Datasets:
mickume
/
dnd_drow

Dataset card Data Studio Files
xet
Community
text
stringlengths
0
41.4k
Zevlor placed his hand just above Yuta’s groin, the other cupped his cheek.
The Mephistian tiefling blinked up at him with a curious noise.
"Is it alright? Does it hurt?"
Yuta swallowed.
"No it’s... It’s not pain," he tried. "Maybe... more?"
Zevlor nodded with a hazy smile, steady as he sheathed himself in Yuta’s welcoming heat. He sat there, quiet, feeling Yuta’s body heat soak into his palms.
The cleric panted quietly, eyes screwed shut as he tried to relax his body with a barely-audible groan.
Zevlor bent himself down, to kiss Yuta on the corner of his mouth, to nuzzle him and whisper against his plump, blue lips.
"How does it feel?"
He watched the youth’s carefully with gentle concern as his eyes fluttered open, locking eyes.
Yuta’s voice croaked, just slightly. "It feels... Full. Like... Pressure?"
"It matters if it feels good. Not tolerable. Does it? Does it feel good?"
Yuta’s glacial gaze flickered away with a mild shame. "Not really..."
"Shh, shh," Zevlor hushed him, nosing against his cheek, slowly pulling out, his cock slick with juice, missing the cradled warmth.
But Yuta quietly moaned. Relief.
"There are plenty of ways to touch, to indulge in pleasure." Zevlor offered a salacious little smile. "Let me show you... "
Yuta watched his erastes lay on his side, holding out a palm and jutting red fingers upward. "Up. I’ll lay down."
Yuta moved to let him on his back, pillow adjusted behind his neck as not to let his horns catch the ground or snag the blanket. He looked down, holding his cock against his stomach, beckoning Yuta.
"Sit. Right on top."
Yuta climbed atop of him, taking seat on his red-ridged throne.
Just a moment, Zevlor whispered, fingers sliding around Yuta’s flowerbud clit, nestling his red-flushed cock between dark lips.
"There. Just move. However you like. Whatever feels good."
Yuta nodded silently, fingers playing with his own bottom lip nervously. Moving his hips, he slide a little forward, a little back, his slick coating Zevlor’s cock. His clit rubbed against the head. He sucked in a breath, pausing, making a small noise and a shudder.
That’s what Zevlor wanted to see, that quiver of ecstasy. He wanted to see it again.
Molten red palms fell to Yuta’s hips, running over the dull bumps of infernal spines, giving a slight, encouraging squeeze.
Yuta did it again. He gyrated his hips, slowly, back and forth, feeling the ridges of Zevlor’s cock run over his clit. He sucked in his lips, making small, keening noises.
Zevlor let his head fall back, horns grazing the ground. He lifted his hips, just slightly, finding a steady pace to move in sync with Yuta.
They moved together, quietly drawing heavy breaths.
"Does.. Does that feel good?" Yuta asked through his own haze.
"Oh, yes. Yes. Just. A little harder. Push down on me a little harder."
Yuta did, grinding their sexes together, his hands holding just under Zevlor’s arms for anchor.
Zevlor face was slack with pleasure, harder he muttered.
Yuta gyrated his hips, mouth hung open in quiet, voiceless gasps, rubbing himself as he rode on top of him, mewling blissfully.
Zevlor tried to breathe evenly, concentrated on it, sweating as his own hips lifted, wanting more pressure, more friction. His tail flicked out, wrapping around Yuta and his own leg, binding them together. Zevlor’s hand trailed down his zaffric body, feeling every twitch of pleasure, every spasm of ecstasy. 
Zevlor’s back bowed, nails digging into Yuta’s hip and thigh, mouth agape as he moaned deep. Cum splattered over his twitching stomach.
Yuta continued to move, circling his hips. Zevlor keened, whined high and loud, heels digging into the blanket. He grabbed Yuta’s hips, hands trembling.
"Gods, please," he moaned.
Yuta faltered, panting quietly.
"Are you alright?"
Zevlor huffed a soft laugh through the fire of ecstasy.
"Oh, yes. More than alright. But, please give me a moment. It’s... Too much."
He sat up, Yuta letting him, legs wrapped around him, tailtip flicking curiously.
His body wracked with orgasm as he tried to gather his breath.
"Have you... Ahem. Finished?"
Yuta hummed evasively.  
Zevlor pulled him down by the back of his neck, planting a loving kiss to his brow. "No—?" he teasingly asked. "You can be honest with me. Here. You lay down, now. I’ll take care of you."
Yuta removed himself from Zevlor’s body, laying by him. The paladin kissed him, savoring his mouth, his lips, his tongue. His hands wandered over Yuta’s body, against his back, his spine, the base of his tail, massaging gently. Lips fell to Yuta’s chin, throat, teeth hotly nipping skin, tongue dragging over the tiefling serrations of his collar bone, the center of his cleavage. The taste of salt lingered, mixed with the familiar musk of battle-sweat and campfire smoke. His tongue dipped into Yuta’s naval, feeling his stomach twitch – slightly ticklish, unused to affectionate touch.
He planted a firm kiss against Yuta’s groin, looking up at him, fingers curling around his thighs.
Yuta’s cheek flushed dark as he managed to say, with a faint stammer, "T-taste me."
Zevlor ran his tongue between Yuta’s folds, tasting his juice, drawing his tongue up the underside of his clit, pillowy lips taking him, sucking lightly.
Yuta watched him through his lashes, biting down on his lip.  
Zevlor’s tongue swirled, slow, around Yuta’s engorged clit as Yuta sharply gasped. He repeated the motion, watching for Yuta’s quakes and shivers to find just exactly where he liked it.
