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dnd_drow

Dataset card Data Studio Files
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Rolan tried to bring him closer, run his hands through that golden hair and start pulling.
His hands were caught.
He pulled them harder, just to feel it. The ropes strained, pressing into the skin of his wrists. That same delicate skin that Dammon had kissed.
He was fully hard now. He was leaking. He could feel it start to pool on his abdomen, sticky between his skin and the fabric of his robe. And Dammon was still kissing him, one hand between his legs and one in Rolan’s hair. Both were so gentle. He was so, so gentle.
Dammon’s finger breached, and Rolan gasped as it did.
The feeling was... alien. Not unpleasant, but not something he could ignore.
His eyes fluttered open and he looked at Dammon. Dammon smiled back at him and said, "my good boy."
If Rolan’s hands weren’t tied, he’d have grabbed Dammon and kissed him until he couldn’t breathe. Yes, he wanted to pant. Yes, I want to be yours. Your good boy. I want to be so good for you. I want to be your good boy.
A shudder ran through him.
Part of it was shame. What did it say about him, that he was so desperate to please? So desperate to have people say that to him; tell him he was good and kind and worthy?
A larger part of it was raw arousal. Dammon’s finger was pressing gently in and out of him, each thrust bringing it slightly deeper to Rolan’s core. Dammon was inside him, and Dammon thought he was good.
Dammon was inside him.
Rolan was panting. His mouth was open. He was making desperate little sounds, jagged noises that mostly sounded like Dammon’s name.
He felt Dammon smile against the skin of his sensitive throat.
The finger moved deeper, and it brushed against something tight.
Rolan’s hips lifted off the bed. His sharp gasp came out keening; he couldn’t get breath in fast enough. Dammon gave him one last, lingering kiss on his neck before pressing that finger in again.
Rolan wouldn’t survive this.
It was all so much; Dammon's smell, the feel of his skin on Rolan’s, the rope around his wrists. He felt like he could come from this alone. He was on the edge of it.
"Dam—" he tried to say. The full word wouldn’t come. He drew a shuddering breath and tried again. "Dammon."
"Mmm?" Dammon licked a line up his throat and over his jaw. "Still alright, darling?"
"I’m—" Rolan’s breath hitched as Dammon pulsed his finger again. He was moving it in a gentle thrusting motion, occasionally moving it in one of those delicate circles, just like he had on Rolan’s thigh. "Dammon, I’m—"
Dammon’s mouth pressed to his, soft but demanding. Rolan’s arms felt too weak to hold him up. His legs were shuddering.
He was aware of the fact Dammon was moving, but not where he was moving to. Not until he felt a kiss on his inner thigh.
"Oh, Gods..." Rolan felt another hot spurt spill onto his stomach. Dammon’s breath dampened his thigh. Dammon’s tongue licked the join of his leg, licked his testes, licked the base of his cock.
Still inside him. Still thrusting and pressing.
Rolan felt his robe pulled up, felt fresh air against the mess he’d made on his abdomen. Dammon licked a long, slow line from the base of Rolan’s cock to the top.
Rolan’s breath came in desperate sobs. He tried to reach for Dammon, tried to feel Dammon under his hands. Kicked his hips up, desperate to press against something; anything.
Dammon’s mouth stayed just so tantalisingly out of reach. He stroked a finger, the finger that wasn’t inside Rolan, idly up and down Rolan’s inner thigh.
"Can you be a good boy?" Dammon asked, his voice rough. "Can you be a good boy and come for me?"
"Please," Rolan managed to bite out. He had to find the strength from deep, deep inside him. "Please let me come for you."
"My good boy," Dammon whispered, kissing Rolan’s thigh one last time. "Come in my mouth for me."
Rolan couldn’t parse those words. The only thing he was able to do was feel Dammon’s tongue against him. Warm, yet so much cooler than the heat Rolan's skin was throwing out. The tip of Dammon’s tongue circled him, licking out the semen that had beaded there. Then he took Rolan into his mouth.
Rolan was amazed that he had lasted this long. But the feeling of Dammon on him and in him—of him in Dammon—was more than he could handle.
He felt it start at the base of his spine and build; pushing out into his shoulders, curling his toes and his fingers. A joint cracked, somewhere.
There was nothing but the cries in his throat and shallow, jagged breathing. Then, there was nothing but blinding white.
It was some moments before he came back to himself.
The first thing he was aware of was Dammon’s chest. Not in the way he was usually aware of Dammon's chest.
He was leaning against Dammon, head on his shoulder, facing his huge pectorals.
Dammon's smell was warm and familiar; fresh sweat and coal smoke.
The next thing he was aware of was Dammon’s hands in his hair. Dammon’s mouth.
In between dropping kisses to the top of Rolan’s head, Dammon was speaking to him.
Rolan let himself float in the cadence of that voice before he started to listen.
It was nice to be here, in this in-between little area.
"—ing boy. You took that so well." Another kiss. "You were so good."
Rolan closed his eyes and smiled. His arms were still tied above him, but Dammon was leaning against the headboard. Just about close enough to touch.
"Hey," said Dammon, when he felt Rolan’s hand stroke the top of his horn. " Welcome back."
Rolan was boneless. He could melt into the mattress; stay here forever. Was it always like this, after sex? He’d nothing to compare it to, but he imagined the answer was probably "no’.
