text stringlengths 0 41.4k |
|---|
Scratch, the Owlbear, and the Goat provided fine enough company. |
At times Halsin was good to speak with. A familiar face from a familiar time. Other times, Halsin was warm to rest on while he sported a Wild Shape form. Jaheira would call them both old men for needing a nap, then wild shape herself into a cat to do the same. |
Shadowheart had stayed behind in camp a couple times, nursing the scar on her hand. |
She shared with him her shaken faith. He was surprised by her willingness when compared to the first time they saw one another she had been so closed off. By her hair and new countenance, she had grown to be quite lovely. She was in search of her parents, he learned. |
She had found them, eventually, with the party’s help. She shared with Zevlor, after recovering for a time of the emotional turmoils she had witness and been subjected to, her faith shaken once more. Her powers dimmed for a short while, Zevlor recognized, but came back strong with the power of Selûne behind her. |
"Your powers," she approached, "I’ve noticed you have them. And.. Other times you don’t." |
The tiefling nodded. "Our power comes from our Oath itself, though many other Paladins do have clerical capabilities as well. I, however... Sigh. I broke my oath. And the bond with my gods. I had all but accepted I would never be a paladin again. Yet... I can, at times, perform this work, these magics. I find it all perplexing. It is certainly not of Helm’s work. I don’t recognize the touch of this divinity... " |
"A secret, godly admirer? That seems dangerous." |
"It does, doesn’t it. I wonder at times if it is simply Asmodeus making claim on my blood. I can’t say what god would want anything to do with me, now." |
"Hm... Are you certain it is even divine intervention? Perhaps your Oath is not as broken as you think." |
Zevlor smiled politely but couldn’t imagine himself restored in the slightest. Hs faith had lost when his people were exiled from Elturel, despite so many of their lives laid down for the sake of defending the city. Without faith, he was oathless. Without an oath, he was broken. |
The group eventually sported a room in Elfsong. Zevlor found it rather... Macabre to stay in a room of committed murder. But not enough to protest. He had slept near corpses of comrades before. He could handle the milder morbidity. |
Lakrissa beamed when she saw him, asking if he was alright, what happened, how did he survive. |
Zevlor was taken back by her concern, her excitement. Surely, he thought, they would all come to hate him for his abandonment. But he explained. And she gave him a look of sympathy. |
"I’m glad you’re with us, now. Without you, we wouldn’t have come together." |
The first night he forced himself not to make horribly lewd noises at the simple act of laying in a real, plush bed. He waited for Yuta, The fawn in his new night gown sat, sinking into the fluff. |
Yuta bounced a little on the bed, then plopped into the bulk. His eyes went wide as he lay there slack-jawed. |
"Gods this is amazing..!" |
He melted into the sheets. Zevlor hadn’t slept in a real bed in nearly a year. A little over, perhaps. He realized Yuta had... Never slept in a bed. He laid on his side, watching Yuta’s face move through different states of bliss. |
The fawn closed his eyes. He was asleep nigh instantly, and deeply. Zevlor lifted his legs and tail to draw the covers over them. |
In between the mysteries, the murders, the monsters, Yuta found the city beautiful. So full of life. It was difficult not to spend every coin he had on new clothes, jewelry, trinkets. More than once, Astarion, Gale, Jaheira each had to stop him from buying false goods from grifters. |
"Are you so intent on just giving all our coin away?" Astarion complained, hand on hip as he gently kicked away one of the man’s wares. Enough to be annoying, not enough to break-and-buy. |
Yuta gave him a pathetic look, a pout on his lip, coins purse in hand already undone. |
"Bah, let him learn his lesson, I say," Jaheira waved off. |
Gale put his hand on Yuta’s back, gently ushering him away from the trinket-seller. |
"There are finer goods of finer people all over the city. We’ll find you another, er... What were you going to buy?" |
At times when the city was overwhelming, Yuta retreated to the cliffs or the woods. The noise was still close, but it wasn’t as loud as in Elfsong or on the streets. |
Zevlor noticed him hurrying out of the way towards a Waystone, carved with a lovely amaranthine magic. The oathbreaker gently put his hand to Yuta’s shoulder, half-startling him before brushing hair from his face. |
"Are you alright?" |
"It’s a lot to take in, sometimes," Yuta admitted. "I... Like to clear my head. In the woods." |
"It is, isn’t it? I was raised in Elturel, I know the bustling of city streets. It’s different here, but it sings of home. I missed the colors, the sounds, the sights, yet still it can be intense after such a long time away from city walls. Escape can be good." |
"Would you like to escape with me on a walk?" |
He couldn’t deny Yuta such a simple pleasure. |
"I’d love to." |
His fawnling looped their arms together, feeling the tug and pull of the Waypoint as it sent them into Rivington. From there, they walked with idle chatter on their tongues. |