The elder tiefling worked his tongue, flat on that spot to tease him, hearing his sweet noises. His fingers spread him open, hot mouth taking him, sucking and dragging his tongue against his nub.
Yuta’s legs spread wide, knees drawn. His blue hand came up to his mouth, playing with his bottom lip, his other squeezing his own breast.
Zevlor hooked his digitigrade legs over strong, red shoulders. He vocalized pleasantly as a claw scratched into his scalp, urging him for more. Hips grinded against his mouth, tail wrapped around his chest; he could feel his cock want more again as Yuta’s debauched noises sang in his sharp ears.
Blue claws scrabbled across the blankets, grabbing fistfuls tightly. Yuta moaned and cried in bliss, enveloped in pleasure at Zevlor’s skilled tongue and soft lips. His body locked, chest heaving with quick breaths, peaking orgasm as he writhed and squirmed.
Zevlor let him down, watching him shudder and shake, squeezing his legs shut.
Yuta basked in the throes of ecstasy, body drawn taut as he sweat and shivered.
His eyes fluttered in the daze of pleasure, Zevlor nuzzling his cheek, caressing his shoulder. His blue arms instinctively wrapped around Zevlor’s neck, drawing him close. The elder tiefling welcomed it, tail wrapped around their waists as his fingers massaged circles into Yuta’s back, lazily following the pattern of his mephistian bloodline.
They laid together quietly, breathing softly, feeling heartbeat to heartbeat, though privately each mourned the fact they must depart soon.
Zevlor kissed away his sorrows against Yuta’s skin, who was entirely content in being showered with long-needed affection, then nuzzled into the crook of his neck.
"Would you bathe with me?" he asked in a hushed voice. "I can’t bear to leave you. Not yet."
Even the fleetest parting away from Zevlor bore painful, but Yuta followed him to the creek, led by the hand.
The waters were frigid, but cooled their bodies of their heated coupling. Yuta clung to a rock, feeling the algae of the stones beneath his hooves slippery.
"Here, I’ve got you," Zevlor said, coming to his side, a strong arm sliding round his middle to hold him up. Genuine as his aid was, he couldn’t tear himself away from skinship just yet, wanting to cling a while longer. Just a while longer.
Yuta swooned at being held to tightly, so easily, in the soldier’s strong arms. He relished it.
Gentle were their caresses, cupping water between their hands and dripping one another wet over shoulders and hair.
Still, the younger tiefling couldn’t help an impending sense of doom that lingered over the horizon.
"What is it?" Zevlor asked, as quiet as the breeze.
"I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to go."
"Come morrow we go our separate ways. And we will find each other again," he lied.
There was little certainty in his mind. The Shadow Curse could take them. He did not know if he would make it across to Baldur’s Gate. So few tieflings under his watch, picked off like lambs in a den of wolves and he their only forlorn savior, stained asmodean red by their blood. But he dared not let his doubts escape the trappings of his heart. They will stay there, caged and locked. Yuta needn’t know his worries. The cleric had his own. So Zevlor kissed him, chaste and sweet, assuringly.
Yuta was not convinced. But smiled anyway, hiding back the fear that gripped his core. Zevlor had enough to fear. It wasn’t fair to put his fledging burdens on the soldier who had seen so much death already. So much pain and sorrow.
The final day, tiefling and adventurer parted ways, well wishes rounded.
Karlach gave Dammon a fiercely determined stare.
"You better make it through that curse or I’ll hunt you down in the Hells myself."
He grinned, with a tinting of nerves, "I have nothing to fear if you’re coming to my rescue."
The tadpoled adventurers descended into the depths of the "Dark.
The caravan moved onward along the Mountain Pass.
Zevlor spotted the peak of the Somber Spire above the treeline. About half a day's walk if they were leisurely.
"Is that a wizard's tower?" Rolan asked with a thinly veiled excitement.
"It is. For now, at least. A wizard and a paladin live there, said to be merchants of magical curios by some, and by others a power-hungry pair."
Rolan itched for adventure. For knowledge. "Magical curios? I suppose if we're on the way, we could stop and buy supplies," he goaded.
"And if they attack us?" Zevlor posed, quietly hoping for an excuse to stray from their path. To delay the Darkness they would soon be shrouded, and to bestow his justice.
"Hm... Right. Well, you're guarding us, aren't you?"
As both danced around convincing the other to explore the tower, Rolan's siblings opined:
"Should we really spend our time rummaging through some old tower?" said Cal.
"Well... If they have supplies, I suppose we could try and ask," Lia compensated.
Personal motivations aside, Zevlor crossed his arms.
"Rumors say little else and conflict whether the residents are hostile. I'd rather not risk us all chasing after a few tomes and potions."
"And if just a few of us go, then? You and me, Guex, Ikaron, and Tilses."
"What about us?" Cal called.
"No. Absolutely not," Rolan protested.
"You can cast spells, then?" Zevlor half teased, though certainly would prefer Rolan to be truthful.
"Of course I can! I've leared quite a lot from what we've gathered."
"You mean what we were given," Lia corrected. "The Blade and his friends gave you scrolls and tomes. Don't take all the credit."
"It takes a master of his craft to even begin to understand how to use them, Lia."
"Enough," Zevlor demanded, intervening before the trio were at each other's throats. "Rolan, myself, Tilses, and Ikaron. Guex, Lia, Cal, you stay with the others. Protect them. And, here," he removed a horn from his pack. "If you are in any danger, blow the horn. Any at all." He was gravely serous. Lia nodded as she took it and hung it on her belt.
"Good. There is a clearing, set up camp there. I haven't seen any hyena tracks in some time, but be cautious."
The paladin led them to the clearing. The group gathered, but Zevlor waited for the caravan to finish unpacking. Dammon, too, laid out weapons he had forged, just in case.