right, please," he tries again, with more words and more conviction- his hand lifting to brush her hair behind her ear, his thumb dragging along the sensitive point. A little chill curls along her spine in response.

"It's nothing, really," she murmurs, smoothing her palm along his neck- tracing along the tendrils of blacked raised flesh that curls from the orb. Wondering again, if the callouses and scars of her hands bother him.

His hands are softer than hers, more versed in flipping book pages and casting spells than hunting or stealing. He's mentioned spas and bathhouses in Waterdeep, and she wonders what balms or lotions he'd be using were their supplies not so limited. He's not without his scars, she knows- but even the raised flesh feels softer on his body than hers. Subtle faded burns from cooking and casting mishaps alike, a raised crease on his forehead from summoning a toy he wanted as a child- only to have the wooden train set appear and thunk down atop his head.

Her scars and memories aren't so kind. No stories as sweet or kind. No fuzzy nostalgia for raised lashmarks on her back or thighs. No warm feelings about the scar across her lip, the only thing her mother deemed fit to let her keep, the same scar Gale must feel every time they kiss.

Gale has suffered truly and she would never suggest otherwise, she'd sooner fist fight Mystra than deny the pain he's endured, the pain he is still enduring. However, when he hears him talk of his childhood, his mother, Tara, his education- she can't help but feel like a tragedy in comparison. A pitiful thing next to him. Nowhere near worthy of his adoration, his efforts, his love…

"If it weighs on your mind, then it is not nothing."

"Okay, so… it's nothing, but it is silly," she tells him, scratching her thumbnail through his beard, hoping to distract him.

"Then if it is so silly and inconsequential, there will be no harm in telling me, will there?" He says, her nose wrinkling, he's so stubborn, "My aim is not to push you into telling me anything, but what kind of man would I be to notice your discomfort and continue on as if I hadn't?"

"Okay, okay- if you must make sense," she huffs and pouts, chews on her lip and avoids his gaze as she turns her head to the side, "I just am a little…insecure. Without the weave smoothing out my scars, blurring my freckles, and softening me- well, it helped make me someone worth touching."

Her admission hangs in the air for a moment, her chest rigid with tension and swollen with a bubble of anxiety. He must think she's exhausting, asking this of him then getting so worked up over it. Her desire for him outweighing but not fully dealing away with her own insecurities. Truthfully, she'd have been content to strip Gale down,kiss and touch him to her heart's content- while never letting his hands graze her. But, he always has a way of taking the lead when it comes to these things. A fact that can never make its way back to camp.

A soft kiss presses to the side of her lips, where that scar cuts jaggedly through them. Another against her jaw, her forehead, her cheeks as warm welcoming hands cup her face.

"Look at me, my love." He brings her gaze to his. Her heart lurches up into her throat, skin burning beneath the intensity of Gale's expression. "There is no plane or realm or state of being in which you are anything less than a person worth touching. You are my hope and my light- and no matter how or where you are presented to me, you will always be the most beautiful thing I have set my eyes on. The stars, the moon, the sun, the very heavens themselves- you put them all to shame…"

She feels like she's been set ablaze. Her face nearly glowing with its heat, eyes wet, and the chill of the night a distant memory as his words burn through her very being. And he means them, gods help her- he means them. Able to hear and feel the conviction in every syllable, see his earnestness in the lines of his expression, in the spark alight in his eyes. And she will never know what she did to deserve him and she will always fear that she may lose him, but she is so happy to have him,

"Ugh, gods, fuck- Gale," she curses, stuttering on her words because she has nowhere near his grasp on the English language, "I don't really know how the hells I'm supposed to argue with that."

"So don't," he says, the request surprising in its brevity. His lips press to the corner of her eye, Petra realizing a moment too late that tears had started to streak down her face.

He kisses down the path of her tears, her jaw, her neck craning to the side as he buries his face against her throat. Feverish and heavy kisses across her skin, her arms wrap tight around his back- digging her nails into his shoulder blades as he bites tenderly at her skin, laving his tongue across the sting he left behind. She groans as he sucks harshly, nips at her pulse point, and she can't help but squeeze her thighs together- trying to get a bit of relief, everything he does just making her needier.

She curls her hand into his hair, twisting the silver streaked strands around her fingers as Gale kisses along her collarbone. Careful as his teeth graze where the skin stretches thinner over bone, the briefest edge of pain soothed over by the lap of his tongue. She moves the hand not tugging at his hair down his chest, skimming down his stomach, and finally presses her open palm to his groin- feeling his cock hardening in his pants, the heat of him through the fabric. A rough, nearly pained groan echoes against her collarbone. His forehead suddenly pressed to her shoulder, twitching beneath her touch.

“Too much?” She whispers against his ear, worried she may have pushed too far too soon. Far too aware despite her eagerness that neither of them have had physical sex in a year or more- probably more, considering his time with Mystra.

“No such thing with you,” he says through a raspy breath, his lips catching hers again as his hands brush up her sides- warm open palms stroking up the taunt freckled skin of her stomach. Stoking a fire that burns inside of her, heat rising to the very surface of her flesh as grinds her palm against him. Desperate to give him even a hint of the same heat burning in her.

His movements halt as his fingers brush the edge of her cropped nightshirt, kiss breaking as his eyes meet hers, a surprisingly silent request from her wizard. Reluctantly, she pulls her hands from his hair and cock, Gale provides her the space as she sits up to hook her fingers beneath the edges of her shirt and tug it up off over her head. Petra tosses it aside, shaking out her hair and trying not to overthink being naked from the waist up.

Every fiber of her being screams that she should cover her chest, having gained some weight since traveling with Gale- his cooking having put a few pounds on her, but sadly none of those managed to reach her tits. Small and fuller at the bottom than the top, freckled like damn near every other inch of her.

But as always, there is nothing sheer adoration in Gale’s eyes and with a little press of his palm on her sternum her back is hitting the sheets again. The blankets and pillows all the softer on her bare skin, sinking down into the blush of it. Warmth of the sheets and his hand a contrast to the chill of the open air that’s snuck back in, her nipples stiffening as a breeze taunts her.

Her legs spread for him as he moves closer, allowing him to slot himself between her thighs- a gasp on her tongue when his cock brushes against her core. Cloth grinding against her wet clit, feeling the outline of him against her. She groans and tries to wrap her legs around his hips, only for his hand to find her thigh- a steady palm pressing it back against the mattress. And his other hand finds hers, his large warm palm eclipsing hers, fingers intertwining with her own- as he presses another quick kiss to her lips, the next to her collarbones, another to the top of her breasts, then the heat of his mouth is around her nipple.

“Fuck,” she curses, a hiss of breath as pleasure sparks across her skin- Gale sucks harshly at her chest, teasing her nipple with his tongue, just the hint of his teeth on the fullest part of her breast, and the scratch of his beard on her skin.

She whines and whimpers, fingers knotting in his hair- his hands on her hand and thigh keeping her pinned beneath his weight, only able to arch and squirm against his mouth. Her hips try to writhe on instinct, trying to find friction against her core, trying to refind it. But he presses a little harder on her thigh, keeping his full weight off her, too much empty space between them for her to be sated. A frustrated whine in her throat as he pulls off her breast with a soft wet sound, not offering her any relief to her core or even acknowledgement of his torture, only a small hungry groan as he takes her other breast into his mouth.

The air feels even colder on her spit slick chest, nipple swollen and redder, a scratch of flushed beard burn left behind. Sharp contract making her squirm all the more as he makes the other match. Her sounds pathetic and needy, as he teases her sensitive chest. Every swipe of his tongue, brush of his teeth, scratch of his beard, and hungry reverberating groan against her skin sends a pulse of pleasure between her thighs.

“Gale,please,” she keens, not even sure what she’s begging for, more or less- if she’s squirming to press herself tighter to his face or trying to escape the laving of his tongue on her body. But she can only whine when her cry is met with a groan that echoes against her, reverberates in her bones, seeps through her veins, and settles in the wet heat between her thighs.

His lips pull away from her chest, the hand that had been pressed into hers slips away- palm stroking down her forearm, along her collarbones as Gale’s mouth moves lower. Soft kisses beneath the curve of her breast, down the middle of her stomach, his thumb brushing over her nipple- his fingers nearly chasing after his mouth as he moves down her body. Lips kissing over her belly button as he squeezes at her breast, the sink of his hands into the squish of her chest, large warm hand groping and teasing while he works his mouth even lower.

