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Chapter Text

When not occupied with the impending roll-in of doom Elkantar thinks of ropes. He can’t help it,  his fingers itch to feel the roughness of hemp between his fingers, the tight sleekness of silk thread as he weaves it into beautiful knots in his hands. He misses the breath-holding pleasure of watching his handiwork pressing on skin, between legs, against breasts. He’s burning for that feeling- control; the world made sense when he was tying someone up.

Elkantar sits on a shoddy wooden bench, his legs spread before him, hand curled behind his head while he leans on the cool wall behind him. His hand reaches for Astarion who proffers a sleek-looking bottle to him.

He takes a long drink out of the glass bottle, letting the warmth of alcohol wash over him instead, drowning his spiraling, heat-filled thoughts, and pushing them down into simmering heat. He knew soon he’d have to find a nice quiet corner in this hulking crumbling mess of a fort and take care of himself before he went crazy and started climbing the walls.

Moonrise towers were awash with light-  harpers dancing and singing loudly, finally having time to celebrate their shared triumph, the death of  Ketheric Thorm, and the end of a decades-long curse. Some were already giving up the pretense of dancing in favor of happy, heated kisses and unsubtle grinding. Elkentar laughed when several couples had to be shooed away from the party by Jaheira, slinking into the darkness to relieve themselves enthusiastically with each other.

Elkantar envied the ease with which their hands skimmed under cloth and leather and unto skin, the alcohol having loosed some inhibitions, giving way to enthusiastic consent. He wager he’d see Astarion rise nonchalantly soon, absconding away to some dark corner, and Gale following him not soon after. They thought they were so discreet, but their hot moans and dirty little trysts were frequent occurrences, easily picked out by keen drow ears.

The thought of them tangled together nudged something hot and heavy in the pit of Elkantar’s stomach and he took another long swig.

His eyes followed his companions as they danced- Shadowheart was twirling some lucky woman around, and Wyll showed off his expertise to an adoring crowd of hopeful suitors. Elkantar's eyes searched for the solid figure of his favorite druid on the dance floor, noting his absence with disappointment. That man was…a wet dream, made flesh. His beautifully muscled back and his big warm eyes made Elkantar weak and his fingers restless for rope, his smile drove him to distraction.

Elkantar breathed deep, suddenly annoyed.

He was a handsome man, he knew for a fact- sold at a steep price by his Matron in Menzoberranzan as a stud to a noble house. It was one of his greatest accomplishments, according to his late mother. He was praised for his bright light eyes and flawless heather skin by his masters and every lover he had taken to bed since he had fled that hellish existence. For these surface dwellers, he was an anomaly, to be ogled, but avoided. Who would take a formerly Lolth-sworn drow to bed?

They cared not for his allegiance, or the lack of it, but the color of his skin, the sharpness of his features, damned him in their eyes. Their savior, their champion, who fought and bled for their survival was a drow. He would have to stay cold tonight, accompanied by his hand if he did not drink himself into a pitiful stupor and fall asleep beforehand.

As if by clockwork Astarion rose from the bench beside him, giving some flimsy excuse about retiring for the night, Elkantar didn’t care enough to listen when he knew Gale would soon make an excuse as well and slink off to their shadowy corner. He couldn’t help but giggle as he drank deeply once more, getting the attention of Jaheira.

The half-elf gave him a long look, Elkantar didn't care much for the pity he saw there. He returned her look with one of his own, a sharply cocked eyebrow and a ‘come hither’ look he knew would amuse her. That woman was too perceptive, she had an uncanny knack for reading his mood as accurately as she read a battlefield. He would have been half in love with her already if he had any interest in the other sex whatsoever. He saluted her with his slowly emptying bottle, leaning against the wall, his skin warm from the fire.

She takes a decisive step towards him, settling by him in the spot where Gale vacates. With a wide mischievous smile, he passes the bottle to her easily. Her commanding air and glib tongue usually put him at ease. She takes a long drink, gesturing to the dancing crowd.

“Why are you sulking here like a useless sack of potatoes? I’ve seen your dexterous feet at work, go dance Elkantar. A pretty man like you is wasted moping on a bench. spirits are high tonight, thanks to you, make like your friends and find someone to warm you, eh?”

“Oh, Jaheira, you think I’m pretty?” He teases, snatching the bottle from her hand playfully, while she laughs.

“You know I do. I’d have to be blind to look at a beautiful, toned thing like you and feel nothing, you tease. If I’d thought you’d take any enjoyment in the arms of a woman I would have considered it long ago, but you can’t fool me, youngling. I see where your eyes drift when you think none are watching.”

His face grows hot as her knowing gaze bores into him. He was an open book before her ever since she had caught him, cock in hand, panting a certain druid’s name like a curse as he relieved himself behind the inn in frustration. 

Halsin.

That man drove him to rashness.

Elkantar took a deep pull from the bottle, surprised to find it empty.

“Have you tried talking to him, Elkantar?” she asks, the edge of pity in her voice dragging like barbs across his skin. “I don't  think that door is quite as closed as you think.”

He sits up dropping the empty bottle to the floor, his hand rummaging through his pack for another.  

“You wouldn’t have caught me with my tool in my hand had he looked at me favorably, you nosy thing. He is not interested in drow. He is too dignified to slum it with me.” Elkantar says, a petulant edge clear in his voice. Halsin had been gentle, almost frustratingly so when he had turned him down back at camp, weeks ago. Too pleasant, too well collected. 

It drove Elkantar crazy. 

“He isn’t the only man in the fort, you stubborn man. I have seen more than one checking you out. Go make some mistakes, stop pining like a simpering maiden, or I will have to braid your hair in two to match your behavior.”

Elkantar’s hand shot protectively to his hair, pulling it away. it was one of the only vanities he allowed himself to maintain on the road. Even after these long, horrid days, filled with bloodshed, grime, and horrors, his hair was clean, oiled, and combed, shining white silver in the torchlight. Braiding it into its complicated plaite was one of his greatest pleasures, other than having it pulled during sex. He’d been growing it out since he’d escaped his masters and the godless endless maze of the Underdark. Simply directing his attention to the pleasant weight of it, the slight pull of its weight on his scalp filled him with pride and pleasure. He’d escaped. He was in charge of his body, and no one could shave his head without the risk of his hands deep in their guts. He had to forgo the silver bells for the sake of stealth, but he had hopes of braiding them back in the future, in simpler times to come.

His body warms with the memory of Halsin’s eyes on him after they found him in the warg pens. His transformation from bear to man had taken his breath away. He had fallen into the elf’s hands, out of balance and bleeding when the fighting had died down. They were both high on the adrenaline of the fight, the desperate edge of hope. Halsin had looked at him with those distracting eyes and took his starlight hair into his hand, his touch just that side of rough to get Elkantar hot and distracted before apologizing profusely and helping him to his feet.

He felt pathetic as his cock stirred at the memory of the rescue. Astarion had laughed himself silly when Elkantar had confessed to fantasizing about the druid pulling his hair and kissing him roughly.

He couldn’t fault him, but he sure did mock him. 

Halsin had been the model for perfect respectable behavior since he had joined their camp. It soured Elkantar’s mood significantly.

“It actually bothers you, doesn’t it, his disinterest?” Jaheira asks as his thoughts spiral.

“No, no, of course not. why would it?” Elkantar says sourly, “He is my dear companion, my wise counselor, a brother in arms. I’d just hate to shake his opinion of me with some hot, rough, sweaty fucking.” he sighs for dramatic effect.

Jaheira gives him a look, taking the bottle from his hand.

“I can't tell if you are sarcastic or not.” She drinks.

“me neither,” he says dejectedly, snatching the bottle from her as she chuckles, sloshing some of its contents on his chest. He sighs in annoyance, passing the bottle back, the wetness on his heated skin distracting and annoying, signaling it was time to retire to his bedroll and take solace in the tightness of his hands and visually active mind.

It wasn’t that he thought Halsin was completely disinterested- Elkantar knew he was an attractive man, his hard life had toned him and his own vanity helped preserve him even in these lackluster conditions. He had felt the druid’s eyes on him on occasion- most of the companions had given him interested looks from time to time, and some of them, on colder nights more than just looks. But Halsin had an aura of…reserve around him, not a man to succumb to temptations even when they lay themselves at his feet and begged. Elkantar’s tentative attempts at flirtation had been declined respectfully, much to his confusion. And still after each one, he’d feel those eyes on him again, drinking their fill. The drow had a hard time getting a read on the man and had accepted confusion and aching arousal to be their default state.

“Mind if I interfere?” says a deep warm voice, shaking the deep air of dejected acceptance around Elkantar.

Well, speak of the devil.

Halsin in all his glory is standing before them, the fire lighting him in a warm soft light. That thrice-damned leather-accented attire emphasizes every line of his large body, every shapely muscle, clinging to his waist and thighs in a way that gave rise to every indecent thought Elkantar has ever had.

“Of course, my friend,” Jaheira says, a touch of smug satisfaction in her voice makes Elkantar want to smack or kiss her. Elkantar cleared his throat. “You are always welcome with us,” He says roughly, embarrassed by the deep timber of his voice. 

Halsin smiles, sitting between him and Jaheira when she quickly scoots to make space between them. 

She hands the bottle to Halsin after taking a long drink herself, he accepts it thankfully drinking long from that narrow opening. Elkantar’s eyes follow every swallow all too keenly, much to Jaheira’s amusement.

The druid radiated heat as his broad body touched Elkantar’s lithe frame, making him hyper-aware of every point of contact between them.

Shoulder, thigh, knee, calf.

Elkantar sweats.

How can an elf be so…big?

“Halsin, can you believe none had offered to take our friend here for a spin around the dance floor?” Jaheira asks, ignoring a sharp look from Elkantar.

“What?” Halsin replies, looking at her, and then at Elkantar whose head whips away from the pair, pretending to look at anything and everything that is not his traitorous friend and the most distracting man he’d ever met. “Impossible! this cannot pass.” Halsin says with a concerned air. Elkantar can feel his cheeks color.

“My words exactly,” Jaheira laments, “What a waste to leave a beautiful, lively man such as he to wither here, by this cold crone. I would have taken him for a spin myself had I not bumped my knee in battle.”

Elkantar looks at her, aghast. What a load of lies! That woman was more limber than anyone he’d ever met, she had barely given time for any cultist to graze her before ripping their throats open with her fangs.

“Jaheira, none would call a woman of your beauty a crone,” Halsin starts as Elkantar murmurs ‘to your face’, earning a sharp look from the harper, “It’s a good thing I am here after all,” Halsin continues, now looking at Elkantar as he rises and puts the bottle on the bench where he had sat, his hand open towards the stunned drow, “I had a mind to ask you for a spin, yet I feared you had tired yourself already from many offerings,” he says warmly. Elkantar swallows heavily, face flushed as he begins to protest, “This will not stand, my friend, please, it would be my pleasure and my privilege if you’d honor me with your company”.

Elkantar was stumped, what was with this man? The push and pull of his attention was a heady thing but this felt more forward than usual. Honoring him with his company? He was doing his best not to launch at him and climb him like a tree.

A part of him demanded he accept, seize the opportunity with both hands and let himself bask in the warmth and closeness of the other elf as long as he would allow it. The other part screeched in horror, shying away now that the opportunity had presented itself with the help of the meddling harper. 

When the silent pause between them grows awkward, Jaheira intervenes.

“He’d love to!” Jaheira says boisterously, the edge of her thorn whip stinging him discreetly, making him jump up and clutch Halsin’s proffered hand.

He would have looked back and shot Jaheira the full might of his stink eye had a warm pleased smile not bloomed on Halsin’s face distracting him and mellowing his ire.

The hot, large hand on the back of Elkantar’s back was just a pleasurable bonus.

Halsin twirls him expertly into the throng of moving bodies and Elkantar lets the merry, lively music wash over him, hoping it would temper his embarrassment, and other hot emotions bubbling to the surface.

Halsin dances joyously, his large hand in Elkantar’s elegant one, leading him around the dance floor. The drow lets him take control, imitating the strange dances of these up-landers, as best he can. Halsin pulls him in and away from the path of two entwined dancers, his chuckle rumbling deep in his chest, warming Elkantar in all the right ways. He enjoys this closeness, the uncharacteristically free-spirited, casual way Halsin was treating him, swirling him and dipping him across the dance floor.

Elkantar catches the rhythm and movements, letting muscle memory lead him as his cheeks flush with joy. He can see it reflected in Halsin’s eyes and he can't help but smile, wide and true.

“You are a quick study!” Halsin praises as Elkantar swirls in close, in time with the music.

“I love dancing,” He confesses between labored, excited breaths, “I have been trained extensively in Menzoberranzan,” He rambles, “Not that it has any bearing on my life above ground.” Their hands meet as they walk around each other, the fast rhythm of their feet challenging, “It is among the very few things I miss about that damn place.” The drow laughed ruefully,  his eyes concentrated on his feet, “I used to be taken out a lot to be shown off, especially at balls. Being allowed to dance was the best part of those dreary auctions.” Elkantar smiles, looking at Halsin, only to see the smile drop off the druid's face.

Halsin falters for a moment and Elkantar can’t stop himself before he steps on the druid’s foot. he stumbles into the druid's strong arms as he tries to avoid stomping him again, their sudden lurch disturbing the dancers around them who give them more space.

Halsin's face is contorted with something heavy and horrified.

Elkantar feels shame churn bitterly in his stomach as he hurries to give Halsin some space, his eyes glued to the floor looking at their feet rather than at the strong wall of a man holding him.

“Sorry,” he says quickly, “I…drow culture is complicated, it must be a shock.-”

“You were auctioned?” Halsin says, shock coloring his voice.

“Oh, yes. I am the second son of a derelict house,” shut up, shut up, shut up,” Useless to my mother in any way other than stud services to the noble houses of Menzoberranzan,” he says the name with an air of fake grandeur, trying to lighten the mood. God, had he completely lost the run of his mouth? Shut up already you silly no-good drow. How could he have ruined such a lovely time with his under-elf bullshit? Useless idiot.

“Your mother …sold you?” The shocked disbelief in Halsin’s voice wounded Elkantar deeper than he’d be willing to admit- but the hard truth burned harsher. His mother had sold him, being her son had never had any real meaning in their relationship.  He was there to serve and be useful to his house. Nothing else, if anything, that was the day she had finally been proud of him, the first time he had felt her motherly love, truly.

He snaps out of his memories. 

Halsin’s hands grip his shoulders, shaking the drow, he had lost a few seconds. He meets Halsin’s eyes with a start. They are standing very close, Elkantar notes as he noted Halsin’s face had contorted with a mixture of grief and pity.

Shit, not again. Not with Halsin. He ruined it. He’d revealed his shameful underbelly to this man, this paragon of light, goodness, and rightness only to be met by the same horrified disdain all light walkers looked at him with. How could he think an under-elf like himself had any chance of ever touching someone so radiant? He’d mar him with his dirty touch. Spoil him. He’d have a better chance of catching the rising moon by splashing his hands in a puddle, mistaking its weak reflection for perfection.

stupid.

The pity makes his stomach clench and his blood boil, he had to get out or risk being sick.

He shakes Halsin’s hands off of him, pulling a practiced mask of cool politeness onto his face as he takes a step back and bows with all the formality he can muster, ignoring the gutted look on Halsin’s face.

“I am afraid I have grown rather tired, I should retire for the night,” he says, straightening, a small desperate part of him can’t help but add “Thank you for the dance, Halsin. I had a lovely time”, and before he’d have to look at the man’s face again he turns around and flees.

His long legs carry him deeper into the towers; One thing to love about his ancestry is that he is faster than most.

He leaps dexterously, two steps at a time up the stairs of the sacked building. ‘Where would no one be fucking right now?’ He thinks feverishly, the wine sloshing around his stomach unpleasantly bile in his throat. What a fool he is. first insist on sitting there and pickling himself, making a wineskin out of his stomach, then answering the kind gesture from the Arch-druid. Not a shred of wit between his ears, he fumes, It’s all Jaheira’s fault.

He rushes to the first room he can find that doesn’t have a coupling pair in it and tries catching his breath before his brain catches up to what his eyes see.

Of course.

Of course, the only unoccupied room is Ketheric Thorm’s fucking room.

Luck of a Drow.

He snorts angrily, with his luck, he would have ended up in Balthazar’s depraved rooms, so maybe someone was looking out for him out there. 

He kicks off his boots, flinging them off of his feet one at a time to the base of the bed. He shrugs off his bracers, struggling to peel off his outer tunic, fingers too clumsy with drink to open the knots properly. He was a monk, for fuck sake, how hard could it be? 

He growls with frustration, lifting the hem angrily over his head, only for his aches from the battle to resurface vengefully. His back spasms painfully. He can feel his plaited hair catching on the damn buttons and knots he hadn’t unfurled and he struggles harder, anger mingling with shame and frustration.

He was stuck. Unbelievable. He could punch a man to death with precision, but he couldn’t take off his tunic.

He wanted to scream.

so he did.

“Fuck!” 

The only thing missing was-

-a warm hand touches his exposed rib hesitantly and Elkantar recoils in fear, Assassins? He shoots a whip-quick kick behind himself, only to meet air. Maybe if he’d struggled enough his death won’t look as dumb as this felt.

“Whoa, whoa, Elkantar,” says a horrendously familiar voice. 

Scratch that earlier optimism, no one was looking out for him, no neutral god would be this cruel. Elkantar froze, feeling Halsin’s warmth radiating behind him. it seems that fate had decided he hadn’t had his fill of humiliation yet. Well, time to open wide.

“It’s just me,” the druid says gently like he was approaching a skittish animal.

“I’m not a fucking horse, Halsin.” He says angrily, too put upon to care where his acidic words land.

“I sure hope not, because this would be a nightmare to undo otherwise,” he says and Elkantar can feel his hands tugging at the tangled tunic. within perfect kicking range, he thinks bitterly. 

He flinches at the first soft touch he feels on his bare skin as Halsin’s large blunt fingers worry at the knots on his tunic, slowly unraveling them. He desperately focuses on his breathing, fighting arousal when he feels the druid’s calloused hands on him. Cruel, cruel, cruel, thought Elkantar, he was sure somewhere the spider matron was giggling with malicious glee.

slowly the tunic detangles Around him and Elkantar manages to straighten his head, his neck slightly sore. He opens his mouth to speak but Halsin beats him to it-

“Don’t thank me yet, your hair is tangled too, give me a minute” He says, his voice calm and even.

Elkantar’s skin blooms with goosebumps standing there with his chest bare while he holds onto an open tunic, tangled in his hair.

How many times had he seen this scenario in his dreams? Halsin’s large warm hands on him, in his hair, pulling, pushing, in any way he could take it. Halsin’s beautiful, muscular body so close it would be enough to radiate heat on his constantly cool skin. The druid’s large tan hand on him contrasted with his heather skin.

There were too many instances to count. Those fantasies have been his constant companion since he had freed the man from the goblin’s camp. To have that gaze measuring him, that sweet mouth thanking him for his acts of kindness- as if kindness was not expected from one such as he. it stung, and it excited him. praised and damned, actions and inheritance tangled into something complex.

“Elkantar?” Halsins deep timber rambled behind him. He had lost a few seconds again. He could feel errant hairs drifting around his face,  his braids were breaking down. 

“Yes?”

“I am sorry…I had to loosen some of your braids, to free your hair.” he says quietly.

Make his own hand drift up, his cool fingers brushing Halsin’s own, still tangled into his pale hair.

Maybe…maybe just this once he can have this. Maybe just this once the druid won't shy away and leave him hanging cold

He can feel the alcohol loosening his inhibitions, Halsin’s hands in his hair exciting, stocking the fire in his stomach high, and the long fight and the long night wearing down his resolve to nothing.

No, this is foolish. 

“Thank you for your help, but why are you here.” he demands, turning.

Halsin’s flush and his eyes rove over Elkantar’s angular face.

“I,  well…” he falters, “ I couldn’t let you go to sleep, thinking that… that the thought of you dancing is anything other than mesmerizing,” He pauses for a heart-aching moment, “Beautiful.”

“ You think I’m beautiful?” Elkantar tries to say archly, but it comes out laced with wonder, soft. a steep change from the light teasing he had thrown Jaheira’s way earlier that evening. Was he witnessing the great wall around Halsin starting to crumble? He hoped so fiercely, but he had been hopeful before. 

“I’d be a blind fool to see you otherwise,” Halsin says, and for a moment his eyes settle on his lips. “Your beauty makes starlight pale in comparison. Your kindness and goodness shine through you.”

Kind? Good? His ears rang, it was a thousand times better than being called beautiful by yet another man.

“I'm flattered that you have such a high opinion of me, but I really didn’t think you were giving me much thought.” The drow says, the sting of past rejection and contrasting actions leaving a sour taste in his mouth. 

“I do.” Halsin admits softly, his hand drifting away from his hair to his neck. To the drow’s dismay, he can feel himself flush with pleasure, was it pathetic to lick any crumb of flirtation Halsin left in his wake? It probably was, to be this desperate for a man.

But If it was, so be it, let Elkantar be pathetic, he’d lap any attention Halsin was willing to bestow upon an under-elf like him.

When Elkantar leans in closer, Halsin falters.

“I can’t…” Halsin starts, and Elkantar can feel his frustration rise. That damn wall of duty, again. Why was Halsin refusing to be a man, feel as one does, take a little comfort, a little pleasure where he could?

“Who’s stopping you, Halsin?” Elkantar gives him a long look, “Your duty to the grove? The Shadowland's curse? Your duty to Thaniel? Which is it?”

Halsin looks at him with those damn eyes and Elkantar can feel his hackles rising.

“I  am not blind, you know. I can feel your eyes on me, assessing me.” He can feel himself growing angry now, “Am I not enough for you? Was this not enough? Stop playing with me, calling me beautiful, touching me so casually, when you know you drive me crazy. Unless you mean it. Can't you tell I want you, desperately?”

Halsin’s mouth opens silently, his face a mask of conflicted emotions.

Elkantar can hear the thrum of his blood in his ears. too sharp, too frustrated. Would it be better to close this door forever? Should he end these half-flirtations? The hope that surged each time Hlaisn’s warm hand had laid on him a few seconds longer than appropriate was wearing him down. There would be others, in time. He could handle this heartbreak, he did before, many times. It was time to be realistic, he thinks sadly, leaning away from the druid.

“You are right,“ the druid says softly, “More and more I find myself thinking about you, perhaps more than I should, but I cannot restrain myself any longer.” He confesses.

Elkantar’s heart skips a beat, feeling himself flush happily, Fucking finally .

When he looked up he would have thought the druid was shy or skittish had he not peered at him with a look of hot, syrupy arousal from half-lidded eyes. He can feel his hot breath on his skin, sending a thrill down his spine. Elkantar revels in it, like the rays of a warm dawn after a cold night.

“You've surpassed my every expectation, beyond my wildest dreams.” His eyes tense and focused, “You are a force of nature. I’d challenge any who’d begrudge the privilege of worshiping at your feet.”

Elkantar feels his jaw slacken as heat floods every inch of his body, pleasure tightening hot and needy at the bottom of his stomach, that resolve crumbles fast , he thinks smugly.

“If you’d let me-”

In a different world, a patient man would have waited. in a different world, he would have taken his time to hear this tender confession all the way through. But in this world, Elkantar was not a patient man. He was drunk, lonely, and horny, he didn't want to hash out this amorphous thing between them, to write down the details of this tenuous encounter. He wanted to seize it with both hands while it was alive, hot, and beating. He wanted the druid badly, he wanted it hard and he wanted it to hurt.

Elkantar growls deep in his chest and pounces.

His hands tangle in Halsin’s hair pressing their mouths together as he lets himself take the thing he had yearned for the most. The kiss is passionately indecent, the heat and force of it nearly overwhelming.  Halsin groans content and aroused, it is quickly swallowed into the monk's mouth. Elkantar can feel that sinful sound shoot straight to his cock as he feels the light scrape of the druid’s teeth over his bottom lip. 

Sweet, how can this man taste so sweet? 

His mouth is warm, soft, and wet, everything Elkantar had fantasized it’d be. Their lips move urgently, forcefully, almost bruisingly as they tangle tighter and tighter into each other's spaces. Elkantar tangles his hands behind Halsin’s neck, pressing them closer, groaning as the druid’s large hand slides up his thigh.  When Halsin licks boldly into his mouth and pulls his leg up against his hip, Elkantar is ready to pray to whoever is willing to hear him in his horny, delirious stupor. He is ready to worship on his knees.

Gods, please, I wish for my ropes . 

His hands grow bold, tracing every rippling muscle, every tantalizing edge of flesh restrained by leather that had haunted his every waking moment.

“ Ah, ah, fuck, Halsin, I need to feel you-” He groans in encouragement as Halsin’s hand clutches the hair at the base of his neck, deepening this kiss into something needy and filthy. His other hand clutched his defined, muscular thigh, encouraging Elkantar to grind against him. The monk smiles sharply, pulling his head back, breathing hotly into the thrumming space between them, his hands running down the druid's broad back to grope two heavenly handfuls of beautifully muscular ass as his hips start to grind.

“ Ah , Oak-father preserve me, you make my blood boil, ” the druid groans, and Elkantar redoubles his efforts- if the elf could still murmur the name of his god he was not doing this correctly. 

When the druid leans in to claim his mouth once more Elkantar catches his large jaw in his hand, his grip shy of bruising as he puts a small space between them, a thumb tracing the druid's spit-slick lips.. Their foreheads touch and their gaze catch, the need in their eyes heating the air around them as they both pant loudly, catching their breath. The drow's eyes are glued to that shiny, sinful mouth as it opens slyly, a blunt pink tongue licking at the sensitive skin between his thumb and forefinger, before the druid takes it into his mouth, sucking lightly. The scrape of Halsin’s teeth on his skin makes him desperate and hard.

With a long undulating thrust, he grinds up against the druid. A calculated, full-bodied, sinful move that elicits a muffled, desperate groan from the man.

Elkantar can feel his- thick, large, and hot- interest pushing against his own. And oh God, it feels so damn good .

He’ll make this man understand his yearning, his urgency , that gut-tugging desperation for him.

“ Oh , just like that, Elkantar, don’t stop ” Halsin breathed, the drow’s name like a prayer on his lips. 

The drow laughs, and with a snap of his hand, he smacks the druid’s ass, grabbing onto it while he grinds harder, earning an ecstatic cry, ”Oh, Sweetness, I have no intention of stopping.” He laughs low, slow, and filthy, his hand tightening on the druid’s jaw for a moment, tilting his head to whisper hotly into his ear ”You’ll have to pry me away from your bed, sweet-talker.”

Halsin’s eyes flutter shut when Elkantar's teeth close on the tip of his ear.

The drow chuckles hotly; mouth trailing down the druid’s thick, beautiful neck, tasting the saltiness of his skin. The headiness of finally being allowed to touch like this, to taste it, to claim it floods the drow with a molten hot, sticky, aching wave of need.

Gods , he wants to feel Halsin everywhere. To bury his head in that magnificently muscled chest, let himself swallow the druid’s moans as he’d taste every single inch of his hot thrumming body. 

His teeth scrape lightly against Halsin’s pulse point, ensuring he feels those drow canines against that fluttering beat. The heady urge to bite the man washes over him and he groans, “ Please , Halsin, can I mark you?”  

Halsin shudders and nods, groaning sinfully. Elkantar dives in, licking long against his neck, nipping and sucking at his throat before what little restraint he had evaporated and he unceremoniously bit down. Halsin’s muffled groan turns sharply into a full-throated moan, much to Elkantar’s excitement; he lets his tongue lave hot and rough along the neck, over where the skin will surely bruise.

“Elkantar!” The druid moans desperately, his jaw tightening at that sharp edge of pleasure while he thrusts against him. The monk stares as the druid’s face contorts with pleasure, the sensual shift of his straining muscles underneath that sun-kissed skin. He wants to drink these urgent sounds the druids make as he tries to control his overwhelming excitement.

Elkantar’s self-satisfied chuckle turns to alarm as Halsin doubles over, panting- pushing the drow away as his knees hit the ground. The shock of being suddenly cold woke him out of his lustful haze.

“Halsin?” he says, worried, an edge of alarm evident in his voice.

The druid looks up sharply, body straining painfully against a pulsating, raging magic that swirls and spits loudly around his body. His eyes light up, burning from within with untamed raw energy, he groans in pain as if out of control. 

“Halsin!” Elkantar yelps as his knees hit the bed behind him, “What is happening?”

The druid keens long and hard before-

A sound like a vacuum, a rush of air, and the strong growl of a bear are all he hears when he is blinded by a radiant burst of light.

The drow opens his eyes, wincing and blinking, looking at the druid on the floor but there-

A bear.

A big, brown, cave bear.

Elkantar’s mouth drops in shock, and then a chuckle, and another that turns into a full-bellied laugh. The bear looks at him with too-intelligent eyes, paw rubbing at its nose. The drow rises to his feet, wiping tears away from his eyes while sauntering towards the bear, his hands gliding into rough, coarse fur as the bear huffs heavily

“Oh, my poor, sweet druid,” he says as he takes the bear’s large head in his hands, crouching. “Did a few kisses make you that desperate?” He teases, his hands scratching the sides of the bear’s head, “And I thought you people were supposed to be restrained,” He growls hotly, rising and stepping away from the bear, pulling his hair forward while his hands work his hair slowly, letting it down into a shiny pale sheet.

He can hear the bear’s rough breaths as he sits back on the bed, opening his legs slowly and dragging himself back until the back of his knees hit the wooden bed’s frame. His long hair moves around him, obscuring and revealing. He smiles sweetly as the bear rumbles forward, nudging his knee with his large, wet nose braying softly in frustration. 

“Now, sweetheart,” He says in a sultry voice, “as impressed as I am by your…Size, I’d like the man back, please,” he twirls a finger through a long pale strand of hair, smiling wickedly, “we have some unfinished business.”

In a moment and flash of power, a panting flustered druid leans against him, head bowed with effort. His hot, heavy hand lands on the drow’s knee as he kneels on the floor before him.

“Forgive me,” The druid breathes and flushes, ”I…ah, lost the run of myself. Sometimes, if blood runs hot enough it’s difficult to tame the beast.” Halsin looks up at him, with those warm big eyes, and Elkantar can feel himself growing hard again after the surprise had made him flag down. He leans back coyly while his leg snakes forward to press against that hard, enticing ridge in Halsin’s pants.

“Oh, sweetness, I can't lie, while I do yearn to ride the beast I've been fantasizing about riding the man much more.” he sighs, increasing the pressure on the druid’s clothed hardness, making Halsin groan, “If only I’d had my ropes…I’d show you what true supplication looks like.”

“Ah, ha!” the druid moans, his eyes scrunching together. He takes a long moment, and the drow is surprised to see wetness in his eyes before they shine with resolve. He slowly grabs the drow’s long leg in his large hands, bringing his strong ankle to his mouth, kissing that delicate place, making the monk sweat. His hand glides hotly up his calf holding delicately behind his knee while his other hand takes his heel in hand, stretching that beautiful limb. 

Elkantar lets his head fall back as Halsin trails languid kisses up his leg, his teeth catch the small knot at the drow’s ankle. His smart finger loosened the laces running up Elkantar’s leg, giving room for a rough, hot hand to slide under the cloth and up his leg. 

“If supplication is what you demand, I will be your most pious devotee.” He mouths against the drow’s leg, where it rests on his broad shoulder. Elkantar languids in this haze of lustful heat, his back arching as Halsin’s mouth kisses the side of his knee lightly, his hot breath tickling the sensitive skin there. 

Halsin’s hands on him are a pure, molten pleasure. Elkantar can feel himself melt into that slow teasing touch, the devout care of slowly being peeled out of his clothes. His cock strains against his pants, the pressure a mix of pleasure and pain that the drow relishes, making his head spiral with lustful anticipation. He lets himself have his fun, moaning at each feather-light brush of Halsin’s lips, a touch performatively. The druid won’t grudge him his enjoyment, he reasons, and looking at that impressive, neglected hardness between the druid’s legs it seemed he was enjoying his little breathy sounds as well.

Halsin catches his eyes with his own, a thread of heat and anticipation pulling taut between them as Halsin’s hand inches slowly closer and closer to Elkantar’s clothed cock followed closely by a trail of hot kisses. 

He lifts his hand, reaching ever so slowly-

“-Now, now, Arch-druid, did they not teach manners at the grove? No dessert before dinner.” Elkantar tuts, his lithe leg coming quickly off the floor with a smooth agile motion to catch at Halsin’s chin, pushing his head away gently from where he needed him most.

“To work, then.”

Halsin chuckles hot, low, and dirty, his tongue making a slow trail up his lover's ankle, reaching a similar knot, not breaking that hot tension between their eyes as he loosens it with his teeth. Elkantar follows the druid’s slow meticulous movements as he unlaces him and kisses up his leg. 

He slows as he reaches Elkantar’s inner thigh, haunched, he is now circled by both of the drow’s thighs as they stretch enticingly over his shoulders. His kisses linger as he lets himself be daring, biting on the covered flesh of the drow’s inner thigh just to see him squirm.

“Please,” The druid murmurs softly; Busing his mouth by kissing and scraping his teeth up his thighs, “Let me taste you”.

Elkantar sighed, rising from where he had melted unto his elbows, one hand tangles in the druid’s hair, thumb going over small braids, tugging gently while the other cups the druid’s broad face, his thumb smoothing over the druid’s brow. He looks deeply into those pleading eyes. Halsin leans into his gentle touch as it drifts down to his cheek and that defined jaw.

At that moment he was bitterly jealous of wizards and their keen mind- oh, to be able to remember this, the timber of his voice, the picture he makes, on his knees, still dressed, frazzled, flushed, and wanting, asking so sweetly to give him his mouth. It made Elkantar ache.

“You sing so sweet, my bear, but I know you can be sweeter. Beg for me, Sweetling, tell me that you want me.” Halsin’s eyes flash with a sharp light, his teeth scrape over his lover's thigh less gently, making Elkantar yelp in delight, “ Fuck, baby , I know you have it in you, Don’t you want this ? Beg.”

He sighs while he palms himself over his pants, squeezing his straining cock and letting his voice ring out loud and wanting in the spacious room. Halsin stares, mesmerized, so close to the stroking hand he could nudge it with his nose had he not been frozen in place.

At Halsin’s shocked silence, Elkantar stops his ministrations and straightens a bit, looking at the man under him with concern, “I’m sorry, Halsin, was that too much?” He asks softly,  “We don’t have to continue with this line of talk if it makes you uncomfortable.” Elkantar shifts, trying to pull away to give the man some space until two large hot hands grab each thigh roughly, holding them in place. 

Halsin snaps out of his stupor and with one mighty pull tears the pants right off of the drow, leaving him in his undergarments and a shocked laugh.

The monk can barely breathe from the hot shock of want that trickles hotly down his chest as Halsin hoists his thighs right back onto his shoulders, looking at him like a man starving.

“You want me to beg?” Halsin challenges.