Zevlor couldn’t help the way his heart throbbed. He hadn’t realized how much he yearned for the basest companionship. He listened as Yuta regaled one of the party’s exploits with a trio of Undead wandering about the city, and the Necromancer who required them. He was happy to see his blue tail swing out when he emphasized certain words, twitch and flick at others, growing more bold with each passing day. |
"He warned us the book’s secrets were vile. But we paid him. The book had... Hmm. Interesting spellcrafts. Necromancies, of course. Cleaving souls into corpses, and giving physicality to souls, binding them as slaves. I want to study it. Dark as it is, ancient knowledge is of Jergal’s domain." |
"The act of receiving knowledge, and the act of studying it as an offering, a devotional act, to your patron. It’s been some time since I had... Thought of offering to the gods at all. You’re not interested, otherwise, in the power?" |
Yuta thought to himself for a moment, leaning against Zevlor’s arm as they walked together, the cobblestone turning to dirt as they trailed off the path into the woods. His tail flickered. |
"Hmm... I can’t truthfully say I’m not. But that doesn’t mean I can’t still devote the action to my deity." |
Would the Dutiful Watcher bless him if he had devoted his attempted guardianship of tieflings to him? His protectiveness of the children? His former oath still held a strong grip around his heart. Protect those entrusted to your care. He entrusted himself with their care. He supposed he would have broken his Oath twofold after Moonrise Towers. |
Yuta stopped. So did he. |
"I apologize. My mind, it wanders." |
"Where does it wander to?" |
"Old things. Elturel, Avernus. My comrades. My oath." Zevlor’s hearthfire eyes lowered, staring at the grass. "I wish I could take it all back. Do it again. Better. But we can’t focus on the things we can’t change. Mourn our losses, and march forward." |
He always sounded like a soldier. Enlisted since his twenties, guardsman of Elturel, Hellrider. Survivor. |
"My apologies. Your book. I’m not familiar with necromancy, most of such magic is typically beyond Paladins unless we’ve sworn particular Oaths or are heralded by dark gods. Though, in these times, we need all the help we can get to vanquish the final threat." |
Ever dutiful. Yuta admired his pragmaticism. In truth he simply wanted the power for curiosity’s sake. To simply have something new. Profane. Potentially Jergalian. But yes, summoning a small hoard of the undead, perhaps even use the corpses of the fallen against their own would be beneficial. |
Undead and near-future damnation aside, he brought Zevlor with him for a reason. The thought of decay was not enough to deter his wandering mind, his wandering eye, moving over every crevice of Zevlor’s body. Sharp jawline, muscular arms, broad chest, tapered waist, long... Legs. |
Zevlor felt his stare, his ogling. He himself offered a sharp, rather deviant smirk. |
"Oh? What have I done to deserve this look?" |
Yuta took both of his hands, blinking up at him through lashes with a suggestive little smile. His tail curled back and forth. |
Zevlor’s eyes flickered about their surroundings, his own red tail shyly curling around his ankle. |
Yuta cocked his head with an evasive hum. |
Zevlor too no issue with rutting in the grass and dirt, but... |
"What if someone sees us?" |
"No one will see us." |
Zevlor cocked a brow skeptically. "I don’t think you’re using the head on your shoulders." |
"It’s difficult, around you." Yuta came close, guiding Zevlor’s hands to his chest, against his bosom. "I think I’ve been behaving very well for how little privacy we get." |
"Really?" Zevlor came closer with coy smile, hands running over Yuta’s breasts though his light vestments. "How could I deny you an evening of passion if you’ve been pining after me all this time?" |
"Not pining," Yuta slotted their bodies close, lips inches from Zevlor’s. "Yearning. Wanting. Aching." |
He hissed quietly with a sultry show of his fangs, grabbing a fistful of his holy gown, drawing it up. His new learned confidence sent heat into Zevlor's loins. |
Zevlor nipped his jaw, then planted a firm kiss. He knelt, hands smoothing over Yuta’s filled figure as the mephistian tiefling lifted the skirt higher, tucking what he could into his belt. Hands felt over Yuta’s dusty blue calves, into the midnight fur at his ankles just above his hooves. Zevlor nuzzled against his hip. |
"You make me want to worship, again," he muttered in his pious pose. "You’ve saved me. My people. My soul. My heart. My mind." He looked up to the cleric with fiery devotion in his eyes. "I belong to you." |
Yuta’s hand fell between his horns, against his light brown hair. Claws dug into his scalp, drawing a purr from the oath-broken paladin. Emboldened, heart aflutter, he gazed down at his erastes with lidded eyes. |
"Then show me your worship," he said. |
Zevlor looked upon him with a quiet surprise. And an obvious want. |
"You belong to me. So worship me. Let me feel your devotion." |
Red lips came to Yuta’s groin, kissing the edges of his modesty as hands slid up his calves, his spined knees, his plush thighs. They tugged away the knots that held the fabric in place, and Zevlor couldn’t help but take him in his mouth. His hands came to part those dark lips, tongue readily lapping and stroking the growing, sensitive nub to fullness, drawing from his hole slick juices, tasting his wet fruit. Zevlor could feel himself grow thick with want, hard against his armor as he hissed at the tightness of his trousers. He shuddered, his hot breath against Yuta’s flush and full clit. |