“Gale,” she whines again, as he presses her thigh tighter to the bed, his beard scratching just at the waistband of her pants. His hand skims down from her breast, fingers pressing soft divots into her hip. Then hook into her waist band, her thigh released finally as he mirrors the gesture of his other.His deep brown eyes looking up as her.

“May-”

“Please,” she cuts him off, hissing her consent, the ragged sound of his voice only making her desparate for more of him. He smiles, far too sweet for a man about to strip her naked- another soft kiss beneath her navel and then he’s tugging her clothes down.

She does her best to make it easy for him, lifting her hips as he rolls the fabric down them, moving her legs as needed when he finally yanks the clothes from her body. Her dearest magician having made sure to grab her underwear with them as well. Petra laid completely bare before him, The air just as cold on the slick heat of her cunt as it’s been to her split slick breasts. A chill curling along her spine, reminding her that despite the plush mattress and the soft downy blankets hugging her skin, they’re unmistakably outside. Conjured bed in the midst of the field, twinkling stars and kaleidoscopes of colors still dancing over head- bathing her blush touched skin in their glow.

Petra presses a hand to her mouth, trying halfway to hide her crimson face as her other hand hovers to hide her cunt. She can’t imagine the sight she must make- red faced, tangled hair against the pillow, throat mottled by his teeth, chest marked with saliva, the red scratch of beard burn lingering along her flesh and slick clinging to the meat of her thighs. The mess his mouth has made of her on full display.

His fingers are warm and reverant when they wrap around her wrist, plucking her hand from where it covers her cunt- exposing her even further as he presses a kiss to her palm.

“None of that, my love,” he whispers against her skin. Her nose wrinkles, heat still burning through her face- no words find her, so she pulls her hand from her mouth and sticks her tongue out at him. Feeling his smile against her palm, a soft nip of teeth against her wrist.

His hand falls away from her wrist, Petra scratches her nails through his beard before allowing her own to drop. A gasp catching in her throat when the broad warmth of his palms presses against both of her thighs. Her knees bending as she allows him to spread her further apart, even more exposed- even more on display than she felt before. His deep brown eyes reverent and nearly eclipsed by his pupils as he looks down at her slick cunt- Petra squirms against the sheets and the press of his hands.

“Gods,” he breathes out, her heart stuttering in her chest, “I could study for ages, read every tome and scroll in all of Faerun and still never be able to conjure a more beautiful sight than you.”

“Gale…” She whines, burying her face in her hands- burning beneath his gaze and words, how can he say these things without a singular fucking drop of shame? And how can he mean every single word of it?

“I’m right here, love,” he answers, pressing his face into her inner thigh- soft lips and the scratch of his beard, her breathing hitches as he kisses her flesh. Another moving further inward, along her skin. His tongue licking the slick that clings to her, his teeth nipping bruises into her thigh.

She squirms and writhes, anticipation coiling tight inside of her, only one goal with the direction of his kisses. Every lick and bite jolting phantom pleasure to her cunt, insides clenching and aching for something more direct, to feel that scratch of his beard and the lave of his tongue where she needs it most. No matter how embarassing the idea is. Need outweighing shame.

And as he moves further between her thighs, he lowers himself down, closer and closer- the skin feeling all the more sensitive as he nears her cunt. His hands and arms shifting, pushing beneath her thighs- a warm support of flesh and bone, his palms settling on her hips, before pressing down. His steady hold preventing her squirming, pinning her in place as he sucks a harsh mark into her skin.

“Please, Gale,” she whimpers, twisting both her hands into his hair, trying to squirm her hips to no avail.

“You have not an ounce of patience, do you?” He murmurs against her thigh, blunt edges of his teeth nipping at her flesh.

“Absolutely fucking not, not with you,” she whines, words burbling out, “I need you, please.”

A smile pressed into her skin and she can see it in her mind, even if she can’t through her thigh- she bites her tongue, waiting for his words to spill forth again. Waits for more waiting. Waits for another three part sentence and enough verbiage to put a dictionary to shame, all needed before he may finally put his fucking mouth on her.

The brush of breath on her wet cunt, his head shifting between her thighs- beneath her fingers and the heavy lave of his tongue through her center. Pleasure shockwaves through her, a half stuttered curse on her lips as her hips jolt and her fingers dig into his scalp. His hands press down harsher on her hips, mattress and blankets denting beneath her, keeping her still as the heat of his mouth consumes her every thought and feeling.

A practised tongue works her over, laving through her slit, dipping inside of her and lapping at the slick that rushes out of her. Each swipe of his tongue only drawing more from her, making her cunt clench around his tongue, feeling herself soak the scratch of his beard. A hungry groan against her, reverberating and twisting the coil inside of her tighter, sounding like a man starved- her insides burn, her hips try to writhe, to find even more friction as his tongue traces every inch of her.

Groans and wet noises against her, echoing and hanging in the open air, mingling with the nonsense of whines and pleads that she can’t seem to stop. Body and voice hardly her own as she's taken apart by every hungry lick into her cunt, pleasure burning hotter and coil dragging tighter.

A bump of his nose against her swollen clit and she's thrown over the edge, embarrassingly easy, a thunder of pleasure through her veins- coil snapping and body on fire as it consumes her very being. Only distantly aware that she's thrashing, gasping, and pressing down harsher on Gale's skull as her body jolts. Pleasure ravages her, his tongue and lips toying with her clit all the while, Gale burying his face into her as he pushes her end further and further, harsh sucks on her swollen flesh, pushing her back into ecstasy's grip anytime it threatens to let her go.

Not so much as cumming again, but Gale refusing to let her stop. Drawing her pleasure out, the faintest sign of it waning met with a firm nearly painful swipe of his tongue or suck against her clit, tracing patterns against it that her blanking mind can’t make sense of- only able to call his name and thrash beneath him, as pleasure edges to near pain.

And finally, he pulls away from her, orgasm crashing down and away to faint tremors versus an active quake. Her throat raw and aching from the noises he pulled from her, cunt throbbing and clenching at the sudden relief and gut wrenching absence- both somehow existing at once. Both missing his mouth and happy to be afforded the chance to come down from her high.

Her breaths are ragged and raw, coming back to her body. Shame aching painfully in her chest, needling at her hammering heart. The first physical bodily orgasm wrung from her by another’s hand in two years. Brought to her end by the stray bump against her clit. Her celestial form not only prettier, but able to endure far more- it seems.

And that shame only grows as the world fully returns to her, realizing just how tight her hands are wrenched in his hair- how harshly she’s pressing against his skull. His breath ragged and hot against her wet thigh, slick with sweat and more. And she can hear how out of breath he is, how she nearly stole the very air from his lungs- nearly drowned him in her.

“So-sorry,” she whispers, letting him go and hiding behind her hands, hating how desperate and ragged her voice is, “I uh, shit- didn’t mean to- I could’ve suffocated you, I’m so sorry, fuck-”

For all her begging him to live, to stay- she nearly killed him with her fucking vagina. Because of fucking course that’s something she’d do. A pathetic excuse for a person, a lover, and just an existing thing.

A huff of breath from him, hot on her already burning skin- it’s light and bubbles into a small laugh, another kiss to her thigh. The bed shifts beneath her, his arms and hands pulling away- Petra dares to peek between her fingers. Gale moves over her- his cheeks ruddy with exertion, his hair sweaty and mussed, beard and lips wet with slick. His grin only wider, more boyish when he meets her eyes through the gaps of her fingers- his own wrapping around her wrists.

Delicately, he prises her hands from her face.

“I can think of no better death, than one between your thighs.”

She snorts, a breathless laugh,; “Oh yeah, sure, and I’d be the one stuck explaining your naked corpse to K'ha'ssji'trach'ash.”

“He may appreciate the chuckle, but do remember the ‘chhh’ sound, comes from the back-”

“I know,” she retorts bluntly, her wizard only laughing in response. She can still remember how her nerves rattled the first time she was tasked with saving Gale’s life. Not evening knowing at the time just how much more precious that life would become to her. Terrified of saying a single wrong syllable of the mephit’s name, moving the thread to the wrong side, or hiting a wrong note on that stupid fucking flute.