“Ah, so the druid does speak!” Elkantar’s brow arches playful and teasing while Halsin’s rough hands on his thighs drive him to distraction, “Beg me sweetly, you brute of a bear, and you can have me.” 

“I’ll beg,” he says huskily and Elkantar can feel his stomach tying itself with anticipation. “Please, my heart,” he starts, leaning forward and brushing his face against Elkantar’s full hand lightly, “I need you, pull my hair, fill my mouth, paint my face with your desire.”

Finally, the drow thinks, elated.

He tries and fails not to forget how to breathe, pulling on all his focus to remain conscious enough to hear the druid’s next words, “I will have you in any way you let me, I want to taste you, feel you… I’m yours. Take what you want.”

his eyes open and he looks at Elkantar, nuzzling him, “I’m yours, Use me.” 

Fuck me , Elkantar thinks, he can feel his skin beading with sweat, Halsin was truly testing his self-control. The man’s mouth was not even on him and he was already intoxicated by the heady elixir of his sweet words. He tried to collect himself quickly before looking scandalized.

Halsin kisses his hand sweetly and Elkantar has to suppress a groan, the man was so close. He gathers his wits quickly. He wanted the man to burn for him. Just a little more.

“Why, arch-druid Halsin, how scandalous!” He goads as Halisn flushes down to his chest, “Such a mouth on you, what would the others think?” Elkantar says in a pearl-clutching voice while his hand circles himself, working his length slowly, maddeningly, relishing the hot feeling of Halsin’s breath puffing against his hand as it goes up and down, the man’s lips brushing the back of his hand lightly. Halsin moans, kissing Elkantar’s busy hand, letting his tongue linger for a moment, hoping to taste him. 

“Say the word and I’d be glad to show you just how scandalous I can be.” he groans and a telltale hitch in the elf’s breath reveals to the drow he was pressing a desperate hand onto his own need. He lets his hand stroke again, palm twisting around the tip, once, twice, gathering his need there before bringing his hand to his mouth, licking his palm clean. 

Halsin’s eyes flutter closed, the motions of his body betraying him as he grinds desperately against his hand, “Please don’t play with your food, kitten, I’m ready to burst.” The Druid rasps.

“Come to me.”

Halsin is on him in a moment, lips and teeth and hands, licking from the cleft of his ass up to his weeping tip with one rough lick, before sucking the head of his cock into his mouth with hot, smothering pressure. The sounds that come from Halsin are lewd and thrilling, almost animal-like in their roughness.

Elkantar shouts, the Druid’s fervor, his rough hands and hot mouth snapping the thread of tension into a shuddering, bubbling pleasure.

He strains and huffs, head hitting the mattress before purring, “You like having your mouth full, Sweetheart?” only to choke off and collapse onto the bed when Halsin retaliates, sucking hard. Elkantar’s hands shoot above him to grab the other edge of the bed as his legs tighten around the broad elf’s shoulders.

Fucking hell, the man had some hidden talents.

Halsins takes him in, anything not encompassed by his wet, spit-slick mouth attended by his rough hands or licked quick and rough by his smart agile tongue. His eyes are alight with desire and content pleasure as he picks a sinful rhythm pulling sweet noises from his purring lover.

“ Ah, fuck, Halsin, that mouth of yours is far too talented.”

Halsin comes off of him with an obscene pop, his tongue swirling around Elkanar’s tip, his voice husky, “That feels good, Kitten?”

“ Fuck , yes, don't you dare stop.”

Halsin chuckled darkly and got back to work. However long it had been since the man had taken a lover, Elkantar could not tell, the Druid made up for it with enthusiasm. His motions are hot, sloppy, and eager - his head bobbing up and down, the rhythm making Elkantar shudder and whimper loudly. His hand tangles in the druid’s hair as he gives in to pleasure. It’s too much and not enough,  he wanted this to last forever while he desperately wanted to get fucked five minutes ago. He needs Halsin on him, in him, just thinking about it could push him to an embarrassingly early end if he was not careful.

Elkantar’s eyes shut tightly, the sloppy, wet sounds of Halsin enjoying himself making his skin hot. It was so much, almost too much.

“ Fuck, Halsin, spread me!” he whines and Halsin complies with a chuckle. His broad hands spread his lover's thighs wider as his eye roved over his flushed lover. Elkantar arched his back, bucking at the delicious stretch of his muscles, his skin flushing attractively down his chest. His long satisfied moan makes Halsin’s blood rush loudly in his ears. “That’s it, beautiful, let me see you.” He murmurs. 

He slides his mouth off the drow’s cock with a pop, brushing his face against his sack, sucking it into his mouth slowly as the drow shouts in ecstasy. 

With a long deliberate move, he pulls the drow’s thighs up, dragging him closer, as his strong arms circle his pelvis, holding him in place. He looms over the drow who is spread out for him beautifully, willingly and loudly, and in his eyes, hot liquid desire, happiness and want. It hit him like a poison arrow, soaking hot, heady toxins straight into his bloodstream.

“Moan for me, beautiful,” he says, letting gravity drag the drow over his tongue obscenely, leaving him shiny and wet while his thumb teases broadly over his puckered hole. 

Elkantar moans, long and gleeful as he braces himself with his hands against the mattress, the air squeezing out of him as his shoulders press down into the mattress and his legs are spread above him. It thrills him more than he expected, having this big bear of a man folding nearly in half, being in the presence of this controlled strength while his breath is hot and heavy over his cock and his thumb making promises he yearns to have fulfilled.

“You want to stretch me, baby?” Elkantars spurs him on, yelping hotly when Halsin takes advantage of their position and bites the succulent muscle of his ass in warning.

“Please, yes ,” he growls, licking the bitemark, “You intoxicate me, let me drink deep of you”.

Elkantar keens with arousal, his eyes focusing on the man above him as he relishes the hot body pressing against him, heavy and soft, making him labor for every breath. 

He feels ready to come apart, like a spool of silk thread. 

He squirms in Halsin’s strong arms, feeling constricted- He loves the struggle.

“Next time I’m going to have you on your back , you big beast,” He rasps, feeling his arousal sharpen, becoming needy and thrilling, “The ropes will sing against your skin and I will make you forget anything other than the feeling of my mouth on you. You will beg to be at my mercy.” The drow growls in arousal.

And then he squeals.

Halsin’s tongue breaches him, the growl squeezed out his chest rough and loud as he lets himself get lost in the man beneath him. Heat courses through him, arousal and determination. He will give this man bliss, see his mask melting off, he will kiss those tears away and hold him in his arms, but first he has to show him, show he wants him. 

Elkantar’s sharp expression melts into bliss, his fucked out little voice becoming yielding and needy. He could count on one hand the number of lovers he’d had who had dedicated themselves to this act with such devotion. The sounds coming out of Halsin and the wet, obscene noises of his enthusiastic kisses and probing would make a disciple of Sharess blush.

“ Yes, yes, please, gods, Halsin, you make me feel so good,” He whimpers, and with each little noise punching out of him he can feel Halsin getting frantic, his motions growing wilder, his tongue going deeper, his hands holding just a little tighter. Elkantar feels soft and pliant when Halsin’s fingers start teasing at his rim, breaching and retreating, making Elkantar kant his hips desperately, wishing for more friction. His hands tangle in Halsin’s soft hair while his heels dig into his shoulder blades, pushing him harder against him, body shuddering in rupture. He bites his lip, when a thick finger, spit-slick slips into his tight hole alongside an agile tongue. 

Everything about this man is big, the drow thinks drowsily, while Halsin pushes his finger in and out slowly, watching the place where they join with wonder.

“Is this how you like it?” The druid asks, his voice husky with desire, ”You want more?” he asks while his hand works into him, the other stroking his cock expertly. Elkantar has to struggle to pull his mind together to replay, his thoughts occupied by the slick sounds of Halsin’s pace picking up, his voice thick with desire; he sounds pleased with himself, this will not do.

“I like it harder usually, but I will give you a pass, old man, I don’t want to tire you out too quickly,” He says smiling sweetly, the hard sting of Halsin’s hand on his ass makes his smile grow wider.

“You cheeky little pup, even with your hole full of my tongue you are still so bossy.” Halsin answers. He puts another finger in, the stretch becoming sweeter and his pace picking up, Elkantar resists the urge to whimper. “I’m much less bossy when I’m getting fucked.” he retorts. Halsin pulls his face away from him and laughs, a full-bellied thing that echoes in the room around them, making the drow’s heart beat faster.

“Somehow I don’t believe that.” Halsins replies Huskily, leaning over Elkantar, using his weight to fold the man in half, stretching his legs and pushing his knees to rest at each side of the drow’s head. When Elkantar thinks he is ready to burst, when all the air has been squeezed out of him, Halsin brushes their lips in a kiss. It’s so soft and heart-achingly chaste that the contrast of it- the relentless hammering of the druid’s fingers in and out of his hole- makes Elkantar choke out a long gruff moan.

“I think you like it just like this, running your mouth, teasing me until I can’t help but lose myself in you, don’t you?” says the druid gruffly.

“ Yeah baby , that’s exactly how I like it. You drive me crazy, giving it to me so good.” Elkantar babbles, lost in the pressure, the building heat in him. 

“Can you take it harder?” Halsin asks, his breath short with the rough rhythm of his hand, in and out.

“ Yes, yes, please, give it to me harder.” Elkantar growls darkly, tight, and hot with the pleasure of being worked hard and filthy. 

Halsin kisses and nips up his legs, giving one last bite before easing off of the drow, letting him take a large rasping breath, the flush on his face abating a touch. 

“Are you close, gorgeous? Can you come from just my fingers?” Halsin teases as the logical part of Elkantar’s mind dissipates, leaving a panting, needy mess, so close to spilling over the edge he can’t find his words. He breathes hard and nods his head, biting his lips. Halsin looks at him hotly and smiles.

“Come on, put that talented hand to work, my heart, show me how you like to please yourself.” 

Elkantar groans and complies.

The heat in him rages, close to burning him to a crisp. He grunts as he takes himself in hand, feeling the druid’s mouth on him as he dives back to work, his tongue hot and rough against his rim when a third finger joins the others to continue the mad thrust in and out of his hole. He works himself fast and desperate, with no time for a show, -posturing or even a clever word- he needs to come, he is so close he can’t see, can't hear, can't control his voice as finally, he keens, shouts, groans and laughs, dissolving into a blissed out mess. He blows past relief to pleasure, his balls clenching as he bursts. He comes like he'd never come before,  painting his chest and his face with his spend, decorating himself with pearl after pearl, panting roughly while he does. When his hand falters, Halsin's large one takes over, stroking him fast and hard, blowing past his orgasm and into oversensitivity. Elkantar tries to speak, encourage or tease but the only thing out of his mouth are little ah, ah, ah, noises. 

“That’s it, gorgeous, that’s it, come for me, show me everything.” Halsin encourages. 

He lets the man pant helplessly when his shuddering dies down, lowering his legs onto the mattress as he shuffles to lay next to him. Halsin strokes his head gently, as their eyes fix upon each other’s, something big and unspeakable grows between them breathing and living.

Elkantar can barely catch his breath when the first sob breaks out of him. He looks at the man lying next to him in shock, only to see his eyes soft and tender, his hands gentle as he pulls him closer. 

Another sob breaks through and Elkantar’s hand shoots to his mouth.

“Oh gods, I’m sorry!” He whispers, horrified by his unusual reaction. His body aches in a delicious way, his legs shaking with the aftermath of pleasure- he felt happy and relaxed, so why…this? Why was he crying?

“I, eh, I don’t know why I’m like this-“ he begins, confused while Halsin cuts him off. “Let it out, my heart, you are safe here with me. ”

“-This had been amazing-“ he hurries to say and Halsin chuckles. Feeling it like this, reverberating through him as Halsin hugs him close is intoxicating. He wanted to feel this, again again, this man’s joy.

“I could tell, darling, don’t fret.” Halsin rumbles. Elkantar can feel the man against him, still clothed, body restrained in leather, and that tell-tale ridge of heat pressing against his thigh…

“I don’t want to stop,” Elkantar whispers. Halsin touches his face gently, inching his face closer slowly, and presses feather light kisses to his face, to each tear as it appears. 

“We can take our time, my heart, there is no rush. “ Elkantar takes a long shaky breath, cuddling closer. When Halsin kisses him his lips are wet with tears.

Something small and delicate blooms in Elkantar's chest. He knew the seeds were there, but thought that his heart had grown barren. He folds the feeling in his chest protectively and smiles, small and secretive. Halsin’s eyes track his face closely, a smile on his face blooming larger when a small giggle shakes out of Elkantar, his cheeks still wet with tears.

And another giggle, and another. Until the drow is shaking with them silently. 

“I don't know what is coming over me. I feel crazy, I'm sorry,” he admitted as he shakes with silent laughter, tears still leaking from his eyes. “I-just-well…never finished quite like that. ”. Halsin sucks his teeth, his manner satisfied and relaxed, “I will be taking this as a compliment then.” He teases, while his fingers trace circles on the drow’s chest, skirting around his spend. Elkantar shudders as a finger traces close to a nipple and he can see his lover's eyes darken once more.

“You should be,” he says, burrowing closer. His foot teases slyly across the druid’s calf, slowly up and down as he lets himself drape over his lover, his hands wondering. “Not many men had made me come with their tongues alone. you are… quite skillfully.”.

Halsin just smiles, cocking an eyebrow when the drow pushes him onto his back. His warm hands drift up his chest, to Elkantar’s face, then to pick at a pale shining strand of hair. It drifted around him like a shimmering waterfall, half in braids and half loose to drape across the angular lines of his body. Elkantar crawls on top of the Druid slowly, his hands settling on his chest as he straddles the man, earning a groan. The feel of Halsin’s leather attire under him is delicious, the contrast of their states of dress sending a thrill down the drow’s back. He can feel the Druid’s hardness pressing against his ass.

“Kiss me,” Halsin whispers into this delicate thing between them, and Elkantar complies happily, leaning forward, pressing them together, chest to chest. He brushes the Druid’s face gently as he leans forward pressing a slow shy kiss to his lips. It’s a slow wonderful thing of shimmering need and low simmering lust. Sweet, delicate like silken threads. Halsin opens his mouth, the air between them slow and hazy with their desire. Halsin’s hands trail up the drow’s shoulders as they kiss slowly, taking their time to explore each other's mouths, pressing kisses like secrets shared. It’s intimate in a way Elkantar would have shied from before, now he gives himself to it freely. 

It’s sweet and heady in a way he was afraid to yearn for.

He kissed Halsin’s cheek, his brow, the tip of his nose, and his jaw while the Druid’s hands stroked his back slowly. His skin prickles with goosebumps as he feels himself stirring again.

“There are too many clothes on you,” Elkantar whispers against his lips, to which Halsin bites his lip delicately, “easily fixable, my heart, it will be but a moment-“

-“no,” Elkantar says, “I want to do it, please,” he looks at him “let me.”

Halsin nods his head, laying back down while Elkantar pushes himself up, hands on that large chest.

His fingers skim down to a taut stomach and back up to touch the laces of Halsin’s shirt as he unravels them slowly. Halsin’s chest rises and falls with anticipation as his clothes are peeled off of him slowly, every touch a discovery. Elkantar’s hands are warm, his eyes can’t look away from each new expanse of tan skin revealed. He kisses the Druid’s sternum delicately when the Druid leans forward to shrug off his shirt. Elkantar’s hands go to pull at the laces of his trousers when he kisses him once more, deep and intoxicating.

“Nature truly outdid herself with you,” he says against the drow’s lips and he is compelled to melt into that adoring touch. Halsin's breath stutters when the drow’s nimble fingers undo the laces finally, diving under constricting leather to cup him. The sound rumbling deep in Halsin’s chest gives Elkantar the courage to explore him.

“You are one to talk,” he murmured against the Druid’s ear, catching his earlobe with his teeth lightly, satisfied when Halsin bucks into his touch, “ nature didn’t spare no expense when she created you.”

The Druid was…large. Elkantar had expected it, but reality eclipsed even what his trousers had barely concealed. It thrilled and terrified him, it would be a challenge, certainly, but no one ever said he shied away from one. He found himself smiling, chuckling against skin as his hand glided over that heated skin, teasing the head of it, thumb grazing just under tip.

“What’s funny, my heart?” Halsin breathes.

“Trying to think about what would kill me first, taking this thing up my ass or the shit show waiting for us in Baldur’s gate.” The drow admits ruefully, chuckling as the Druid collapses back on the bed, shaking with silent laughter. The laughter chokes into a sigh as Elkantar strokes him tighter, his other hand cupping his sack, massaging it slowly. Halsin rises, grabbing the drow’s hips as he shuffles them to the edge of the bed, shoving down his pants and kicking them off.

Elkantar looks deeply into the Druid’s eyes, enjoying the closeness of them wrapped around each other and the firm cock now slotted against his ass. Halsin kisses his neck, his warm hands sliding down the drow’s body to take a handful of shapely ass. His blunt finger teases his open relaxed hole as he murmurs hotly against skin, “You don’t think you can handle me?” his finger slips in easily and Elkantar arches into the feeling.

“Oh, make no mistake,” his blunt nails rake over the Druid’s chest, “I'm about to take you,”.

“Care to prove it?” Halsin challenges. Elkantar can feel the arcane shift when Halsin casts a quick cantrip and the fingers now circling his entrance are slick with oil.

“I’ll show you how it’s done.” He retorts as his hips start to work, grinding back against those thick fingers and that slick waiting cock.

The delicate stillness around them filled with hot breath and encouraging murmurs as Elkantar rides the Druid’s fingers, their foreheads touching as they pant and moan into their shared space. With each movement Elkantar feels that hot thing grind against him, leaving a small trail of precome against his ass, he wants him now. It makes him reckless.

He lets the flushed tip catch on his rim as he pulls the Druid’s fingers away.

“Are you sure?” Halsin pants as Elkantar nods, his hand searching behind him and his fingers grasping Halsin, lining him against his entrance.

The deep groan out of Halsin accompanied a delicious stretch that makes Elkantar see stars. He pushes against it slowly, feeling that thick cock breaching, inching slowly into him. It’s intoxicating, maddening. It makes Elkantar keen deep and needy in his throat and Halsin to grab onto him desperately. His eyes shut tightly, head leaning against the drow’s chest as he arches into that feeling and sit’s himself fully onto his lover's cock.

“Halsin! oh gods, Halsin,” Elkantar cries out like a prayer, with his eyes closed he nuzzles the druid, their noses brush.

They are both a mess, slick with sweat and come, panting loudly, hair a tangle. Halsin has never seen anyone so beautiful in his life, he pulls the drow in for a kiss that is mostly tongue, teeth and adoration. He shifts lightly and the drow pants loudly in his grip.

The drow is sweet and pliant, his eyes looking at Halsin softly as the intimacy of their connection, the feeling of being so full of his lover settle over him like a thick blanket. It feels amazing, to feel the man's heartbeat, his warmth and desire in him- And at that moment the door opens.

“Fuck off!” The drow whips his head towards the unwelcome intrusion.

There at the door are Astarion and Gale, clearly having kissed each other silly and looking for a private corner of their own.

“I thought I heard something behind this door.” Astarion says, holding the door open and looking in with interest. 

“Well, it's fucking occupied! Go fuck your wizard somewhere else!” Elkantar says acidly.

“Holy shit.” Gale says flushing scarlet when he looks in, while Astarion gives the pair a slow once over.

“Evening, Elkantar.” He says evenly, “Halsin, darling, is that you?” He calls to the man obstructed by the drow’s shimmering hair.

“Evening, Astarion, Gale,” he answers as if he is not buried to the hilt in his lover, “we’d appreciate some privacy if you wouldn’t mind.” He says, shifting slightly making the drow clench around him with a shudder.

The pair stare at Elkantar as he shifts back, grabbing Halsin’s shoulder for balance and shooting them a murderous look. 

“He means fuck off.” He says sharply, trying and failing not to flush at feeling so exposed, his muscles clenching instinctually. Halsin kisses his collar bone lightly, shifting his attention back to his lover.

“I mean I am about to ravish this man, and I Don't intend to stop for anyone.” He peppers another kiss on the drow’s chest as his hands settle warmly on his ass, “so pick your jaws off the floor and close the door on your way out.”

Elkantar laughs, appreciating the Druid's boldness, might as well join in.

Gale grabs Astarion by the arm as Elkantar lets out a long performative moan and starts to circle his hips suggestively taking the Druid’s face in his hands, looking deeply into his eyes.

Gale turns on his heel, leaving the room immediately while Astarion lingers a moment more.

“I had intended to consecrate this bed myself, but it seems I will have to leave that honor to you. Make me proud darling, break it if you can.” He meets Elkantar’s eye and winks, then, with a put upon air he leaves, the door closing with a thud.

“Speaking of consecration…” Halsin says suggestively kissing Elkantar’s neck as the drow’s head rests on his shoulder. 

“I can’t believe I’m fucking you in Ketherick Thorm’s bed and all of my ropes are back in my pack.” Elkantar laments as he relaxes his muscles, melting into his lover's warmth.

“This bed is not going anywhere,” Halsin says suggestively as he starts grinding playfully against the drow, catching his breath, “It's sturdy as well, I have a feeling we will find more uses for it yet.”

Elkantar’s thighs shake as the man lifts him up, and drags him down slowly across his shaft, their passion sparking to life anew. He puts his hands behind his lover’s head and sinks into the fluid motions of their lovemaking. Each long stroke dragged against him making him shudder in pleasure.

The even, constant motion makes Elkantar shiver, his voice coming out a stuttering, needy plea.

“ Oh , harder , please.” He shudders helplessly and Halsin fucks into him, harder and faster. He hugs the drow tightly and picks up the pace. The sound of their thighs slapping against one another filling the space around them.

“You feel Incredible, my love,” Halsin says tightly, teeth grazing the drow's neck as they tangle in each other desperately, bodies moving in tight hard movements, grinding against each other. “You sound so sweet, calling my name.” He breathes as he fucks urgent little sounds out of the drow. He pants hard, thick thighs stopping their hard rolling motion for a moment only for the drow on him to grind and fuck back against him in quick desperate motions.

Halsin can barely think, enveloped in that tight velvet heat clenching around him as his lover takes control. “Talk to me love, tell me how you feel.” The druid rasps, his hands roaming his lover's body; he can't get enough of that smooth skin and Elkantar's hot cries.

“I'm going to treat a rope, just for you.” Elkantar whines hotly as he fucks himself against his lover, “It will be so smooth, baby. You’ll look so pretty, all tied up for me.” 

Halsin's irises blow wide and dark with lust. He kisses Elkantar hard, panting against his mouth, “You'll tie me up?”

“I will worship you, the rope will worship you. ” he pants hotly, his piercing gaze a promise made before it drops as he squirms. “Fuck, baby, put me on my stomach, I want to feel you on me.”

Elkantar moans hard when Halsin stands up with a rough grunt, picking him, his legs dangling in the air while gravity pushes him deeper. 

“Fuck!” He moans.

“Which way, my love?” 

“Head towards the headboard, then get on me.” He instructs tightly, overwhelmed by the deep delicious feeling of being speared wide open.

Halsin walks them around the bed. Elkantar cries out when he's pulled off of Halsin and thrown boldly on rumpled bedding, fingers twisting into it tightly.

“You are a vision, my love.” Halsin says, his voice thick with desire.

“I need you, baby, come here.” Elkantar says brokenly, stretching across the bed, spreading his legs wide and canting his hips, knowing the picture he makes. He looks over his shoulder, his face soft and vulnerable and Halsin can't help but get on the mattress. He crawled over him, a warm hand sliding up his throat, gently pulling his head back to kiss the drow deeply.

“I need you on me, Halsin, please .” Elkantar whines against his mouth, body shuddering with anticipation. He feels so open, the emptiness in him crying out to be filled again.

Halsin hesitates for a moment, “Are you certain? It will be untamed, vigorous and, erm…” he sucks his teeth before grinding slowly and filthy against the drow's ass, “Large.”

Elkantar groans as he works his hips against the mattress and the hot pressure above him, the friction sending hot pulses down his spine, “Put it in me, baby, I want to feel you tomorrow like you are still in me.“

Halsin descends on him, his cock thrusting into his lover urgently, filling him up as he lays them back to chest, hand on hand, hot, heavy contact of skin on skin. his lips are hot on the nape of Elkantar’s neck.

The drow shouts under him, crying out in ecstasy, his voice choking off as Halsin drives into him, time after time after time.

“ Oh, oh ! Halsin you're so good,” he cries as they rock together. Elkantar can barely breathe, the pressure on him intensely delicious. His head feels light, letting his voice carry as cry after cry is wrenched out of him, “ Oh , hhh , how are you so big ?” 

He can feel Halsin straining against him, his hand shifting to support himself over his lover, bracing his knees to change the angle of his hips as he drives into him harder.

“You like that?” Halsin growls, his thighs slapping against his lover's ass loudly, “Are you going to be good for me? You want to come?” Each question was followed by a hard thrust.

“ Yes yes yes, ” Elkantar trails off, overwhelmed as Halsin pounds past something sensitive and electrifying within him. “Fuck, right there!” he cries. 

Halsin groans loudly, driving himself harder as the man beneath him loses control, pleasure like lightning striking him with each thrust. 

Halsin groans loudly,  the frame of the bed protesting loudly, banging against the wall over and over. 

“Fuck, fuck, I'm going to come!” Elkantar keens, urging the druid on. 

“I'm close too, my love,” Halsin growls deeply,  sweat beading on his face as it twists in pleasure. Elkantar drives himself back, meeting each strong thrust eagerly,  his voice going louder and higher.

“You are so good to me, taking me so well,” the bed groans under them loudly, “Let go, gorgeous, come on my cock. “

“ Ah! Give it to me! Please, please! ” They move against each other wildly, taking their pleasure roughly, joyfully, the slap of flesh and the groans of wood urging them to slip past the point of ecstasy. 

With a bitten-off shout, Halsin pulls out, thrusting quickly into his hand before spilling hot and urgent over the perfect mound of the drow's ass. He pants and groans as his hand works himself, his orgasm crashing over him like a tidal wave making him shake with effort as he holds in the urge to change. When he comes down he can finally hear the litany of filth spilling out of his lover's mouth. He lets himself collapse on top of Elkantar and relishes the broken cry as he pushes back into his hole, tight and hot like a vice.

Halsin pulls Elkantar by his throat once more, pulling him flush against his chest as his lover thrashes and cries, too full, too hot, too close to the edge.

“Fuck!” He cries, tears slipping behind his eyelids while Halsin's hand squeezes just right against his windpipe, his other sliding down to take his cock in hand, stroking, “I'm coming, oh gods, Halsin, I'm coming!”

“Good, Elkantar, let go, Kitten, let go, I got you.”

He cries out once, twice before shuddering deeply, spilling on Halsin's hand, on his stomach, and his chest, collapsing bonelessly against the druid, who holds him against his chest, murmuring sweet things in his ears.

Elkantar shakes weakly, feeling his lover's body against his own, their clammy skin sliding against one another as they catch their breaths.

He tilts his head back, his lips meeting Halsin’s own as they share the last waves of their pleasure.

Halsin's large, warm hand strokes his neck tenderly, his other hand settling softly on his hip.

“That was…” Elkantar begins, feeling Halsin’s smile against his lips, soft and satiated, “...Incredible” the druid completes. 

The monk feels the deep ache in his body as Halsin pulls out delicately. He buckles, tired against his lover who folds him in his arms, lowering them slowly onto the bed.

He laughs softly when the monk kicks the soiled coverings off, resting boneless on pristine sheets.

“I don't think I can move,” Elkantar admits tiredly between soft kisses, his eyes feeling heavy. He should rest them for a moment, he thinks.

He feels a soft warm touch against his sticky skin when he comes to, a few moments later.

“Rest, my love, I have you” comes Halsin’s hoarse voice above him, as the gentle warm touch continues. He can hear water sloshing in a basin and realizes Halsin is cleaning him softly with a towel.

It was silly, he thinks, for this to be so touching after the man had fucked him so diligently and kissed him so ardently, but it was.

He blinks heavily, the warm touch is gone, and his skin prickles with goosebumps as he is left damp but clean.

The mattress groans softly when Halsin's weight settles against him, radiating warmth. His heavy arms settle around him, pulling him in as he covers them with a soft blanket. Elkantar burrows into him, resting his head on the druid's large warm chest, listening to his heartbeat. Halsin brushes his hair away from his face gently, pressing a warm kiss to his temple as they slowly drift into trance. 

There will be time to talk about them, Elkantar thinks before succumbing to exhaustion, about expectations, hope, and love.

about ropes.

It was more than he expected to hope for, and for now, it was enough.

To be loved would be enough.

Chapter Text

Waking up from a trance wrapped by two strong, warm arms with his face planted firmly in his lover's ample chest will probably be the memory Elkantar will replay in his mind on his deathbed. He shifts sleepily only to feel a deep ache shoot through his lower back. 

Dear gods, he had truly lost all shame yesterday.

He wanted to blame the wine, but couldn’t. 

He knew himself too well, he liked biting off more than he could chew, or in that case, fit. Well, Halsin would give him top marks for effort. He smiled, satisfied, as he felt that warm body shifting underneath him.

And that hard, thick length pressing against his ass.

Elkantar flushed red.

What , how- wasn’t that bear of a Druid tired? he thought, alarmed. He holds himself still for a moment, reluctant to disturb his lover's sleep, waiting for his breath to even back into the comforting rhythm of sleep. He bites his lip to keep from laughing when he can’t for the life of him ignore that thing poking him in the back, begging for attention.

His thoughts drift deviously.

He could shimmy down slowly and trail hot sloppy kisses down Halsin’s chest, bite and tease those dark nipples until Halsin wakes under him all hot and wanting. He could dive under these covers, stick out his tongue, and put that thick thing as far back his throat as he could without gagging, that ought to be a pleasant wake-up call.

He could sneak out of this bed and go grab his ropes.

Oh , his ropes- That sounded promising, Elkantar felt his body react to that image with a warm wave of interest. The thought of his silken rope whispering between his hands, Halsin would look at him with those pretty eyes, bite those plush lips while he would loop knot after knot up those thick thighs, that heaving chest.

Elkantar feels himself stirring at the image and chides himself. He couldn’t go downstairs half-naked and hard. Control yourself , he admonishes. He tried relaxing against his lover, realizing it was a test in futility when every shift and sleepy groan out of the tan elf made his mind dive into the gutters.

Well , now or never.

He shifts lightly, each move a calculated risk as he pulls himself from that warm, heady embrace. The room is dark and quiet, while he frees his hands, hoisting himself up gently, using every trick he had up his proverbial sleeves to slide out of the bed agile like smoke. He is almost through when his scalp tugs painfully and he realizes his hair is caught underneath that big hunk of sin.

Parts of it are floating thick and free about him, brushing against his bare skin. 

Halsin had unbraided his hair before he had succumbed to trance.

Elkantar stops in place as his heart aches- It was incredibly touching and significantly intimate to Elkantar for his lover to care for his hair in this way. He mourns being too tired to feel those wonderful fingers going through his hair and over his scalp, he could only shudder at the images his mind provided.

He could almost feel them now.

”Leaving so soon, my love?” Halsin murmurs sleepily, his soft smile stopping the drow in place. 

Shit .

Oh well.

“Just for a moment, sweet thing, I need to fetch something from my pack.” He says lightly as he crawls back onto the Druid, who shifts to his back to accommodate his straddling lover.

“Well,” the Druid rumbles, his smile warmed by desire while his hands glide slyly up the drow’s thighs, “this is a fine picture.”

Elkantar bends down lightly to brush their lips together, and Halsin's head raises slightly in anticipation and a breath catches in his chest. The drow smiles, cheeky, and pulls back a touch to lick teasingly against the Druid’s lips instead, earning a deep chuckle before he dips in to kiss him.

“So cheeky,” Halsin sighs after Elkantar teases his lower lip between his teeth lightly. “Weren’t you on your way somewhere? Or are you going to keep grinding that sweet little ass of yours over me?”

Elkantar laughs and straightens, grinding lightly, just as to show the man who was in control here. 

“My hair is caught under you, gorgeous thing,” The drow says. “Now move.” He taps the Druid’s chest until he lumbers to his side and Elkantar pulls his hair behind his shoulder. He smiles as he loops his hair into a knot, enough to keep it from drifting all around him. Elkantar ties it slowly, knowing that with his arms up he makes a fetching picture. Halsin's hungry look makes him laugh while he’s pulled down by his neck and kissed deeply by a ravenous lover.

Halsin’s mouth is warm and wet, his whole manner soft with sleep as he slides his tongue into Elkantar’s mouth, opened by a happy little moan.

“I am parched for you,” He says, pulling him back into the kiss, their lips slotting perfectly. ”Let me drink deep of you.”

Elkantar feels his mind swimming and his resolve melting, he could stay here and explore this man, pleasure him like this when he is soft, horny, and pliant; hear their pants and moans echo in the dark room. His cries would be so sweet and the recent memory of his moans and grunts spur Elkantar to give into their kiss.

No. No, no . He had a goal , a mission , didn’t he?

He parted from his lover’s insistent lips with a gasp, his eyes heavy with desire as Halsin’s hand trails slowly from his neck down his chest, his rough thumb teasing a dark nipple lightly.

“You are playing a dangerous game, Druid,” he says, his smile sharp with carnal intention as his hands grope the thick muscle of his lover’s chest.

He can see that satisfied smugness on Halsin’s face as he cocks an eyebrow.

“Am I?” he rumbles deep in his chest, seeing the desired effect on his lover as the drow twitches. The drow’s nails scrape lightly down the elf’s chest as he lifts himself off of his lover, his knee making the mattress dip as his foot touches the cold floor.

“Your insolent little quips will not help you once I return,” Elkantar says dangerously, watching his lover's eyes darken. He takes the Druid’s chin in his hand, turning his head towards him. His thumb toys idly with his slick lip as he leans back in, “If you touch yourself while I’m gone I will know, and I will be very…very cross,” he says hotly before turning away and grabbing his tunic off of the floor.

The sound of Halsin trying to control his aroused groan fills him with triumphant satisfaction. Halsin’s eyes on him as he dresses are hot and intimate like a physical touch. He pulls his trousers quickly, lacing them sloppily as he shoots Halsin another smoldering look.

“And if there is as much as a stitch on you when I return…” he trails off dangerously, his eyes drinking in the flushed elf and that telltale tent rising under the blanket, “we’ll see just how patient the great Arch-Druid can be.”

Halsin’s needy groan cuts off when Elkantar closes the heavy door behind him. He leans on it momentarily, catching his breath and tries to clear his mind from sin; harder said than done , he thinks when the vision of Halsin’s shifting thighs and heavy looks linger tantalizing in his mind’s eye.

He bites his lip.

He could throw all caution and planning to the wind, storm back in, and ride the man until he screamed. He could do that every day now, he smiles happily, but Ketheric Thorm’s bed demanded some proper, enthusiastic defilement. 

Special treatment.

Astarion would not forgive him if he didn’t treat the occasion with all the pomp and circumstance expected from fucking a lover in a defeated, immortal enemy’s private rooms.