"Mn.. My beloved. My beloved... Could I... May I relieve myself?" |
"Masturbate," Yuta corrected, watching Zevlor bite his lip at the crude language. |
"Yes. Let me touch myself. Please." |
Yuta thought of something... Blasphemous. He grinned, thin and sharp. The poor Paladin’s oath was broken enough. The gods surely wouldn’t mind playful sacrilege. |
Zevlor kissed and suckled his engorged clit, drawing out his Play-God’s moans. He obeyed immediately, intensely, letting words flow from his lips as he darted his tongue and rubbed his fingers against sprouting, hard clitoris. |
"Yuta, dear to me, I call," he breathed, remembering words of a hymn, changing them as he saw fit. He dragged his tongue between the cleric’s warm and wet folds. "Ahn... My source of sweet delight, holy and pure, lovely to my sight." He kissed and licked between verses, hands grabbing handfuls of Yuta’s plush thighs, more than happy to feel how much his flesh has filled in since first he laid eyes on him. "My impetuous desire, he my wandering fire, keeper of the Somber way," his tongue lathed against clit. "Ahn. Key to heavens and the earth, from air to spreading sea, he my setting sun," his claws dragged narrow lines into Yuta’s skin, one slid down his leg, over his knee, his shin, the ground, and between his own legs. |
"Let me taste thy fertile realms where life sustains," he could feel Yuta quiver under his fervent tongue, his own hand struggled with his belt until it finally loosed and he held his blood-gorged shaft, keening against the younger fawn’s lips. "Oh, dismal bloodline doomed to keep, extended, sounding, ever... deep." His fingers prodded against Yuta’s wet slit, glancing up at the hazy-eyed mephistian tiefling, who nodded quietly, panting and wanting. |
"For you, all nature’s realms obey, you alone may sw—ay," his voice caught as he worked himself, jaw trembling slightly, lips enclosed on Yuta’s thick bud, fingers delving deep. "Come," he keened, "C-ome, blessed power... Regard..! Ah.. These mystic f-fires," he peppered kisses and loud sucks of wanton want. "F-far avert, unlawful, mad desires..!" |
Yuta’s hand gripped Zevlor’s horn, pulling him flush against his groin, letting crimson fingers and fire-hot tongue lavish him with affection and pure, erotic want. His hips rode against Zevlor’s mouth, hooves firmly planted against the soft grass, keeping balance as he drew Zevlor harder by his horns. |
He saw Zevlor’s hazy gaze, the way his armored hips bucked into his hand. Zevlor stroked himself but a few times more before his seed salted the earth, teardrop cumspots splattered over the dirt. |
Both hands grabbed Yuta’s body, locking him in place, even as his goat-legs quaked, his hips rocking against Zevlor’s tongue and fingers, wet slick trailing down his thighs, his voice, high and lilt, sang pleasures through the woods at Zevlor’s skilled tongue. |
Sune sighed her blessing on the couple’s couplings, filling them with ecstasy and love unfettered, devotion and desire mingled into one. |
Zevlor’s very heart and soul burned with glory, love, and purpose. |
Yuta felt the strings of fate cocoon them both together. |
In their nuptial game, each a character in a play, there was truth in their words, more truth than when they were themselves, bare heart to bare heart. |
Yuta breathed slow and ragged, his hands imprinted by Zevlor’s horn grooves as he rubbed them together, face flush a deep magenta. |
Zevlor’s jaw ached, but it was little to complain about when he felt cleansed and loved, and saw how Yuta shuddered and called out. He wiped his mouth and chin with a kerchief from his pouch, and courteously dabbed Yuta’s thighs and garden clean. |
The blue tiefling flinched at his sensitive nub pressed against, biting hard into his lip, but relaxed as Zevlor finished. |
All things tucked back where they should be, the paladin drew Yuta into his arms. He hesitated, hovering by his face. |
Yuta didn’t mind – he lurched forward, claiming Zevlor’s mouth. It was odd, the taste of himself on Zevlor’s tongue. |
"That was a beautiful hymn," he complimented, tucking hair behind his pointed ear. |
"Isn’t it? It’s an old piece made for vows. With a few, ahem. Changes of course." |
"Vows? Like... For a Paladin’s Oath?" Yuta grinned, pressing his brow to Zevlor’s, whose eyes flitted away with a mild embarrassment. |
"Well... Yes. I... I wanted to devote myself to you. Utterly, entirely. I couldn’t think of anything else. We don’t use those hymns anymore, though." |
The cleric smiled, pecking the tip of his nose. "It’s sweet. I’m honored, even, you’d vow yourself to me like that." |
"I’d offer more if I could. But all I have is myself and my sword." |
Yuta’s eyes sparked. |
"Oh? Give me your sword, then." |
Zevlor drew it from the sheath, offering the handle readily though with a mild confusion. |
He did. He sank to his knees as he had moments ago, sword held up as offering to Yuta. |
The cleric took the sword in hand, heavier than he realized. He placed the flat of it against the paladin’s shoulder. |
Subsets and Splits
No community queries yet
The top public SQL queries from the community will appear here once available.