Keeping him alive will be the death of her, but as he settles slightly next to her- arms curling beneath and around her- her cunt still throbbing with her drawn out orgasm, his body warm, and his open palm cupping her jaw… She can hardly say she’ll mind.

“I must say, I do feel assured knowing you’d bring me back again.”

“Of course, as many times as it takes,” she admits, her next breath swallowed by his lips. His tongue heavy with the taste of her, his kiss and beard wet with her slick, a muffled groan in her throat at the very thought.

She chases to deepen the kiss as much as she can, pressing into his chest- resting her hand over his forearm. Her tongue pushes deeper into his mouth, her insides aching again, even with the throb of near pain between her thighs from her overstimulation. The soft wet sound of their kisses, her own sigh muffled between their mouths as his mouth starts to taste less like her and more like him.

His forearm flexes beneath her fingers, his palm leaving her jaw, the other hand still holding her close and brushing her ribs. Before she can break the kiss or see where his other hand is traversing, she feels his fingers on her lower stomach and skimming down her body.

“Gale,” she whispers against his lips, thighs squeezing together- his fingers already teasing along her mound, scratching through the sparse patch of dark hair above her cunt. He hums against her cheek, pressing a kiss to her jaw- “I can’t… again.”

Her words are stuttered and breathy, not at all convincing- she’s still thrumming after her last orgasm, cunt still aching and sensitive, every cell of her being an exposed livewire he seems intent to keep playing with.

“You can’t… do what exactly?”He asks, voice edged with teasing as he bites at her jawline. Her thighs draw tighter together as his finger start to push between them. Whining as he kisses at her neck and she can already feel that coil starting to twist again.

“Can’t- cum again, too, mm… too soon, let me touch you instead,” she manages through the kisses and bites against her throat. Petra starts to move her hand that’s been placed in the narrow space between their bodies, groping downward- frustrated with the fabric still clinging to his lower half.

“There’s never too soon enough time to touch you,” he whispers against her throat.

“Gale, please,” she gasps, feeling him groan against her as her palm cups him through his pants- hard within his clothes, twitching beneath her touch.

“Spread your legs for me, dear,” he requests and she knows she’ll fall apart so quick, that the pleasure may ache into pain, but she needs him, the promise of his fingers too much. Petra clumsily obeying, spreading her legs; “There we are, so good for me.”

The words go start to her cunt, followed shortly by his fingers- the faintest brush over her swollen clit. She gasps, his name on her lips as she tries not to lose focus on where her own hand is, squeezing at his hard-on, trying to offer him some fraction of the pleasure he’s so persistent on pouring into her. A strained groan against her neck as his fingers start to swirl around her clit, a wet slide and building friction, already painfully close.

“Fuck, Gale,” she hisses, haphazardly trying to yank at the laces of his pants- cursing herself that she can pick the strongest locks in Faerun but can’t yank open her lover’s fucking pants between the odd angle, not being able to properly see what she’s doing, the mouth at her pulse point, and the finger slowly pressing into her.

“You already feel so perfect around me,” he speaks against her neck as a single thick warm finger pushes into her, opening her up, curling into her- her cunt clenching around him, her head thumping back against the pillows as she gasps. Soul sex aside, it’s the thickest thing she’s had in her in years, her own thin nimble fingers not comparing to his broad palms and long thick fingers.

“Please, please, Gale,” she breathes, not sure if she’s asking for more fingers or for help undoing his pants. Maybe both.

She gets a kiss beneath her ear, another finger pushing into her- slow and methodical in his pace. Not seeking to push her into immediate orgasm again, but to stretch her further apart, to see how deep he can fill her with the twist of his fingers. That pleasure building, aching inside of her as his lips kiss up her ear. Small wet presses that sends little chills as he nears the pointed tips of her ears. Feeling herself coating his fingers in wet, slick and accepting as the press of his thick solid fingers.

“You’re so beautiful, you’re taking my fingers so well,” he murmurs before kissing right at the point of her ear, nipping the sensitive skin and she jolts- face hot with pleasure and shame at how easy she is to take apart.

Then he starts to pump his fingers, no longer idly stretching and curling, finding a rhythm as he rocks them in and out of her cunt. A desperate cry on her lips, fingers dragging in and out of her slick heat- toying and curling in to press at her nerves, only to pull back and push back in.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she cries, not able to come up with any other word- even when the laces of his pants finally come undone with her frantic tugging. Biting her lip and groaning when she can finally- finally, shove her hand down his pants, beneath his underwear, hard solid cock finally in her grasp as she barely manages to pull it free from his clothes.

“Fuck,”Gale grits out, a rare curse for the wizard- for once all other words but profanity failing him. His fingers in her cunt pause as she wraps her own around him. The hand on her ribs pulls her tighter, as she feels the heat of him against her palm. Can feel the weight of his cock, can trace the veins along his length as she runs her fingers over him- the stick of precum when she touches the head. Gale breathing rough and ragged against her temple.

“Gods, I can’t even get my fingers around you,” she blurts out, taking the rare chance to be the talkative one- surprised by just how thick he is in her hand. She’s no halfling or gnome, but her favorite wizard stands a good foot or more taller than her- size difference palpable in how her fingers struggle to meet around him.

He bites beneath her ear,rocking his fingers back into her- pace harsher and rough as she tries to stroke him. Smearing precum down his cock as best she can, trying to make an easier slide of her hand up and down his cock, feeling it twitch against her fingers. A rough ragged groan against her skin, her insides clenching as his fingers fuck into her- thoughts of how his cock will feel, how much more it’ll split her open, making the drag of his fingers that much slicker.

“So pretty in my arms, love- right where you belong, so sweet and desperate for me,” he rasps against her ear and she squeezes her fingers around him, feeling the stutter and stall in his hand inside of her. The strained growl against her jaw, his expression furrowed and tense- his jaw visibly clenched, eyes clenched shut. Perhaps the first time he’s fully taken his eyes off of her.

He doubles his efforts between her thighs, working his fingers more harshly into her, fucking his fingers roughly into her. Each thrust and drag along her insides making her sees stars and not just the ones he’s conjured for her. Pleasure spiking higher and higher, building her up- her cunt clenching around him. She tries to work her own hand faster too, cursing herself for not having more experience with this sort of anatomy.

And then a thought, a singular thought manages to surge above the fog his fingers have put into her mind. She needs it to be wetter, slicker, his precum helping but not enough for her liking. Her gestures are sloppy and messy, haphazard with need- pulling her hand off of him, he curses faintly, the feeling of his eyes back on her. She leans forward just a little to drool against her hand, gathering as much spit and saliva as she can, strands straining from her lips. Spit dribbling down her chin and she can only hope he’s not disgusted by the sight, but it’s left her hand wet. Another ragged breath, inhale and exhale against her as she wraps her spit slick fingers around him.

His lips surge forward, catching her own in a messy crash, teeth clanging together as he kisses her- his tongue swiping to catch the spit that clings to her her skin, hungrily groaning into her mouth. She tries to keep up, tightens her grip as much as she can without fearing hurting him, her hand sliding up and down much easier with the glide of her drool and his precum. The piss poor excuse for lube allowing her to at the very least move her hand faster, trying to match the pace he’s set with his fingers inside of her. His palm presses down more firmly, the heel of hand finding her clit. A rough tempest of pleasure jolting through her nerves.

And it’s a rough mix of kisses, moving hands. Being fucked apart by his fingers, grinding against her clit, pushing her closer and closer. A echoing squelch as he takes her apart, the wet slide of flesh against flesh as she strokes his cock- the hungry groans and soft sounds of their kisses, everything consuming her every sense. Pushing her closer and closer, coil pulling tighter, tighter. The drag and tease of him inside of her, the grind against her sensitive clit- the promise of what’s come with his cock twitching in her hand, the bite of his teeth against her lower lip.

The world seems to split apart, crack open, and fall away from her- everything crashed into pleasure, thrown over the edge again. Twitching and writhing beneath his hand, hips thrashing and fucking herself through the shocks. The faint curse and snarl against her lips, the twitch in her hands- the heat of seed spilling over her fingers and hip

Then she’s falling, world truly carrening out from beneath her, yelping as her ass thumps painfully into the muck. A sharp jolt of pain through her tailbone, Gale trying to tug her closer, squeezing her tightly as the world physically shifts around them, his face burying into her hair.