He would carry that burden gladly.

With a fortifying breath, he descends the stairs, trying to sift beyond the hazy memories of drink to remember where his pack had ended up yesterday. 

The towers look less dreary by the light of day. It filtered through the colorful windows, shedding their beautiful designs on the walls. The epitaph of Selune spilling brightly onto the spacious room, shining vibrantly on cold stone.

The drow's heart skips a beat.

Light , oh good gods there was light ! 

Elkantar rushes down the stairs, bounding two at a time, his hair streaming behind him, as he bursts out onto the cobblestone outside.

Oh, it's wonderfully warm , the drow wonders.

The hour is still early and the traces of fog still stand in the air, but light, blessed, warm, radiant light shines through. The broken town around them, though crumbling and dejected, looks alive. The oozing black bramble that had dominated the scenery shy before the first rays of the sun, wood, and stone heaving and falling as they withered to nothing.

“It's beautiful,” he breathes.

The oppressive darkness had been a harsh companion, it pressed over him like a smothering blanket ever since they had reached this cursed place. The perpetual gloom reminded him of times he would rather forget, of days and days trying to survive the cruel maze that is the Underdark; crawling half-starved, shaking with terror, and jumping at every sound. Sometimes when he slept he could still hear the shouts of the scouting party sent to retrieve him, the growl of dark hounds, and the cracks of whips.

When he had finally reached the end of the tunnel, feeling the breeze on his face, he was barely strong enough to crawl. He lay there, on the brink of death cracking open his eyes to see the dark sky blush a vivid, flush peach. 

Watching the sky bloom- from regal blues to lush plum and then to heartbreaking pink- had brought tears to his eyes, and hope- brittle, aching hope. Every time the sun had shone on him since he remembered that precious delicate feeling. 

He could feel the memory of those tears on his cheeks now.

“An astonishing view, is it not, my friend?” Jaheira says behind him. 

Her voice is laden with awe and satisfaction. He nods mutely, not trusting his voice not to break in an undignified way. She looks at him, noting those trails of hot tears streaming down his eyes, and nods, her arms crossing over her chest. 

“It is an incredible thing, isn't it, the resiliency of nature?” she says softly, “Even when things are at their lowest, shittiest point, they can always turn around. No? A wonderful thing.” 

She gives him a long look, her hand strikes out, viper quick tapping a tender point on his neck. “But I think you’ve had ample examples of that, no?”

Elkantar’s hands shoot to cover the blushing love bite Halsin had marked passionately onto his neck, feeling his face flush with embarrassment.

“I have no idea what you mean,” he said, knowing exactly what she meant.

Her sharp eyes, smug smile, and easy demeanor bring out the petulant child in him; he tries to cling to his secrets a moment longer.

“Is that so?” she shrugs. “Must have been some other couple rutting like animals all night then and shaking the walls, eh?” 

Elkantar blushes and smirks roguishly as Jaheira bursts into laughter. Her smile is big and happy, her eyes twinkling with mirth. She nudges him lightly with her shoulder while he tries to regain control of his face; embarrassment, pride, and smugness warring on his face. Her good intentions and her happiness so genuine shone through- Elkantar can't help but break into an embarrassingly large smile. 

“It was incredible,” he confesses in a choked voice, hands flying to cover his face, bravado fading like the mist before the sun. Gods , he was almost a hundred and fifty years old, but his ears twitched with embarrassment like a young pup.

Jaheira pats him on his back as she nods and exclaims cheerfully, “Did you break that hideous bed?”

Elkantar bursts into laughter, his hands coming down as he wipes his tears with his palms. That woman knew how to coax a reaction out of him- the aloof, dreaded under-elf.

He cocks a coy eyebrow at her. 

“We were giving it our very best effort, as you've heard.”

“Hmm, yes, it sure sounded like he put his back into it.” She says dryly.

“Jaheira!” He mocked in a pearl-clutching voice. 

She barks a short laugh at him, seeing beyond his put-upon act. 

“If you do not wish to be teased then you should fuck quietly. Some of us need our beauty sleep,” she says matter-of-factly.

“I doubt you have much need for beauty sleep, gorgeous,” he flirts and gives her an assessing look, testing the edge of her patience. “You look perky- lured some young man to your bed last night?”

She gives him a sharp knowing look, while her smile reveals proverbial fangs. 

“No, I had to waste my night wrangling two stubborn, parched oxen to drink from the trough. Foolhardy and thick-headed both of them.” She sucked her teeth before nailing another nail in his coffin. “Not much of a hardship in the end; barely took a nudge to lead the large ox to charge up those stairs after you.” She says matter of factly. 

“He got very scared that he had hurt your feelings after you left, ‘Ah! Nothing a little canoodling won't solve’, I told him.” She leans towards him, smiling conspiratorially as their shoulders touch. “Have you been sufficiently canoodled?”

The drow stands there, in the soft morning light, trying and failing to talk past that hot ball of emotion stuck in his throat. 

So he steps in and hugs Jaheira instead.

Her arms reach up to hug the tall drow, moving his hair away gently and patting his back while the drow tries to collect himself.

“There, there, dear one,” she says as his arms tighten around her. “It was very clear to everyone, except the fools involved.”

“Was I being so obvious?” he asks as he lets go.

“Ha! You wanted to impress him so badly that you've ended a decades-long curse. Of course y ou were obvious, you silly man.” She smiles. “But I wasn't talking about you.”

“What?” Elkantar asks, bewildered.

“That man fretted so much each time you left the inn on some daring plan, he bore a groove right down the inn's floor.” She exclaims and makes a sharp gesture. She looks into his eyes as his face softens, standing in the light of such a daring plan having spent the night between the walls of the other. 

“Thank you,” he says softly,  and she smiles, her hand cupping his cheek.

“You're welcome.” She pats his cheek. “Now, do an old harper a favor and keep it down, eh?”

He chuckles and escapes her when her pats become a tad sharper, smiling smugly when he says, “I can't make any promises.“

“Eh,” she laments and shakes her head, “Typical. Ungrateful youth.”

He leans in quickly, kissing her cheek fondly before turning around, leaving her to watch the sun peek over the horizon in peace. 

Elkantar makes his way into the building quickly, last night’s revelry echoing from every corner. Discarded bottles, and discarded shoes by the emptied dance floor speak of light feet and merry music. Where had he dropped his pack?

He makes his way around the deserted dance floor, peering under benches and moving lost belongings around. Usually, that pack was glued to his side-

“-Hey soldier,” says Karlach’s warm voice, “looking for this?” She teases, and from her hand dangles his pack. She leans on the wall, an image of amusement as he jogs towards her, reaching out to grab his pack.

“Ah, hold on for a moment there, slugger,” she says, stretching her hand above her head, dangling the pack away from Elkantar’s reach. They both knew he could reach it with a swift jump, she had helped him scale dozens of obstacles and had thrown him up when the occasion arose.

The drow crosses his hands, and his eyebrow cocking as he takes in her face, intrigue on his.

“Well?” he says dryly as she shuffles closer to him conspiratorially, the heat of her mechanical heart warming him, she leans in as if to whisper.

“So... I heard congratulations are in order- well, you know, everyone heard congratulations are in order- you have a set of lungs on you that’s for sure,” she giggles, sending a warm wave of affection and mortification rushes through the drow. “I uh… have a favor to ask, yeah?” she says, looking at him earnestly.

“And that has to do with my pack, how?” he asks dryly, feeling time trickle by.

“Well, um, some of us- ugh…made a bet.”

“A bet?”

“Well yeah, on the subject of…” she trails off, looking at him, her eyebrows rising suggestively.

“Spit it out Karlach, I have places to be,” he says, resigned. In the past weeks, the woman had become like a sister to him, much to his amazement, their manners were so dissimilar yet they worked so well together.

“Well, that’s just the thing! That place wouldn’t happen to be upstairs, with that big hunk of a druid?” She wiggles her eyebrows, her smile sharp. 

“And if it is?” he says with a mischievous smile.

“I have 20 gold on you making Halsin moan so loudly- we'll hear it outside, on the bridge!” She blurts quickly, her expression torn between excitement and embarrassment. She smiles sheepishly at him when he snorts and rolls his eyes.

“I'll make sure you hear him loud and clear,” Elkantar says, before poking the tiefling’s smoldering shoulder, “but I get half of the prize money.”

Karlach whoops, throwing her fist in the air, “I'll squeeze them for all it’s worth then! You got yourself a deal soldier.”

“My pack, please?” he says as she does her little dance. She throws it to him with a wink and he can feel some unfamiliar shapes clinking inside. Elkantar shoots her an intrigued look and the burly tiefling shrugs and smiles, had she not been so red he thought she’d be blushing.

“Oh, you know…just some things to keep you going…food, water…potions,” she says, kicking the ground slyly, not meeting his eyes.

“You bet on duration too, didn't you?” he snorts.

Karlach looks like a dog caught with a forbidden treat. “...Maybe…” she says, and Elkantar shrugs.

“I want two-thirds of each bet.”

“What?!” the tiefling protests as the drow turns to leave.

“I'm the one doing all the work!” he shouts behind him.

“As if you don't enjoy it!” Karlach’s friendly shout accompanied him as he hurried up the stairs- he had lingered here too long.

He bounds quickly up the stairs, coming to stand in front of the heavy doors of Thorm’s room. He can feel giddiness rise in him like butterflies taking flight. His mind fills with every delicious image his lustful brain can come up with and he feels himself flush in anticipation. He puts his hand on the heavy wooden door and makes his way into the dark room.

He can hear Halsin breathing in the warm darkness of the room. As the drow’s eyes adjust slowly he searches for the man, walking slowly into the room before two strong warm arms engulf him from behind.

“I’ve been very patient , kitten.” Halsin smolders, his lips against the drow’s sensitive ear as he takes the delicate tip between his lips. “You were gone for so long…I thought you had left,” he purrs, enveloping the drow in his body heat while his hands slide possessively over his chest. His calloused hand slides over Elkantar’s delicate neck, tilting his head up. Their eyes meet in the darkness. Elkantar feels Halsin’s lips hovering over his, sharing close space, hot breath and frantic heart beats. He lets the pack drop to the floor and his hands slide up to Halsin’s, twining their fingers together.

“Have you touched yourself, Halsin?” the drow purrs, enjoying the warmth of the man crowding him.

“No, my heart,” he hums.

Elkantar’s face blooms into a slow pleased smile, he brushes their noses together, the anticipation before a kiss palpable between them, thick enough to cut with a knife.

“Were you trying to be a good boy, or were you afraid of punishment?” he whispers, the druid’s lips close enough to bite. “You know I can tell if you’ve strayed,” he says darkly, contrasting with the sensual, affectionate brush of their noses against each other.

Halsin hums deep in his chest. “I want to be good for you, I haven’t strayed,” he says as one of his hands slides down to the drow’s taut stomach to his hip, pulling him closer, grinding against his ass slowly, as he purrs into that thick anticipation, “Can’t you tell?” 

Elkantar can barely breathe past a wash of syrupy arousal when he feels Halsin’s thick cock slotting against his ass, grinding deliberately and sinfully as his face dips gently for a kiss.

Elkantar rises into it languidly, the slight pressure on his throat sending shivers down his spine. 

The druid kisses him deeply, his tongue licking delicately against his lips, begging for entrance which he grants with a hot moan. Elkantar feels lightheaded by the wanton movements of the druid’s hips against him, and the delicate heartfelt kiss they share- the contrast is dizzying.

They stay like that for breathless moments, giving into each other, curious hands and insistent mouths moving passionately against one another. The delighted haze around them spurs them on, every kiss that would not have been if they hadn't clashed, every touch, turns the air around the couple hotter, their need sharper.

Halsin’s hand slides lower to palm the drow's filling cock, his fingers dragging against the laces suggestively making Elkantar shudder and break their kiss.

“I have a special present for you, lover,” he murmurs into the thrumming space between them, earning a short smoldering laugh and an affectionate look.

“Aren’t I busy unwrapping it now, my heart?” he says as his hand tightens over him deliciously, making Elkantar gasp. He twists in the druid's arms until they are face to face, chest to chest while Halsin’s hands slide over his ass, pulling him even closer. Elkantar kisses the druid, catching his bottom lip between his teeth lightly, the way he now knows makes him groan and rut against him.

“I have something extra special, for my bear…” Elkantar trails off, his hands smoothing unto the man's chest, “But he'll have to be just a little more patient for me,” his fingers toy lightly with the druid's nipples, brushing over and twisting them lightly between his fingers, “Do you think he can do that for me, be good for me?”

Halsin’s mouth is open in a silent plea of pleasure, his hands, having settled possessively on Elkantar’s ass, twitch at every little nudge and twist of the drow's nimble fingers.

He breathes deeply, eyes barely managing to stay open as he leans his forehead against the drow’s before saying, “I can be good, my love, and patient. All I want is you.” He kisses the drow's cheek softly. “Your touch.” He kisses the other. “Your affection.”

“You'll be getting more than affection, gorgeous, I promise.” The monk breathes hotly before smoothing his hands over the little abused bud, making Halsin groan deeply. “Go lay on the bed while I prepare your present.” Halsin shivers as they part, his skin prickling with goosebumps and yelps when Elkantar smacks his ass playfully as he passes.

Elkantar bends down and scoops his pack, walking toward the large table in the middle of the room, grimacing as he moves Thorm's communications and battle plans onto a chair.

He can feel himself flushing with excitement as his hand closes over his ropes.

He pulls them out of his pack, spreading them onto the table to check for rough edges and knots.

Oh, his ropes , finally. So soft and supple , they have been broken many times, twisted again and again, sometimes in passion, sometimes in anxious hands as he tied and dismantled them repeatedly. He pulled his jute rope between his hands, relishing the soft, flexible feeling of it gliding between his fingers. He had burnt their roughness away, the sleek feeling and slight floral scent of the oil reminded him of the last time he had pulled them out of his pack. Back at the inn, it brought a smile to his lips.

He pulled out his second rope, silk- his favorite and oldest. The only thing he had brought with him from Menzoberranzan wrapped around his neck as he had fled. His torment and salvation, his to wield now, in pleasure. It pooled into his hands, light and flexible, pale like a spider's silk.

He can feel Karlach’s gifts inside the pack as well, putting them on the table, and grinning at her cheek. An empty wine bottle filled with water, two plums, three little potion vials, and a jar that gave Elkantar pause. 

A single perfect honeycomb suspended in beautiful ember gold honey. 

Cheeky tiefling. 

Karlach had laughed herself silly when Elkantar had almost tripped into a river while distracted by the sight of Halsin eating a honeycomb. He was so out of sorts they had to take a short rest or risk their leader's untimely demise.

He hears Halsin settling behind him, feeling his eyes on him as he pulls out two last things from his pack, a stoppered bottle of oil and a short, sharp knife.

“Are you hungry, Sweetling, thirsty?” He turns towards the elf, feeling his mouth watering at the pretty image he makes, sprawled hot and wanting. 

Halsin smiles knowingly, stretching long before answering, “Thirsty, perhaps”.

Elkantar nods, taking the bottle in his hand and walking towards the lying man. 

A cord of anticipation snaps into place between them as Elkantar’s fingers smooth lightly over Halsin's lip as he tips the bottle gently, letting the man drink.

The drow can't help but envy those little water rivulets that slip from the elf’s mouth to dribble sensually down his chest. Soon , he thinks, trying to contain the smoldering pit of desire sparking and spitting deep in his stomach.

The image of the druid’s lips leaving the bottle is pure sin, making Elkantar press a hard kiss to them while Halsin smiles at him. “Enjoying the view, kitten?” he asks in a sultry voice receiving only a potent look from Elkantar as he walks back to the table.

“Have you been tied before, sweetling?” the drow asks, his ropes in hand, and the oil bottle in the other. He can feel Halsin’s eyes on him as something in his demeanor shifts, giving him pause.

“I-yes…” he says, a touch of hesitation in his voice as Elkantar shuffles closer.  “I…ah…perhaps being tied by someone who doesn't wish me ill-will may make it a… satisfying pursuit.”

Elkantar is disoriented by the sharp edge of doubt in his lover's voice, a feeling of wrongness, oily and unnerving settling on him. He discards his provisions on the foot of the bed, all traces of teasing evaporating from his demeanour, leaving seriousness.

“My love, has someone tied you…while you were unwilling?” he asks, voice laden with dread of the answer. 

Halsin shuffled back on the bed, sitting closely to the drow, his hand resting on the drow's knee lightly, his touch void of innuendo. 

He swallows for a moment and tries to find his words, something vulnerable crystallising between them.

“A long time ago,” he begins hesitantly, “when I was a foolhardy, young druid I was intent on seeing the beauty of nature's unworldly fauna and subterranean glow for myself…”

Elkantar feels his stomach drop as his face contorts in anguish. Cold hands on him, seeing the consort's quarters for the first time, more like pens . His elder brother looks at him, horrified, his mother's sharp satisfaction, finally proud as he’s whisked away.

He loses a few seconds.

“-...found myself a guest of a noble drow house for a time,” Halsin says delicately,  his warm hands moving in slow comforting circles on Elkantar’s knee. “The house matron took an interest in me, they saw me as a novelty perhaps.”

He pauses for a moment, his nudity suddenly a sign of trust.

He grabs the drow's calloused hand, pressing it against his heart with his own.

“W-Which…Which?…” Elkantar rasps, eyes big. 

Halsin sighs sadly. “Does it matter, my love?” 

Elkantar’s eyes focus sharply on Halsin's face, “Yes, because soon they shall be dead.”

Halsin takes his hand gently and kisses it. “No, my love, not on my behalf.”

Elkantar can feel the softness of his lips on his hand, and the warmth of his body, the darkness of the room is suddenly oppressive and overwhelming. His rage shifts unpleasantly into something weak and he feels himself suddenly scared. There is no end to the reach of Menzoberranzan- the houses’ reach to spoil, rot, and hurt anything important and beautiful. Any sliver of hope must be smothered.

“I…I-” Elkantar rises from the bed, his hand still in Halsin’s delicate grasp. His head spins with a toxic concoction of horror and guilt. He had brought his rope. His Menzoberranzan ropes. 

He feels himself growing faint.

“Whoa, whoa, Elkantar!” Halsin jumps to his feet holding the drow in his arms as he tries to stand on unsteady feet.

“I…the ropes, I am so sorry-”

“No, my heart, look at me,“ the druid insists, his hand on the druid's cheek a warm, grounding presence. “I was excited when you talked about tying me up yesterday. I still am.” he nuzzles the drow's neck affectionately trying to coax him out of the uncontrollable swirl of emotions.

“I want to do this with you, discover this pleasure, together. I am just unsure of where my comfort begins and ends,” the druid says, the earnestness in his voice coaxing the drow to lift his drooping head. Elkantar looks deeply into his eyes, seeing the warmth, the passion simmering in them, and breaths again.

“You will tell me, immediately, if anything makes you uncomfortable,” he pleads, cupping the druid’s face in gentle, shaking hands.

“I will,” Halsin murmurs gently.

“Promise me you won't be needlessly brave,” the drow pleads again.

“I promise to be truthful, and tell you if anything is wrong.”

Elkantar nods and Halsin tightens his hold around him.

“May I show you something? “ the drow asks softly.

“Of course, my love, Always.” His arms slacken and he lets the monk step away, smiling as he takes his hand and leads him to one of the heavy, thick curtains beside the bed.

“Close your eyes,” he asks softly.

Halsin complies readily feeling the drow move away from him, then the sound of heavy cloth moving, and then-

Warmth .

It caresses his face and he opens his eyes in wonder.

Warm light spills from the colorful window tinged with the softness of morning. It shimmers, colorful, filtered through the beautiful colored glass depicting Moonrise Towers in their full glory. Halsin felt it like a caress on his skin; something was filling his chest to bursting, a giddy flutter- light and sweet.

“By the Oak Father's mossy beard,” he whispers, his eyes clouding with tears as he forgets decorum and runs to the balcony, naked as the day he was born.

The vision of the sun peeking over the horizon, shedding life onto the dead land beneath them makes his heart skip a beat. He could scarcely breathe around the hot ball of emotion that threatened to choke him. 

It has been undone. The bane , the curse , the shadows . Undone .

By this man.

Halsin whips around and finds the drow looking at him softly from the shadows of the door. Elkantar holds himself, watching him with love and awe written so obviously on his face Halsin could not ignore him had he wanted to. When he shifts the drow’s fair hair is a blaze, sparkling like varnished silver when it spills into the light. 

Without a thought he pulls the monk onto the light-bathed balcony, pressing them together as he crashes their mouths in a searing, teary-eyed kiss.

Elkantar’s mouth is hot and pliant- he lets the druid take control of him, of the kiss, tipping his head and opening his mouth with a content sigh. Halsin’s arms are fervent as he pulls the drow to him, feeling his weight against him- the truth of his flesh and blood, the force of him as he happily gives himself to him it is a heady thing. 

“You beautiful, wonderful, courageous man!” he laughs, punctuating each word with another kiss, his hands cupping Elkantar’s face tenderly as he feels his love and adoration spilling over. “ You've done it,  you have truly done it.“ He feels tears running down his cheeks as the drow kisses him gently, an innocent, loving brush of lips. 

“A smart, brave druid I know once told me about the devastation of his lands, I couldn't stay indifferent.“ He blushes looking at him.

Halsin can hear the blood rushing in his ears as his hands grow a mind of their own. He presses the drow against the balcony's rails, kissing him passionately as his hands work to untie his tunic with fumbling fingers. He wrenches the drow’s tunic open, pressing them together, skin to skin, grinding against him. The sun warms them right along with their mounting passion as Halsin’s hands reach around to grab Elkantar’s pants, his hands hot and possessive-

-Someone wolf-whistles loudly from somewhere beneath them, “ Awooooo , yea!” their voices echo in the silent morning, as the pair’s heads whip to the sound of the interruption. 

“Show him what you got, Halsin!” one voice shouts. 

“Yeah, rip his pants off !” shouts another. 

“Bend him over the rail and spank him!” shouts a third, an oddly familiar voice accompanied by rowdy cheers and leers.

Halsin’s face turns red.

“Fuck off, perverts!” Elkantar shouts, twisting In Halsin's arms to try and see beyond the fog and spy the culprits.

“ We're not the ones about to get bent over a balcony and fucked , darling!” shouts a teasing voice making Elkantar flush deeply. 

He can still feel Halsin's hot grip on his thighs, the thick bulge against his ass, and notes the state of his undress for the first time. He shoots Halsin a cheeky smile, reveling in his redness before turning to their invisible crowd.

“Well, that’s too bad!” he shouts.

Whirling around, he pulled Halsin to him; kissing him deeply more tongue and teeth than sense. He feels Halsin’s hands tightening around him as he melts into that hot desperate touch, before sliding his hands up to the druid’s shapely ass. Halsin bites his lip while Elkantar raises his free hand sneakily, bringing it down with a loud crack.

The pleased and startled moan from the druid echoes embarrassingly loud over the fog.

There is a moment of silence before the fog breaks into hoots, cheers, and whistles.

“Ha, you owe me some gold, Harpers!” he hears a familiar voice say before Halsin comes to his senses, lifting him swiftly and manhandling him back into the room.

The door closes behind them with a thunk, before Elkantar is thrown boldly onto the bed, landing on his back with a pleased laugh.

Elkantar raises onto his elbows, a sharp smug smile on his face, “So, my big bear likes getting spanked?” 

He purrs when Halsin crawls over him hungrily, crowding him against the messy bed, a deep growl in his chest. He kisses and bites up Elkantar’s chest before pressing him into the mattress with a searing kiss. The drow groans with pleasure and then with alarm when Halsin rises and tears his trousers off with a strong motion.

“Hey,” Elkantar admonishes sharply while Halsin pulls the remains off, leaving him bare and flushed. “I liked those pants.”

Halsin leans over him predatorily, inching closer and closer until he straddles the drow, grabbing the back of his head, fingers twisting in his hair. He drags his teeth over his throat, hungrily, like a beast over prey.

“I will sew it onto you later, stitch by stitch,” he says, kissing down the squirming drow's neck.  

Elkantar’s legs slide up, dragging over the druid's thighs and crossing over his back. He pushed them together, eliciting a long satisfied groan out of the man. He gives Halsin a hot, teasing look, his eyes heavy with desire as he bites his lip, putting on a show for the man above him.

“You are forgetting one thing, sweetling,” he says slowly, as Halsin rumbles a laugh, his large hand sliding up and down his thighs.

“And what is that, kitten?” he says warmly.

Elkantar’s thighs tighten like a vice, using his core to topple the druid onto the bed, using his momentum to get on top.

“I made you a promise, gorgeous.” He kisses up his neck, feeling Halsin flexing under him, grinding himself up in slow deliberate motions. The feeling of skin on skin, of warm breath and hot touches is deliciously erotic.

“You promised to be good, baby.” He says, grinding down against Halsin in slow, sensual motions, meeting him halfway. “Have you been good?” 

Halsin breathes heavily, his skin beading with sweat as his face scrunches to contain himself. “I can be,” he says, looking up at Elkantar, his mouth open, lips kissed red, and a helpless look of desire in his eyes.

Elkantar settles his weight onto the Druid slowly, who groans as the drow takes his hands, stretching them above his head, lacing their fingers. He can feel Halsin's heartbeat against his own, sharing their heat and their space; it's intimate and thrilling.

He wants to stay like this, skin to skin, chest to chest, legs entangled and calloused hands drifting affectionately over hair forever.

He kisses Halsin’s lips hungrily, thrilled at their closeness, their trust, and affection.

“I want to tie you down,” he blurts, looking into his lover's eyes, as the druid shifts under him, 

“I know it can be…overwhelming, but there is beauty in it.” His thumb brushes Halsin’s temple slowly. “Trust and pleasure. I want to take care of you, to pleasure you, love you; Surrender can be so sweet.” His voice petered off into a whisper.

Halsin’s irises are blown dark by desire.

“I'd like that.” His voice is rugged. “Surrendering to you.”

Elkantar smiles and kisses him once more, a short sweet thing. 

“Do you have anything you think you might like?” he asks, feeling Halsin's hum reverberating in his chest.

“I, uh, I'd like my legs to be bound. Separately,” he says, and Elkantar hums.

“I'd love it if you tied something over my chest, and uh,” he says and blushes beautifully much to Elkantar’s delight, “I want to feel you around my neck, and… in me.” His color deepens.

“I‘d love to do all of those, Sweetling,” Elkantar says, his voice husky. “Anything to avoid?”

“Blood,” the druid says quickly. “Some pain is fine, but no wounds or injuries.” 

Elkantar can feel his stomach tighten at the implications. “I will never do anything to hurt you. Say the word and I will stop, no matter what.”

Halsin surges up, kissing the drow deeply; their lips meeting urgently as their tongues tangle in a desperate vow of love and trust.

“I know, my love,” Halsin says against his lips. “I trust you.”

Elkantar nods once, overwhelmed by the tidal wave of guilt over his heritage and by the easy acceptance his lover offers so readily. He leans his forehead against Halsin’s for a moment, relishing their closeness, the freedom to touch and be touched lovingly.

“Please think about a word, my love, something you won't blurt in pleasure, a sign to let me know to stop.” He leaves the man to his thoughts and scoops up his provisions from the foot of the bed where he had left them. Halsin drags himself back to sit, still flushed and aroused as he leans forward with interest. 

Elkantar puts the ropes on the bed between them and Halsin asks, “May I touch them?”

Elkantar nods mutely,  the slow slide of his ropes between Halsin’s large hands filling him with excitement. Halsin’s confidence is making the drow sweat, so casual in his nudity, in his arousal- his cock laying heavy and flush against his stomach, the tip a delectable pink Elkantar yearns to suckle into his mouth. The muscles shift under the druid’s tan skin, as he props a muscular thigh, his cock shifts, leaving a small pearlescent smear of cum on his strong abs. It makes Elkantar’s mouth dry, and his mind swirls with delicious, naughty ideas. 

The drow clears his throat- Halsin’s eyes flicker to him, and then down, where his ideas fill him rapidly with desire.

The druid's eyes drag back up, giving him a sultry once over before smirking at him knowingly.

Oh, gods. He wanted to wipe that smirk off, preferably with his cock . He wanted that mouth round with pleasure and full of obedience. 

He can feel himself getting hotter by the second, a far cry from the cool, detached control he usually enjoyed while knotting his ropes over a lover's skin. Halsin made a difference; as they tested each other's waters, pulled and pushed against their expectations something started to shift. He thought he might like this; this passion, that desire for life, their intimate connection.

“How do you want me to make you feel?” he asks, voice deep with desire- warm and husky, a brewing storm.

“Obedient,” Halsin breathes, “loved, full.” their eyes meet as the heat between them sparks into a roaring fire. “Yours.”

“You want to be mine?” Elkantar asks, his voice getting a new edge as their play begins. He watches as Halsin leans towards him, eyes dark with desire as he hands Elkantar the rope and nods. “My good boy, my sweet, big bear?”

“Yes,” he pleads, his voice warm and pliant.

Elkantar shuffles towards him on his knees, his hands carding through soft hair, his nails gently scraping the druid's scalp. Halsin groans as his eyes flutter closed and Elkantar leans into his space and whispers in his ear, “Yes, what? ”

He can hear that turned-on hitch in Halsin’s breath as he rasps out, “Yes sir.”

Elkantar smiles in delight. He inches closer, sliding onto Halsin's lap, feeling that wonderful hardness nestled under his ass. He kisses his closed eyelids softly as he gathers the druid's hair in his hands. The motions are slow and sensual.

“Did my good boy think of a phrase?” he asks, sweet as honey, relishing the small guilty jolt in Halsin as he opens his eyes.

“I, uh…” he stammers. “No sir, I'm sorry, I was distracted. “ 

Perfect .

Elkantar hums, slow and contemplative.

“I can't blame you for enjoying the view, sweet thing. Tell me your word now,” he instructs, keeping his touch soft and sweet. 

Halsin relaxes a bit, groaning, “Nettle, my word is nettle.”

“Nettle…” Elkantar tastes it in his mouth, weighing it, committing it to memory.

“Very good,” he says and continues with a casual voice, “I can't blame you for enjoying the view…but I can blame you for disobeying me.” His hand tangles tight in Halsin’s hair. “For ripping my pants to shreds.”

He pulls Halsin’s hair, enough to make sure he feels that sharp pressure on his scalp, enough to make him grunt and bite his lip. “Those are not the actions of a good boy but of a beast in heat. I think my bear has forgotten how to be sweet, I think he needs to be reminded.” Elkantar pauses, looking at Halsin, seeing him flush at the words, and feels his cock twitch against his ass.

“Do you need to be reminded?” he asks, his voice rough.

Halsin breathes heavily, his eyes round.

“Yes, sir, I had forgotten. Thoughts of you so consumed me I had forgotten my manners, I was too eager to have you-”

“I am not looking for excuses. A reminder is in order, indeed,” he says, sliding off of Halsin, making sure the man feels himself slotting up between his cheeks in the most tantalizing way before setting his legs to the side and sitting at the edge of the bed.

“Come here,” he pats his lap. “Arms behind your back, get on your stomach.” 

The drow suppresses a smug smile as Halsin complies, a touch more eagerly than necessary. 

He settles over the drow's lap, resting his weight on him- hips over the drow's thigh; Elkantar can feel him there, hard and leaking. He shifts his shoulders back and crosses his arms behind his back. He breathes faster in excitement and Elkantar smooths a gentle hand between his shoulder blades, helping him relax and settle more comfortably onto his legs.

“Hmmm…” he hums in satisfaction, his soothing hand gliding from his back to smooth over Halsin's perfectly muscular ass. The druid shudders in anticipation,  his hands twitching when Elkantar grabs a handful, kneading it suggestively. The drow clicked his tongue. “That won't do, sweet thing. Shimmying and moving your arms when I have barely begun.” 

Elkantar grabs his rope, letting it slide across the druid's back before starting to loop it around the man's hands.

Halsin shifts his head, trying to look at the drow as he loops his bonds meticulously, sliding a finger between rope and flesh to test its tightness before looping the rope between his bound hand, tying off the end, and tucking it securely.

“Does that hurt, baby?” he asks sweetly, looking for signs of discomfort.

“No, sir. It feels good,” Halsin says, his back flexing at the new feeling of restriction.

“Oh, so sweet and polite for me now.” He bows down to kiss the druid's broad back,  his hand smoothing over the man's ass once more, relishing the little groans of anticipation coming from him. 

His free hand rises and cracks down swiftly onto the druid's ass. The gasp out of him is delicious.

“If you had control of yourself,” Elkantar says, his hand coming down a second time, “I wouldn't have to remind you.” He rubs the reddening skin before slapping his ass a third time. “You were a man and not a beast.”

Halsin’s throaty gasps are the only response he gets as he smacks his cheek twice more, before his hand comes down, smooth and sweet, touching pink-stinging skin.

“A man so sweet.” He slaps his other cheek. “Good.” Slap , “Beautiful.” Slap , “ Inspiring.” Slap . “That you are mine,” he says, slapping the druid and savoring his moans.

His hand smooths over Halsin's hair, soothing the druid as his thighs flex and shift, trying to find purchase on the bed as Elkantar’s fingers pass over sensitive skin. “How are you feeling?” he asks.

“Like I still haven't learned my lesson, sir,” he says, his skin prickling with goosebumps. 

“There’s still some cheek in you. it is a good thing I caught this in time. I know you want to be good for me, baby.”

The next smack is hard, open handed, making the druid gasp and flinch in Elkantar’s lap, his cock rubbing against a muscular thigh. He moans in surprise. 

“Now sweet thing, I want to know you are focused, let me hear your voice, count.” He runs his thumb over Halsin's pink lips which had been open in pleasure.

“One,” Halsin says, his voice light with surprise and pleasure. 

Slap .

“Two,” he says, biting his lips as he is shifted again over an unyielding thigh.

“Three-Four!” he grunts as Elkantar slaps him twice in quick succession.

Elkantar slaps him hard, his hand stills where it stops, making Halsin's skin tingle as he starts to feel his hot bottom sting.

“Five,” he grunts, stuttering when Elkantar continues with quick, hard slaps. 

He barely catches the drow's tempo, struggling to count six and seven.

On eight he yelps and flinches.

“You got it in you, baby, I know you do.”  Elkantar says, his hand ready, “You can take it, just two more.” 

Halsin- who tries to control his quick breathing while his eyes shut- nods.

“E..Eight…” he groans.

“That’s it, come one, baby,” Elkantar coos, bringing down his hand onto red skin.

“Nine!” He strains against his bonds, his weeping cock rubbing against the drow’s thigh, the pressure almost too much.

“Ten!” he groans, collapsing over the druid, tension going out of his aching muscles.

A small whine comes out of the druid’s mouth as Elkantar rubs the small of his back soothingly, his hand straying over red skin.

Halsin's chest heaves as he buries his face in the mattress, sweat trickling down his back. What a picture he makes all flushed, his bound hands accentuating his straining muscles. Elkantar wanted to lick the sweat off his skin, taste every curve, feel his moans against his lips. Soon , he tells himself. He caresses the druid's red skin softly, feeling him hiss and moan at the gentle touch. He turns his head to the side, catching Elkantar’s eyes, and he smiles, his face red.