He felt the muscles in his stomach twitch; a little aftershock.
He’d never come like that before.
"How’re you feeling?" Dammon asked into Rolan’s hair.
Rolan wasn’t sure he could speak. Could he? Was it worth trying? He didn’t think he had a voice left.
His throat was tender and gravelly. Beside him, the bedsheet had come away from the mattress and was clenched in his hand.
"Mmm," he said, bridging the gap between silence and sound. He butted his head against Dammon’s for emphasis.
"That good?" Dammon huffed. He smoothed Rolan’s robe down over his knees. He must have pulled it down, Rolan realised. Wanting to make Rolan comfortable, even when Rolan wasn’t operating on the same plane of existence.
Dammon, though. Dammon was still in his trousers. He’d undone the laces at the front—had he been... touching himself? When he was inside Rolan?—but made no effort to remove them.
That wasn’t right. Rolan was still coming round from the best orgasm of his life, and his partner had nothing to show for it.
 "Do you need me to let you out?"
"No," Rolan answered, scratchily. Gods, his throat really did hurt. "Not yet."
"Alright," said Dammon, holding him slightly closer. Rolan’s toes twitched.
"I want to get you off."
Dammon pulled back, up to a sitting position. He sat, cross legged, looking down at Rolan.
"You don’t have to," he said gently. "It’s not a transaction."
"I want to," repeated Rolan.
The way he felt—the way Dammon had made him feel—he wanted to return it. To share it with Dammon.
He really wanted to see Dammon come. He’d imagined it enough times.
Although he’d pulled back, Dammon’s posture wasn’t defensive. He sat loose shouldered, elbows on his knees. His voice was a wrecked as well, come to think of it. "What do you want to do?"
What did he want to do?
Rolan had it in mind to ask what it was that Dammon wanted. Was there anything he favoured? Anything he wanted, badly? Anything he might have entertained the idea of him and Rolan doing?
But remembering Dammon, just then—the intimacy of it. How close they’d felt when Dammon’s mouth was on him.
He wanted that. He wanted to give Dammon that.
"I want to use my mouth," he said. His voice sounded low, unfamiliar. "Can I use my mouth on you?"
"Rolan," Dammon smiled. "I would love for you to use your mouth on me."
He leant back, loosening the strings at the front of his trousers further, before pulling them off completely. Breathed in deeply and looked at Rolan through hooded eyes. He started to rub himself.
"Dammon," said Rolan shortly. "You know damn well I can’t go over there and get you."
"And isn’t that part of the fun?" said Dammon, smiling benevolently. But he knelt forward on the bed as he did so, giving Rolan a deep, thorough kiss.
It was Rolan who broke it off. He swallowed, once and hard, and said, "please."
"Because you asked so nicely," said Dammon. He moved himself upwards, placing those thighs either side of Rolan’s face.
He pressed himself down, and Rolan was lost.
What he really wanted to do was grab Dammon’s thighs with both hands and make him ride Rolan until they were both gasping. How long had he been dreaming of these legs? And here he was, bracketed against them. Face pressed between them.
Dammon tasted of salt, sweat. His skin was so hot. Rolan pressed his tongue against him, against the heat and the wetness. He did it again, moving his tongue in a broad, deep stroke. And then again, more slowly. Enjoying the taste. Enjoying the textures.
Above him, he felt Dammon exhale deeply and lean backwards, giving him more room.
Rolan moved his tongue back, licking the sensitive join of Dammon’s leg. He’d almost seen stars when Dammon did this to him.
Dammon’s legs tensed, so he did it again.
Dammon began to rock.
Rolan turned his attention back from Dammon’s thigh (after one last kiss—he’d been waiting so long, after all). Moved his tongue up, down and then from side to side. Slowly, at first. Slowly and deliberately.
This was so different from pleasing himself. Everything had a different feel under his mouth, a different flavour.
He tried to time his movements to those of Dammon’s hips. A shiver ran down his spine and his cock gave a futile twitch.
Dammon had begun to shudder. It started in his legs, and then his breathing caught. Gasps, at first. Then breathy, trembling moans. His thighs started to shake.
"I’m close, Ro," he panted, spine arching. Rolan felt him lean forward, resting his forearms on the headboard.
He wanted so badly to take those hands in his.
Rolan sped up, doing his best to keep a steady pressure. The blade of his tongue elicited a sharp cry from Dammon.
A hand grabbed at his hair. Dammon's hips sped up.
Rolan let Dammon guide him where he was needed, alternating between long strokes and circling with the tip of his tongue. Dammon’s thighs tightened and he pressed further into Rolan, breath going from gasps to sobs.
He came with a breathy cry. Rolan felt him go; legs slackening and a sticky wetness.
That doesn’t mean Rolan stopped. He took advantage of Dammon untensing above him to lick him clean; everything he could find.
Dammon’s breathing grew deeper, more even. Then he pulled off, sat back. Regarded Rolan with something like wonder.
"Rolan, I..." he said after a moment. "...needed that."
Rolan smiled, reaching for the last taste of Dammon on his lips. Dammon wrinkled his nose, but leant forward to kiss him anyway.
This was a warm kiss, a laughing kiss. One of mutual affection. Of... joy. Rolan felt it, deep in his bones.
"Shall I release you?" Dammon asked, hand on Rolan’s bindings.