“Gods damn it.”

Petra tries to process the sudden mix of just plain fucking pain. The cold cling of mud to her ass, blinking through the blissed out fog in her mind- no longer coated in the green blue glow of a shifting sky. No longer is her ass burried in a soft silken mass of blankets and sheets, now aching in the cold cling of muddy shadow curse dirt. The only light a mounted torch with faint flickering orange flames. There’s no traces of Gale’s illusions, just him and Petra- naked and sweaty in a patch of mud. The wizard holding her tightly, his face hidden in the top of her head- possibly the most bashful she’s ever seen him, even in their awkward little flirting moments, she’s never known him to physically hide his expression from her.

“Gale… honey?” She says, using a rare term of endearment for her- those usually his territory.

“Mmhm,” he hums vaguely against her scalp.

“I have mud on my ass.”

“As do I.”

“Is there a particular reason why?” She tries, trying not to laugh as she tries to understand why he’s suddenly thrown them into the muck- if he wanted to rut in the dirt, she wouldn’t have been opposed to it, but it seems a little sudden and out of character for a man who still tries desperately to smell like lavender and bath oils while traipsing through the wilderness for days on end.

“Ah well,” he murmurs, finally pulling back and allows her to see his face- cheeks ruddy, sweat beading his skin, his eyes looking down at his slick wet fingers, “Some conjuring and illusionary spells require… concentration to be maintained. And while my multitasking abilities are certainly exemplary,that focus can be particularly hard to keep when…”

“When you’re getting jerked off?”

“Not the wording I would have chosen, but- yes,” he admits, still avoiding her eyes.

And she tries- she truly tries, biting her lip and gritting her teeth, because she wants to be mindful of his embarrassment. But her stomach tenses as a rush of laughter burbles out, snorting as giggles turn to cackles, pressing her hands to her mouth- body aching as she cracks up.

She made him cum so hard the fucking spell broke. It’s so ridiculous, it’s so asinine, she can’t help but laugh- the pain in her tailbone now eclipsed by way her belly aches in laughter. And it only dies when she looks back at Gale, his head bowed slightly still- his eyes avoiding her and guilt eats at her heart. A part of her having hoped he’d be laughing along, that he’d see the humor in this.

“Gale..” She whispers his name, her voice a little ragged and rough.

“My apologies, I- this is not how I wanted this night to go for us, for you,” he explains, face far too contrite and shamed for what is just a silly little mishap, “I think, perhaps, another night if I conserve more of my energy during the day than I did today, I should be able to maintain the illusions for longer.”

“Gale…”

“Or perhaps, I can do just a little more research, see if I can find variations that require less concentration or maybe none at all,” he prattles onward, “I swear, my love, I can give you the night you deserve, I just may need more preparation than I expected, but I will make this up to you, I’ll-”

“Gale!” She yells his name more firmly, finally looking at her- his eyes soft and vulnerable and she feels like she’s scolded a puppy but she leans forward to cup his face, “There is nothing for you to make up for.”

“We’re lying in mud, my dear.”

“Yes, we are lying in the mud and my stomach is streaked in cum because I jerked you off so hard you forgot how to be wizard for a minute- I’m not mad, it’s really fucking funny,” she reiterates, nuzzling his nose with hers as she tries to swallow her giggles- desperately trying to get him to just laugh. His lips curl into a shadow of a smile, but it doesn’t quite reach those big brown eyes.

“Perhaps- but I didn’t bring you here to make you laugh, I brought you here to give you a perfect night, to make the joining of our bodies as beautiful as the joining of our souls. And we are lying in mud, you deserve more… I want to give you more.”

“Gale, the night we joined souls you started off by showing me a book of people sixty-nining.”

“A very poignant and beautiful book about newlyweds becoming one in every sense of the word-”

“By putting their mouths on each other’s genitals.”

“That was one aspect of the process, yes- however-”

She silences him with a kiss, soft and chaste- just enough to muffle the words threatening to pour from his lips. Petra pulls just a half breath away, leaning her forehead against Gale’s. Feeling the warmth of him, the cling of the sweat on both of them, smelling the salt of it on him.

“I love you,” she murmurs, whispers it and hopes he can feel the adoration she pours into every syllable, meeting his gaze head on as her voice cracks, “I love you so fucking much and you’re so so much more than I deserve- and if you cannot believe that, trust that I do, that I truly mean it.”

“I do, I truly do, I just, everything you’ve done for me, everything that you are- you deserve the world.”

“And yet the only thing I want from it is you.”

“Petra…”

“So, for a moment, worry less about what you think I deserve and listen to what I want,” she asks, murmuring against his lips, skimming her thumb over his cheekbone, “I don’t need perfection and I don’t need pageantry and I don’t care if it’s messy or funny or weird- I want you, I need you. So please, let me have you. Don’t pull away, don’t scuttle off and worry yourself to pieces because something went wrong. Laugh with me, kiss me, fuck me- gods damn it.”

“Anything for you, dear,” he says and their lips come together again, another reverent press of their mouths- she places her palm against his shoulder, pushing softly.

Quick witted as ever, he gets the idea- laying back for her and shifting off of his side, onto his ass properly as she throws a leg over his hips. His still hard cock bumping against her cunt as she settles on top of him. Breaking their kiss to pepper them across his jaw, nipping at his flesh through his beard, kissing down the marks that curl across his neck. Following them to the middle of his chest, where the orb burned through his flesh- pressing a kiss where the skin is forever bruised blue. The deep rumble of a groan in his throat making heat rush between her thighs.

She sits back a bit, looking down at him- sweat tangled hair, ruddy cheeks, chest laid bare beneath her, and the faint orange glow of the torch light. Her hands run up his chest, thick and broad beneath her- body hair the roughest part of him, scratching beneath her palms.

“Absolutely perfect,” she whispers, raking her nails along the swell of his pecs.

“My thoughts exactly,” he returns, his hands gripping her hips as he smears a thumb through the streaks of cum still on her skin, and she can’t resist rolling her eyes- as if she wasn’t the one to initiate this round of corniness.

Through the flickers of amber light, she notices a flash of deep purple fabric- Gale’s sleep shirt he’d tossed aside earlier. She lifts up a little further on her knees, leaning over him to reach for it, twisting her fingers in the soft fabric.

“Eep!” She yelps at the sudden heat of his tongue and mouth on her chest, a sharp nip to the underside of her breast- “That is not why I was leaning over!”

He smiles and laughs against her chest as she playfully swats at his chest, settling back to her position- his tunic still dangling from her fingers. Gale smiling up at her, too handsome for her to feel any measure of malice.

“You can hardly blame for falling to temptation, especially when it comes to you.”

“You underestimate just how much I’m willing to blame you for anything,” she teases before shifting forward just slightly- “Lift your back up a bit for me?”

“Of course,” he obliges, quickly getting her intent as they softly arrange his sleep shirt on the ground- it’s no four poster bed, but it’ll get his back out of the mud.

“Not much, but-”

“I feel positively pampered.”

“Well, I do live to spoil you,” she teases back, considering for a moment wrangling his pants and underwear down further- his cock still the only thing that’s freed. But, that also means his ass has a modicum of coverage against the mud. Spoiling him again- obviously.

Petra keeps one hand steady on his chest and the other reaches beneath her, feeling again the heat and weight of his cock in her hand. She hums, whines as she steadies her grip around the base of him- a groan deep in his chest, rumbling beneath her as she drags the head of his cock along her cunt. Her body aches with need as she lines him up with her entrance, Gale's hands grip her tighter. His fingers dip into her skin as his breath hitches and his jaw clenches tight.

And she sinks down, her voice straining into a wordless cry as the head of his cock slides into her. Barely even inside of her and already stretching her wide, even having had him in her hand, but she needs to take a moment- not expecting just how much she’d be split open.Not painful, far too slick and ready for it to do anything feel incredible, if just a little new for her.

A strained creak in his tone: “That’s it, no rush- take your time, if it’s too much, you only need to say the word.”

“Gods no, no, it feels good- really fuckin’ good,” she assure him, voice rough and breathy, biting her lip as she starts to slowly lower herself down further, “So, so fucking good, fuck.”