“There he is,” Elkantar coos at him, “There is my big, sweet bear. I see him now.” He feels Halsin pushing up into his touch, moaning. 

“You were so good, baby. Do you feel good?” he asks, voice sweet as honey and Halsin nods, breathless and pliant. 

“Yes, sir. I feel better now, thank you.”

Something loving and fierce ignites in Elkantar's stomach. “A good boy like you deserves something special. Sit on the bed for me, gorgeous, I want to give you a gif,” he breathes out, voice tight with want.

The druid groans at the whisper of the ropes loosening, looking at his lover. Elkantar shifts under him, his fingers going over the ropes quickly, unbinding his hands. 

Halsin slides off the drow carefully, sitting gingerly on the soft bed. 

“Sir…” he whispers, something so needy and pleading on his tongue that Elkantar can't help leaning into him and brushing their lips.

“Soon, Halsin, don't worry, I have you.” He says against the elf’s mouth when the latter chases that soft touch.

Elkantar gets off the bed slowly, standing between the druid's legs, looping the length of rope into a neat bundle, loving the weight of Halsin's eyes on him as he does.

“Lay on your back, gorgeous,” he says, his finger skimming over the druid’s knees as he sinks. He can see Halsin's cock straining while he kisses up his inner thigh slowly, letting his hand feel that strong muscle.

“Put your leg on the edge of the bed, open up for me, properly,” he instructs and Halsin immediately complies, spreading his legs wide.

Elkantar contains the urge to dive in when he sees the druid's hole, his heavy sack, and his cock laying full and red on his stomach, precum beading at the tip like morning dew.

He wants the curve of that thing in his mouth, to take that thick rod up his ass until he can't breathe without Halsin’s name spilling from his lips. He wants it so much.

The rope goes taut in his hands as he bites his lips.

He starts from Halsin's ankle to his thigh; looping the rope around that alluring joint, bringing it around a thick quivering thigh, and tying it off. He can hear Halsin gasping softly at each brush of skin-to-skin but resists the urge to devour the man whole, putting his mind to the task. Looping circle after circle, a beautiful design trapping shin to thigh, the knots climbing up enticingly like a vine. His fingers are greedy for the druid's soft skin, for the beauty in contrasts between tan, hot flesh to cold ropes.

“Does anything hurt?” Elkantar asks as he tests the knots with his fingers, sliding one in between flesh and rope, enjoying Halsin's groan.

“No, sir,” he says, his eyes big and dark with want, pleading for more than teasing touches.

“You look so pretty like this, almost ready for me,” says Elkantar, satisfied with the light blush coloring Halsin when he's called pretty.

He smooths his hand over Halsin’s unbound thigh, kissing up his shin and then down his thigh, enjoying the sounds coming out of Halsin and the feeling of his hot gaze on him. His hands reach for the ropes

Loop and round, through and up.

Loop and round, through and up.

Climbing up and up, fingers quick and agile.

Halsin is breathing faster, his bound legs spread wide, the planes of his body on display. His arms move above his head, clutching the sheets, as he shivers with anticipation. 

“Come forward for me, gorgeous. “ Elkantar instructs before putting his hand under the druid’s neck, helping him up. 

Halsin tilts his head in anticipation and Elkantar smiles, yielding and pressing in to kiss him. He had meant it to be a small hasty thing but Halsin opens his mouth and moans so pretty he can't help but deepen it into something urgent and filthy, filled with giddy anticipation.

He pulls back gasping while Halsin leans forward, still looking for his touch.

“I'm going to tie your chest, sweet thing, make sure these luscious, ripe fruits are properly displayed,” Elkantas pants, his fingers splayed over the druid’s chest, groping him as his thumbs teased his dark nipples. 

Halsin's eyes get large at the description, and heavy with the implication. “Please, sir.. oh please touch me,.” he pants, straining futilely against his binds, flesh pressing into the ropes with a groan.

Elkantar leans in, ignoring that needy thing between his legs, and loops the rope around the druid’s chest. Halsin sighs at every errant touch of the drow’s hands against his skin and sucks a breath in when he brushes a nipple with the back of his hand.

Elkantar feels himself ache at the sight before him as he works on the design. Halsin’s chest looks bigger, bound by ropes that strain to contain him, each breath creating a lewd image of a ripe sweet fruit, waiting to be bitten. He snakes the rope around the sweating man, under muscled arms, between breasts, tying, looping round, and round- the rope a living thing.

His fingers work quickly, looping a bar down Halsin’s chest, tempting him to grab and handle the big elf. He tests it with a suggestive quirk of his eyebrow, jostling the elf slightly, a suggestion of what’s to come, and tucks the ends of the knot securely.

“My heart…” Halsin murmurs, lost in a haze of desire. “Sir, please,” he says, and their eyes meet. “ Please .”

“You are exquisite, sweet and ripe,” Elkantar whispers, looking at his handy work, the large elf bound, heaving, flushed, and wanting, cock laying heavy and red between his legs. “Like a peach.” 

His hands come down to rub over the druid’s nipples, to feel the smooth skin straining under the rope. His touch is light and teasing, eliciting desperate groans from the man. 

“Please, sir, I am yours to taste,” Halsin pleads.

Elkantar smiles.

“We are almost done, peach.” He grabs another length of rope, tying the ends into big knots, easy to hold, tying it securely to the head of the bed. “Be a good boy and hold onto these for me,” he says expectantly, watching as Halsin reaches back and over his head, taking each knot into his palm, holding on for dear life. Drops of sweat trickle down between the tempting valley of his breasts, down his stomach as the elf holds and strains.

Elkantar catches them with his tongue, licking up that trembling body while Halsin cries out. “Let go… and I stop.” He murmurs against hot skin, sinking between spread, trembling thighs to blow hot air over a red, weeping cock. 

At the first touch of Elkantar’s tongue, Halsin cries out, clutching his hands and making the wood of the headboard creak while the drow swirls his tongue over his pink tip. 

He suckles it gently into his mouth, savoring the feeling of salt spreading on his tongue. 

“What a peculiar tasting fruit,” he murmurs as he licks broad and mischievous up the druid’s shaft, enjoying the way Halsin’s body strains against his bonds. “But I find the taste is growing on me.”

He kisses Halsin’s thighs, teasing at his base before taking his sack into his mouth gently, savoring the broken moans out of his lover at his every touch. He sucks him slowly and sensually; enough to make the wooden frame of the bed groan with Halsin's restraint.

“Beloved,” Halsin pants raggedly, his thighs shaking, “I will not last long like this, please- ugh, gods above!- ” His plea is broken when Elkantar lets his mouth sink onto the shaft, engulfing the druid with tight, wet heat and a talented throat. 

He sucks hard, trying to push Halsin’s groans into broken moans, to make his heart beat faster as he picks up the pace, taking him brutally, tip to root with every motion.

He bobs his head lustfully, wringing cries of pleasure from his lover, while his hands spread his bound legs wider until Halsin throws his head back, each moan a shout.

“ Oh , gods! Elkantar - I- Ah ! You drive me to madness! Ngh !” he cries and moans. Elkantar moans around him; the wonderful weight of his lover on his tongue, lips stretched wide over a cock, the feeling of it breaching his throat with every long swallow amounting to blinding pleasure. Elkantar sucks the tip an angry red before popping off his lover's cock with a hoarse laugh, his hand wrapping tight over the slick shaft, jerking it with short fast motions.

“ Ah ! Ah! Oh , Father preserve me!” Halsin shudders and cries when Elkantar dips cruelly to lap at his pink hole, pinching a red cheek as he prods in and out experimentally.

“Are you going to cum, peach?” He goads, feeling the druid struggling to pump his hips into that tight pressure.

“Y-yes, I am so close,” he sweats and trembles, his voice turning hoarse, “ Fuck, you are so beautiful, my love, you make me feel so good.”

“Are you going to come on my face, sweet thing, paint my lips?” the drow asks hungrily, his tongue probing deeper and deeper. He can feel the druid's trembling intensify, the creak of ropes as his hands pull futilely, seeking some form of release. His cock is a deep shade of pink, twitching and drooling against his stomach, the long column of his neck heavily flush as well while he hurtles closer to the edge.

“ Yes ! Yes ! Please let me come, sir! Please -” he shouts, voice broken with maddened lust, as he strains against his bonds. “Ah ! Ah! Elkantar!”

-Elkantar pulls off. 

The shout out of Halsin is a mix of intense pleasure, pain, and frustration. His whole body flexes, lifting him off the bed, seeking that tight, hot pleasure now so cruelly denied him. Each breath is a deep, rugged growl as Halsin kisses the line of orgasm only to be yanked away.

He cries out in frustration, his eyes screwing shut as he tries to tame the beast within. Halsin tries to speak, but only broken moans and pants emerge, tears gathering in his eyes. He flinches hard when Elkantar’s hand slides soothingly up and down his neck, thrilling at the feeling of his hammering heart and sweat-slick skin. The room stinks of sex and sweat and something distinctly Halsin that Elkantar feels will be his undoing.

The drow coos in sympathy as Halsin masters himself, breathing hard and catching his gaze with his own.

“P-please! Sir,” he begs, his eyes unfocused. “ Please, I need it.”

Elkantar clicks his tongue and catches Halsin’s earlobe in his mouth, sucking it shortly before saying neutrally,  “Oh, I know sweet thing, I know.” He shushes him tenderly when a slick finger trailing up his cock, gathering pearlescent drops, makes him gasp and tense. “I am not done with you yet. Not when I finally have you here, begging and soft. Open up, peach.” He instructs, satisfied when despite his harsh pants Halsin opens his mouth obediently, his tongue sticking out.

“Oh there's a good boy,” he hums as his slick finger is sucked clean diligently. He fucks it in and out of the druid’s mouth slowly, mesmerized by the lewd image of it disappearing, wishing it was something else. He pulls his slick finger out of the druid’s mouth, trailing it absentmindedly over a dark, pert nipple as he hums. “You wanted to be full, baby?”

“ Oh, yes . Please, sir.” He pants.

“You want me to fill you with my tongue?” He whispers hungrily against a twitching ear before Halsin groans loudly: 

“I wish you to split me on your cock , sir.” 

At that Elkantar pauses, feeling himself grow impossibly harder, his smile turns sharp with want.

“Your wish is my command, peach.”

He dives back to work with enthusiasm; his palms spread wide over Halsin's bound thighs, spreading him wider, sinking his face between those red stinging cheeks. 

Halsin moans long when the drow’s tongue finds him twitching and wanting, sinking in and out with little finesse. His cries ring in the room, shameless and joyful as his body blooms into intense pleasure once more.

“ Oh , oh, my heart that's- Ahh !- that's incredible!” He cries when Elkantar kisses his entrance like a lover, long and passionate, the lewd sounds of his enjoyment making the druid's heart beat faster.

“Yea, you like this, baby?” He sucked him harder. “You like being savored like a sweet peach?”

“Only by you.” The large man trembles. “I can't wait to feel you inside me. Please open me up, sir.

Elkantar pushes two slick fingers into that pink pliant hole, feeling the druid bucking under him. The tight velvet heat of him encases his fingers as Elkantar sinks them in slowly, crooking them against those sensitive walls in and out until he hears Halsin’s wail.

He revels in his discovery, pressing his fingers back and forth over that delicate spot.

“Sir, sir! ” Halsin cries out. “ Ah! ” His head whips back before he tenses, body jerking hard, groans and grunts coming out of him as he comes. Halsin cries out as Elkantar’s hot mouth encases him quickly, swallowing him down and taking all he helplessly gives. The drow’s hands are on the druid’s waist, holding on as his lover bucks into the tight heat of his mouth, blinded by his orgasm, sobbing by the intensity of it.

When Elkantar feels the druid growing softer in his mouth and his sobs even into long labored breaths he slides off of his heated skin with a pop. His gaze turns sharp as his hand tightens over a hip, the other wiping an errant drop of cum off of his cheek and sucking it into his mouth.

“Naughty boy… Using your sweet voice and lewd little hole to distract me. Begging me to spread you open and coming without asking for permission.”

“N-No, sir!” Halsin pants hard, still coming down from that blinding flash of exhilarating pleasure. “I wasn't trying-”

“What did I say about excuses, peach?” he says sharply as he fumbles for the oil, slicking himself with sharp, perfunctory motions.

“No matter baby, you will come again,” he promises hungrily. “On my cock.” 

He watches Halsin’s mouth slacken in anticipation as his eyes darken, and he braces his hands on the ropes, panting.

“Oh my go- Ahhh! ”

Elkantar lines himself up and pushes inside Halsin's soft slick body; it’s tight and deliciously hot. Elkantar’s eyes screw shut, mouth falling open in rapture as he sinks into his lover inch by inch.

Unthinking, Elkantar grabs the thick rope in the middle of Halsin’s chest, pulling him forward and crashing the mouths together. They kiss sloppily, overwhelmed by their closeness, by the intimacy and trust of this tight breach. Halsin licks boldly into Elkantar’s open mouth, eyes heavy-lidded, and hair in total disarray. He snakes his hands behind the drow’s neck, pulling him in to sink back onto the mattress, chest to chest, skin on skin, moaning at the feeling of the man shifting inside him.

“Elkantar…” he whispers, clenching around his lover, making him shift and gasp. 

“How does it feel, baby?” the drow asks tenderly, lips brushing lips as he starts moving in small, slow, languid thrusts. Halsin doesn’t answer but captures the drow in for another kiss gasping into his mouth as his thrust becomes longer and deeper.

“You feel so good, how are you so tight?” Elkantar moans into his ear, relishing the sweaty slide of their bodies against each other, hands trailing over ropes tweaking a nipple. “Was my tongue not enough to soften you, sweet thing, or did you get all worked up anticipating me?”

As Elkantar’s hips undulate the motions, the heat and Halsin’s sweet gasps drive him out of his mind. He can feel the ropes rub against his skin as he drives himself deeper and deeper into the druid, capturing his ecstatic cries with his lips, devouring his rapture.

“Harder, Sir, please,” Halsin moans into his mouth, tears mixing with sweat as he fails to thrust back onto his lover, frustrated with his constriction.

“You luscious little thing,” Elkantar moans, driving harder into the druid, the slap of their hips echoing lewdly around them. “Ask and you shall receive, sweet bear, all of me, whatever you want.”

His hips work in a punishing rhythm, each thrust punching a fucked moan out of his lover while his eyes are locked onto the place of their joining. The image of his hard cock disappearing and reappearing from that pink tight hole, the obscene stretch of it around him as it’s pushed and pulled makes Elkantar’s breath stutter in his chest.

“ Oh! Yes , Elkantar !” the druid cries out. His cock fills quickly once more, slapping against his stomach while he braces his hands against the headboard, the ropes dangling, forgotten. His eyes search the drow’s, feeling something like lightning spark between them when they catch and hold. Elkantar is flushed, eyes glassy with lust and exertion, his hair had come loose from its bind and is now sticking to his sweaty face and body. He is an image of sin and Halsin feels helpless before the power this man has over him.

“Let me hear you, my love,” he begs, seeing his lover's eyes focusing on him. “Stop holding back and fuck me like you mean it,” he moans, riling his lover up. He feels the moment his words sink in by the stutter in the drow’s hips, the tightening of his fingers on his hips. 

The air chokes out of him with a hiss as the drow leans over, seating himself balls deep before rasping against his mouth, “You want to hear me? want to hear my cries?”

“ Yes, yes, my heart, give it to me,” Halsin begs while Elkantar grabs the ropes once again, lifting his lover with a deep grunt, shifting until Halsin is leaning towards the headboard, his bound hips spread wide, a pretty arch to his back. Halsin feels the ropes around his thighs tightly as he is forced to lean on his knees, feeling his lover filling him from behind.

“You’ll want to hold on,” says the drow darkly as he settles his hands over his lover’s; both clutching at the headboard as the monk lets loose.

Elkantar builds his tempo quickly, using their position to piston deeply into the moaning druid. Halsin’s grunts and gasps urge him to fuck into him deeply, cant his hips until the man under him is barely coherent. He kisses his sweaty neck tenderly as he grinds against that perfect ass feeling the druid’s clench around him maddeningly.

“ Fuck, baby , your ass is a work of art ,” Elkantar moans against his lover’s neck as he drives into him wildly, the bed creaking under them in progressively more alarming noises. “You drive me wild, from the moment I saw you I couldn’t get you out of my mind,” he breathes around a choking wave of desire. “Watching you, day after day, so bound to duty- Oh!” He stutters when Halsin pushes back into his thrusts. “In that tight little outfit, I could just eat. You. Up.”

Halsin sinks low, the dip in his back more pronounced as his head hangs, too lost in the friction, the rhythm of those strong hips.

“To think you’d ever give the time of day for a used Under-elf like me, I used to cum just thinking about you looking my way-” he rasps. He feels the heat within him building into something wild, all-encompassing. It had been years since he had been the one to give instead of take.

“Don’t… don’t call yourself that,” Halsin rises, looking back at Elkantar over his shoulder, his eyes shining with emotion.

Elkantar, caught in that vulnerable shine, stutters, dangling on the edge of something too large to define.

“What?” he mumbles.

“Don’t call yourself that,” Halsin repeats, impaling himself on his lover who had stuttered to a stop. “We are more than the sum of our pasts,” he says as he starts moving once more, pleased with the soft gasps out of the drow as he echoes the drow’s own words back at him “You saved me,” he gasps, “more times than I can count, every day since you freed me. You give me the strength to try.”

Elkantar moans, his eyes shut tightly as his hips stir to life, his heart beating loudly in his ears. “Your compassion, your strength, your conviction, “ Halsin says tightly, pleasure threatening to overwhelm him. “None can compare. I know no better man,” he says, punctuating his confession with a slow grind of his hips.

“H-Halsin…” the drow stutters as the room fills with the urgent sounds of fucking.

“You are so beautiful,” Halsin moans as Elkantar’s hands grab the ropes on his back, seeking better leverage.

“Kind and compassionate.” He feels a hot sting stirring to life as each thrust slaps against his abused cheeks.

“Oh , Hhh, Halsin…” Elkantar’s hand envelopes his chest, hugging the druid to him as they rock into each other urgently. Halsin turns his head so he can moan the rest of his love into the drow’s delicate ear.

“Strong and loyal-”

“Fuck, baby I’m so close,” the drow moans helplessly.

“I want to feel you so deeply in me, kitten, come for me, come in me.”

“Oh gods , Halsin, I’m coming!”

“Let go, baby,” he gasps, feeling something underneath them creak loudly. “Fill me up, come on, I want you so badly.”

The drow keens, his movements becoming wild, uncoordinated as he drives into his lover with abandon, each breath a fucked out wheeze. The pressure within him builds into a sharp edge, heating to a boiling point so sweet it is painful, blinding, and consuming.

“ Oh , oh- Halsin!” Elkantar shouts as he topples over that edge. His hips continue on their own as he pumps his lover full, the lewd squelch of their frantic fucking a crescendo in his ears. He wails, his head thrown back when Halsin clenches around him like a vice, shouting in ecstasy. He feels Halsin’s body squeezing him for all he is worth. Elkantar’s hand slides down to jerk him fast and rough as they both cry out. In that moment he can’t tell where his pleasure ends and Halsin’s begins, where their bodies start and end.

Halsin moans frantically, the drow's hand on his cock, his hot seed pumping deep into him drives him mad. His eyes screw shut, his skin blossoming into goosebumps while Elkantar thrusts into him, burying his face into his neck, his sweaty hair. It's too good, the closeness, the fulness, Elkantar's ecstatic cries and quick breath in his ears.

He cries out as he comes, clenching around his lover and collapsing against the headboard. The drow doesn't stop his hand, milking him with a tight grip as Halsin shakes and moans. He sags against the wood, feeling Elkantar draped over him, hugging him, shaking as he comes down from his high.

“...Elkantar,” Halsin breathes out his name like a prayer, moaning as his lover pulls out. Elkantar’s warm hand is spread over his chest, pulling him back gently until they are both seated, Halsin’s sweaty body cradled in his arms. He turns his head gently, and a heartbeat stretches between them as their eyes lock, a small eternity before the drow’s head leans in and they kiss.

Halsin feels boneless, well-loved, and well fucked, Elkantar seeping out of him as the man himself kisses him tenderly. With the slow tender slide of their lips and the weight shifted away from his bound knees he relaxes sighing contently into the warm space between them. Elkantar smiles into their kiss, scraping  his teeth across halsin’s lip affectionately as he pulls away slowly.

“You’ve been so good, Halsin,” Elkantar hums, kissing the Druid’s temple affectionately, feeling the thrum of his heartbeat under his hand, “How are you feeling?” he asks gently, feeling the druid’s weight as he settles into his arms.

“Good,” Halsin smiles tiredly, “Very good. Tired, vulnerable and aching.” He adds, his voice husky. At Elkantar’s concern he chuckles and kisses the side of his neck, where he rests his head, “In the best of ways, my heart. I have not had a man inside me in some time, you were… astounding.”

Elkantar can feel himself flush at the praise, “I can't say I’ve bedded many men quite like that,” he says ruefully, “But I feel I may develop a taste for it, with you. If that’s something you’d like.” He adds.

Halsin pulls him in, his tongue insistent and daring as he kisses him deeply and hungrily, a promise for the future, “I’d have you in any way you’d let me, Elkantar. I’m yours.”

Elkantar looks at him, gaze soft and sweet before he sinks into him again, kissing him longingly. There was a sweet ache to his longing, as if the drow was committing every moment to memory down to the last detail, afraid that each time would be their last. 

“Come on sweet thing, let me get you out of these bonds,” Elkantar says softly, his voice strangely hoarse, thick with emotion. He lays Halsin down gently on the rumpled bedding, trailing soft kisses down his sweaty body as his fingers work quickly at his thighs. He loops the ropes around his arm as he unbinds each leg. Halsin can feel his muscles prickling as Elkantar stretches each leg out from their held position. He bites his lips when the drow takes his leg in his hands, massaging the muscles, his thumb digs deep into his calf, making him shudder.

Elkantar works down his leg, thumbs pressing expertly into sore muscles, trailing down the strong lines of his thigh, down to his knee. Halsin can feel the blood rushing back into sore muscles, and unsurprisingly to his groin, his cock stirs with interest. a valiant effort , Halsin thinks, tired and amused.

“How does that feel?” the drow asks, voice low and warm as his talented fingers go over the druid’s ankle, his thumb digging long and deep into the sole of his foot. “It feels like you are testing my age, you insatiable thing.” Halsin rumbles, “If you continue like this we may have a big problem on our hands.” 

Elkantar hums suggestively, his thumb digging particularly well, making Halsin groan. “How thoughtful, you know I love having something big in my hands.” He says. His voice is warm and suggestive but he lets Halsin’s leg go, setting it down gently, leaving the druid to cool down.

Halsin’s eyes track the drow, watching his naked body undulate, the muscles shifting under his skin while he rises and walks to the table. His pale hair is a long cascade of silver down his back, shifting with his every step, catching the soft light. He looks otherworldly like that, a fey come to torment a simple druid, making him question his every move, test his limits and bring his every desire to light.

He feels the bed dip as Elakntar settles on it once more. He shifts to accommodate the drow who settles in his lap, leaning against his chest. The wooden frame protests when Halsin leans against the headboard, feeling the monk’s cool skin against his own. Elkantar shifts and something sweet and tart presses against Halsin’s mouth, a slice of plum. Halsin takes it into his mouth, chewing slowly, feeling a sudden fatigue coming over him.

Elkantar strokes his chest sympathetically when he sighs gratefully, his fingers feeling the place where flesh borders rope. He presents him with another slice and Halsin catches the tip of his finger in his mouth as he takes the tart piece in. Elkantar lowers his eyes to his hands where he slices off another piece with a short sharp knife. Halsin can almost hear Elkantar’s blood beginning to heat once more as the air around them thickens with arousal and contentment.

At the third piece Halsin drops all pretense and sucks the drow’s finger into his mouth alongside the fruit. Elkantar’s eyes darken, “Careful there Druid.” He smoulders as he pulls the finger away from the Druid’s warm mouth. Elkantar’s tongue darts out to lick his finger clean, then licking long and dirty across the knife, his mouth sticky with juice.

Halsin’s irises are blown wide with desire, “Or what, monk?” He challenges.

“Or you will choke on something larger than you can swallow.” He says, voice dangerously sensual.

Halsin growls deep in his chest, feeling the drow come alive on top of him before challenging, “Do you have something large for me to choke on?”

Elkantar laughs, the dark thrumming edge of it accompanying the blunt fingernails raking down the Druid’s chest.

“I can think of something.” He teases.

He throws the knife aside quickly, the blade sinking into the wooden door with a deep thunk. His hands, now free, smooth over the pink welt on Halsin’s chest as he slithers and parts his thighs to sit in his lap properly. Halsin raises his eyebrow when the drow presses something cold and smooth to his chest. Halsin looks at the small vial held in Elkantar’s hand, noting it’s twin between the drow’s teeth as he uncorks it with sharp teeth downing it with a smooth gulp. Halsin smiles mischievously, following suite, uncorking the vial and drinking it quickly, the bitter taste of herbs immediately familiar. 

He gives the drow a knowing look as he feels the potion coming to life within him. A burst of hot liquid power refreshing him, his fatigue melting before it quickly. Elkantar watches him, a feral glint in his eyes and a slow salacious smile on his face as he takes the empty vial from the Druid’s hand and pushes something else in it.

A small jar filled to the brim with golden honey, a single prefect honeycomb suspended inside it. Elkantar’s fingers dance suggestively on the Druid’s bound chest, testing the ropes with quick, mischievous, goading tugs.

Halsin put a slow thick finger in the honey, swirling it in. Warm viscous honey clings to his knuckles as he pulls it out. His lover’s eyes are glued to the shining trail of the sweet thing as it drips on the Druid’s body on its way to his mouth, leaving a sticky trail dripping down his stomach, up his chest and on his chin. A taut thread of anticipation snaps between them when Halsin’s tongue comes out to take his finger inside his mouth. He sucks on it with a groan, loving the way Elkantar seems to be hypnotized by him.

He pulls a spit-slick finger out before plunging it back into warm honey, sucking his knuckle while the honey slowly drips down his hand.

“What are you waiting for?” Halsin breathes, “Give me something to choke on.”

Chapter Text

Elkantar puts his fingers deep in golden, rich honey, his knuckles sinking in as he reaches for that perfect honeycomb. 

He pulls the delicate thing out, honey dripping slowly down his arm as he presents the comb to the druid. Halsin picks it carefully, their fingers brush, sticky and sweet. The air around them, already thrumming with anticipation, thickens. Elkantar licked the honey that had dripped down his arm, pink tongue licking long and sensual while he gave Halsin a sultry look.

Halsin’s eyes on him are heavy with suggestion and desire. The sticky, golden droplets on his chest catch the light as his chest moves with deep, aroused breaths, begging to be licked off. 

“Suck.” 

Halsin’s eyes spark to life at the entitled tone of command. He watches the drow closely, every flash of pink tongue and every long teasing lick carefully cataloged. He opens his mouth slowly, his broad tongue peeking out to taunt hot and slow over the comb.

Honey gathers sweet and thick on his tongue as he lets himself feel every pass of the fragile texture on his tongue. Yearning smolders at the pit of his stomach, slowly fueling flames of desire to life.

Elkantar is on his knees before him, his body flush with goosebumps. Halsin fervently wished that the sweet man was under his tongue instead.  He is captured, hypnotized by the rise and fall of the drow’s breath, the shift of muscles under his skin as he shifts and moves. His lean, tight body is a picture of sin as he positioned himself just so, the glint in his eye showing he knew the effect he was having on the druid. His position accentuated every long sensual line of his hard muscle structure. He held his arm carefully for Halsin to enjoy the view: the graceful lines of his neck and the enticing swell of his ass as he licked his skin alluringly. 

Halsin knew he was seeing something curated, staged, and perfected, not the kind of wild, needy embrace born of desperate desire he yearned for, urgent, impassioned devouring. He wanted that throbbing thrum of anticipation before an explosion of lust and heat culminated into a deep, long, satisfying fuck. 

It was an aching sweet torture, a sensual torment- yet he couldn’t deny the drow’s careful work was working on him. He felt himself stir, a sticky, sweet desire curling deep in the pit of his stomach like a caged beast stalking the edges of a cage, testing its limits as the drow teases and goads.

He could feel his blood rushing in his ears while their eyes trained on each other. Every sticky drop that trickles down his chin, dribbling slowly down his chest, leaves a path Elkantar follows closely, lustfully, his whole body thrumming with anticipation. 

He still feels the edge of emptiness where the drow had pressed into him, where his hands had clutched him forcefully, where he had thrust urgently, crying and spilling into his body, crying out for his lover’s touch. He wanted to feel whole again. He bites his lip when his imagination gets the better of him, and his eyes close on their own. The sound of Elkantar’s satisfied little chuckle makes him want to pounce.

“Look at me, Halsin.” Elkantar asks huskily.

The drow’s eyes flicker down momentarily to where Halsin is swelling with desire, his cock blushing a pretty pink hue that he wants desperately on his tongue. Halsin opens his eyes, his gaze brimming with lust and longing. There is a smug edge to the lovely curve of Elkantar’s lips when he sucks each long finger into his mouth, a sultry air to him that makes Halsin prickle with fiery passion and something else.

A desire to devour, to wipe away his posturing. 

To kiss away his smugness and melt his lover into something he can better understand.

“Do you like what you see?” The drow teases, sucking a long elegant finger into his mouth, breaking Halsin out of his addled musings.

“I know what you are doing, my love.” He warns warmly.

Elkantar’s tongue stops in place as he tilts his head slightly towards his lover, a mischievous smile on his lips.

“I’d hope my intentions are very obvious, peach.” the drow answers sweetly, the edge of performance grating in the druid’s ears, “You are going to make my legs shake, baby. I want this tower to shake with my cries when you shove that thing inside me”. 

Halsin rumbles deep in his chest, placing the honeycomb- now licked clean- back in the jar. He feels his skin sticking to itself as he leans forward, catching the drow’s chin in a delicate hand and watching his lover’s gaze turn sharp.

“I’m going to take my time with you, you lascivious little thing. Strip these pretenses away with my tongue. I want you moaning for me, not acting.” 

His breath catches in his throat when Elkantar takes his finger into his mouth, his talented tongue twisting around them as he sucks. The monk’s sharp teeth scrape over warm skin when Halsin pulls his hand, a shining string of saliva pulling from his swollen lips.

“Pretenses?” He asks playfully, licking his lips and sinking to sit back on his legs. Two warm hands settle on Halsin’s thick, sunkissed thighs as Elkantar leans forward, smiling sweetly, “You think this is some practiced act, druid?” a dangerous edge to his playful tone hurries Halsin to explain, “I want you as you are, my love. There is no need to perform for me.” His eyes softened, brimming with adoration. Elkantar feels himself tense, his lover’s earnest plea setting a fiery mingle of desire and anger in the pit of his stomach as playfulness evaporates into seriousness. 

“I am not hurting anyone-” He says defensively.

“No, no, my love, that is not-”

“You have me as I am,” Elkantar exclaims, confused and angry, his hands constricting on the druid's thighs, “I have been nothing but true! You’ve had my heart bare, was your cock up my ass not vulnerable enough?”

Halsin’s mouth opens and closes before he shakes himself, his hands clutching the drow’s arms urgently.

“My love, I am making a muck of my words,“ Halsin hurries, sensing his lover's irritation, “I merely wish you’d enjoy yourself fully. Take your pleasure simply, like nature intended, not like some matron has taught you.” His eyes are big and earnest, and Elkantar feels his anger slipping away, overcome by the elf’s earnestness, “Trust me, relax, enjoy; I’d hate to make you feel as if you can’t…as if you had to perform for me…” He falters, searching for words before Elkantar cuts him off.

“Halsin, this is me enjoying myself.” he says firmly, “I like showing off; I love the feeling of your eyes on me. You make me feel beautiful. Wanted.” His lashes flutter as he looks away from his lover’s face for a moment, his cheeks coloring, “I used to fantasize about this, us… I want you to want me, I want to make your mouth dry, to make you squirm in your seat when you think of all the things you’d like to do to me,” he laughs, embarrassed by his honesty, “Relax? Your fingers on me are torture, you make me indecent,” he smiles and looks at Halsin, whose face is unreadable, “I burn for you.”

There is a moment of silence before Elkantar’s hand squeezes on Halsin’s thigh, “Come and get me.”

Halsin’s hands are on his face in a flash, their mouths colliding as they struggle for dominance against each other, tongues twisting and hands tangling in hair. 

The urgent groans and muffled moans between them stoke the hot flame of desire hotter, molten, and sweet. Elkantar feels himself getting lost In Halsin’s urgent, ardent bid to devour him whole. 

Halsin licks into his mouth, biting his lip as he pants, “Forgive this foolish old druid, my love.” He says, planting another hard, demanding kiss on Elkantar’s pleased face, “I seem to be entrenched in old habits and foolish prejudice.”

Elkantar kisses him back gratefully, savoring his words and the sweetness of his lips. 

He kisses Halsin sloppily, tongue warm and sloppy, feeling the elf shudder under him, breathing deeply as he surrenders to the drow's rhythm. 

When he moans softly into the kiss, Elkantar pushes away lightly, looking intently at the slow flush on his face and the tired way his eyes flutter when they open. He softly kisses his tattooed cheek, then lightly bites the druid’s chin while huffing a slow, rumbling laugh.

“My toothsome love. You make a chew toy out of me.” The druid groans as the drow trails teasing bites down his neck, his tongue following each mark. 

He smiles wide and sharp when he bites a nipple lightly between his teeth, using an errant drop of honey as an excuse to lick. 

"Ohhh , Kitten, people will think I had a run-in with a panther with these bite marks all over me.” Halsin teases.

Elkantar hums while he plays lightly with the sensitive bud, his tongue flicking over it, making Halsin groan and flex under him, his arm stretching long and alluring behind his head.

“Do you bruise easily like a succulent little peach ?” the drow pouts mockingly, then smiles and kisses down his lover’s chest.

“Only when I have a devious little drow scratching, biting, and grinding on me,” He says, his hand lands warm and suggestively high on the drow’s hip sliding up and over as he grabs a handful of ass.

“Oh no, he sounds like a menace,” Elkantar says as he grinds lightly on Halsin’s thigh, rubbing back and forth salaciously, “Whatever shall you do? Maybe you should teach him a lesson?” 

Halsin hums, contemplating while his hand squeezes harder, feeling supple flesh between his fingers. A naughty finger rubs over his tight hole, making the drow gasp and push back into his touch, his eyes growing heavy and wanting.

“You can make it up to me, kitten. Kiss it all better,” Halsin suggests while his large hand slides down his stomach to squeeze his aching cock. The drow bites his lip playfully, eyes following every aching squeeze and shift of quivering muscle as Halsin tries to relieve some pressure.