“There you are, taking me so well- perfect around me, like you were made for me,” he praises, voice gritted and his fingers grasping her tighter as her cunt clenches around him, the adoration stirring her insides as his cock buries within them.

Every inch a deeper press, a tighter stretch, never painful but always full- like he could truly split her apar at any moment. But it’s never too much, the drag and sink of him perfect, absolutely perfect. A babble of breathless noise and nonsense on her tongue as she he carves a path into her- her hips finally settling when she’s about to scream out and there’s no more of him to take. Feeling the faint scratch of his body hair where they join, barely tugged down pants rough against her thighs and ass.

The back of his head hits the dirt, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat- his eyes closed as his moves just slightly beneath her. Bracing his feet in the dirt, knees bending slightly as his hips lift up. Bucking inside of her, a sharp lightning strike of pleasure ripping through her- lurching her forward body forward, bracing her hands against his chest as she cries out.

“Fuck!”

“Ah, sorry, are you-”

“Yes, yes, I’m fine, I’m good, gods, I’m good,” she rushes to assure him, digging her nails into his skin, leaning forward to kiss at his jaw, groaning against his skin when it grinds him against her insides.

Tentatively, she starts to rock herself on top of him, cursing as she starts to lift off him just a bit, whining at the drag of him inside of her. His hands allowing her to move, guiding her gently despite the harsh dig of his nails, digging red ragged crescents into her skin- blue bruises forming beneath his harsh touch.

Petra barely pulls up before she lowers herself back down, his name on her lips as she’s filled with him again. Her grip on him only growing more desperate- more bruising, as she starts to find a harsher, quicker pace- bouncing herself on his cock, body thrumming and pleasure twisting tight as she tries to slam down hard enough on him. Tries to hit the right spot inside of her, grind her clit just right against his skin as she tries to set her pace. Her motions frantic and desperate, smearing and streaking slick across his skin and clothes, every desperate slam of her hips making her that much wetter, that much more accommodating, body frantic to welcome him into her over and over again.

“Gods, your cunt doesn’t even want to let go of me, look so pretty with my cock inside of you,” he groans, her inside clenching at his choice of words, Gale’s cheeks flushed beneath the dark hair of his beard- his face screwed tight with his pleasure as his cock twitches inside of her squeezing walls. Petra in a frenzy as she fucks herself stupid, rides him as hard as she can, getting pushed closer and closer to the brink- pathetically close to her end, just a little more, a little more.

His hands move further back, curling around her ass, sinking his fingers into the plush flesh- her whimpering at the grope, the feeling of his warm digging into her- squeezing her so tightly. Harsh and firm, when hips roll into her, thrusting in as she sinks down- striking the very nerves she couldn't quite hit hard enough, a torrent of heat and need, stars dancing before her eyes without any magic. The force of his hips jolts her, her shaky arms giving out, her body collapse flush to his chest, nails digging into him as her face presses into his sweat slick skin. Pliant and boneless as Gale takes over the pace, gripping his ass tight between his hands and steadying her as he fucks her apart.

And it’s pitiful how much better it is with him in control, Gale knowing her body and what she needs or perhaps just that much better at giving it to her. Harsh brutal snaps of his hips, every rut of him into her making her body thrum, her mind blanked with every strike at her deepest parts. Carving her out, splitting her open, burying himself into her over and over again- the wet squelch of him into her. Holding her vise tight to his chest, her sensitive tits scratched by his body hair a his motions rock and shift her against him. One hand leaving her ass to wrap around her middle, holding her tighter, clinging closer- his face buried to her temple as he fucks into her, uses her, splits her insides, and makes her body fit hims so perfectly. Not even able to hear or comprehend the whispers and praise whispered against her sweat tangled hair- gripping him tighter, Gale inside her and yet somehow nowhere near close enough. Not able to cling tight enough, not able to burrow far enough into his skin as she burns beneath the sharp bruising pace he drives into her.

Then it all snaps, world shattering and cracking apart, crying out against his chest- mind empty with nothing but pleasure, clenching tight as he pulses inside of her. Squeezing around him, thrashing within his grasp, toes and fingers clenching- curling against him, around him, into him.

A few more harsh thrusts, rushed and hurried into her, followed by a rush of heat. The spill of cum into her insides, burning hot in her cunt, filling her- flooding her, warm in her fucked raw body. She pants and sighs against his skin, breaths rough as she comes back to earth and with no falling this time. He holds her like a promise, tight and reverent, kissing across her scalp and forehead as he rolls through the last of his ebbs of pleasure. Messy as he fills her with his cum, whining against his flesh, she feels it split out between the space where they connect. Filled to the brink with him, overflowed and spilling over with it, feeling it stick and cling to their thighs, their hips, where they meet. The languid slowly roll of him into her fucking his seed back into her, before his hips finally still as the last drop fills hers her, only to drip out again.

They lay in the flickering torch light, skin wet with sweat and settling into each other’s flesh. His heart thunders and pounds beneath his skin, where her ear is pressed tight to him. Able to hear the desperate race and her own hammers in kind, in pace with each other, some relief that may be as ruined and ragged by her as she is by him. Only the sound of thundering hearts and them catching their breath, the faintest chirp of insects from the shadows.

Slowly, steadily, the moments tick forward but time hardly feels like it’s touching them. Only the calming of their breaths and hearts marking the passage. His hands stroke and rub along her back, tracing her sweaty spine, both reach down to idly rub and stroke her lower back, pressing gentle reverence into her aching muscles. His lips burning adoration where they kiss her scalp, skim the scar of her forehead- she shifts to tuck her chin against his chest, looking up at his soft loving gaze.

His hands push the hair off her forehead, cup her cheeks, thumbs stroking over the freckles that mark her face. A breath of a kiss against her forehead, her eyes closing beneath the touch.

“Absolutely beautiful,” he praises, her eyes opening, her nose wrinkling as she blows a raspberry at him and his stupidly precious compliments- he laughs, “And a complete brat.”

“Hmm, you love it.”

“That I do,” he reponds to her teasing, another kiss and she meets his his lips. Sighing softly, knowing they can’t stay like this forever.

Gently, she sits herself back up,Gale’s hands roaming down her sides- not missing the crease of disappointment in his brow when she’s no longer pressed flushed to his chest. She blinks, swallowing a gasp as she looks down at him. Rough raised scratches now mark his chest, thin red lines where her nails streaked his flesh and just managed to break it. Gently, her nails brush the marks.

“Sorry, I’ll rub some salve and balsam ointment over it for you when we get back,” she promises, guilt creeping in- her nails are polished and due to her left, often have more dirt on them than she’d like- she could cause him an infection, “Maybe I should learn a healing cantrip or two…”

“Thought you believed relying too much on healing magic was a crutch,” he asks, smiling up at her as he chimes the words she’s spoken so many a times when him or Shadowheart try to heal her when she only needs a bandage or a few dozen stitches.

“I mean, for me, yes,” she murmurs, knowing it’s hypocritical- but it’s different when it’s him- he smiles, placing his hands over hers. She pulls her palms from his marked skin, bringing them to the press of his lips.

“Worry not, dear- I hardly mind being marked by you,” he promises her, smiling against her knuckles and her nose wrinkles, his sweet words stirring her heart and only one response falls to her lips.

“Blegh,” she spats, mock gagging at his corny existence, even if her cheeks are flushed and her heart thumping- he drops her hands, reaching out quick and giving a small sharp swat of his hand to her ass- “Ah, hey!”

“Do not make gagging noises whilst I am inside of you,” he hisses, voice raised and incredulous- with just the softest edge of a laugh, his lips pulling back to a smile as she giggles.

“Fine,” she reponds, rolling laguidly off of him- letting his cock slip out of her and plopping into the mud beside of him, giving a pointed look- “Blech!”

“Darling-”

“What I’ll no longer gag while you’re inside of me,” she promises, teasing him and his choice of words. His brown eyes rolls, a tut on his lips as he looks at her, before a different glint places.

“Well, there can certainly be exceptions to the rule, should you wish,” he teases and after a beat, his meaning catches her- a way he’d be tucked inside of her that he’d accept her gagging, the idea of tasting him, and feeling him in her throat…

“Is that something you’d wish?” She asks back, smiling a little- grin only widing when he clears his throat.

“Another time, right now…” His voice trails and she watches him shift slight, a a little strained groan of pain his throat.

“Your back killing you?”

“Terribly so,” he admits, shaking his head and starting to sit up with a small grunt- his old achey muscles and joints always giving him issues. But it doesn’t stop him from pulling her over, tucking her into his lap as he sits; “Here, lets get you out out of the mud, dear.”

She giggles, nuzzling into his neck as he make her plop her cum and dirt streaked ass in his lap. And as the afterglow fades and reality settles in her bones, she starts to realize some increasingly pressing concerns. The two are streaked in sweat, mud, and fluids. Her fingers brushing flecks of dirt off Gale’s shoulders, where his skin still met the dirt. His hair messy and tangled with little clumps of dirt, his skin warm and smelling of sweat and musk, Petra unable to help inhaling against his chest.

Beneath them, his shirt is caked in mud, grinding into the dirt under their bodies. His only kind of on pants streaked with cum, clearly stained, dirt on back of it. Her own clothes are tossed in the dirt as well, having hit the dirt through the illusion. Mud on her back and some clinging to her ass, streaked where his fingers groped her- a mess of cum between her thighs.

And they do have to go back to camp.

“Uhm, do you have a spell to clean us and our clothes?” She asks, traces her nails over his neck.

“Yes and no,” he explains, expression slightly tense, one hand on her hip, the other gesticulating with a pointed finger, “Prestidigitation can quite easily clean our clothes, with a bit of folding for mine perhaps, and is cantrip as well- fairly simple, only lasts an hour I”m afraid, but that would certainly be long enough to get back and safely tuck ourselves away in our tent.”

“Mmhm..”

“However, it is specific to objects and those of a certain footage, which- you and I do not qualify as. And between our fights of the day and my illusionary work, it’ll take a good nights rest before I can cast much more than a cantrip, so…”

“So, our clothes will be clean, but we’ll be traipsing back with dirt on our skin and reeking of sex,” she double checks because there’s no river near the clearing- the camp using warmed basins of conjured magic for a while now. Which are back at camp. Where their companions are.

“Or we could stay here for a night…”

“And keep tally of the number of shadow cursed insects that inevitably crawl up our assholes.”

“There are the bugs…”

“I think we may have to face the music on this one,” she says, knowing sculking and sneaking back to camp is not a choice- not with Gale’s knees.

“Alas, reality returns far too soon,” he muses, looking down at her where she’s still balanced within his arms and her cheek to his chest, “Still the night you wanted?”

She giggles- they’re caked in mud, sweat, and cum. Sitting in the muck of a cursed lands, the threat of returning to camp to prying eyes and questioning voices. The only reason they can even safely sit here with monsters prying flesh from their limbs and darkness creeping into their souls is the blessing of a captured pixie. Demands of goddesses and moonstruck kingdoms ran by cults all on the horizon. But his arms are wrapped flush around her, the smell of his skin in her nose, the ache of where he was inside her. Skin marked in his love.

“It’s perfect.”

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale/tav #gale/fem!tav #bg3 fanfic #this is also going up on my ao3 and i'll reblog with the link if anyone prefers that method #but i finally had something I could throw on this blog again

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roanniom · 1 year

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Ok. This is retroactively dedicated to @millenialcatlady

Notes and Verses

Music professor!Eddie Munson and English professor!reader

Warnings: Fluff, sexual tension, future smut in this AU!

Eddie had a successful career as a touring and session musician, playing guitar for amazing artists and for his own band. But somewhere along the way he lost the words. Lyrics don’t come easy to him anymore. He used to fill pages and pages with his thoughts and ideas and feelings. Cheeky little ditties and heartfelt anecdotes. But these days it’s just melody and nothing else. He’s a wizard on guitar but only under someone else’s words.

His prolific career led to a steady fall gig teaching as a lecturer at a prestigious college known for its music program (they didn’t care about the fact that he’d barely finished high school since he’d preformed on Grammy winning tracks). And it turns out that his office is housed right next to the brick building containing the English department.

Which is how he met you.

Sweet. Studious. Buttoned up you. Plaid and tweed and stockinged and woolen and soft and warm you. You became unlikely friends when you’d both reached for the last muffin in the little coffee shop nestled between your buildings. Conversation flowed easily, in spite of your differing aesthetics, and as the weeks flew by that first fall, you and Eddie became fast friends with a regular set time to catch up over coffee and one of those coveted muffins.

Eddie spends his springs in studios doing session recordings, but eventually you cajole him into teaching summer courses. Selfish as you are to have him with you for two seasons of the year. Little do you know that he’s selfish in his desire to see you in less layers in the warm months, sweaters traded for tasteful but lower cut blouses, structured skirts and tights traded for shorter, flowy material and skin.

It’s on your third fall semester together that Eddie happens upon your notebook, however. You’d both spent a lunch break together in companionable silence, chewing and working on your own paperwork. You come back from washing up to find Eddie flipping through the notebook you’d left open on the table. He looks up at you with wide eyes.

“You’re so fucking talented, you know that?”

You scramble forward and grab the notebook from him, slamming it shut and holding it against your chest protectively.

“Eddie! You can’t read other people’s writing without asking!” you huff. Ruffled.

“Well then can I read it, please?” Eddie asks. He holds his hand out to get you to hand it back. You shake your head.

“No!”

Eddie pouts at you as you regain your seat across from him.

“That’s some deep shit you have in there,” he says gravely. You roll your eyes.

“Eloquent, Munson.”

“Hey, look. Never said I was,” Eddie says with a roguish wink that’s got you hotter under the collar than you’d like to admit. “Haven’t been able to write in years. A decade even.”

“I don’t believe that,” you snort.

“Why not?”

“Because you’re a storyteller. A tale weaver. A blowhard,” you tease, sliding the tip of your finger around the rim of your mug. Eddie watches your finger's trajectory for a minute before speaking up again.

"We should team up."

"I'm sorry?" you ask, certain you've heard him wrong.

"Your words. My music."

"What are you talking about?" you ask, completely flustered at the very proposition even though he hasn't explained himself at all yet.

"You do lyrics, I do melody. We could kill it, babe!" His grin is massive and your heart constricts. He often calls you by pet names, but this time it makes you feel light headed. You throw your notebook and things into your bag.

"You've finally lost it, Munson," you say, light and dismissive, getting up from the table. "You're out of your mind."

Eddie is quick to follow you out of the cafe.

"This is the clearest I've been thinking in years!" he insists, grabbing your elbow before you can dash off to your own building. He whirls you back to him and you catch your balance by gripping his bicep. His rather large bicep...

"This is what I've been waiting for. Inspiration. Guidance. A muse!"

Eddie's eyes are so wide and his smile is so hopeful that you feel your stomach flip.

"Eddie, I have no background in music. I don't write songs!"

"But you write poetry - it's the same thing!"

You huff and look around wildly as if some kind of excuse or escape will materialize out of thin air and get you out of this uncomfortable situation. Instead, all you see is the lanky, expectant frame of Eddie Munson.

"You know for a fact that lyricism is poetic, so I'm not even going to dignify that excuse with any further arguments," Eddie says. His smile is wide enough to indicate that he knows he's won. He knows he's got you.

Suddenly his big hands are gripping your wrists and pulling your hands to rest on his chest.

"Help me. Do you need me to beg? I'll beg, sweetheart, I have no dignity," he moans playfully. All of your nerve endings alight at the sound and your imagination immediately runs wild at the thought of what else he could moan with those pretty lips. You squash those thoughts as quickly as you can and nod in the process of dislodging the inappropriate thoughts in your head, which Eddie takes as an affirmative to his begging. "You'll do it?! You're fucking perfect, you know that?"

Before you can correct his misunderstanding, Eddie kisses you hard on the cheek. The motion is wet and smacking and it shakes you to your very core. His hand cradles you at your waist and for a second your bodies are pressed flush together. Your entire being vibrates at the feeling of Eddie Munson against you and it seems like time stands still.

But then he's pulling away, taking his warmth and his steadiness with him.

"You won't regret this, sweetheart. We're going to make the best team ever, just you wait!"