“Come here gorgeous, fill that mouth with something other than sass,” Halsin commands in a thick voice, his cock twitching in his grasp.

“ Oh baby , that sounds so good,” Elkantar groans, his eyes hooded and his manner predatory when he rises to the druid’s ear, breathing hot and dirty over it, “But since when are you in command here?” 

Without waiting for a response, Elkantar pushes the druid down, pressing him into the mattress while his strong hands squeeze his hips, pulling them open. He slots himself between his lover’s quivering thighs, batting away his squeezing hand and leaning in, letting his weight drag their bodies together. He grinds them together for a long sinful moment, the sticky slide of their cocks against each other making him gasp. He holds the druid down while he groans and shivers at the first contact of a scalding hot tongue running over a tender bite on his chest. He licks boldly at the sweet, golden trails of honey that trickled seductively down his chest. He kisses and licks, mouthing over his lover’s delectable nipples, soothing over blooming bruises and delicate teeth marks. He can feel the druid’s muscles shifting under him when he raises his thighs and tightens his hold around the drow, drawing him in. 

“Elkantar…” Halsins gasps his name like a prayer.

The drow lengthens the lines of his body, widening his hips to accentuate the dip in his back as he bows himself low, his tongue flickering over, and briefly in, a sensitive belly button. At Halsin’s throaty moan, he lets himself bite down on warm skin, kissing and nipping up the broad expanse of his body, letting his tongue roam freely as his hips work in suggestive little thrusts, enough to keep his lover hard but not satiated.

Halsin arches against the drow, desperate for more friction- the smooth, sweaty glide of their bodies enough to make his throaty whimpers a tantalizing constant as they rut. He bucks hard into his lover, his desperation goading him to recklessness, moaning and pleading helplessly when he feels a curious finger circling his rim. He freezes and moans when the tip of Elkantar’s finger dives into him curiously while the drow himself kisses the desperate sounds out of his mouth.

“Oh, look at you,” He hums deep in his chest as his finger sinks deeper, feeling the mess he had left in his lover, the squelching sound of it making the druid blush harder, “Still so soft and full… are you ready for some more?”

He feels Halsin clenching around him, trying to gather his thoughts frantically as the drow tilts his head roughly to the side, feeling that thrumming heartbeat under his tongue. He bites down, relishing the druid’s moan as he sucks the skin under his teeth.
He slid his finger in and out slowly, dragging through the mess of their previous coupling. Halsin is hot and pliant around him, his walls fluttering and clenching at the filthy sound of every soft thrust. 

When he whimpers, Elkantar stops.

There was pleasure in Halsin’s hoarse voice but also pain; he was too tender and sensitive. Elkantar pulls his finger out slowly, feeling Halsin’s thigh shake gratefully. He brushes his thumb soothingly over his abused hole as he leans in to kiss his lover tenderly.

“I have a better idea, love,” he says, making sure to slide against him as he pushes himself off, “Sit on the floor and lean on the bed.”

Halsin hurries to comply, and Elkantar can’t help but take the opportunity to squeeze his ass lightly when he passes, making him laugh. He sits on the floor, flinching lightly as the cold tiles touch his still-sensitive skin. He leans his head against the mattress, folding both arms behind his head, enjoying the hungry look in the drow’s eyes.

“Lean your head back for me, Peach; let me see you.”

“What are you going to do?”

Elkantar’s small smile is sharp and full of implications.

He takes himself in hand and saunters closer. His touch is light and teasing as he jerks himself slowly, close enough for Halsin to touch, for his breath to dance on sensitive skin.

“You were begging so sweetly for something to choke on,” he says affectionately, his thumbs teasing his pink tip slowly, “I think I have just the thing.”

Halsin’s eyes darken with lust. He leans his head back and closes his eyes, taking a deep breath, drinking in the heady smell of his lover's arousal. Slowly, he opens his mouth, sticking his tongue out lightly, still sweet and glistening with traces of honey.

On first contact of heated skin on skin, he moans, hearing the hitched breath above him as Elkantar traces his lips with the tip of his cock, teasing and possessive. He can feel the drow’s arousal smearing on his face; heat courses through his body while his tongue gives chase.

He can imagine the shameless picture he makes, tongue lolling, chest heaving, face glistening with fluids- his whole manner begging to be conquered: He thrills at it.

Elkantar groans long and dirty when Halsin’s tongue makes first contact, “ Ohh , there's a good boy…” he taps his tip lightly on the druid’s tongue, the repeated sound filthy and arousing. He bites his lip, looking at Halsin's face, at the bliss and arousal smeared there, the flutter of his eyes as he chases his cock with his mouth.

“Fuck, baby,” Elkantar hisses when Halsin takes him in again, bobbing his head. The druid sucks him loudly, slurping while Elkantar thrusts his hips, biting his lips, “Suck it, oh yea baby  like that, just the tip.”

When Halsin closes his mouth lightly and sucks, Elkantar swears. He keeps his hands behind his head firmly. His heart beats a frenzy, loving the effort, the sloppy feeling of chasing that weeping tip with his tongue, angling his head to take the pink tip into his mouth.

Elkantar thrusts gently, with short and precise motions, making sweet, hot pleasure tingle up his spine. He pulls and pushes, sliding the tip of his cock in and out, Halsin’s lips stretching obscenely as if sucking a pink, wet candy. The druid sucks hard, hollowing his cheeks, running his tongue around the tip, making the drow whimper and sigh.

Elkantar moans at a particularly lecherous sound, his hips twitching hard, making his wet cock slip.  Elkantar bites his lip hard, trying to control the embarrassing whimper threatening to bubble over and out of his throat when the druid pushes his face against him, his breath hot against his sensitive skin, cooling on his cock.

Halsin opens his eyes, giving his lover a sultry look as he nuzzles the hard cock with his nose, open mouth begging to be filled again. When he feels saliva dripping from his lip onto his chest, he grins wetly, knowing the pretty picture of a mess he has made.

“Give it to me, gorgeous,” Halsin begs hoarsely, letting the drow’s hard cock rest against his shiny bottom lip. 

“Can you take me harder, love?” Elkantar pants, pulling Halsin’s messy hair away from his wet, sweaty face. His nails scrape his lover’s scalp gently as Halsin’s arms circle his waist, hugging him closer. He trails his teeth lightly on the drow’s thigh, tasting his sweaty skin, enjoying the happy, lustful sigh.

“I’ll let you find out.” Halsin rumbles against heather skin, “You promised me something to choke on, my love, no time like the present.” He laughs huskily, letting his tongue trace teasing little circles on the drow’s hip.

His mouth opens to tease again when Elkantar pushes into his sweet, wet mouth with one smooth motion. Halsin chokes when that hard length reaches the back of his throat. He focuses on breathing as his soft moans are muffled by Elkantar’s wet thrusts and aroused groans.

“ Oh, fuck, Halsin ! ” the monk cries out. 

A needy gasp or a wanton moan accompanied each wet, sloppy thrust. Halsin's eyes roll up in his head as he surrenders to the pleasure of being used. He can feel himself aching, his cock leaking on his stomach, hard and eager, as his lover takes his pleasure roughly, each thrust squeezing a choked little sound at the back of his throat.

He feels dirty in the best of ways, salacious and wanton- wanted and aroused. It mixes in with the strange comfort of obedience as Elkantar’s hands grab his hair rougher than he ever had, making him moan hard around a mouth full of cock.

Halsin felt wetness on his cheeks as his eyes watered.

He swallowed, saliva dripping from his chin while he grasped the drow’s muscular ass, urging him to rise and climb on the bed. 

The drow complies quickly, the sounds of his pleasure and arousal a constant as he leans over, his muscular thighs surrounding Halsin’s bobbing head, his cock still buried deep in the druid’s throat. He pulls Elkantar’s knees on each side of his head, slapping his ass and urging him to ride his mouth. 

Elkantar is off kilter at first, his movements slow while he tests the balance of his knees on the soft mattress, gasping at the occasional strong encouraging suck from Halsin.
It feels overpowering to mount his lover in this way, but Halsin’s hands on his thighs are warm and encouraging, and so are his deep, pleasured grunts. Slowly the drow begins to push in again, the motions of his thrusts becoming daring as he leans into Halsin’s supporting hands and fucks Halsin’s waiting mouth as if he was riding a mount.

Elkantar can feel himself unravel under Halsin’s enthusiastic touch. The new position takes him deeper into his lover’s throat; the firm grip and flex of his hands on the drow’s thighs make him breathe hard, and his knees shake.

The litany of filth, pleas, and praise out of The drow’s mouth as Halsin uses his large hands to push his further into his mouth would make a seasoned courtesan blush. 

He is loud and enthusiastic—pleasure courses between them thickly as Halsin loses himself in the give and take. The aching pressure on his scalp where the drow had gripped him in his pleasure echoes the deep ache slowly building in his jaw with each delicious thrust. 

The musky smell of the drow’s arousal is maddening; the taste and feel of him over Halsin’s tongue make him shudder with desire. His tight stomach brushes the top of the druid’s head with each thrust, pushing him harder into the mattress. Halsin takes a deep breath through his nose, his eyes fluttering, and slides a finger into his mouth alongside the urgently thrusting cock, making the drow above him gasp.

“What are you doing-”

Elkantar moans ecstatically when a wet finger teases his rim shortly before sinking deep as he fucks the druid's mouth. 

“ Ohhhhh , Halsin! fuck !”

The smooth undulating movements of Elkantar’s hips send him deeper into the tight, wet warmth of Halsin’s mouth, and every withdrawal impaling him on a thick finger. Halsin pushes his finger in quickly and roughly; the feeling of the drow stretching to accommodate him makes him dizzy.

“ Oh , you are going to make me cum- Ah , your mouth is so hot, Fuck me, baby.”

Pride and arousal war in Halsin's gut as Elkantar’s sound becomes frantic, needy, and wanton. His thrust became uncoordinated and desperate, leaning into Halsin’s mouth and his strong hands as his toes curled and he bit his lips desperately. He presses another finger into his lover, feeling the push and pull as his pink rim stretches and his slick muscles flutter around the intrusion. He can feel the vibrations of Elkantars needy moans as he begins to fuck his fingers in and out in earnest.

The drow begs and cries; his pleas are barely legible as each sound melts into the next and becomes loud and wild.

“Fuck! F- Fuck ! You make me feel so good!” He cries, making Halsin moan around his throbbing cock. He spreads the drow further, the force of his palm hitting the drow's ass causing an audible sound and the supple meat of his ass to wiggle obscenely with each thrust. He has never felt more turned on in his life, his skin feels hot enough to catch fire, and each fucked little whimper above him just goads him to suck tighter and to push harder.

Surely, every living soul in miles is hearing his lover's moans and pleas as he slowly unravels around mounting pleasure.

Elkantar cries out his name like a curse and prayer, like nothing else in the world matters but the litany of filth and praise spilling forth from his mouth. The lewd squelch of his cock breaching throat and his ass being stretched open on a third finger echoes loudly over and over. 

Halsin can feel their tension coiling like a viper as their passion reaches a burning point.

He can't wait anymore.

He pulls his fingers out of his lover, using his solid arms to lift the drow up and over him, his hard cock coming out of his mouth wet and shining as the man himself yelps in a mixture of pleasure and confusion.

Halsin throws him on the bed forcefully and climbs on after. He grabs the addled drow’s hips, turning his face away, nudging his hips wide open with his thighs while a strong, warm hand on the small of his back makes him arch. The vision before him will burn in his mind forever. The drow on his stomach, his head buried in a pillow, hair a silver messy halo as he struggles to comprehend the change around him. His ass is lifted high, looking like supple dough between Halsin’s squeezing hands as he spreads his cheeks apart to look at his open quivering hole.

He can hear the drow moan something as he tries to get his knees under himself. He smooths a warm possessive hand over the drow’s ass before smacking it resoundingly. “That’s how you like it, don’t you?” Halsin pants above the squirming drow as he lets his thumb sink to the knuckle inside him, “To run your mouth, goad me until I have to wrest control from you? Is this where you are most comfortable, beneath me?”

Elkantar moans into the pillow, but Halsin thinks he can hear words there, an answer perhaps?

He gathers the beautiful silver spill of his hair before twisting it around his fist and pulling the drow’s face out of the pillow.

He has to choke down a moan when he sees his lover’s face.

His eyelashes are wet with tears, but his face has bloomed into mauve with pleasure, his lips bitten a ripe kissable plum while his mouth hangs open in a long, drawn-out moan. A thin sheen of sweat covers his brow while his eyes are unfocused, lost on the edge of pleasure, almost at the end of his rope.

“..F-f..Hals…Go-ods, Halsin-”

“What is it, gorgeous?” he asks, his thumb fucking in and out of his hole mercilessly. 

“I…I need more.”

“I only have one cock, my love,” He teases huskily, feeling the drow clench around his thumb, “We haven’t been subtle,” He laughs, his palm encasing his ass cheek while his thumb works in and out, slowing down his tempo, rolling it in deep sinful circles “And you have been so very loud…perhaps I can fetch someone to occupy your clever mouth while I take you from behind.”

The moan ripped from Elkantar’s throat is loud and desperate, and he clenches around the thumb desperately. Halsin can only look at him with awe as he begins to push back, his hips working desperately to rut against the druid’s hand.

A slow, knowing smile stretches on Halsin’s face, his voice coming out hoarse, deep, and sweet.

“You’d like that, won’t you?” Halsin delicately tests the water between them, “If I called a crowd in here, show you off while I take you.” He laughs when Elkantar’s moans pitch high and desperate as he works himself frantically on his waiting hand, “Or, to have you blushing and panting on your knees, begging for more cock?”

“Y-yes..” Elkantar breathes weakly when Halsin's large hand halts his needy motions. The druid sucked two fingers wetly into his mouth before taking over, thrusting his fingers into his waiting hole.

“What was that, my love? I can’t quite hear you…”

“Yes!” he cries.

“You will have to be a little. More. Specific.” says Halsin, every word punctuated by a rough moan as he thrusts his fingers in and out of his trembling lover.

“I want it!” he cries, his voice rough and his cheeks wet with tears as he pants and moans, “I want them to watch you take me. I want them all to know how good you gave it to me, how good I could take it. I want them to know how I make you look when you come inside me, baby; I want you so deep inside me, please!”

“You want someone to fill that clever little mouth, right? Have someone else in charge for a change?”

“Yes,” the drow cries, “Please!”

“Won’t that be a pretty sight… your pretty lips stretched around some cock-” At Elkantar’s hitched breath and strong shudder, Halsin pauses, realization painting his cheeks a flush pink and sending his heart beating faster with desire. 

“But not just any cock, I see,” he teases warmly, the squelching sounds of his working fingers melding together with Elkantar’s needy, throaty moans.

His hand tightens in silver hair as he pulls the drow’s head back, licking the shell of his ears as the drow hurtles towards orgasm with desperate cries, “How long have you wanted Astarion and Gale to fuck you?” he asks roughly.

When Elkantar cries out, the druid laughs, letting his hand coil tighter into silver hair while he kisses the drow’s cheek, his temple, down the long, tempting column of his throat. The velvet heat of the drow’s body quivers and tightens around his fingers, his delicate breath fluttering, making a hot, sweet torrent of affection run through the druid.

“What a sweet picture it makes,” Halsin breathes into Elkantar's ear as his lover shudders, “Have you imagined it often?”

“No,” the drow pants while Halsin’s brow quirks and his hand slows, making the drow whine as he dangles close to the edge, “I often thought of you.”

“Oh, my love-”

“- I thought of you watching us. Watching both of them take me.” Halsin felt his breath catch in his throat as a tidal wave of desire washed over him, “And when I’m full, loose, and hungry for your touch, you will take me. Feel where they had been and stake your claim.”

Halsin’s hand comes down on his lover’s ass with a crack, making the drow yelp in pleasure before his fingers dive back to do their work.

“I imagined Gale’s cries, Astarion’s sharp fangs on my skin, and you…always you…filling me up with that gorgeous, big cock of yours.”

“There is that clever mouth, spinning webs,” Halsin praises him as his finger presses that delicate point inside him that makes him jolt with pleasure.

Elkantar’s cries pitch higher, and he shakes hard on the druid’s hands as Halsin focuses on that one explosive point. His eyes shut tightly, and his back arches as he cries out Halsin’s name as he paints his chest and the bed with cum.

“Did that turn you on, my love? Thinking about me fucking their dripping seed back inside you?” Halsin pulls his hand away from the drow’s fluttering hole as he collapses under him onto the mattress, breathing hard. 

Halsin spits in his hand, wetting his cock quickly, a sharp, feral grin on his face when the quivering drow raises his ass, presenting himself. The bright spill of his hair pools around him, sticking to his sweaty skin as he looks back, his face obscured in the pillow; a shiny, pale eye looks back at the druid desperately, his thighs shaking.

“Did you want something, my love?” Halsin asks coyly, enjoying the edge of frustrated desperation in the drow’s short pants.

“Please…”

“I had to speak much sweeter to get a taste of your cock, gorgeous,“ Halsin chuckles, tracing the drow’s abused hole with his pink tip, enjoying his squirms, “Don’t you want this?” He echoes his taunting words from the night before, “Beg.”

The sound out of Elkantar is between a cry and a laugh. He squirms under Halsin’s wet tip, teasing at his opening, trying to get more friction futilely. His toes curl when Halsin pushes his tip into that waiting hole, enjoying the slow, sinful sink before he stops, stretching his lover but not venturing deeper.

“Oh fuck , gods have mercy- Halsin! Please!”

“There he is. There is a good boy.”Halsin smiles, pulling out to a frustrated, needy sound from his lover. 

“Gods damn you, Halsin- please, fuck me, fuck me, I need you,” Elkantar begs brokenly as Halsin hauls his hips up and, with one swift thrust, sinks into his welcoming warmth”-Ahhhh! Oh yes! Halsin! Give it to me!”

The druid braces his knees on each side of the drow’s quivering body and puts a strong arm under his pelvis as he begins driving himself into his lover with abandon, taking him roughly from behind like an animal in heat.

The sounds out of his lover are both alarming and arousing as Elkantar quickly gathers a pillow and shoves his face into it, unable to control his pleasure-filled grunts as Halsin fucks him into over-sensitivity.

“Is that how you like it?” Halsin growls, not expecting a coherent answer from his lust-addled lover, “Did you touch this lewd little hole thinking about us stuffing you?”

Elkantar’s muffled cries are drowned by the harsh sound of their bodies meeting in wet, squelching slaps and the groaning of splitting wood as Ketherick Thorm’s huge ugly bed gives up under them.

The wood crunching underneath them doesn’t deter Halsin, who pulls Elkantar’s hips back onto his cock with every sharp thrust. The drow’s joyful, lustful cries, mixed with the harsh slap of their bodies, echo through the room. Halsin’s moas deepen into growls as his hips work in a deep, punishing rhythm. 

The bed sinks under them slowly, the mattress sagging to the floor as their rhythmic, hard motions loosen the wooden joint from their foundation. The headboard comes loose with an agonized groan, drowned by their harsh, enthusiastic coupling. 

Elkantar clutches the pillow like a lifeline, his eyes unfocused as his whole being is swallowed by overwhelming pleasure. Halsin feels incredibly big inside him, the push and pull of his urgent rut reaching deeper and deeper inside his tired body. It’s overwhelming and glorious; with every thrust, he moans, unable to control the whorish sounds coming from his mouth.

He can hear Halsin’s breathing become labored as he slows his rhythm to thrust in slow, deep, and sinful into the drow, squeezing the air out of him. Elkantar twists around to look at his lover, his hair wild,  skin shining with sweat, and cheeks flushed pink.

“You are so beautiful,” Elkantar breathes. Even though his voice is a labored whisper, he can feel Halsin stuttering inside him at the praise, “My sweet peach- Ohh..” his admiration ends with a slow moan when Halsin grinds into him slowly; his hips move in slow sinful circles against the drow’s ass.

“You sweet thing,” Halsin pants, his hands, which had previously clutched the drow’s hips forcefully, now smoothed over his thighs and back, caressing them softly as he let himself breathe. Elkantar’s body clenches and relaxes around him with each breath, a dizzying pleasure around Halsin’s thick cock.

“I feel so full, baby. Like I was made for your big cock.” Elkantar confesses shyly when Halsin's hands smooth over his stomach slowly, “Can you..can we..”

“What is it, my love?”

“I want to see you,”  he pleas softly, “I want to kiss you when you come, please.”

Halsin could not refuse him a thing.

He pulls out carefully, caressing his lover’s body softly as he turns him, laying him on his back gently. Elkantar’s hair is a mess; they both are. Messy with spit, cum, and other fluids. Their chests move heavily as they try to catch their breaths, lost in the heavy fog of lust and love.

Elkantar’s arms raise tiredly to twist behind Halsin’s neck slowly. He pulls him in for a slow, tired kiss while he raises his thighs high, opening himself for the druid to settle in. He can feel his tip kissing his hole as Halsin pushes in slowly, making Elkantar moan as the druid swallows his cries.

They clutch each other desperately, pulling each other closer and closer, as their bodies sink into each other- desperate tongues coaxing desperate moans and kisses as they rock together. 

Elkantar’s nimble legs twine behind the druid’s back, pushing him deeper and locking him into a passionate embrace. He looks deeply into his lover’s eyes, affection, care, and desire shining through.

Elkantar’s heart beats fast as they rock into each other. The heat of their closeness, the vulnerability of offering himself so willingly, baring his desire before his lover so openly, makes tears leak slowly from his eyes as he gasps Halsin’s name.

“I don’t know how much time we have before you leave for Baldur’s gate,” Halsin whispers into the charged air between them; their noses brush as Halsin seeks to move even closer, “I want to stay with you, please. Let me fight by your side, my heart; let me be the hand that shields you, the guard at your back to protect you-”

“I think I’m in love with you,” Elkantar confesses quietly, feeling the druid shudder hard against him. His eyes close on their own as he cums inside the drow with a choked groan. Halsin mouth is open in ecstasy, fucking deeply into his gasping lover, feeling spurt after hot spurt of cum erupting from him, filling the shuddering, clenching drow.

The druid’s hips continue driving into Elkantar, who clutches his lover desperately, hands scrambling on his strong, broad back as Halsin thrusts over and over, cumming and shuddering deep into his body.

Elkantar presses him closer, pulling the druid’s soft, open mouth against him as he kisses him. He feels Halsin trying to push even closer, his lips urgent and his tongue hot and needy as he kisses Elkantar back with everything he has. Elkantar is giddy, his head spinning with his impulsive confession, the frightening prospect that it might be true.

Love.

What would a drow like him know of love?

But as Halsin clutches him desperately, sinking into his kiss gratefully and softly as he shudders and still inside him at last, he can feel warm tears dripping slowly onto his cheeks, and the fear recedes, if only a little.

“I think I’m in love with you too,” Halsin rasps against his lips, feeling the warmth of his seed spreading between them, the slickness of their entwined bodies as the drow’s body clenches around the druid’s softening cock instinctively as he comes down from his high.

“Come with us to Baldur’s gate, Halsin.” The drow murmurs against the druid’s lips, “I know the city will be unfamiliar, but with you by my side, I think I could do it. Face the absolute.”

“I’d follow you to the deepest reaches of the hells, my love,” he whispers against his lover’s lips while he brushes their noses softly, his hand twining gently into the silver spill of the drow’s hair.

Elkantar kisses him sweetly, breathing his love in with every soft inhale. They move against each other gently, bodies warm and tired. Elkantar gasps into their kiss when Halsin slips out of him, sated.

“It’ll be dangerous,” Elkantar murmurs into the calm, sated silence between them.

Halsin chuckles, his large hand caressing the drow’s head, “It hasn’t been a stroll through the woods until now, Elkantar. I can handle myself.”

Elkantar burrows into Halsin’s warm touch, his eyes drifting shut as guilt churns in his stomach acidly.

“Of course,” he says, his voice soft, “I know you do; it’s just-”

“We are all in danger; the whole Sword Coast is at stake.”

“I know,” Elkantar balked, feeling the weight of responsibility rest on his shoulders once more-

“I can’t bear the thought of leaving you to do this on your own.” Halsin says, tilting his head gently so he looks into his eyes and rests his warm hand on Elkantar’s cheek gently, “I could never. Not after everything we’ve been through.” 

For a moment, Elkantar is cold, trembling at the thought of what is waiting for them at the bowls of Balsur’s gate. Halsin hugs him close, his embrace warm and comforting.

“I am scared,” he says in a small voice, feeling Halsin’s heart beating against his own, his warm breath on his neck as he holds him.

“I’m also scared, my love. I’d be surprised if anyone in this tower isn’t,” he says, kissing Elkantar’s cheek gently. He moves slowly across his lover’s face, pressing petal-soft kisses to his frown.

“The thought of you in danger-” he starts, the hoarseness of his voice catching him by surprise, his emotion bleeding out in a heavy, bloody gush between them. “I can’t bear it.”

“No man escapes death, my love.”

“Halsin!” Elkantar starts.

“It would be a sad life, don’t you think?” he says mournfully, and Elkantar remembers, suddenly- clearly in whose bed they lay, “To be eternal? Thorm bled out his grief and his venom until he poisoned everything around him. His order, his children, the land. Everything.”

Elkantar is silent, his fingers trailing absently on warm flesh, feeling the thrum of his lover’s rushing blood, the flutter of his heart under his skin. 

“To die is to come back to nature, my love. Without death, what is the point of life? Why are we fighting?”

“I want to live.” Elkantar says fiercely, raising his head towards his lover, his hands on Halsin’s face, “This can’t be it- can’t be all; Years in the dark, then ceremorphosis and death!”

“Then we continue to fight. We defeat the absolute, rid you of this leech, and live.”

Elkantar kisses him hard, their noses bumping as they fall into each other’s embrace, feeling the life that courses through them.

“Then we live, Halsin, as fiercely as we can. We fight, and we destroy that cursed thing.” He breaths laboriously, kissing Halsin passionately between impassioned words, “I will survive this.”

“You will, my love,“ Halsin laughs softly, his eyes shining with unshed tears, “I have never known anyone so stubborn and courageous. The absolute should tremble before you.”

“It will.” The drow swears then laughs when Halsin rolls over him, pressing his weight onto his lover, his strong arms bracketing his long, sharp face, the silvery spill of his hair, and those light, determined eyes.

“We will make it out of this,” He says, cherishing the feeling of Elkantar’s hands stroking his back, “If we ever make our way out of this bed,” he grins.

The clear bell of Elkantar’s laugh makes his heart beat faster before the drow flips them on the ruins of the bed, landing on top of the grinning druid, “I wouldn’t count on that anytime soon.” He leaned close, did what he wished to do many times in the past and wished to do again in the future, and kissed Halsin.

Chapter Text

"Are you fucking mental! ?” Karlach exclaims as she sprints, her engine throwing tall flames that lick hot and wild.

Karlach is followed closely by Astarion, who is followed by Halsin, huffing and puffing with Elkantar held in his arms precariously.

“You are all mad,” Astarion shouts, fangs bared in fear, breath quick and short as he follows at a run, “If we make it, I am going to fucking kill you, you foolish drow!”

Elkantar winces and closes his eyes as a sharp- hot bolt of pain passes through him. 

He holds his hand, wrapped tightly in bloodied, soiled cloth. Soft whimpers of pain escape his clenched teeth as he jostles in Halsin’s arms. He can feel Karlach’s heat radiating against his face as she burns hotter with anger and worry. 

“There will be time for that later, Karlach, now please- Ah !” The druid shouts, running full tilt away from the factory before an overwhelming wave of heat and pressure picks them all off of their feet. 

For a moment, they are weightless. 

Elkantar is suspended in the air, heat and sounds overwhelming his senses as the steel foundry explodes sky-high. In the next moment, he loses his breath and hits the ground with a gasp. His arm screamed in pain as he landed heavily on his shoulder, hearing something delicate snap; he would have shouted had he any breath in his lungs.

Elkantar can see Astarion flung forward through teary eyes before he feels Halsin falling behind him. The druid envelopes him, sheltering him from wave after wave of heat and destruction. 

Molten, hot metal, and sharp glass rain around them as they try to take cover. The ground shakes with secondary blasts and wave after wave of debris. 

Halsin is warm and protective, his concern palpable in the tightness of his fingers clutching Elkantar’s clothes. 

Elkantar can barely breathe, everything around him breaking into sharp pain and loud noises as his broken bones jostle; the only coherent points are his lover’s firm hand on his head and hip, pulling him closer, balling him tighter against harm. 

As the world shakes around them, Elkantar loses time. He drifts in and out of blackness as his body is pelted with pebbles, and acrid smoke clouds everything around him.

“Elkantar, please wake, my love-” He hears Halsin’s voice calling from beyond the haze. He drifts between consciousness and blissful, painless darkness before reality catches him, hard, biting, and sharp.

He cries out in pain, his frantic eyes centering on Halsin, who stands above him. Elkantar barely notices that they are far from the melting factory as the abject relief on Halsin’s face holds his attention, as do the tear tracks that had etched their way down his filthy, soot-smeared face.

“Blessed Oak father, thank you,” Halsin breathes heavily, his voice weary and rough with smoke, his hands hovering, worried above his lover, as if too scared to touch.

“Wh-” Elkantar tries to ask before his lungs heave and squeeze, and he coughs hard. His body screams in pain. 

“Shhh, shhh, Elkantar, don’t speak- Karlach! The potion!” He speaks softly before calling out to the tiefling woman. 

Elkantar looks at the druid’s face, the worry and hurt there; blood had trickled from shallow gashes on his face and arms and had been smeared by a hurried hand. They all looked a mess; Karlach was burning hot, her eyes wild, and her face blackened with soot. She approaches quickly, handing Halsina a vial carefully.

The druid uncorks it, his hand threading gently under Elkantar’s pain-riddled body as he lifts his head gently. The drow can feel tears flowing sluggishly down his face as Halsin carefully puts the vial to his lips, urging him to drink.

Relief floods into him the moment the hot liquid hits his throat.

“That’s right, love, drink it all up; there’s a good man.” He hears Halsin murmur gently as relief floods his face. Elkantar can feel the warmth trickling down his body, rushing into staunch bleeding and close wounds around his tired body; he moves his head gently, feeling Halsin’s thumb rubbing his cheek gently, his eyes soft and his shoulders round with relief.

“Don’t move, my heart; this potion is no good for broken bones-”

Elkantar looks around slowly at their shadowy refuge. A rundown shack, filled with broken barrels, old nets, and junk, shuddering and quaking in the wind, a familiar smell of salt and fish clue the drow that they were at the docks.

“He stopped bleeding, finally,” Astarion says shortly, sniffing. The spawn comes into view behind Halsin, his hand touching the druid’s shoulder briefly as an unidentified look passes between them, “He had lost much, Halsin. You need to take him straight to camp.”

Halsin nods lightly, deep in thought, though his eyes dart to Karlach, who paces anxiously back and forth in the cramped space.

“Knowing that bastard Gortash, retribution won't be far, and I Don't think El can take much more like this,” Karlach says, hugging herself, worrying her lip between her teeth.

Elkantar stirs weakly, the potion warming him inside out. He grimaces in embarrassment; he would not weigh the group down. He was capable. His body was slightly numb, but he could probably walk.

“I'm fine, guys; let me up; I can stand-” He starts.

“Shut up, El,” Karlach cuts him off angrily, steam rising from her skin as her sweat evaporates in an angry rush, “A soft breeze will knock you down on your ass.” Karlach frowned as Astarions snapped a quick, mirthless laugh.

“But-”

“If you didn't look so pitiful right now, darling, I would bite your head off myself,” Astarion says, eyes sharp.

 “Have you taken leave of your senses, punching that huge hunk of metal with your bare hands?!”

“Astarion,” Elkantar smiles weakly, “I'm a monk.”

“You had a bloody staff just for that!” Karlach interjects angrily.

“What were you thinking?” Astarion  piles on, “You set off the whole thing to blow without as much as a blink- we were right there!”

Elkantar balks at their tone, trying to rise to his elbows unsuccessfully. 

“The Gondians were all out. You knew the plan; the explosion was no surprise-” he starts before Halsin's hand on his chest pushes him down gently, and the man himself interrupts, “You barely made it out, Elkantar.”

“But I did!”

“Oh yeah?” Karlach snarls angrily, “stand on that leg, El! Look at yourself!”

For a moment, the drow is confused, looking at the pinched, displeased faces around him before looking down at his numb body-

-oh.

Gods.

He was a mess.

His clothes were riddled with cuts and tears, the fabric around them bloodied and singed, and his skin was pink and tender- newly grown over deep burns with the assistance of the potion still working its way through him. 

His hand is bloodied, the knuckles a harsh, bruised merely of yellows and purples- swollen and broken.

He could barely feel past the shock of his leg lying at an unnatural angle. 

His knee had probably snapped, he thinks dimly.

“We barely got you out,” Karlach says, her voice small and hurt as Elkantar feels himself growing numb and cold.

Astarion makes a sharp, angry gesture, turning away from the shocked drow, trying and failing to hide his anxiousness behind anger.

“I told you-,” Karlach starts as Elkantar’s eyes take in the damage“-I told you to stop with the self-sacrificing shit!” her voice getting louder as her heat reignites.

“I wasn't trying to-,” the drow says weakly.

“Weren’t you?” Halsin cuts in, his calm voice slicing in sharper than their companions' collective anxious anger.

“No,” he says, voice brittle while catching his lover's deep, unfathomable gaze with his own, seeing the wetness on his cheeks and the dried blood on his brow, “I swear it.”

He can hear Astarion shuffling angrily and Karlach kicking the ground, but his eyes remain locked onto Halsin's own as the druid studies his face silently.

Why was he hesitating? Didn't he believe him? The drow thinks anxiously.

“I trust you.” He says shortly, voice heavy with exhaustion before he turns towards their companions.

“Karlach, please go to the camp and tell Jaheira what happened; I will need her help healing. My spells have run dry.”

Karlach stops her anxious fidgeting, her face contorting with flickering emotions before settling on an aching, upset frown.

“Fine.” She grouses, still holding on to traces of her anger as she hoists her large double-edged axe in her hands, “But you better make sure El's head is screwed on right, or I will do it myself once he's healed.” She says tightly before turning on her heel and leaving.

“Astarion-”

“I need to go to the inn.” He pauses, giving Halsin a meaningful look, “to get Gale.”

Halsin’s mouth closes as he regards Astarion before recognition lights up his eyes, and he nods.

“Oh. Right. That was supposed to be today.”  He breathes, his voice tinged with disappointment.

There is an unfamiliar current of emotion between the two that Elkantar was never privy to before. Something small and fragile, with scrolls worth unsaid, hangs in the air between them before Astarion lets out a sigh.

“Will you manage, darling? You know, without hulking out into a bear?” He asks lightly, but the edge of genuine concern is evident in the anxious tapping of his foot.

The druid nods, his fingers gently busy setting Elkantar’s knee into place, tying it to a discarded wooden board. 

“Yes. We'll take it slow; the whole city is in an uproar. What are two more wounded refugees?” 

Astarion gives him a long look, his eyes flickering between the exhausted druid and the shocked monk, his plucked eyebrows scrunching in worry.

“You two will be the death of me,” he sighs, “If Gale doesn't implode while hearing the news. He'll be bitterly disappointed; I've been winding him up for days. Well. “ His eyes flicker to the druid, “Best of luck, darling; I will catch you later.” He says and hurries out of sight, blending expertly into the shadows.

Elkantar could hear Halsin sigh, his fingers on his neck comfortingly as the drow emerged from his shocked stupor.

“Come on, love,” the druid says tiredly, wobbling onto his feet, his large hand stroking Elkantar’s messy hair while the drow looks up at him, his eyes wet and wide.

“Halsin- I haven't-wouldn't try to-,” he stutters, “-Never!”

Halsin sighs heavily, his calloused, warm hand smoothing over Elkantar’s head.

“Now is not the time, my love. Are you in any pain?” He asks shortly, and Elkantar suddenly realizes he isn't.

His body was numb, tingly, and tired, as if detached. He floated in a cloud of ache and discomfort, but its claws had retracted.

“N-no-” He mumbles. 

“Good, then the potion has done its work. Come here, love; you are about to get very sleepy.” He gently bends towards the numb drow, sliding his strong arms under him and lifting him with a grunt. Elkantar could barely feel the warmth radiating from the druid as heartache and exhausted confusion settled on him heavily.

He hadn’t tried to sacrifice himself. He wouldn’t; he had something to look forward to, a reason to fight. 

He remembered the enormous mechanical monstrosity twisting around with ear-piercing grind and steam. Murderous intent clouded around it maliciously as Astarion’s nimble fingers worked around the console, strapping the bomb to it, oblivious for a brief, crucial moment for his impending doom.

“Try to close your eyes, my love; your body needs rest. I will take us to camp.”

Elkantar nods lightly, fatigued, as Halsin’s measured footsteps rock him into exhausted sleep.

“Are they safe, Halsin? Are they out?” he asks, his words slurring as he fights to keep his eyes open.

“They are.” Halsin rumbles deep in his chest, “Every single one.”

“Thank the gods.” He sighs deeply, leaning his head on Halsin’s chest. “Halsin?”

“Yes, Elkantar?”

“I love you.” He whispers, and before he can hear the druid, his eyes close, and he drifts into darkness.

Jaheira spits every curse in the book when she sees Elkantar hurt and limp in Halsin’s arms as he shuffles wearily into camp.

Her outburst draws Minsc to her for a moment: Boo's distressed squeaks and Jaheira’s plea hurry him to relieve Halsin of his sleeping burden.

He picks up the unconscious drow, whisking him into the Harper's tent as she whips the camp into action. Wyll runs out to fetch anything and everything Jaheira rattles off, quick and sharp as a whip, while Lae’zel stalks the edges of the camp, daring Gortash's men to appear. Shadowheart is roused from her tent, joining the Harper and quickly readying her spells.

They set bones, mend flesh, clear poison and smoke from the drow’s lungs, and put his shattered knee and ankle while the man remains still, deep in a magical sleep. 

When Jaheira deems their efforts satisfactory, she orders Minsc to take the drow to Halsin's tent. The large man gently lays him down on a pallet beside the druid, deep in exhausted sleep. He covers him lightly with a spare blanket. The sight of the pair unusually motionless and so beaten sets his teeth on edge. Boo squeaks comfortingly as he leaves the tent.

When Elkantar wakes, his fluttering eyelids screw tightly in pain. A whimper I stuck in his throat when even breathing hurt. He wasn't numb any longer; his body ached deeply. 

He stays still, overtaken by panic, trying to sink its claws into him while he starts moving each joint lightly. His breathing becomes light, mellow, and practiced- he had been beaten enough times, left on enough cold floors by his former patron to be intimately familiar with this kind of all-encompassing ache. Nothing was broken anymore, but muscle fatigue and bruises still littered him- there was a limit to field healing and potions.

Elkantar releases his breath, his muscles relaxing into the tender ache, sinking into the soft bedroll under him. He opens his eyes slowly and wishes he had kept them closed.

The druid was sleeping heavily next to him. His hair was loose, his expression soft in sleep, and his breaths deep and even, but oh, his face .

Halsin’s face was bruised yellow and blue. Stitched gashes marked where debris had landed, fire had singed, and enemies had hit. The warm skin peeking under a blanket showed where the explosion had nipped when he lay around Elkantar, shielding him from the inferno. 

Elkantar choked on a sob. 

His ribs were too bruised to cry out, but his eyes still welled with tears as he choked his shocked cries where they began as garbled groans. 

He doesn't know how long he lay there, looking at Halsin's sweet, bruised face before the shuffle of fabric makes him dart his eyes to the tent’s entrance. 

He catches Gale’s anxious concern before he schools his expression when he realizes the drow is awake.

“Elkantar,” he breathes, “I’m surprised to see you awake,” he says quietly, kneeling smoothly next to the drow, trying not to wake the slumbering druid, “but I'm grateful.”

“Grateful?” Elkantar rasps quietly while Gale's expression gains a brittle edge; he pulls a handkerchief out of his sleeve and dabs Elkantar’s face. He is gentle in a way that makes the drow’s heart clench.

“Of course I am. I thought the worst when Astarion found me; I am glad my pessimistic thoughts were proven false.” 

Gale looks tired; his face twists with worry as he takes in the bruised couple, his eyes darting over the drow and the druid.

“I'll leave these here,” he says, and Elkantar catches the clink of glass in Gale's hands: potions, “For when Halsin wakes, I feel remiss to rouse him, but you should drink now; it'll help with the pain and the bruising.”

Elkantar tries to rise and fails, his head hitting the pillow as his motion is cut short by pain. His cheeks color as he realizes he can barely lift his head, let alone an aching hand to grab a vial. 

He feels like a babe. 

Gale, blessedly, doesn't comment.

His hand gently cradles the drow’s head as he uncorks a vial with his teeth, putting it to Elkantar’s lips, breathing a sigh of relief when the drow drinks without complaint.

“The Gondians are free from a tyrant's yoke; the steel watch is in shambles. That is a cause for celebration.” He says as the drow swallows. Gale sets Elkantar’s head back onto the pillow, his hand hesitating a moment before moving slowly to cover the drow’s. 

Gale’s face is vulnerable in ways the wizard had been too shy to display. 

“You are not dead.” He whispers, voice grave, “Neither of you are.”

Elkantar turns his hand lightly, feeling Gale's soft, warm palm in his own as the wizard opens his mouth again, “Astarion is sleeping the bruises off in his tent, though his condition is lighter, thank the gods.” He looks down at their hands, his tan against Elkantar’s heather, watching the swelling dissipate and the yellow slowly disappearing, “Wyll is tiring out Karlach-” at Elkantar's raised eyebrow, a genuine smile blooms on his face, “Not like that, you little deviant. They sparred and went to patrol the perimeter. It's good to know you’re feeling better; mind back in the gutters.”

Elkantar laughs softly,  more a happy exhale than anything else. 

“She’s been anxious; I think she burned her bedroll,” Gale smiles. 

“And how are you?” Elkantar asks quietly.

“My bedroll is in one piece.” He jokes.

“Gale.”

Gale’s face falls, his hand tightening around Elkantar's hand.

“What would you have me say, El? I can’t say it has been easy to come running back here and hear Jaheira cursing up a storm, seeing Halsin barely standing on his feet, and you-” he swallows thickly, “When Minsc carried you here, my heart nearly broke. I’ve never seen you look so small.”

Elkantar’s heart clenches when Gale looks away from here, using his handkerchief to wipe away damp eyes.

Gale’s gentle hand clutched over Elkantar’s heart; the soft, wet look in his eyes drew Elkantar in. His hand travels slowly up the wizard's arm, his thumb stroking up and down lightly, and the feelings building between them for weeks, the aching pressure reaches a boiling point.

Elkantar had been on edge since Halsin had his heart bare and beating in his hand. Whispers of Gale and Astarion’s names drifted in his ear at night while Halsin buried himself inside his body to the hilt, his lips hot on his skin while he whispered filth as if peering directly into his fantasies. 

Something had ignited in his belly that day that had been slowly building to a roaring fire, with the helpful hand of Halsin, stroking his desire higher and higher. The druid took advantage of his secret, teasing him relentlessly, loving each reaction and shudder from his lover. It drove the drow wild, and Halsin has the scratches on his back to prove it.

But something had changed on the road to Baldur’s gate.

Desire was there, simmering on a low flame while something else, young and vulnerable, had taken root. Elkantar hoped he was reading the other man true, the casual touches, the looks, the laughter, and the company. He knew for a fact that Astarion and Halsin had something electrifying brewing between them as they played a long game of chicken with each other: teasing, nipping at each other's heels and throats at times,  if Halsin’s wild eyes and fresh wound was anything to go by. 

But things had been slower with Gale, innocent if such a thing was possible with the desperate sounds coming out of Astarion’s tent on some quiet nights. With the drow, the wizard was sweet and reserved. Halsin had teased and laughed about him having a type.

But Elkantar sees it in Gale’s eyes then: had he not been so injured, the wizard would have leaned down where his eyes had lingered and captured his lips with his own, and Elkantar wanted him to. 

Oh, how he wanted him.

“Please,” he whispers before he can stop himself, breaking Gale out of his stupor as the wizard's eyes flicker quickly over the drow towards the slumbering druid.

Gale sighs heavily, the tenderness in his eyes diluted with regret as he pulls his hand gently away, holding Elkantar’s own in his hands, before kissing his healing knuckles lightly. 

“This is a bad time, El.” He says regretfully,  watching disappointment and fatigue war on the drow’s face.

“Halsin knows, Gale, there are no secrets between us,” he says, “He has no issue with it; us,” he pauses, heat coloring his cheeks, “He encourages it.”

“I know.” Gale smiles as Elkantar’s mouth opens with shock. The lack of a blush or a stammer was an intriguing surprise, and the assuredness in Gale’s voice was twisting heat into Elkantar’s belly.

“Do you?” He says, his eyes peeking at the wizard from under heavy eyelids while his hand lands softly on Gale’s thigh. The wizard looks down to the bold hand, warming his thigh and pulling his eyes away from Elkantar’s best come hither look.

“I have been warned about your methods, you vixen,” he grins, “I will not risk Jaheira’s wrath if you open your stitches in excitement.”

He laughs when the drow pouts, settling back into his pillows, his stomach twisting in desire and anticipation as Gale’s eyes darken momentarily as he gazes at him.

“Rest now.” He says shortly, patting the drow’s hand as he puts it down, “We have time.”

Elkantar looks at him in defeat, fatigue creeping in again as the potions do their work. His eyes are heavy as he settles more comfortably into his blankets. Gale tucks an errant lock of silver hair away from his face, his finger tracing lightly from ear to chin before gesturing quickly to create a bubble of silence around the tent, “Sweet dreams, El.”

The drow is asleep before the tent’s flaps fall.

Elkantar wakes again, wrapped in Halsin’s strong arms. 

At some point, as he slept, Halsin had wormed his way under his blankets and was now pressing against him, front to back, hugging him close. His large tan arm around Elkantar’s middle was an even olive color, bruises and discoloration gone. His other arm had sneaked under the drow’s head, his large hand cradling the drow’s neck gently. He must have woken to drink Gale's vials, pulling Elkantar close as he settled back to sleep.

Heat swirls in the pit of his stomach as he remembers the wizard's eyes on him, the feeling of anticipation that had sparked between them. Halsin’s hand twitches slightly in his sleep; the warmth radiating over his throat makes Elkantar groan and burrow back into the druid.

He breathes the druid's sleepy musk deeply, relishing the lack of pain. He smiles when Halsin pulls him closer in his sleep, his nose burrowing against his neck as he settles.

Elkantar flushes.

The whirlwind of sneaking into the factory and breaking out the Gondians had stolen whatever little time Elkantar and Halsin had. They slept at different times, arriving and leaving camp only to say a quick hello or goodbye. Baldur’s gate had robbed them of what little time they had, as their intimacy was held together by whispered promises and quick kisses for weeks. 

It chafed.

Elkantar yearned to return to past days when a well-timed look he directed Halsin's way caused the druid to carry him off into the woods, yank his smalls to the side, and fuck him hard against a tree. 

Elkantar felt himself blushing; he had recalled that memory frequently lately, though his hand had been a poor replacement for a lover.

He sighs and rubs his cheeks lightly against Halsin’s arm. He had missed the druid terribly; he missed him right now, even though he was right there. Halsin is wrapped around him like a second skin, sound asleep; their tent is calm and quiet, and they are finally alone.

His heart quickens before a thought cools his rush. 

He shouldn't wake Halsin; injured, exhausted Halsin.

His excitement cools a touch before his mind wanders back to that day.

There was no harm in fantasies, and he didn’t have to wake Halsin up; his steady weight, soft breath on Elkantar's neck, and the thrum of life under his skin beneath the drow’s cheek were enough to warm him again.

He closes his eyes and Inhales Halsin’s sleepy scent.

The tantalizing smell of pines drifts from his memories, the firm grip Halsin has had around his neck, his steady hand on his hip as his tip had kissed his rim before he drove in and in and in…

Elkantar’s hand slides under his sleeping tunic, beneath the edge of his pants, down between his legs, his heart beating faster. His fingers are cold, almost hesitant, as they trail slowly down his stomach to his groin. He takes himself in his hand, skin prickling with goosebumps. He is soft, but Halsin’s steady breath on his neck ignites something naughty in the pit of his stomach. It felt mischievous to press against Halsin while he teases the head of his cock lightly with the tip of his fingers. His hand warms as he squeezes himself slowly, the tight pressure of his hand a delicious ache. He bites his lip and relaxes into Halsin’s arms after spitting in his palm quickly. He starts stroking himself.

He is slow; his hand drags from root to tip, straying to squeeze his balls like Halsin loves to. When the druid laughed in his ear and grasped him in his large hand, he almost choked. Halsin had him in a tight grip, playing with the edge of pain that made Elkantar mad and wanton. The druid had teased mercilessly, his fingers breaching lightly, then a teasing tongue, then just the tip of that thick, gorgeous cock. 

Elkantar’s hand strokes faster as he remembers that sweet torment. Halsin kept him sweating and cursing right on the edge without ever going deeper, fucking him like he had begged.

He is hard now, his chest rising and falling with each breath as he tries to keep his body still; the only thing moving is his frantic hand, though he can resist shifting his head against Halsin’s arm, his tongue peeking pink to taste Halsin’s skin, for just a moment. 

Halsin stirs in his sleep, pressing into Elkantar; the drow’s eyes almost cross when he feels the druid rubbing against his ass lightly. He strains and manages to stay quiet as Halsin slots between his cheeks; his motions are languid, enough to get Elkantar’s heart beating but not enough to satiate.

The drow shifts slowly to slot himself more firmly against the druid, feeling his thick  cock against his ass. Halsin’s lips on the nape of his neck and his warm breath on his delicate ear make him flush harder when he lifts his thigh slightly to press the tip of his finger against his rim. He drags his finger slowly over himself, wishing his long, elegant fingers were broader, calloused, and strong. He spreads his thighs just a little wider, feeling obscene as he sucks his finger quickly just to sink it into himself with a sigh. 

It’s bliss.

The drow drags his finger in and out slowly, twisting and relaxing into the familiar touch. He breathes heavily, growing hotter as his hand starts working faster. Impatient, he pushes his sleeping pants lower, shimmying until they bunch around his thighs, freeing his hand to go deeper, harder-

“Are you having fun there, Sweetheart?” Says Gale, amused.

“Lolth’s sagging tits!” Elkantar swears, his hand freezing, caught in the act before he lowers his voice to a whisper, “What- you frightened me.”

”I doubt fright is at the forefront of your mind,” Gale grins as he silently closes the tent’s flap behind him and places several vials on a small, collapsible table. “Regardless, I am glad to see you improved, El.”

Elkantar exhales; his body relaxes as he sees the teasing light in Gale’s eyes and something more, something bubbling hot, something he was intimately familiar with.

“More than better,” Elkantar gives Gale a long look, making the wizard slow his gait, “I’ll show you If you’d let me.” He says brazenly as the wizard colors fetchingly to the top of his cute, rounded human ears. A brief look of hesitation morphs into intrigue before Gale sinks to his knees slowly beside the drow, much to his breathless excitement.

“Proposing a demonstration, are you? Color me intrigued,” Gale teases as he leans on his elbow, lying in front of Elkantar, his eyes trailing down a covered body and the tell-tale bulge of the drow’s hand moving between his legs.

Elkantar can feel himself coloring, his eyes growing heavy with desire; something tiny flutters in his chest. His finger starts moving in and out again, growing bolder as Gale’s gaze grows heated. The wizard lounges in front of him, amusement and arousal coloring his cheeks as he traces his finger delicately on Elkantar’s brow, the edge of a shapely cheek.

“I love this boldness.” Elkantar breathes, his head following the wizard’s finger as it passes, feather-light on his bottom lip.

“You must have thought me so indifferent.” Gale laments as he sinks to lay on his side in front of Elkantar, close enough to see his pulse jumping in his throat and his eyes darting over his face.

“No, not indifferent. Shy, perhaps?” He smiles and sighs as his fingers touch something sweet and aching inside him.

“I was, at first.” Gale admits, then in a soft tone, he adds, “But then you were so…you.”

“Meaning what?” The drow laughs.

“Radiant, charismatic, confident. You are so effortless.” His eyes grow softer, “irresistible.”

Elkantar has to hold back a moan when Gale shifts closer, his soft hand settling lightly on his neck. 

“May I have a kiss?” Elkantar whispers, his voice heavy with anticipation.

“See what I mean? You want a gentle little kiss while here you lay, stroking yourself and torturing me?”

“Doesn’t have to be gentle or little,” Elkantar says breathlessly, tilting his head while his tongue peeks out to wet his eager lips.

“Mystra preserve me.” He breathes before leaning into Elkantar’s space.

“Don’t be shy, gorgeous.” Elkantar smiles when their noses are close enough to touch.

“It may prove to be a challenge not to be shy when a beautiful man Jacks off not a breath's width away from me,” Gale says, his thumb stroking slowly while Elkantar touches himself.

“Have you been thinking much about my cock, Gale?” The drow teases.

“Among your other finer qualities, Sweetheart, such as your boldness and many others.”

Elkantar bites his lip, ”May I tell you a secret, handsome?”

Gale nods, intrigue glinting in his eyes.

“My hand is not on my cock.”

Gale’s eyes flicker downward; the movement, concealed yet revealing, makes his jaw drop. His breath catches in his chest when Elkantar’s thighs spread wider.

“ Fuck me.” Gale curses quietly, his eyes unable to move from where Elaknatar’s hand shifts vaguely while the drow’s smile grows wider, satisfied.

“I'd love to if you'd let me.” The drow says seductively; the edge of honest earnestness in his low voice makes Gale chuckle, a soft, warm thing.

“Come here, you temptress, show me that leg.” Gale shuffles to look while Elkantar lifts an ankle high, the motion a calculated thing; the drow looks closely at the wizard’s face as the blanket slowly slides down his thigh. The motion is stopped when Gale puts a hand on the drow’s thigh, sliding along it as his fingers slide up to catch and prod gently at his knee.

“I’m fine, Gale.” He says with a shudder, “See? All healed.” His leg starts pulling towards his body when Gale stops him with a blush. He feels delicately along the tender lines of his knee, where potions and rest have now erased the damage from the blast. Gale’s hand is warm and soft, care radiating from every gentle prod before he stops and lingers, his eyes traveling down the drow’s heather skin to where the blanket had bunched.

“I’m not in pain,” Elkantar hurries when he can’t read the emotion on Gale’s face, “Your potions did their work; I am just-”

“-It’s alright, El. I'm just worried,” he says quietly, slowly putting Elkantar’s leg down through his palm, lingering on the man’s exposed thigh. Gale’s eyes roamed up the drow’s body while Elkantar leaned back into his pillow, his eyes soft and inviting as his fingers resumed their slow, sweet motion.  

Gale swallows thickly, the tips of his ears blush a pretty pink before his hands squeeze the drow’s thigh, and he asks with a low, rasping voice:

“How many do you have in there?“

Elkantar bites his lips, body and expression melts into something familiar and rehearsed, “Why don't you find out?“

Elkantar holds his breath for a moment before Gale moves, but his hand doesn't slide down his thigh to join his busy fingers. Instead, he cups the drow’s cheek in his hand and leans close to kiss him. Elkantar’s motion stutters to a stop when Gale brushes his lips slowly with his own; he closes his eyes and melts into the giddy feeling when the wizard sighs and slots their mouths firmly together.

Gale is methodical like Elkantar hoped he’d be, a savant in his dedication to learning the shape and feel of the drow’s lips, the length of his breathy moans, and the texture of his playful tongue. He dedicates himself to kissing the drow, passionate and eager, his mouth hot, his lips soft, and his beard- oh, his beard makes Elkantar shudder. 

He never understood the appeal some elves had with human body hair. It seemed unseemly to him the few times he saw the human slaves exposed, more kin to animals than to lithe, muscular, drow bodies; his patron had had quite a taste for them; the hairier, the better. 

Now Elkantar thought he understood. 

With each shift of Gale’s head, his beard scratched over sensitive skin; it made Elkantar’s mind race with the thought of that beautiful beard scratching up and down his inner thighs. Elkantar knew his chest to be equally as hairy, as were his forearms and the long trail that meanders down the wizard’s belly; there was hardly time for modesty while bathing in the woods, though Elkantar could not feign innocence with each lingering look he had sneaked at the man. 

Elkantar breaks the kiss with a groan, coming up for air quicker than he’d liked, while Gale moves to kiss down the column of his throat. He cards his finger through the drow’s hair; when they scrape at the base of his skull, Elkantar shudders with desire.

He had thought about this moment for so long, but the reality of Gale’s lips, his touch, undivided attention, and the feel of it on his skin were better than anything his mind could conjure. He wanted more; his greedy, under-elf heart wanted it all, to feel that focus everywhere. 

The drow thought about saying something, pleading maybe, seducing or enthralling the man, but instead, chose to pull Gale’s head from his throat and slot their lips together again, resuming the heated dance of their lips. His free hand takes the wizard’s, sliding it under the blanket and over his stomach to where he wants him most. 

He moans into the wizard’s mouth as the man loses any hint of shyness. His fingers caress the puffy edges of the drow’s warm, loose rim as Elkantar sinks his finger in deep, impatiently. The drow breathes hard while the wizard takes his sweet time caressing up and down his thigh, grabbing a handful of round ass before his fingers return to tease at his entrance. 

“Please, Gale,” Elkantar whispers when the wizard shifts closer; they are tangled in each other, pressing close. Elkantar’s thigh rises up high, urging Gale to explore him deeply, his skin prickling with goosebumps when the blanket slides off of him completely, exposing his state of disarray- robe open, sleeping trouser kicked down, sweaty, open, and wanting. 

Under Gale’s hands, he is flushed and panting, on full display. 

The man’s finger is slightly cooler than the drow’s body when it breaches his loosened hole, and the drow gasps in anticipation.

“Oh shit, yea baby, ” Elkantar curses when Gale’s smooth finger slides in. He strokes it in and out lightly; his eyes are trained on Elkantar, drinking in the haze of pleasure and desire on his face. The drow bites his lip when suddenly his hole becomes slick with warm oil.

“Gale!” He moans, alarmed. His voice breaks when Gale adds another finger, feeling the drow shifting and squeezing around the intrusion, “Warn me next time, please!”

“Already thinking about next time?” Gale laughs into his open mouth, his tongue darting in to lick at the drow’s as he sets to pleasure him. 

Gale feels drunk on Elkantar's soft sighs as the drow clings to him. Elkantar tangles one hand in the wizard’s hair, pulling their mouths together, and the other tangles Gale’s purple tunic, urging him on as he delves deeper, faster, and sweeter. 

“Yes, that's it, Gale, you make me feel so good.“

The monk’s thigh climbs higher while his ankle hooks around Gale’s knee, pulling them flush together. Elkantar sighs into Gale’s mouth when he feels the wizard hard against his hip. Gale groans at the pressure, driving his slick fingers to move faster, deeper- 

“ Oh ! right there!” Elkantar cries, his voice hoarse. 

“Feeling good, El?” Gale asks smugly.

“Yes! Don’t you dare stop- Ohh!-”

“Louder .”

“ Ah-G - Gods , fuck me , please- ohh , gods, yes !”

Gale laughs against his lips as the drow melts, his fingers zero on the spot, making Elkantar lose his mind. The drow breaths hard, moaning as he fucks himself on the wizard’s fingers while grinding himself against Gale’s eager cock with every undulating movement. Gale tugs his lip lightly with his teeth before scraping down his throat, moving his hips faster, feeling himself sweating when the pleasure intensifies, becoming overwhelming.

“Gale! Gale, oh gods ! You make me feel-” Elkantar never finishes his desperate plea before a rough hand caresses down his hip to the round swell of his ass before a blunt, wet finger slips in from behind. 

“H-Halsin!” Elkantar moans.

“Morning. What a lovely wake-up call, Gale.” the druid rumbles deep in his chest.

“Good morning, Halsin,” Gale says amiably, only the strain in his voice indicating he has two finger knuckles deep in Elkantar, who was desperate for release, grinding hard against both men. 

“Harder, please!”

Elkantar feels incredibly full, on the brink of madness, as his lovers finger his ass like every dirty fantasy he’d ever harbored. It’s filthy and freeing to be loved so voraciously, so thoroughly. He can barely hold on as pleasure builds higher and higher. 

Halsin is a wall of solid muscle. His hand slides, calloused and heavy, on the drow’s hip as he slots his hard cock firmly between the squirming drow’s cheeks, sliding slickly against hot flesh.

Overwhelmed tears fill his eyes as his Halsin grinds against his ass, Gale’s hard cock presses like a promise against his hip, and their relentless fingers stretch his tight hole open. He can barely catch his breath under the pleasurable assault, mouth too full of heavy sighs to take a lungful of air that will help him stave off his orgasm.

“Baby, please , I’m so close - AH! ”

Elkantar comes apart between the two men. 

Gale tastes his moans, claiming his mouth while the drow clings to him, clenching around the men pleasuring him. The drow’s thighs shake, whimpering as he cums against the wizard before biting his lips. Gale holds him close, letting Elkantar rut against him as he sobs when neither of his lovers gives him a reprieve.

Elkantar is babbling and panting as wave after wave of pleasure sweeps him away; Gale feels the pressure building in the pit of his stomach with every desperate plea. He can hear Halsin humming when Elkantar stops shaking and finally settles; he pulls his finger out gently and, with seemingly no effort, flips the blissed-out drow between them to face him. Halsin kisses Elkantar’s face, claiming his mouth and tasting his satiated smile. 

“Did that feel good, my heart?” Halsin smiles as Elkantar laughs a soft, giddy laugh against his chest, “Are you ready for more?”

Gale can’t see the look that passes between the two, but a tight cord of anticipation springs to life when Halsin’s eyes turn to him, hooded with arousal and expectation. Gale feels himself getting harder. 

The large man had approached Astarion and him; they had planned for a night like this. A night of debauchery and sex, as Astarion had dubbed it, love, Halsin had supplemented. But for all of their secrecy and careful planning, Elkantar had caught them unprepared. 

Gale could not leave had he wanted to, not while they were warm and breathless in bed; Elkantar was pressed against him like an open invitation, and Halsin’s eyes held so many promises.

Gale trails soft kisses along Elkantar’s broad shoulders, his hand resting lightly on the valley of his waist. His skin is salty under Gale’s tongue before the drow shifts and kisses Gale. It’s a slow, deep thing of arousal and satisfaction, of warm tongue and soft exploration.

Elkantar sighs, and Gale can feel a large hand covering his own on the drow’s waist.

“May I?” The druid asks, voice deep with anticipation as Gale pulls away from the drow in a pleasurable daze and nods while Elkantar gives him a slow, satisfied smile.

To his astonishment, Halsin pulls him in and presses their mouths together.

The druid’s hand tangled in his hair, his fingers twisting in his own over Elkantar’s waist as Gale gasps into the kiss. He can barely hear Elkantar humming in approval, with Halsin’s lips moving warm and wet against his, tongue licking his lip delicately, pleading admission. The pressure against his scalp sends an unfamiliar shiver of want down his spine. Halsin kisses like he fights, Gale realizes, passionately, wildly, and dominantly. It was making his toes curl, and a soft, needy moan escaped him before he could stop it.

Halsin breaks away with a grin when Gale leans after him for a moment, still seeking the kiss after it breaks. Halsin licked his lips pointedly before sinking back onto the sleeping roll. “You were right; he does taste sweet.” 

Elkantar looks at Gale, catching his eyes before he leans into the druid to taste the wizard on his lips.

Gale wants to be touched desperately. He watches the two kiss hungrily, catching Elkantar’s slight smile. He knows he’s being watched, and he loves it. 

“Are you ready for more?” Halsin asks; his deep voice makes Gale sweat while Elkantar gives him a predatory look.

He falters for a moment, unsure what to do, a stranger to their easy, familiar dynamic. Elkantar and Halsin looked comfortable in what may be the most sexually suggestive thing he had partaken in his life, never mind that Astarion had him bent over every available surface for weeks. This was a whole other realm of trust and comfort.

Gale breaks out of his reveries, unsure who Halsin has spoken to.

“You know what I want, how I want you both,” Elkantar says, and Gale can’t help but sigh when he feels the drow pressing against him and Halsin’s hand sliding suggestively up his hip.

“Please,” Elkantar says against Halsin’s lips.

Halsin's hand slides under his thigh, sliding over smooth skin, lifting the monk’s leg. Gale’s mouth goes dry when Elkantar’s breath hitches, and he arches his back towards him. When Gale glimpses the drow’s soft, pink open hole flutter, he feels he may spontaneously combust. 

“Do you require a formal invitation?” The druid teases as the monk licks the vast expanse of his broad, muscular chest, teeth latching onto the druid's nipple with a lustful laugh.

Gale blushed furiously; why was he so flustered? His fingers were just in the man who lay out like a feast, the same man who turned his head and gave Gale an all-too-knowing look.

He lifts his leg from Halsin's large hand, outrageously flexible in how he uses the motion to turn around, somehow straddling Gale in the blink of an eye. The drow is sin come to life, the expanse of smooth, naked skin, rippling muscles, and confidence starkly contrast the wizard he was straddling. 

Gale is dizzy with want, unsure of where to put his hands and what to do first. Touch Elkantar? Halsin? Take off his clothes?

Halsin chuckles, his breath dancing near Gale's ear, who shudders.

“How do you want me, Gale?” Elkantar asks in a voice tailor-made to drive men mad, “On my knees? Ass in the air?”

Gale could not answer past the thick lump of need and arousal stuck deep in his throat if his life depended on it. He can hear Elkantar chuckle above him and Halsin's warm hand on his arm, a grounding presence in this whirlwind.

“You'll overwhelm him, you greedy little minx.” Halsin rumbles with a laugh, smacking the drow's ass in a playful reprimand as Gale tries to gather his wits.

“My mouth on your cock, perhaps? Or I could ride you-” Elkantar pauses when Gale chokes out a breathy moan, smiling wide. He bends forward to place a sweet peck on Gale’s lips.

“How attached are you to this tunic, sweet thing?” Elkantar asks, his fingers feeling the edges of his tunic playfully.

“W-what?”

“Don't play with your food, my heart. Rip the seams, not the cloth. We can fix it later.” Halsin chides.

“...Rip?-” the wizard barely manages to ask before the drow’s agile hands grab his tunic's joined edges and tug hard. Gale's eyes widened, skin prickling with goosebumps when Elkantar ripped from bottom to armpit in a suspiciously practiced move. With each seam popping, Gale feels himself growing harder, and so can Elkantar.

Elkantar peels the wizard out of the ruined tunic reverently, sighing contently once he had pried out his prize, throwing the tunic behind him carelessly. Elkantar’s hands move over Gale's chest curiously, nails dragging through his chest hair, looking entirely too satisfied with the deep blush coloring the man down to his chest. Gale has to bite his lips when Elkantar follows that dark trail of hair down, where it disappears below the edge of his trousers.

“Well, Peach, would you look at that,” Elkantar says coyly when his hand smooths over Gale’s hard cock, straining against the laces of his trousers, “Gale has a gift for us, and it's all wrapped up.”

Halsin gives Elkantar a look, amused with his theatrics. His eyes darken when Elkantar squeezes Gale, making the wizard groan before his hand lands possessively on the drow's bare thigh.

“Don't tease, Elkantar,” Halsin says, squeezing the drow's thigh, getting his attention, “You could start a little sweeter,” he suggests, his voice coy as he tries to stir the situation, “You can show him what you like.”

Elkantar’s demeanor changes from hesitation to confidence as he slips into the role Halsin offers. His fingers work quickly to unlace the wizard, “You know me too well,” the drow sighs dramatically before adding coyly, “You won't get all lonely there, peach? A little cold?”

“I am sure you’ll find a way to make it up to me, gorgeous, but I think that watching both of you will keep me warm enough.” 

Elkantar gives Halsin a smoldering look as he sets his legs wide before looking down at the wizard sprawled there. Gale blushes when Elkantar’s attention settles on him; his fingers work his laces, tugging and pulling impatiently before the wizard shudders as he springs free.

“El- Ohh! ” Gale chokes as the drow’s greedy hand dives in and grabs his balls. He teeters between anxiousness and breathless pleasure as Elkantar’s impatient hand touches him. The drow cups him for a moment before his hands glide up, stroking his base while the other is slick, hot, and tight over his tip. He strokes his hand towards the middle of Gale’s aching cock and back while Gale’s mind blanks with pleasure.

“Does that feel good, you lovely thing?”

He can’t hear Elkantar’s teasing remarks or Halsin’s murmured appreciation over the sound of blood rushing in his ears and the thump of pleasure beating in time with the Netherese orb. His motions are tight enough to make Gale scramble for purchase on the bedroll, his hips stuttering to life as he tries chasing delicious pressure, the lewd sensation of slick tightness.

“ Look at you , handsome, taking it so well .” Elkantar praised. 

Elkantar’s hand strokes slowly, sensually, while the drow bends over to taste his gasps and moans. He lays a gentle hand on his chest that strokes idly; a finger catching on a nipple makes Gale gasp into the monk’s mouth. Gale can feel Elkantar’s smile against his lips as the drow kisses him joyfully, breaking away to murmur filth into his ear.

“You look so beautiful like this; I can’t wait to feel you inside me, baby. I want you to take me so hard-.”

A startled laugh escapes him as the wizard springs Into action. Elkantar feels Gale's hands circling his waist as he sits up and kisses him. His tongue is bold, and his hands squeeze hard flesh while he pulls the drow to settle on him, bracing his feet on the ground.

Elkantar smiles into the kiss, breaking it to pull Gale's lip with his teeth lightly while he tangles his hands over the wizard’s shoulders.

“Welcome bac- Oh! ” The drow’s tease dies with a slack-jawed moan as Gale braces and thrusts into his hole without much resistance. 