And with that, Eddie bounds off in the direction of the music building, leaving you with only a foggy comprehension of what you've supposedly just agreed to and with the memory of the feeling of his body against yours.

What have you gotten yourself into.

~*~

....

Just adding space so Tumblr can delete this if it wants to instead of the actual writing lol

#Eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #music professor!eddie munson #eddie munson discourse #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson thots

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draco-dormiens · 1 year

Text

THE STRANGEST OF PLACES - Chapter Eight

draco x fem!ravenclaw reader / postwar au series

warnings: none that i know of :)

wc: 3381

masterlist

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Chapter Eight - The Astronomy Tower

You made a pact that night to see each other more. The two of you made an agreement that twice a week you would meet in the Astronomy tower, and for the last two weeks you had been doing just that. One night he bought his set of wizard chess, and you learnt that Draco's competitiveness was off the charts, so much so he got in a strop each time you won. Another night he helped you with your History of Magic essay and you bonded over how much of a bore professor Binns was. Draco was good with words when it came to writing them, which uncovered something else about him: he could write what he couldn't say. He'd spent so long accepting others' opinions and forcing them to be his own that he'd lost the ability to speak how he feels, but in writing, he could go on and on about anything he was passionate about. You suggested to him that if he didn't know how to say it, then he should write it down for you, and that way you could understand him more. It took a day or so, but he came back with a written note that said 'I think that's a good idea'.

By the fourth week of term, you were getting along better than ever. Draco would pass you notes after classes, asking if you wanted to meet earlier or if you were free an extra day. He found it a lot easier than asking you outright, and you'd come to love his little notes. Hermione still hadn't said a thing, even though at this point she had most definitely seen him passing pieces of paper to you. It wasn't until later that week, on the Thursday, the same night you were going up to the Astronomy tower, that she said something.

"You seem to get along with Malfoy these days."

You stopped mid-sentence of your book, glancing across the bed at her. She was busy reading her own book on the end of your bed, something you did together often. The silence you shared whilst reading was something that marked your friendship, as it was never awkward. If anything, it was peaceful.

"What do you mean?" you play dumb, and she sighs, slotting her bookmark between the pages.

"I've seen how he is with you," she raises an eyebrow, "passing notes, hugging, what's going on? Are you seeing each other?"

"Huh?" you sound, eyes widening and chest tightening, "no, not at all, we're just friends. We sort of got along during the potions project and he stuck around."

She gives you a knowing look, a small, cheeky smile on her face.

"He just, stuck around, did he?" she presses playfully, "doesn't sound much like Malfoy."

You feel your cheeks getting hotter, shutting your book without marking the page because Hermione was looking at you with such a mischievous glint in her eye, and sat up straight.

"Draco and I are just friends," you state simply, but you're rambling, and she notices how you're more so telling yourself than you are her, "he's trying to change, and I can appreciate that, and I enjoy spending time with him, and I think, or more so, hope, he likes spending time with me, too."

Hermione can't hold it anymore. She laughs breathlessly at your flustered expression, and even more so when you glare at her. You allow her to get over whatever is so amusing, and then cross your arms in frustration.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing," she says, wiping a tear from her eye, "I've just never seen you so bothered about a boy before, and it's Malfoy, I just never imagined."

"I am not bothered," you protest, "the time we spend together is strictly platonic."

"If you say so," she waves her hands, "but even if it wasn't, it wouldn't matter, you know."

She offers you a reassuring smile, one that says she's not one bit fussed about it, and that you should just be open and honest, because she's your friend, and she loves you. You calm down a bit, the thudding of your heart slowing and shoulders relaxing. If you were to be honest, you didn't know how you felt about it. It had all happened so fast, and now you were spending frequent time with one another, and it was fun. You looked forward to it, to seeing him, but your feelings were indecipherable and mixed up. All you knew is that you liked being with him.

"Sometimes I feel nervous around him," you admit, "and then other times I feel really comfortable. I don't know what to think at this point."

"Does it really matter?" she questions, "he's just a guy. I mean yeah, he's Malfoy, but I can imagine he has some desirable qualities."

"He has many," you find yourself saying, and her smile grows wider, "he's actually really clever, and sensitive, and I've learnt so much about him and I'm talking too much aren't I?"

Hermione giggles, and shuffles across the bed to sit next to you.

"You want to know what I think?" she asks, and you nod, "I think you should just enjoy whatever you have right now. There's nothing that says you need to make it more than what it is, so just relax. I think we all deserve to have some fun, don't you?"

A smile curls at your lips, and you laugh, dropping your head to her shoulder.

"Merlin, what has the world come to." You mutter, and she chuckles.

"If you had said that over Christmas, you'd be playing buddies with Malfoy I wouldn't have believed you," she jokes, "but seriously, do what makes you happy. Kiss him for all I care."

"Kiss him?" you repeated loudly, shooting up like a deer in the headlights, "are you serious?"

She laughs even harder.

"I'm not saying you have to," she says through her laughter, "I was kidding."

You join in, both of you now belly laughing and holding hands. Hermione truly was an expectational friend, and in that moment, you thanked your lucky stars that she was still around to keep you sane.

__________________________

"That one right there is the Ursa Major, but most people call it the Big Dipper," Draco tells you, bottle of beer in his hand as the other points towards the sky, "and that one is mine. Draco, which just means Dragon in Latin."

You're looking where he's pointing, but you're also looking at him, because he's so passionate about the stars that it warms your heart. After Hermione left, you carried a blanket up to the Astronomy tower, and as if he'd read your mind, he bought along beer and snacks. Three beers in he'd started talking about how much he loves astrology, and for the last half an hour or so he'd been showing you the constellations in the sky tonight. It wasn't a usual thing for Draco to share his interests with someone, but you always displayed so much enthusiasm, even if you didn't understand it. He really liked that about you, it made him want to show you things. So, there you both sat, blanket over your laps as you listened and sipped beer.

"I never clocked you were named after a constellation," you said, and he looks down at you curled under your side of the blanket, "that's so cool."

"You think?" he asks, "my mother's side of the family have a tradition with names like mine. My aunt Bella was named after a star, and my mother's name Narcissa is from Greek mythology."

"How interesting," you breathe, and you meant it, he could tell, "I love that your mother kept that tradition going. Do you think you will when you have children?"

He goes quiet for a moment and looks back at the sky, knitting his eyebrows together.

"I haven't really thought about it," he mumbles.

"Children and marriage are far away," you tell him, shuffling under the blanket, "so it's not like you need to think about it right now."

He laughs sadly, and you give him a questioning look.

"Mother is rather fixated on marriage," he said, "so I don't have any choice but to think about it, unfortunately."

"She wants you to get married?"

"As soon as possible," he sighs deeply, "she keeps introducing me to these random girls, and each of them have as much personality as I can fit in my little finger."

You go back to looking out into the night, fiddling with the label on your bottle. Your parents had never pushed you to meet someone, or marry them, for that matter, so you couldn't imagine having that kind of pressure. Then you start thinking how beautiful these girls probably are, and what he said to you back at the manor starts playing on your mind. Too bookish, he said. If he turns down women his mother picks for him, then he was possibly being nice when he said that to you.

"What kind of girl do you want?" you find yourself asking him. He turns a little to face you properly.

"Why do you ask?"

"You say these girls your mother picks have no personality," you gesture with your free hand, "so, if they don't fit the bill, who would?"

Draco takes his time to answer. His eyes flicker over your face, and his expression tells you he's thinking hard about that question. You gaze back at his sharp features and glistening eyes, such a strikingly blue-grey colour, and think how beautiful this boy really is. He's tall, slim but well built, with blonde hair and a handsome face. He's smart, and when he knows you well enough, his emotional intelligence shines. Maybe you did like him, a little bit more than you could stomach.

"I don't really know," he begins to say, still looking directly at you, and it's starting to make you feel nervous, "I've only been with girls I find physically attractive."

You blink and raise your eyebrows at him, giving him a scrutinising look. Like his mother does.

"What?"

"Does that sound bad?" he grimaces. Not knowing what else to say, you laugh.

"Draco," you say, "are you telling me you've only ever gone on looks?"

"I haven't cared about anything else," he shrugs, and he's being deadly serious, "personality wasn't exactly needed for what we were doing-"

"Okay," you stop him, holding your hand up, "stop right there, Malfoy. I do not want to hear about that area of your life, thank you."