“I think you've tormented me long enough, Sweetheart,” Gale warns with a groan as his hands keep the drow seated solidly on his throbbing cock. Even though he’d had his fingers in the drow not long before, Gale still marveled at the intoxicating tightness of his body.

The monk's eyes flutter shut.

“ Oh fuck me , you feel so big-!”

Gale grunts as he pulls out and thrusts back in, once, twice, thrice; the slap of flesh outrageous when accompanied by Elkantar's soft little sighs. He feels drunk, head swimming with tight, hot pleasure when Elkantar starts grinding his hips in vicious little circles, pushing back into every thrust. 

“ Yes , yes , yes , Oh- Give it to me- Ohh baby!-”

“-Take it, El, such a big mouth on you. You drive me crazy-”

They are not gentle in their copulation; Elkantar’s nails rake over Gale's skin while the wizard sweats and groans, abandoning decorum to the wind as he works muscles he had left dormant with each thrust. They are a mess of hands, nails, teeth, and sweat; when they kiss, all gentleness has melted like snow before a furnace of lust and need.

Elkantar moans like he is privy to every dirty thought Gale has ever had, an embodiment of wanton lust, an incubus coming to haunt him.

“-H-Harder-” the drow begs.

Gale fucks into him with abandon, the feeling of Elkantar’s body sucking him in, the sinful motion of his hips, the tight heat of him urging his hips to drive into his lover's pink little hole harder. It’s exhausting and wonderful, the slick slide of their skin, the dance of their tongues, the urgent movements of their bodies as they move.

The drow clenches around Gale desperately when the wizard falters, hips stuttering and slowing, his chest rising and falling rapidly in exsertion when he tries catching his breath. He colors when he sees Halsin's face, darkened with lust, as he nuzzles the drow's sweaty neck while the monk shakes away the haze and finds his bearing on top.

“Greedy thing,” he chides, tongue warm on salty skin, making the drow moan as the druid’s hand squeezes his thigh, “Go on, we both know you can take it harder,” his eyes on Gale are hot like a brand as he leans in and whispers in Elkantar’s ear, “Get to work, princess.”

Elkantar braces his hands on the wizard's chest and lifts his hips up, pulling away until only the wizard's tip is still nestled in his body, feeling that sweet stretch before sinking back with a showy moan.

“Cheeky.” Halsin laughs, his finger tracing an idle pattern on the wizard’s chest.

The drow moves like a man on a mission, breathing hard as Halsin urges his languid movement while he fucks himself silly on the wizard’s hard cock. Each choked-out sound of pleasure from Gale spurs him on to ride him faster, take him deeper, meet him harder. When Gale moans brokenly and meets Elkantar halfway, eyes glazed with pleasure, Halsin grins wide, “There you go, good boy.”

The words hit Gale like an incantation.

He blushes and moans, his movement becoming frantic, while Halsin leans close. The druid tilts Gale’s head towards him, breathing in his desperate moans, their noses brushing, close enough to kiss.

“You're being so good to him,” the druid murmurs, his tongue darting out for a flash to trace over his rounded ear, “Fucking him so full, with that lovely big cock. Give it to him harder- there you go, Sweetling, grab his ass; he likes it a little rough.“

Elkantar throws his head back when Gale picks up the pace, his hands on his hips gripping tight enough to leave memories imprinted on his skin. He can feel Gale’s heartbeat nestled within his body as he hugs the Wizard close, their movement wild and uncoordinated as they ride and rut against each other.

“My hair,” Elkantar pants into his ear, voice high and urgently rough.

“W-What?”

“Pull my hair, Baby, please, take a fistful and pull it back- Yes !” 

Gale reached up and pulled the drow’s head back, grasping a fist full of pale silvery hair, watching his face melt from pain to pleasure.

“Like this?”

“Tighter!”

Gale twists and pulls his hand, revealing Elkantar’s long neck as the drow bares his teeth and groans, clenching around Gale like a vice. The tighter Gale pulled, the wilder he became.

“El, I'm so close, if you keep squeezing me like this…”

“What? You’ll cum?” The drow laughs, his hips moving faster, to and fro, in tight, vicious little movements that make Gale’s breath stutter in his chest. “Please do, baby. Cum inside me.”

“Good gods and all hells, El, the mouth on you-” Gale breathes, fucking up faster, his hand tightening in pale hair before the drow’s hand pulls his face to his chest. Gale can feel the frantic hammering of Elkantar’s heart under his tongue when he mouths at his chest. He is dizzy and overwhelmed by sensation, pleasure, and want; His heartbeat grows faster as he feels himself hurtling toward his climax.

“You love it; I can feel just how much.”

Gale feels Halsin leaning into their space, his lips searing hot as he peppers them with kisses while they fuck urgently, neck, shoulder, chest, and lips, as he hums deep in his chest, “Spill inside him, handsome. I want to feel your cum dripping down my balls when I fuck him next.”

“Oh, Halsin, dear gods!“

Gale’s hips thrust frantically, Halsin’s teeth scraping over his shoulder, chuckling as his head is flung back, shouting as he comes. He can barely see, barely breathe past the tight heat of Elkantar, who keeps moving, riding him for all he’s worth, and the tantalizing feeling of Halsin exploring lips on his skin as the druid urges him on.

“That’s it, nice and full,” Halsin murmurs filthy in his ear as he buries himself as deeply as he can within the squirming drow, leaving fingerprints on his ass, keeping  the drow there, seated and sweating as he cums and cums, “Good boy.”

Elkantar arches into his rough handling, pushing him to lie down as he takes everything Gale has to give. Gale can feel his moan in the way he shudders and clenches around him while the wizard himself is silent in a quiet scream of pleasure.

Halsin kisses his cheek, then licks sensually against his mouth, “May I?”

Gale nods, barely coherent, as he comes down from his high feeling as if struck with a thunder wave. He feels Halsin kissing him softly before Elkantar jostles above him. Gale can barely understand what is happening before Elkantar is pushed forward, pressed flush to Gale's chest, hot breath on sweaty skin as he moans brokenly against his neck. Gale feels something hot and blunt pushing against Elkantar’s entrance, where the wizard is slowly growing soft before he sees Halsin.

The druid’s hair is a mess, and his face is flush as he grabs Elkantar’s hips in his large hands, pushing his hard cock into his panting lover. Elkantar cries out for a moment, and Gale is scared the drow might be hurt before he sees the expression on his face, the drunk look in his eyes.

“Yes, Halsin.” Elkantar moans and Gale feels the glide of the druid’s impressive girth against his own in the tight, slick heat of the drow’s body. The wizard’s arms circle the drow as Halsin thrusts in shortly, holding him tenderly as the druid moves. Gale can feel Elkantar squeezing desperately around them both, his breath coming in short, lustful pants. He moves his hips gently, slipping out of the drow’s body when Halsin pulls out, feeling the breath driven out of Elkantar when the druid thrusts brutally back in. 

The squelch as their bodies meet is outrageously loud, and Gale feels his seed dripping from the drow as Halsin sets a punishing pace. The wizard lets their rhythmic movements wash over him, the slip and slide of their bodies lulling him into a state of satiated delirium. He kisses Elkantar’s mouth when he moans, holds him as he shakes, and caresses him as he comes.

The hot space between them is wet with their sweat, cum, and tears, but the smile against Gale’s mouth, as Elkantar kisses him deeply is a testament to his bliss.

Halsin slows down, moving languidly in long thrusts that wring the drow dry. His hands move lovingly over the roundness of his ass, down the valley of his back to his shoulders in a soft caress. 

Elkantar looked back at Halsin as his pace stuttered, took in his bitten lips, and smiled at the deep blush that had spread down his chest.

“Pretty like a peach.” He sighs, and Halsin smacks his ass lightly in reprimand as his eyes flutter shut, and he feels himself start to unravel. Elkantar’s hand darted back, grabbing a handful of shapely thigh, making the elf groan, “And succulent like one as well.”

“Elkantar, don’t tease.” He pants as the drow clenches around him.

“I know you like it, all hot and bothered. Do I feel good, Peach? Have you staked your claim yet? Are you going to fill me up?”

“My heart-” He pants, the smack of his hips against his lover growing louder as he leans forward, making the pair under him groan, “Is that what you want? To have us both dripping out of you?”

Gale blushes at their back and forth, gasping when Elkantar’s eyes narrow, and he speaks slowly, intently, before kissing Gale long and hard.

“You know I do.”

Gale hears Halsin’s choked groan and feels his weight on them. The deep thrust as he cums presses them closer together, the moan Elkantar lets him taste when he kisses him adoringly taste of contentment. 

They fall in a tangle of sweaty, satiated bodies and gentle touches; kisses peppered onto exposed skin, and eager lips. Halsin’s hand is on Gale, stroking his ribs affectionately, while the wizard's hands gather Elkantar’s hair into an orderly twist while the drow kisses Halsin’s brow, cheeks, and lips.

Halsin catches Gale’s gaze with a wide, tired smile.

“You know what they say,” He says with a joyful chuckle as his hand drifts to Elkantar’s face, stroking his cheek, “If you want the gods to laugh…”

“...tell them your plans.” Gale finishes, moving his hands quickly, casting prestidigitation over them. 

“There was a plan?” Elkantar asks and turns to cuddle up to Gale.

“Yes, but like many others who had grand plans, they had the fortune of running into you,” Gale smiles and bows his hand to kiss the curious drow, “and had their whole lives turned upside down.”

“Turned for the better,” Halsin murmurs against the Elkantar’s hair as he shuffles closer to hug him from behind.

“Do I get to hear the details of this wonderful plan I had apparently disrupted?”

Gale’s eyes catch Halsin’s.

“Absolutely not.” Gale declares, then yelps when Elkantar’s hand is quick with a pinch.

“In time, my heart.” Halsin chuckles and catches the monk’s quick hand, kissing his knuckles.

“I am not a patient man-” Elkantar begins before both the men surrounding him burst out laughing.

“None would accuse you of patience, my heart-”

“-Our first kiss was moments before I had my fingers inside you, El. Patience is not something We expected.”

“Well!” Elkantar starts, before coloring and losing momentum, “It’s not a bad thing! If I was a patient man, I would never have made it out of the Underdark. Gods know, if I hadn’t made the first move, you would never have initiated anything on your own!” The drow complains, hands stroking Gale’s hairy chest, “You’d be all alone in your tents and not here, having both cum in my ass.”

Gale splutters, blushing scarlet as Halsin pulls the drow into his arms.

“Decorum is also something lost to the Underdark, it seems.” The druid laughs as Elkantar smiles impishly, knowing the pretty blush his blunt words would spark on Gale’s face.

“Decorum is for tight-assed drow who never had any fun without the permission of a Mistress,” Elkantar complains before sighing when Halsin’s hand squeezes his abused ass for a moment.

“No complaints there, gorgeous-”

“-Careful there, Peach, you don’t want to get me started again,” The drow sighs before his head perks up, and he asks, “Was Astarion in on it too?” making both men pause.

Gale is the first to groan.

“He’s going to kill us.”

“What? What do you mean he’s going to kill you?” Elkantar says with an edge of panic, “Wasn’t he a part of it?”

“Of course he was; he’s been winding me up for days,” Gale starts with a blush, “Whispering filth in my ear, talking about…about…erm,”

The tent’s flap opened, bathing the three in bright light before the man in question entered the tent. The sunlight halos the spawn’s head like fire, his clean, white shirt hugging him in a way Elkantar knows to be carefully calculated. His sharp skin is free of bruises, looking soft and clean, contrasting the dry, put-upon look on his beautiful face.

Astarion looks unsurprised as he takes in the scene before him.

“Hello, beautiful,” Halsin says amiably.

“Ha! You have got to be kidding me,” He drawls, hand on hip as his eyes take in the evidence, “This must be some sort of record. Really, darling, you couldn’t wait to get a taste?”

Gale blushes scarlet under the elf’s piercing gaze before Astarion looked away, sticking his head out of the tent, shouting:

“They are all alright, Jaheira, all in good health by the state of their dress,” He says, quiet for a moment before laughing and catching something that had sailed through the air. He lets the tent’s flap fall as he dangles a small clinking sack of gold coins, smiling wide and sharp.

“Jaheira thought you couldn’t possibly be so stupid as to do strenuous activities right after surviving such a blast; I begged to differ. I’m going to get myself a little treat.” Astarion plays with a fat golden coin, twirling it expertly on nimble fingers while sitting down on a chair. He crosses his legs rakishly, giving each man a long assessing look. His eyes stray over bare skin, marked with blooming fingerprints, love bites, and scratches, and the torn-apart purple tunic thrown aside in passion.

“Had fun, Darling?” Astarion asks as he leans his pointed chin on his hand. His eyes are on Gale, who opens his mouth to answer but stops when Elkantar rises to his feet in one fluid motion, bare and unashamed, as he saunters to the sitting elf. The drow’s hair flows around him like silver liquid before he stops close to Astarion, who has leaned back in his seat with a dangerous smile.

Elkantar sees the sharp light in Astarion’s eyes, the set of his shoulders, and smiles a sharp smile of his own before sliding over the Elf’s thighs, straddling him. He quickly twined his arms around Astarion’s neck, whose eyebrow was arched in a challenge.

“I did. Thank you.” He says and leans close, kissing the spawn full on the lips. He hears Gale’s gasp and Halsin’s deep chuckle when Astarion pulls him in; A hand at the small of his back, the other on his neck, fingers tangled in pale hair as he draws the drow in, wresting control.

“You want to play, cheeky little drow?” he challenges.

Elkantar’s eyes are as sharp and dangerous as his own when he answers:

“You know I do.”

“Then you’ll have to do better than this,” he says with a bite before his hand clutches the drow as he rises swiftly to his feet, “I’ll be waiting.” He sucks Elkantar’s earlobe into his mouth before letting the unstable drow go.

He turns to the pair with a flourish, “Gentlemen.” before leaving the tent and a flushed drow, a hesitant wizard, and a laughing druid behind.

“You have your work cut out for you, my heart,” Halsin says as the drow swipes a drop of red from his lip with his thumb, eyes trained on where Astarion had been.

“We are not going to hear the end of this, aren’t we?” Gale laments, lying back with a thump, hand behind his head.

Elkantar sucks his thumb into his mouth, turning to look at the pair with a dangerous glint in his eyes, “Evidently not.”

Chapter Text

The floors in Elfsong tavern creak; Astarion knows this intimately.

He could identify who was coming to their shared rooms by sound alone: Halsin, who was surprisingly light-footed, Gale’s slow, meandering gait, or Elkantar’s graceful, energetic steps as he bounds up. He had been avoiding all three for a time, sitting on the roof's edge, having sneaked out through an open window, soaking in the sun.

He’s fiddling with the edge of his knife, rounding the shape of his fingernails while listening to the bustle inside the room.

Gale had sequestered himself to his little corner, his nose stuck to the dry pages of the Annals of Karsus. He sat there quiet as a mouse, only the sound of pages flipping indicating he was awake- but Astarion knew better; He could hear Gale’s heart beating faster and faster with each page consumed.

The wizard had not stopped when Halsin had brought him a plate for breakfast, nor did he stop when Elkantar had leaned in and kissed his cheek before venturing out with Shadowheart, Wyll, and Karlach. It struck something deep in Astarion’s gut, and he couldn’t help but be annoyed at the clawing uncertainty of it all.

Elkantar had searched for him, too, but Astarion had kept to himself.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The city's scents mingle around him, both putrid and alluring: a brew of living bodies, fresh food, cooking fires, blood, and manure—the scents of the day, living creatures, sun-baked roof tiles, and hot buttered rolls.

Astarion opens an eye, looking toward the window where Halsin leaves a small, covered basket of freshly baked bread and a small yellow pat of butter.

“You know I don’t eat, darling.” He says, his voice tinged with annoyance at being found. Halsin has a knack for finding his hiding holes, nose like a hound. The large elf leans out of the window, handing the steaming basket to the pouting spawn with a warm, non-pulsed smile, used to Astarion’s tone and seeing past it.

“No man can resist the pleasure of fresh bread, my heart.” He chuckles, “Eat it while it’s warm; I won’t disturb you.”

When Halsin turns to leave, Astarion fidgets and catches his hand on the basket, ”Wait, Halsin.”

The druid turns, keeping quiet. A knowing glint in his eyes tells Astarion he is an open book before him, making him huff in affection, tinged with irritation, “Would you sit with me for a moment?”

The druid nods, handing Astarion the basket, before climbing out the window with an agile grace that belies his size. He sits on the warm tiles, and Astarion can’t help but admire how much he fits in this warm, sunny world: His skin is a sun-kissed tan, his hair shot through with gold, and his sharp eyes that see into the heart of him, down to the murkiest depths. 

He settles next to the pale elf with a knowing look and patient silence, the length of their thighs touching, warming up cold flesh. Astarion takes a hot roll into his hands, looking at its shiny surface and fiddling with it reluctantly. He doesn’t want to ask, talk, or show Halsin that the explosion at the foundry rattled him and had put doubts in his mind.

They had survived so much, battled the odds time and time again, that he had started to feel invincible. He was drunk on the sliver of hope that coming back home to Baldur’s gate, rending his master limb from limb while languishing in his blood, and dancing on his grave were feasible things. There was a chance with these brave, incredible men, a slight chance to finally get justice—and then they went ahead and blew up.

Astarion frowns, deep in thought.

Elkantar had emerged from Halsin’s tent with a smile and a radiant glow about him that spoke of the long, arduous fucking that took place, but Astarion saw his flinch when he put too much weight on his injured leg. Astarion remembers the intoxicating smell of the drow’s blood vividly as he lay injured, how hard he had to control himself when the need for it ached, and how he had to flee the small shack before finding Gale at the Tavern.

The wizard had been useless in stopping the drow in any way: too quickly succumbing to his glinting, beautiful eyes or devious touch, manipulated into his arms and bed. Elkantar played him expertly, and Gale was all too pleased with his sweet kisses and never-ending libido.

Halsin had been less malleable but equally enthusiastic. Their easy intimacy and their fierce coupling left a sour taste in Astarion’s mouth; each time Halsin bent over to kiss him, he smelled the drow’s happiness and arousal on his skin.

And something within him became fiercely jealous- of whom he knew not.

He shakes out his thoughts, breathing deeply before:

“So, how long will we have the place to ourselves this time?” he asks, sounding flippant and failing, “Really, how long does it take to find a diabolist?”

“Quickly, oak-father willing,” Halsin says evenly, his eyes boring into the pale elf who swallows, “Are you worried for our companions’ safety?”

“Hardly, they can handle themselves,” he says with a touch of mockery. “Most of them, at least. Gods know Elkantar loves taking unnecessary risks.” He says and avoids the druid’s knowing eyes.

Halsin hums for a moment.

“I trust him to take care of himself,” Halsin says as the pale elf frowns, “Shadowheart, Wyll, and Karlach are with him; there is nothing to be worried about, my heart.”

Astarion scoffs and frowns, looking away from the druid and onto the city sprawling below them.

“I heard you last night, you know. His little sighs, those little promises .” Astarion says cruelly, remembering the sounds of their slow, intimate coupling, sighs, and groans. The concern and care in the large druid’s voice as Elkantar murmured sweet promises and tried smoothing over his lover’s anxiousness. It made something small and frightened clench in Astarion’s gut.

What if his knee buckles and he crumples to the ground in combat?

Astarion shudders, remembering the countless times his master had sent him crashing to the floor; a cane or a boot catching the back of his knee, his back, or his thigh, accompanied by that cruel laughter, the acidic disapproval, the cruelty. 

Elkantar was too hasty and too eager to prove he had healed.

Infuriating drow.

“And you weren’t tempted to join?” Halsin teases at Astarion’s displeased expression, “He aches for you, little elf. He cries out sweetly when I whisper your name in his ear, and clenches so tightly around me.”

“Oh, please!” the rogue protests, his finger sinking into the warm roll. He tears at it to escape Halsin’s heated words and probing look. 

“He’d open his legs for anyone who happens to pass nearby!” He lashes out and regrets his harsh words when they leave his mouth.

Gods damn him.

“Do you believe that?” Halsin asks, his tone cooling with disappointment, and Astarion folds in on himself in shame.

“ No . No, I don’t. It’s just- He’s so-”

“He looked for you before he left, my heart. He wanted to say goodbye, and he was worried about you.”

“I know.” He bites back, feeling exposed. “I don't—why? Why does he care? Doesn’t he drink his fill from Gale and you? Must he be greedy for… for me as well?”

Astarion feels blood rushing to his cheeks when Halsin remains silent, looking at him with those beautiful hazel eyes.

“And sex! Dear gods- Is he ever sated? Aren't You tired?” the rogue complains, sounding petulant even to his ears.

“His love is a bottomless well,” Halsin chuckles. His gaze becomes distant as he looks upon the city before he asks, “Have you ever asked him why?”

“What, about sex? Why would I?”

“You may be interested in what he has to say. He is an old soul, my heart.” Halsin turns to look at him, “Much like you.”

Astarion snorts at that, tearing a piece of bread and chewing it, almost angry at its smooth, buttery richness. His sweet druid had brought him food that could not sustain him just for the joy of it, the feeling of fullness, the joy of butter and salt, and the pleasure of being alive.

He swallows, burying his hand in Halsin’s hair before he kisses him for a long, senseless moment.

“I love you,” Halsin says, chasing the feeling of his lips before Astarion kisses him again and again. Desire warred with shame when the words lodged in his throat instead of coming out like he had wanted them to countless times.

‘I love you, too,’ he wants to say, soaking up the joy in the druid’s smile.

The three of you—more than I can admit, more than my heart can take—I won’t survive you once the sun burns my skin again unless I become… more.

More than you are willing to see me become.

He stays silent instead and Halsin rises, piercing him with one last knowing look before leaving; frustrating man.

He eats both rolls, licking the butter off his finger, and when the bread is gone, he wishes the sun never set on this roof.

When Elkantar returns, there is no time for a warm welcome, a reunion, or even a warm bath before they gather everyone to discuss the diabolist, her vast establishment, and the summoning circle in her office.

They had also discovered that the devil—Raphael—was a resident of Sharess’ Caress in Wyrm’s Crossing, a place they had seen in passing but never stopped at before storming into Baldur’s gate. There is a pause after that, in which Elkantar takes a deep breath, bracing himself before saying, “We should hear what the devil has to say.”

After that, all hell breaks loose. Minsc and Jaheira shout, Halsin’s face darkens, and Lae’zel slaps the table hard, shouting about kith'rak Voss and the Orphic hammer being of the utmost importance: Pandemonium.

In the anger and the commotion, Astarion notices Gale’s uncanny silence and the haunted look in his eyes.

The wizard had risen from his studies, something brittle and dark reflecting in his eyes as if he was fraying at the edges. He had leaned into Astarion’s cool hand on his back when he had sidled up to him but stayed silent, deep in thought. His eyes drifted to Astarion every so often before staring into the middle distance.

Astarion can feel Elkantar’s eyes on them when Gale leans into his space, whispering in his ear, “I need to go; I shall hurry back but do not wait for me.”

“What? Now?” Astarion looks at Gale, trepidation brewing in his stomach, “Where are you going?”

Gale leans in quickly and kisses his pale cheek, ignoring his question. Astarion looks at him, aghast, when the wizard turns on his heel, seeming to shrink into himself. He rubs his hand absentmindedly at his beard before he leaves the congregation. Halsin looks after him as he leaves, giving Astarion a questioning look, which he returns with a slight head incline.

‘We’ll speak of this later.’

They argue late into the evening before Jaheira puts her foot down, stating that no good can come from chewing out the same arguments over and over again before breaking the group. She shoos everyone to go about their business and gives Elkantar a withering stare when he tries approaching her.

“Go scrub the stink of the diabolist off of you, and I will consider hearing more drivel regarding the devil, Elkantar.” She gives him a sharp look when he opens his mouth to argue, “I will send Boo after you if you utter one more word- mark me!”

Astarion watches their exchange, waiting for Elkantar to notice him. He feels Halsin standing behind him and thrills momentarily at the warm feeling of his large hand on his shoulder.

“Anyway, your lovers seem anxious to talk to you; leave a woman to drown the rest of her evening in a nice vintage, will you?” She gestures towards the pair and leaves before Elkantar can get another word.

He approaches the pair, and Astarion can see the exhaustion written on his face in lines of grime and the faint smell of sulfur.

“Whatever it is, can we discuss it in the bath? ” Elkantar asks with a sigh, “My hair smells like sulfur.”

Elkantar’s shoulders are round with fatigue when they slip out of sight. Astarion can see him shifting away from his healing knee, putting some of his weight on Halsin when the druid puts a large, secure arm around his back. There is a hesitance in his movement that reads of bruised ribs.

Astarion walks after them, closes the door, and leans against the wall. A wooden bath stands in the middle of the small room, padded with fabric, standing empty. The drow leans against the tub while Halsin fills it with a quick cantrip, creating water with an easy gesture. Elkantar tries reaching around to undo the ties on his tunic when he halts in pain.

A flinch that doesn't escape his lovers’ eyes.

“Having some trouble there, darling?” Astarion drawls while Elkantar’s eyes flit to him, guilty. He sets his jaw and tries to reach for the small knot once more, “No, I can get it- hey!” the drow complains when Astarion, unimpressed, takes a step forward and undoes the knot himself. Halsin’s warm laugh accompanies Elkantar’s flushing face when the elf stays in his space, pulling his tunic off and quickly undoing the knots of his undershirt-

“-Wait, Astarion.” Elkantar falters when Astarion’s agile hands brush over flesh, “Gently, please.”

“Why, Darling? Bruises?” He says and opens the drow’s undershirt only to pause in horror at the color of his skin- the delicate heather hue mottled yellow and blue. The elf hisses, his fingers hovering over the bruised mess of the drow’s ribs.

“Who did this to you?” He hisses angrily, his hand snapping to the drow’s chest when he tries folding on himself, “Are they dead? If they are not already dead, they will be soon!”

“Some of Gortash’s thugs jumped us in the streets—Ow, Sweetheart, careful—” the drow admonishes when Astarion peels him out of his shirt. ”Karlach cut them in two—this is retaliation for the Iron Throne breakout. He is escalating things,” he says and hesitates. “I am unsure how we can return to Wyrm’s crossing without passing through the fort.”

Halsin comes behind them, his hand sliding over the drow’s hip, pushing the rest of his clothes to the floor. The large druid leans in and presses a delicate kiss to the drow’s shoulder.

“We’ll figure something out, My heart, just not right now. Give me your hand; let’s get you in.”

When Elkantar steps away, Astarion can see the true extent of his injuries. The bruising wraps around him front to back, as well as along one of his hips and the meat of his thigh. It looks like he had been ambushed, pushed to the floor, and kicked viciously. It makes Astarion’s mouth taste like ash.

Elkantar moves slowly, raising his leg over the side, flinching when he tries to sink into the hot water. He pauses, the water reaching to his knee, casual in his nudity, before his head turns to Halsin, and he asks: “I am not sure I can bear sitting against the edge. Would you mind helping me?”

Halsin nods and disrobes without a second thought, revealing the vast spans of his tan skin while his clothes hit the floor in a pile. He gets in quickly, standing behind the drow before sinking into the water and settling against the tub's edge while his thighs part to accommodate the man.

Astarion can feel his cheeks warming but masters his expression in time, watching as the drow fails to mask the blatant desire in his eyes.

“God's above; you are a sight for sore eyes, Peach.” Elkantar praises, making the druid chuckle. 

Halsin’s large hands slide up the drow’s back to ease him into the water; he puts a hand on Elkantar’s chest, sliding it over gently to the bruising over his ribs, nuzzling his neck when the drow twitches in pain. “Slow down, my heart. Relax, lean back on me.”

Elkantar’s hands on the tub's rim go white, and he struggles to lean back. Against his better judgment, Astarion steps forward and catches his forearm. He helps Elkantar lower himself against the druid’s chest, watching his expression relax as he settles. 

The drow closes his eyes and groans when hot water and healing magic from the druid’s warm hand start easing his pain. The relief flooding his face when he slides into the water makes something small bloom on Astarion’s face, much to his chagrin. Suddenly, he feels Halsin’s eyes on him; he flushes when he sees the approval, promise, and hope in those eyes. 

He looks away.

They make a finer picture together, leaning against each other. Half hugging, the contrast of their skins looks delectable, and the air of contentment around them is sweet. With magic coursing through him, Elkantar looks peaceful, luxuriating under the druid’s skilled hands. For a brief moment, Astarion remembers the feel of them as well.

And the feeling of the drow’s skin under his hands.

Oh, they had flirted and smiled at each other when they had first met, the same old song and dance Astarion was intimately familiar with. Astarion knew his beauty was a spider’s web and the power his eyes had on men and women alike; it was no wonder then that Elkantar had looked at him and been captivated as well. 

When sanguine hunger struck, the drow seemed succulent enough, inviting and warm. The first taste had been divine, and the drow’s hot, messy mouth afterward had been a pleasant surprise, as was his enthusiasm.

The lingering taste of desire on his tongue had been memorable even if tasted once. Their little tryst had ended when Halsin had come into their lives and had Elkantar dazzled, and the pale elf realized the kindness and promise his eyes had no strings attached.

It made him angry for the longest time.

He wanted to keep being angry when promise after promise- to strangers as well!- had been kept without so much as a thought of compensation. For the dignity of it, Astarion frowned for the goodness of a deed well done.

Yet their promise had yet to be completed. It made Astarion’s skin crawl, the feeling that somehow somewhere, his master was watching him, watching them all, poisoning even this brief, relaxed intimacy-

“-Would you mind handing me the bowl, Astarion?” the druid asks, making the elf snap back into reality in a blink.

“Yes, ehm, of course.” He says and hands the druid a small wooden bowl and soap bar. Halsin catches the lingering look he gives his bare chest, and his hand pauses against his, eyes warm and full of promises: Later.

He takes a deep breath, settling on a stool, resting his chin in his hand while his fingers idle on the water's surface. They linger in silence for a while; Halsin pours magic into the drow’s bruises, letting him rest while he untangles his long, pale braid. 

“Keep your eyes closed, my heart,” Halsin instructs gently while Astarion fiddles with the silvery hair, breaking down the small braids and carding his fingers through it. Halsin leans the drow’s head back, pouring steaming water to wash away the day's dirt.

“I hate to break this- whatever this is,” Astarion says, his finger tracing over the skin of Halsin’s strong forearm, “but we need to talk about Gale.”

Elkantar opens his eyes and looks at him while Halsin pauses the methodical movement of his hands, letting the drow’s hair settle against his chest.

Astarion’s mouth opens, and for a second, no sound comes out, as if startled by the ready attention he is getting. He licks his lips and starts.

“Ever since we came from that pompous prick’s tower, Gale has been stuck with his nose in that dreary old book, and I don’t know what's brewing in that big brain of his.”

“He is quite fond of it,” Halsin agrees, giving the elf a questioning look, while Elkantar asks: “Why is it a cause for concern?”

“I’m-” Astarion starts and realizes he isn’t quite sure what to say. ‘I had been listening to his heart, and I don’t like the sound of it?’ or ‘There is something desperate brewing in his eyes, and I’m not sure what will come out of it once we’re through?’

“We talked some nights ago about my predicament... After that, he asked about my master. He wanted to know what to look forward to at the palace.” Astarion says carefully, his frustration building when Elkantar’s face is colored with confusion rather than alarm. “He seemed frustrated.”

Halsin’s brow scrunches in thought. "Breaking into it will be a daunting task indeed, but one we shall conquer together,” he says in a rich, warm voice, “is it concerning he is mulling it over?”

“He had a lot of questions about how I was turned , when… about my siblings. If any had ever escaped.” Astarion says, frustration starting to bubble in his chest when he couldn't tell what he wanted.

“He cares for you,” Elkantar says slowly, “Naturally, he wants to know more about your condition. You know how he is when he sees something he can't quite figure out.”

“Yes, I saw his books on vampirism, old rumors, and nonsense . But the new book… something about it-”

“-the power,” Halsins says quietly,  his eyes meeting the spawn’s. 

“-Is wrong,” The elf finishes, “He is planning something big without us. I don't like it.”

There is silence for a moment before Elkantar speaks.

“Is that bad?” he asks, looking at them both, “Power? Wouldn't you want to be able to protect the people you love?” He doesn’t wait for either of them to answer before adding, “It’s Gale. Gale . If we can’t trust his intention, then who can we trust? I can’t imagine he’d keep anything crucial close to his chest forever; let him come to you, Astarion, in due time.”

“You always say that,” Astarion thinks sullenly before realizing he had said it out loud.

“Only when it’s prudent,” Elkantar says defensively.

“Except when it comes to you, isn’t that right, El ?” The elf says acidly, “You can run straight to a fight without a second thought, but god forbid we enter the palace-”

“-Love-” Halsin says, the knowing light in his eyes setting Astarion’s nerves on edge.

“-I resent that, Astarion! You know why we haven’t gone yet- it’s too dangerous going through the front door, too soon, we need more preparation-”

“Then When? When are we going to break in? We’ve already found an entrance in the sewers-”

“-Which we haven’t been able to open-” Elkantar interjects.

“I could lead you there any day; it’s not like we are staging a surprise. We have been in the city for weeks! Are we waiting to be ambushed by my brothers and sisters again?”

“Of course not, Astarion, we simply must plan-”

“But that’s all we talk about! Plans, plans, plans! When have any of our plans worked? Hell, since when have you ever stuck to one anyway?”

“I- That’s unfair, Astarion,“ Elkantar says, flushing, “Your life's on the line if we as much as step near the palace-”

“What life , Elkantar?” He bites and relishes the brief shock and hurt on the pair's faces before digging deeper: “What life? I am a slave to the whims of the tadpole now, as I had been to my master before!” The pale elf seethes: “I can feel his grip around my throat every time we venture out; gods know how much time I have left before his patience runs out again!”

“He will never take you, Astarion, not without a fight,” Halsin says, and Elkantar’s hand covers the elf’s, which had been clutching the tub's rim with a white-knuckled grip.

“ Don’t touch me!” He spits and springs from the stool, feeling satisfied when the drow is immediately cowed. He paces the length of the small room, feeling the pair’s eyes on his back while his hands go through his hair, not caring he is ruining that morning’s careful work.

He tries to master his voice when Halsin’s eyes catch his, looking at the depths of him.

“I'm scared. Elkantar.” He says, ashamed at the wretchedness of his voice, “And I think that Gale is, too.”

“Scared? Scared of what?” Elkantar protests, but Astarion sees the knowing glint in his eyes, the glimmer of shame, and his anger boils over.

“That we may not be enough to handle this shit show! Look at yourself!” He turns on them, pointing, “How are we supposed to handle lord Gortash or that deranged, changeling bitch- crazy the red ? The foundry almost wiped you- do not give me that look, Drow !” He shouts when Elkantar’s face sharpens in a challenge, “You think you have everyone here wrapped around your little finger, oh savior- but I see you. I. See. You.”

His hand darted viciously to grab his vulnerable knee, bobbing above the steaming surface of the water. His touch is cruel and accurate, his finger digging into the softest spot he knows will make the drow yell in pain. Elkantar’s body reacts on instinct, flinching away only to cause a searing bolt of pain to shoot down his leg. The drow cries out, huddling instinctively against the large druid’s chest.