For a moment you both just look at each other, and then burst out laughing. He's genuinely laughing as well, hand on his stomach and head against the wall behind you. As you calm down, you look across at him and it makes you feel so good to see him like this. Carefree, relaxed, happy. He's so pretty when he laughs, too.

"I like it when you laugh," you say out loud, and his laughter comes to a holt, as the mortifying realisation comes that you just said that to him. You wave a dismissive hand and look away from him, "that was weird, I'm sorry."

"It wasn't weird," he says, in such a nice way that it makes you feel even worse, and then he's shuffling on the spot and clearing his throat, "I, uh, like it when you laugh too."

You look at him from the corner of your eye and see that he's ripping the label from the bottle and keeping his eyes firmly on what he was doing. Is he blushing? You couldn't really tell with the lighting, but he suddenly seems inside himself. You tuck some hair behind your ear.

"Hey, Draco," you say, and he glances up at you, "I'm glad were hanging out together."

His cheeks are certainly deeper in colour, and he doesn't know where to look or what to do with his hands or any of him really. He just runs a hand through his hair and ruffles it slightly.

"Same here," he mutters, looking towards the ground, "I feel better with you around."

That makes you grin like an idiot. You like him. Oh Christ, you like him.

"It's so strange to think that a few weeks ago we were bickering like siblings," you say, smiling at him. He smiles back, moving a little closer, and you automatically lean against his arm.

"You know at the weekend," he said quietly, "do you want to go out in Hogsmeade?"

For a second you think he's asking you on a date, and your mind starts racing, until he says, "just go and get a beer or something, you know, as friends?"

Friends. What did that even mean? Here you were, huddled under a blanket in the Astronomy tower. Is that what friends do? He had no idea. Truth was, Draco had never liked a girl enough to date them. He didn't even know what a crush felt like, but he knew that you made him feel good, and that he thought you were attractive, with a wicked sense of humour and a kind, compassionate heart. Is that a crush? How would he even know? So many questions flooded his head, but he never said a word. But then you smile and say, "sure, that sounds lovely," and he can't help but feel absolutely elated.

"I'll pick you up outside your dorm, around seven like usual?" he asks.

"Seven is good," you agree, and he's doing that thing again when his eyes travel the expanse of your face and then back to meet yours. You narrow your eyes, "you always do that."

"Do what?"

"Look at me like that," you softly, "as if you're memorising how I look."

"Maybe I am," he mutters. Was that a confession? Is that what he's doing? It is what he's doing, but did he really want you to know that? He just thinks you're pretty, is that not what you do when you think someone is pretty? He starts spiralling, and you can see it in his eyes, "forget I said that. I have alcohol in me right now."

"Right," you breathe, taking your eyes off him, "of course."

"Wait, that was a shitty thing to say," he rushes out, fumbling to make it right, "I'm just kind of drunk."

"It's fine," you wave a dismissive hand, "don't worry about it."

"No," he says passionately, and your head snaps in his direction, "it's not fine, because I didn't mean it like that. You're beautiful, and you should know that. Inside and out."

It fell silent, but it was possibly the loudest silence you'd ever heard. He's breathing heavily from how frustrated he'd just gotten, and your head is spinning and heart thundering against your ribcage.

"What did you just say?"

"You heard me," he mumbles, staring at the ground, "don't make me repeat it."

"So I'm beautiful but too bookish?"

"Just forget about that, alright?" he snaps quietly, "I was just being dumb. You're not bookish, you're really fucking smart. There's a difference."

The smile on your face gets so big that your cheeks start to hurt, and you lean against his shoulder and nuzzle closer to him. He doesn't go stiff like he usually does, in fact he seems to melt into it, resting his head on top of yours.

"Thank you for that," you whisper to him.

He just huffs.

"Don't get used to it," he whispers back, but you know he's just feeling bruised because he outed some real feelings to you. You think it's sweet, how irritable he is when things get serious. After a while, you reach over and take his hand, lacing your fingers with his like you had done before. He doesn't stop you; he welcomes it. You sink deeper into him, sighing in contentment. Whatever this relationship of yours was, it was turning into something beautifully vulnerable. __________________________

When Friday evening rolls around, Draco's last class seemed to run on forever. He doesn't share this one with you, unfortunately. Retaking Divination felt like a good idea when choosing his subjects, but he was quickly coming to realise that Trelawney really is just a daft old bat as he packs up his things and leaves. He wishes he had your company to look forward to, but tonight is your study date with Granger. Typical that it was her taking your time away from him. He trudges back to his dorm, ready to sink into bed and forget the world for a while, when he hears the familiar tone of Professor McGonagall calling him down the corridor.

"Mr Malfoy," her voice rings out, and he turns to see her walking towards him, "I take it you have a few moments to spare?"

"I suppose so, professor," he answers, "what can I do for you?"

"Well, not so much me," she says, looking down her nose at him, "your mother is currently in my office and wishes to speak with you."

Mother. His mind starts racing. What could she possibly want during a school term? She never bothers him usually, only the odd letter. McGonagall could see he was beginning to worry, and she offered a comforting smile.

"I'm sure it's nothing serious," she said softly, "the sooner you see her, the sooner you can get back to your plans for this evening."

He nods in agreement, and begins to follow McGonagall to her office, previously the office of Professor Dumbledore. It's a long walk from where he was, but with all the panicked thinking he was doing it went by rather fast. McGonagall mutters the password, and the stairs begin to curl around to mighty stone eagle. He follows her up the steps, and she waves her wand to open the grand door to the headmistress's office. Draco enters cautiously, Narcissa turning to see him, smiling as he walks to stand a good distance away from her. She's holding a pair of leather gloves in her hand, a small black handbag on her arm. As always, she's dressed in high fashion, with bold red lipstick and her hair in a tight bun.

"Mother," he greets her.

"I shall leave you both in peace," McGonagall says promptly, "take all the time that you need."

She then exits, the large door shutting behind her with a thud.

"Draco," Narcissa says, "how nice to see you, my dear."

"Why are you here?" he asks outright, and Narcissa's smile begins to falter.

"Not the nicest way to greet your mother, Draco," she comments, walking to close the gap slightly between them. He's eyeing her cautiously, "I'm here to pass on some news."

"Such as?"

"I have an outing planned for you," her smile returns, "Your father and I had the pleasure of dining with the Greengrass family last weekend, and Astoria's mother is keen on you. So, I took the liberty in sorting a private luncheon in Hogsmeade this Sunday."

"For our families?" he knits his eyebrows together and gets a funny feeling in his stomach when his mother shakes her head.

"Just the two of you," Narcissa said, "you should try to get to know her better, Draco."

"I've already told you, mother," Draco stresses, "I don't have any desire to know her that way."

"That is beside the point, Draco," his mother says sternly, "she is a good fit for you, and you should be thankful that such a prestigious family has interest, especially since-"

"Our family name is ruined?"

Narcissa takes a sharp intake of breath, mortified at her son's outburst. Her expression becomes one of fury, and she takes an intimidating step towards him.

"Now, you listen to me," she says threateningly, her voice low and scarily calm, "if you ever speak to me like that again, I will pull you out of this school and marry you off to the next woman I lay my eyes on, are we clear?"

Draco gulps. He wasn't exactly scared of his mother, not like he was his father, but he knew as well anybody, that Narcissa meant what she said.

"Yes, mother," he mutters. Narcissa smiles at him again.

"Good, I don't wish to fight with you, my dear," her voice changes, now soft and light, "we only want the absolute best for you, and we believe finding a suitable wife will benefit in the future. Now, be a darling and attend this lunch for me. Can you do that, Draco?"

He nods, wordlessly accepting it, and his mother places a kiss to his cheek before slipping on her gloves. The only thing he feels right now is a blistering anger.

"I'll owl over the details," she goes on to say, making her way towards the door McGonagall left through, "and make sure to wear something nice, alright?"

disclaimer: i do not own hp or any of the characters in this story

dividers from: @firefly-graphics & @happy-ash-edits

#draco x you #draco imagine #draco x reader #draco x female reader #draco x ravenclaw!reader #draco x y/n #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy fanfiction #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #hpff #draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy #draco fanfiction

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