“ Astarion! You mother fucker !” Elkantar’s pained shout feels as bitter as the elf had expected it to be. He folds in on himself, clutching his knee in his hands, tears springing into his eyes.

“Astarion-” Halsin’s voice is low and angry in reprimand.

“Don't you see? You haven't recovered yet- Gale is all out of sorts. Gods know what he fills his mind with, and Darling,” he looks at Halsin with red, piercing eyes, “You are wilting in this city! Tell me your magic has been the same; I dare you.”

The druid remains quiet, his face a brewing storm. His hand carefully covers Elkantar’s knee, the light of his healing magic reflecting against the water.

“How are we- how can-” he trails off, a sudden tug deep in his chest feels like he had swallowed a fishing hook, “What chance do we have?” he asks, terrified,  in a small voice, before his eyes zero back on the drow, “My master is going to fucking kill you!”

“Astarion…” the drow whispers mournfully as he looks at the spawn with infuriating pity.

“Don't ‘Astarion’ me, Elkantar. Just don't. You have no idea what we are facing, and I can't go back. I cannot- I will not go back to being that wretch.” he breathes hard now, starting to feel faint, before baring his fangs. “There will not be a second time; I'd rather die than go live in that darkness again.” He feels bitterness coursing through him at the picture of the pair, sitting in warm water, hugging, caring, loving , and he blinks angrily, “You have Gale eating out of the palm of your hand like you had hung the moon, drow. Everyone here loves you and trusts you. But I know his heart. He hungers for power, like I do. He will stop at nothing to protect-” Us, “You. And I am scared of what he might do.”

The pair stays silent longer than Astarion’s dignity can tolerate. He bares his teeth and steps to the door. “But it seems I am the only one.”

He slams the door after him, trying to banish the guilt brewing in the pit of his stomach at the sight of Elkantar’s pain and Halsin’s anger and concern.

Elkantar wakes. 

The cold hand on his mouth and a lithe body slithering into his bed alarm him, but the smell of sweet bergamot and wine gives him pause. It’s the middle of the night, with the faint sound of snoring all around him. It's darker still, with the heavy curtains around the small enclosure of his bed being drawn shut by a pale hand.

Astarion has him on his stomach, his face pressed to his pillow as the spawn settles over him, his eyes twinkling rubies in the darkness.

“Are you here to hurt me or to fuck me, little gem?” Elkantar asks in a hoarse voice, resenting the sharp, searing pain his touch had caused and the humiliation of having been so transparent with his injury.

Astarion’s breath is cool against his neck, the smell of him all-encompassing in the small space. His blankets rustle as the elf’s hand caresses the delicate skin of his neck, brushing his long, loose hair away from his face. A gentle touch to accompany the harsh hold he was in. 

“I had the impression you were fond of both, darling, or at least I’ve had the clear company of your sighs and moans for so long that I simply wished to confirm it for myself.”

Elkantar laughs, a tenuous, trapped sound, turned on and nervous- he had no clear idea of what it was Astarion was truly after, “If you want to hear me sigh, you only have to ask, let me see you, and we can get right to it-”

“-My mind is not made up yet, darling , but I must admit I am curious about what kind of magical tool you are hiding underneath these robes that have Halsin and Gale so entranced.” His hand slides down to fondle a handful of Elkantar’s ass as the drow squirms under the spawn’s weight.

The drow’s retort dies on his lips when he feels Astarion is hard against his ass.

“Having me on my knees was not enough of a taste for you-” He tries to tease before his mouth is full of Astarion’s fingers. He makes a sound when the spawn’s fingers push his tongue down, feeling the texture of it. 

He tries to get a clear look at the elf, sucking his fingers spitefully. He had been in this position before and tried to relax-- his patron was also an impatient man. It usually went faster, and could even be pleasurable if he just relaxed. 

He sinks into the mattress, his previously clenched muscles becoming pliant and supple, letting his eyes darken, becoming heavy and wanting.

He was attracted to Astarion- who had been teasing him for days with touches too casual to be truly accidental-

“Gods, you suck like a whore, don’t you?” He pulls his fingers out with a slick sound and wipes an errant string of saliva over the drow’s lower lip as Elkantar tenses back up.

“Only when treated like one.” He snaps, breathing deeply through his nose, shuddering at the wet feeling of the elf’s fingers as they dive under his sleeping trousers and between his cheeks. “Astarion, I’d go to my knees quite willingly for you if only- Astarion !” he bucks under the pale elf’s touch when he smooths his fingers over the drow’s clenched hole. 

“Get off of me, you brute-'' Elkantar hisses, hooking his leg around Astarion and flipping their position, putting a hand on the spawn’s chest and pulling his exploring hand out of his trousers, “Had you come to my bed, actually wanting to partake in something pleasant you know I’d be all over you in a second- I’d have to be insane not to,” Elkantar says, straddling Astarion’s hips, wincing at his tender knee. He gives the elf a long look, “What is this ?”.

“What does it look like?” The elf says, grabbing the drow’s hand and sliding it over the bulge in his trousers, “I wanted a taste of your magic cunt, darling. I was so sure you’d be amenable.” He pouts snidely, giving Elkantar pause.

“Are you so upset with me you’d come here like this?” he says, watching Astarion’s dark eyes glint, reflecting the sliver of light that had managed to sneak through the curtains. He stays quiet, pondering the odd feeling of Astarion, unmoving, unbreathing, with no heart beating in his cold chest. An apt metaphor, he thinks acidly, “Well?”

“You will be the end of me, Elkantar,” The pale elf whispers into the thick darkness around them, deflating as the vicious bravado leaves his body, “Don’t look at me like that. You will. You are careless , with yourself, with the hearts of people around you-”

“-I can’t help everyone’s feelings-”

“You have us tangled in a web! if you die, I don’t think either of us will be the same-”

“Is this what this is?” Elkantar says, angry, “You care for me, so you hurt me? Lolth’s sagging tits, I thought I was done with this nonsense.”  he says, getting off Astarion, sitting with his back to the cold wall.

Silence is thick as molasses around them, oppressive like the shadow curse, and just as potent.

The drow gives him a piercing look, “You remind me of my husband so much sometimes I wonder how your skin isn’t plum.”

“I---what? Plum?”

Elkantar laughs at Astarion’s befuddlement as he sits up, legs splayed, looking back at him.

“You were married?” he asks, and Elkantar nods.

“Not in the traditional sense of the word,” He says, looking at Astarion and, for the first time that night- smiles, “I am almost a hundred and seventy-five years old, gem; I was property for most of it. The property of the Matron and Patron, I had” he pauses, “-have,” He amends, “ several husbands if they still draw breath in the Underdark, that is.” 

He carefully hugs his knees to his chest, resting his chin on them. “You remind me of Droog,” he says.

Astarion remains silent, unsure of what to say. Still, Elkantar doesn’t wait for his input.

“He was a sharp man, just like you. Angry, smart as a whip, too. He was second-husband, and I was seventh, but he was my first bond mate.” Elkantar says, giving the elf a long look, “He took care of me when I first arrived at the matron’s harem. I was young and scared- and a virgin .” He laughs and sighs, “He was sweet to me; he cared for me. When the first husband had his rages, he’d take the brunt of the burden and the whip.”

“Was he your first?” Astarion asks and regrets the question immediately.

“No, the Matron is first, always , then the Patron, but he was the first I went to willingly. He had a gentle touch,” Elkantar looks at Astarion, his eyes shining in the dark, “Like you. When you want to be.”

Astarion feels shame flooding his very being.

“He used to punish me when I did stupid things.” He continues, “‘ I’d rather it be me, ’ he used to say. And I loved him for it.”

He is silent after that, and so is Astarion, frozen in place.

”Droog died when I escaped.” His voice is cold and distant, “They took him with the hunting party and made him shout my name, hoping I’d crawl back. When he refused to keep beckoning me, they killed him; I heard his screams echoing in the Underdark. I almost fainted when I saw you with your silly little dagger against my throat; I thought his ghost came back to haunt me.”

Astarion forces himself to look into Elkantar’s eyes. “I did think it was rather strange that a monk couldn’t disarm me at the time.”

The drow smiles, a small thing Astarion can't help but mirror.

“It would be so easy to love you,” the monk says earnestly before his smile melts away, “If you cared a whit for me, too, but I will not tolerate this treatment. I love Halsin- wholly, unexpectedly , and I am falling for Gale just as hard. Are you afraid for them, for their safety ? So do I.”

“Cazador-”

“-Will die.” Elkantar cuts him off, and Astarion sees the fierce protectiveness in his eyes, the fire of anger and vengeance, “If we have to burn down his ugly palace with him in it. He will never touch you-”

“You can’t promise that.” Astarion says, his voice far more fragile than it had ever been, “You don’t know what he is capable of- they are watching us- he knows that I- That I love you, all- Cazador will rip the heart out of me, like he had done countless times before- and will suck it dry-”

“You are right,” he says, and Astarion stops, his eyes shining. “I can’t promise that. But I will fight for you; we all will—Karlach, Shadowheart, everyone—to see you through this.”

Astarion looks at him, his eyes large and wet, huddling on himself, the softness of his pale hair framing his head in disarray.  Elkantar lowers to his knees, crawling slowly, carefully towards the elf, before his hands are on his knees, then in his hair. His touch is a gentle, sweet caress, fragile like starlight.

“You will never be alone again, gem, not as long as we draw breath-- but you can't hurt me because you're scared. Never again; I didn't escape the Underdark to hurt like this again. I deserve better.”

Something breaks in Astarion’s chest, releasing a flood of shame and tears as he pulls the drow forward, clinging to him desperately. He takes a deep, shuddering breath and buries his face in the crook of Elkantar’s neck, “Gods, I am so sorry.”

“I know, Sweetheart, it’s OK.” Elkantar whispers, “I have you, stay with me.” Astarion nods wetly, clinging to the drow as he rests his back against the wall again, hugging him tightly. He lets Astarion rest his head in the crook of his neck and feels his tears soaking through his night-shirt. They stay like that until Astarion stops shaking. He waits patiently for his grip to loosen and his breathing to even out until he becomes too self-conscious and extracts his head out of the crook of the drow’s neck, laughing a small, wet laugh.

Elkantar looks at his flushed face, the dark circles under his eyes, the tears that had gathered on his lashes, and presses their foreheads together for a moment, overcome with tender emotion. He breathes in the smell of him: bergamot, rosemary, and a hint of aged brandy when something on the spawn’s face catches his eye.

The elf looks at him, something fragile in his eyes before they close again, and he brushes their noses together in supplication.

“May I kiss you?”

Astarion waits for a breathless moment before Elkantar whispers into the silence between them:

“You may.”

He is not gentle, nor would Elkantar wish him to be. The elf slots their mouths together like a man drowning, circling his arms around the drow’s neck, pulling him back closely, and drinking him in deeply. He is a thrumming force of desire, of tongue, fangs and teeth, bitten lips, and soft sighs. He takes everything Elkanatr offers and more, laying him back onto the bed, leaning his weight on him, and pressing his leg between Elkantar’s thighs firmly.

“Astarion,” The drow murmurs between long, languid kisses and licks against his tongue, “Astarion, wait.”

“What is it, darling?” He says in a breathy voice, his eyes heavy and hooded with lust while his thigh presses into Elkantar’s building excitement.

“I’m getting hard,” He admits against the spawn’s lips, to which the elf laughs and grinds long and dirty against the tent in his sleeping pants, “I’ve noticed. Problem?”

They break apart, Astarion watching as the drow’s color deepens into something delectable before he opens his shining, bitten lips, his eyes heavy with desire, and says:

“I’d like to suck you, like a whore .”

Astarion stops at that, his heart falling to his stomach, “I- Darling, I’m sorry-”

“-I mean it, Astarion. I want you in my mouth,” He takes the tip of his ear into his mouth, sucking it in before whispering low and dirty, “Pull out your cock, gem, and let me choke on it.”

“You really are a sly little temptress, aren’t you?” He kisses Elkantar, quick and dirty, making his head swoon, “You want everyone to hear me fucking your throat, don’t you?”

The drow hums at that- turned on and needy.

“I’d wake the whole Tavern if I could, but Gale carved a sound-dampening rune into my bed.” He says, his hand darting to slide over a small carving against the wooden post of the bed. Astarion bites his chin lightly before licking against the seam of his smiling lips. “Oh? But I heard your wanton little moans just last night, darling—are you sure it works?”

“Hmmm, you hear me only when I go to Halsin's bed to ride his cock. He likes me loud and excited.”

“Well, then it’s good I have you loud and excited in this bed,” he says, seeing Elkantar’s eyes lighting up mischievously. “I am not averse to sharing, but tonight, I want you all for myself.”

Elkantar’s smile blooms across his face, wide and eager, before he licks his lips and, with a slight flick of his chin, says:

“Take off your trousers,” the drow commands and laughs when Astarion hurries to do so. Elkantar slides down, kicking the blanket away, twisting the silvery spill of his hair into something more manageable, and rests his head against his pillow. His eyes follow the elf’s lithe body as he moves to bare himself.

Astarion turns back to hover over the drow, who can't help but sigh at the picture he makes. There is something deliciously devious about the harsh jut of his long, beautiful cock against his stomach: hard, red, and beading at the tip. 

“Get over me, Gem; I want the feeling of your cock at the back of my throat.”

“Good gods,” Astarion laughs, spreading his legs over the drow’s face before his hand reaches down and holds himself, jerking off with terse movements. “The whorish mouth on you.”

“Whatever shall you do to shut me up?” He arches an eyebrow, sticking out his tongue, making Astarion's expression ripen into something lustful and heady.

Astarion's hand darted down to tangle in Elkantar's hair, clutching it tightly, close to the scalp, enjoying the small satisfied hitch in the drow’s breath. He takes his cock, already pink and beading at the tip, tapping it against Elkantar’s mouth with a lewd wet sound.

The drow squirms in anticipation, his tongue darting out, trying to coax the elf into his mouth, sucking on his pale thumb instead when it catches his lower lip, prying his mouth open slowly. Astarion watches Elkantars face keenly when he slides the pink tip of his cock into his mouth in a slow, teasing motion, enjoying the way the drow’s eyelids become heavy with arousal and his lips stretch around the intrusion.

The drow’s mouth is hot and wet; Astarion sighs at the slow, sinful glide into tight, delicious pressure before pulling back. Elkantar sighs around the mouthful as Astarion’s long, elegant cock slides in and out of his mouth as the spawn thrusts leisurely.

Elkantar’s head is swimming with the smell of him, the pleasing shape of his cock on his tongue as it teases the back of his throat in expertly precise movements. Astarion is teasing him on purpose, controlling the pace and depth of his thrusts, giving Elkantar a delectable mouthful while not taking him as hard as his eyes beg him to.

Elkantar moves his head away, catching his breath, his face flushed. “Are you going to give it to me or continue teasing forever?” he asks before the elf pushes back into the tight, wet heat of him with a sigh.

“I shall do whatever I like, darling. Isn’t that what you do with good little whores?”

He pushes in, bumping the back of Elkantar’s throat, making him moan, and for a moment, he keeps the tempo viciously fast. Elkantar’s eyes close as he slurps around the intrusion, enjoying Astarion’s rough hands and the spit that slowly escapes his lips and drips down his chin.

The drow’s hands shoot to his hips, urging Astarion to fuck his mouth harder, only for Astarion to hold them there and stop his movement, teasing the drow with short, frustrating little thrusts while the drow struggles to breathe from his nose.

“Hmmm,” Astarion hums contently when the drow chokes on a purposeful thrust, “What a good boy you are, what a tight little throat.” The spawn laughs when Elkantar’s hand tightens on the back of his thighs, warning him of his building impatience. 

”Is this what Halsin’s been enjoying, or is your sweet ass tighter?”

Elkantar moans and nods, only to whimper and buck excitedly when Astarion slaps his face. He’s dizzy with desire, moaning around the thick cock in his mouth, his eyes meeting Astarion and pleading more .

Astarion slaps him again, harder; his cheeks bloom a rosy pink while the elf’s eyes are trained on him, searching his face for any sign of distress but finding only desire.

“You like that?” he murmurs, hips slowing down into languid, long glides once more, allowing the drow to breathe deeply from his nose, enjoying the feeling of tight, wet suction and his talented tongue.

Elkantar pouts when Astarion pulls out, stroking himself slowly and tightly in his hand, feeling the drow’s hands on his ass he asks, “Feeling good, darling?”

Elkantar blinks away tears, nodding slowly, his tongue darting to lick at Astarion’s balls while he strokes himself, “Stop teasing, gem, or I’ll flip us over and take what I want instead of waiting for--”

Astarion slaps him again, only for Elkantar to grunt and smile wide. He captured the elf’s thumb in his mouth and gave it a long, lewd suck, only for Astarion to push it in and say:

“Who do you think you are talking to, you little brat?” he intones archly, pressing his thumb on the drow’s tongue and holding his chin. 

“I’m not Halsin. Open your mouth.” 

Astarion thrusts into his mouth in one long stroke, making the drow’s eye water when he takes his head in both hands, pushing Elkantar’s nose against his crotch as he buries himself deeply. He felt the man’s throat constrict around him as he swallowed thickly, closing his eyes.

He thrusts in hard for a moment, as hard as Elkantar’s eyes had begged him to, pulling obscene sounds from his throat and enthusiastic moans from his chest. He pushes in and out like a rutting beast, holding Elkantar’s head in place while the drow cups his ass in both hands, urging him on as spit froths around his lips.

After a few excitable moments, he pulled the drow off, delighting in the image of his flushed, messy face. Elkantar’s face is shining and wet, precum and saliva smeared on his heather skin, pale hair in disarray, and long eyelashes shining with tears. Yet most of all, Astarion enjoyed the look of delirious bliss on the man, who sank back into the mattress bonelessly with short panting breaths.

“Fuck, baby, that felt amazing,” Elkantar pants, and Astarion can’t help but shimmy lower for a moment, grab the drow’s chin forcefully, and kiss those shining red lips until the man melts under him completely. Elkantar moans softly, urgent little sounds that make what little blood the elf has in him thrum and his cock throb painfully. Elkantar grinds against Astarion’s thigh lightly, unaware of the hunger roaring to life in the pit of his lover’s stomach.

The elf pulls back, breathing quickly, trying to regain control of himself. He watches Elkantar give him a sly look, knowing exactly the power he holds. He smiles sharply, feeling his fangs’ points against his lips.

He moves back and away from Elkantar, sitting with his back to the bed’s frame, displaying the long lines of his body, stroking himself lazily, and watching while Elkantar smooths back his hair while his eyes track Astarion’s every move.

“I grow tired of doing all the work around here; if you want my cock, suck me, lazy boy.”

The drow rolls onto his stomach carefully and crawls slowly to him. His hands glide up Astarion’s leg, picking his delicate ankle, planting a kiss there, up his shin, nipping his thigh before licking long from Astarion’s balls to his pink, leaking tip, before taking him into his mouth with a pleased grunt.

“That’s right, darling, just a little harder, naughty boy.” Astarion hums, putting an arm behind his hand and the other in Elkantar’s head, just holding at the moment.

The drow slurps around the elf’s cock; whatever he doesn’t fit into his mouth is covered by his warm hands moving tightly up and down him. His head bobs as he puts his clever tongue to good use, his eyes darting to Astarion when the elf tucks an errant strand of hair behind a delicate ear.

The drow captures the gentle hand rubbing against his pink cheek, his eyes hooded with desire and shining with pleas as he rubs against it. He moans at each sting of a slap, sucking harder, sloppier, his sounds becoming needy and whorish as he begins rubbing against the mattress. 

He comes off Astarion’s cock with a gasp, moaning at the sting of another slap and leaning into the soft caress after, his skin hot and red.

“Alright there, darling?” Astarion asks, caressing his messy hair as the drow breathes deeply. Elkantar laughs, kissing Astarion’s taut stomach, “I am good, baby,” he says, his tongue teasing the spawn’s belly button cheekily before nipping lightly at the softness he finds there, “I’d be great if you touch me; I really want to cum.”

The spawn smiles like a cat who had cornered the canary, caressing the drow’s face and guiding his head back down against his straining cock. He grabs the pillow, tossing it next to the drow, and with a cruel smile says, “You may fuck the pillow darling while you suck me off; that’s what naughty boys get.”

He can see Elkantar’s confusion and disappointment before he parts his lips and traces back and forth along the vein bulging along the elf’s cock. He quickly pushes the pillow between his legs, moving his hips in long thrusts, and winces slightly as his knee twinges with pain.

“Don’t pout, darling,” Astarion says, feeling the drow’s discontent, “It’s unbecoming.”

To which the drow stops his reluctant thrusts and looks up at the elf, “I thought I’ve been good. I did everything you asked--”

Astarion sighs, pulling the drow up into his arms, hearing his hissed breath when, for a moment, his knee aches. He hugs the drow’s waist while he puts his feet on the mattress, creating more space for Elkantar to cuddle in. 

They are close enough that Astarion can feel the cadence of Elkantar's breath, the sweaty slickness of his skin, and the hard line of his erection against his own. He takes the drow’s ear in his teeth, then sucks the lobe of his ear into his mouth, enjoying his sensitive reaction, feeling his shudder in his arms before he whispers hotly in his ear, “You’ve been a good boy today, but we are making up for the plans you had upended, darling.” His nails rake down the drow’s exposed back, catching a handful of ass, “You should have seen poor Gale’s face.”

“I keep hearing about this great plan, but none of you will tell me what it is- Ohh, Astarion, hng, ” Elkantar moans when Astarion spreads his cheeks, massaging his flesh in his hand, causing him to slide up. Astarion feels their cocks slide against each other when the drow flinches, then sighs at the tantalizing contact.

“We had a whole room ready, right here,” Astarion murmurs into the drow’s ear, continuing touching him, sliding their bodies together, feeling Elkantar trying to grind against him covertly, “Halsin and I had planned the whole thing; how we’d truss you up, like a pretty little piglet,” He feels Elkantar shudder at the image, “We had treated a rope, just for you--”

“--Oh, fuck ”

“We’d tie your long, beautiful legs to the bed posts, open your sweet little ass with our tongues - I know Halsin was waiting to see me do that. Then we’d cover your eyes-- You’d like that, won’t you, you little slut? ” He adds when Elkantar moans against his neck, where he had buried his face.

“Y-Yea,” he moans, arms winding around the elf’s pale neck, his hips moving in small, desperate movements, yearning for release. “What then?”

“Then we’d take turns fucking you, naughty boy; Your mouth, your ass,” He slaps it quickly, watching heather skin bloom, “I wanted to have you guess who was between your thighs, but Halsin said you’d enjoy a cock in your mouth better--”

“Yes!”

“--And I see that he was right. Turn around, naughty boy, you won’t cum rutting against me like a bitch.”

“Please!” Elkantar cries as Astariom turns him quickly, his back to his chest, his feet on Astarion’s raised knees, spread obscenely wide, cock drooling uselessly against his stomach, “Please-- Oh  fuck! ” Elkantar cries when Astarion's hand, cruel, quick, and hard, slaps between his legs straight at his quivering hole. The drow keens, head flung backward, revealing his long, delectable neck as he writhes, his ass grinding against Astarion’s cock.

“We would take turns filling up this lewd little hole of yours,” Astarion continues, whipping slap after slap on the drow, reveling at his moans and whimpers, wishing the silencing rune would fail, and all could hear that he had the drow here, pliable and needy like putty in his hands.

“Only you went ahead and started without me,” he says, slapping twice in quick succession, looking at the drow’s red cock, the cum staining his stomach as it drools pitifully, the sheen of his sweaty skin and his red face. His pants and moans are music to Astarion’s ears; the thrum of blood rushing through his jugular, so close to Astarion’s mouth, makes his fangs ache.

“I wanted to be there when you took Gale; I wanted to see Halsin’s face when he came inside you; I wanted to lick you clean while Halsin fucked me from behind,” he says, slapping the inside of Elkantar’s thigh when his ass becomes red and hot- too sensitive to abuse. Astarion hears the beat of the monk’s heart race faster and faster, then grabs his cock tightly, jacking him off cruelly while the drow cries out in pleasure, “But you couldn’t help it, could you? You just had to cum.”

“Then cum, slut .”

Elkantar explodes in his hand, cumming with a long obscene cry, thrusting his hips into the tight, cruel pressure. Astarion holds his chest in place, his hand milking him for all he's got. He enjoys Elkantar’s cries and sobs as he trembles against him, grinding and sliding against Astarion’s growing urgency.

“Yes, Darling, that’s it. Cum for me like a good boy.” The elf breathes in Elkantar’s ears, his nose brushing against his tear-stricken cheeks, his teeth grazing his neck, and fangs aching for a taste.

“Yes! Yes! Oh, Astarion! ” Elkantar cries, a vision of carnal lust and wanton need, “Fuck, oh gods, tighter-- Ohh, yes! ”

They reek of sex, the stench of it fogging up Astarion’s mind, the temptation of blood, the smell of the drow’s pleasure is becoming too much- he’s close.

“Where do you want me?” He asks quickly in a strained voice, the ache in his balls urging him on, “I’m going to cum; where do you want it--”

“Face,” Elkantar pants desperately, “On my face, In my mouth-- Please, Astarion , cum on my face.”

He’s on top of him suddenly, knees on either side of the drow’s flushed face, cock in hand, jerking off harshly, panting like he’s run a race. Elkantar’s mouth is open under him, tongue out and waiting, eyes expectant while the drow’s hands are on his thighs, massaging him, pushing him closer and closer--

“Fuck!” Astarion cries.

He cums hard, long white string painting the drow’s face, landing on his tongue, in his hair, on his nose. It’s obscene and terribly right; this had been coming for a while, and he had needed this desperately.

Elkantar moans, his hand replacing Astarion’s on his cock as he wrings the spawn dry while he pants and moans. Astarion is sweating and breathing hard as the litany of praise and filth spills forth from the drow’s mouth; while he spills on it, it sends shivers up his spine.

He collapses next to the drow, catching his breath and coming down from his peak, “Are you good, darling?” He asks, feeling sleepy and satisfied, shifting to look at the drow when he hears his infectious laugh.

“Yes, gem. Gods, what a rollercoaster. This is certainly not how I pictured this night.” He laughs and turns to grab something off the small shelf above the bed, “Help me clean up, please; I can’t go to wash my face with cum on it.”

Astarion’s laugh is a burst of incredulous giggles, “You should be more careful what you wish for, darling.” he says, taking the small piece of fabric from Elkantar, wiping his face in gentle, precise movements while the drow chuckles mischievously.

“I couldn’t help it; you were too hot. It was either my face or my ass-”

“That might have been easier to clean,” Astarion chuckles.

“-- But I wanted to see your face when you came.” He admits, making Astarion halt his gentle machination.

He kisses him then, a sweet, precious thing, leaving the drow speechless when he continues to wipe off his face.

“I think I understand why you have Halsin and Gale wrapped around your little finger,” Astarion says, watching Elkantar’s cheeky comment slide off his tongue thoughtlessly, “Is it the incredible head?”

“It’s the incredible heart, you silly drow. Gods, go wash your face; I can’t stand the sight of you anymore.” Astarion complains and blushes, looking away.

“Are you wrapped around my little finger now too?” Elkantar asks as he slides off the bed, quickly avoiding Astarion as he tries to slap his ass in passing.

“I’ll have you wrapped around my fist , you cocky little slut . Gods, don’t you know what’s good for you?”

“That sounds pretty good to me-- Gosh, you’re quick,” He yelps as he barely manages to evade the blushing spawn again, hurrying on to the wash basin, ass hanging out, if there was anyone to see.

He washes quickly, climbing back into his bed and cuddling next to Astarion, lying in a sleepy, languid pile of limbs. Astarion swats at his hand when he tries wiping off some of the mess on him with the cloth he had wet: " Leave it on, darling; it’ll drive Halsin wild tomorrow.” He hums in sleepy anticipation, “Wouldn’t that be something? Come here and stop squirming; we have little time to rest.”

“And whose fault is that?” The drow murmurs sleepily, settling against the elf’s chest, hearing no heartbeat when he plays his head over the spawn’s heart.

“I could answer that at length if you’d like.” Astarion murmurs, relaxing into sleep, too proud to show how much he was enjoying this easy intimacy and Elkantar’s closeness.

“So you think I have an incredible heart?” Elkantar teases softly, and Astarion’s eyes open with realization.

“Oh Gods, you are about to be absolutely insufferable, aren’t you.”

“You like me.” he smiles against the elf’s chest,

“I won’t like you as much if you don’t shut up and go to sleep, naughty boy.”

He feels Elkantar’s grin against his chest, his giddiness and joy as he settles down to sleep. He lays a gentle hand on his unmoving chest.

“Well, I like you too.”

Chapter Text

For the first time in a long while, the house was not eerily quiet.
Soft sighs, murmurs, and the telltale sound of crying echoed faintly through closed doors. Astarion reveled in it.

He reclined against the wall by the door, feet edging into the last of the sun’s fading light, letting the silence break at last. Hearing something other than Elkantar’s slow, rasping breath was a relief.

He would never admit how long he had sat by that bedside, holding Elkantar's limp hand. Halsin was his only witness, but the druid could be trusted to keep his secrets. He hadn’t spoken of the tears—he only came to wipe them away.

Whatever had existed between Astarion and Elkantar—cautious interest, lust—had changed while the drow was ill. It had become something nameless.

Astarion had been on his way to relieve Halsin’s vigil when he first heard Elkantar’s raspy voice. The door was slightly ajar, and as Astarion leaned against it, he couldn’t make out the words exchanged inside—only the tone. A tone that told him to stay outside. To give them more time.

That damn drow had made him soft.

Every second of hearing Elkantar’s voice reminded him of why they had ended up in that bed.

One brutal battle after another, each horrid tunnel or slimy cavern had slowly worn them down. They had barely survived the descent to that cursed temple, let alone the climb to Gortash’s gaudy throne room. What good were a monk’s fists against a reinforced automaton? Or a rogue’s dagger?

Elkantar had said he was fine. Insisted. But none of them were blind to the limp. The hitch in his breath. The bruises that didn’t heal.

Still, he had remained in control. He led them from one fight to the next—to the highest point of the city and beyond: into the sky, into the brain. Then down again, into the depths.

Astarion had known. Like a cold ache in his bones. Elkantar wouldn’t make it out. He had known it too many times to count. His eyes had followed the shimmer of Elkantar’s pale hair and thought: this must be the last time.

Then it wasn’t. And again. Until Halsin finally confronted him. At least now they could share the weight of that fear.

Gale, of course, was another matter.

Astarion’s lip curled as he pushed the wizard from his thoughts. He had no right to be here.

Which was when the door slammed open, hitting the wall as Gale stumbled in.

Startled, Astarion looked at him—at the wild energy in his windswept hair, flushed cheeks, and eyes that still held something he didn’t want to see. Longing.

Once, that would’ve been welcome. Once, he might have rushed into Gale’s arms.

Not anymore.

“Is he awake?” Gale asked breathlessly, looking like he had run all the way here from wherever he’d disappeared to—weeks ago.

No, ‘Hello, Astarion. Sorry I ran out on you’?

Fine by him.

Astarion ignored the hurt curling in his chest and feigned boredom.

“Astarion—”

“Oh, it speaks,” Astarion snapped. “And here I thought you'd forgotten how.”

“Darling, please—” Gale stepped toward the door.

Astarion blocked him. The door closed softly behind him as his hand shot out to stop the wizard in his tracks. He could feel Gale’s heartbeat and wished his nails were sharper. Weeks of playing nurse had dulled them. Now they only ached to tear.

“You’ve got some nerve,” he hissed.

Up close, he saw the new streaks of silver in Gale’s hair. The fatigue carved under his eyes—the sad downturn of his mouth. And still, he hungered for the sight of his face.

A part of him missed the wizard. That part was ruthlessly suppressed—but not before Gale caught the flicker of it in his eyes.

“I’ve missed you, Astarion.”

“I don’t give a shit.”

“I thought about you every day.” The shy tilt of Gale’s head revealed something far worse—Mystra’s silver earrings dangling from his ears.

Astarion yanked one.

“I thought I threw these in a lake.”

Gale’s expression shuttered instantly. He stepped back, hands folding in front of him.

“They’re new.”

Astarion’s lips thinned. Silence stretched.

Mystra.

“So?” he asked quietly. “That’s where you were?”

Gale met his stare evenly. “For some of it.”

“That’s all I get? ‘For some of it’?” Astarion’s voice turned mocking.

Guilt flickered across Gale’s features. “I didn’t think you’d want the whole story.”

“Seeing as what?” Astarion pressed.

Gale finally held his gaze. “You told me to leave.”

“How could I have told you anything? You were barely here.”

It landed like a knife, and Astarion waited to see it wound. But Gale only stayed quiet.

“Have you spoken to him?” the wizard asked.

“No.”

Of course, he’d ask about Elkantar.

Astarion’s jealousy rose, sharp and bitter. He didn’t know where to aim it. At Gale. At himself.

“He never bothered to wake up when I sat beside him,” Astarion muttered.

“After all this time—”

“Yes. After the doctor told us to say goodbye, I had little hope.” His voice tightened. “Oh, but what am I saying? You weren’t here to hear it.”

“I was trying,” Gale said, voice catching. “It was hard—”

“Oh, was it?” Astarion sneered. “Was it hard to stop scouring the bottom of the Chiontar for a crown?”

In his dark little room with the curtains drawn shut, Astarion had longed for Gale to return. He had imagined welcoming him back, arms open. Then he had bargained. If Gale came back. If Elkantar woke up. If Halsin smiled again, he would become a better man. He’d settle. Be kind. Laugh at Halsin’s awful jokes and mean it.

If only.

But who would hear such wishes? What god would listen to a spawn, a liar, a killer?

“Did you even think of us?” he whispered. “Or did that crown—”

“This is a pointless conversation, Astarion. “ Gale sighed, “I didn't come here to open old wounds.”

“Old?” Astarion's incredulous chuckle sounds louder in the lonely hall, “They never quite closed for me.”

That's not-” Gale sounded exhausted before his eyes hardened. “I won’t discuss this with you.” 

“Coward.”

Gale's frown deepened. “You wouldn’t believe me.”

“Try me.”

A deep voice cut through the air: “Gentlemen.”

Halsin.

He stepped into the hall and closed the door behind him, towering over them, hands on his hips. For the first time in weeks, he looked steady.

“You’ll wake him,” the druid chided.

Astarion’s mouth moved before he could stop it. “How is he?”

“Weak, but better.” Halsin smiled gently. “He stirred in my arms and asked for water. Like he’d just woken from a strange dream.”

He turned to Gale. “It’s good to see you, my friend.”

“You as well,” Gale said, voice softening. “I’ve missed you.”

Halsin’s eyes welled. “He kissed me. Silvanus be praised—he knew who I was right away.”

Astarion wiped at his eyes quickly, scowling toward Gale, expecting smugness. But the wizard’s gaze was locked on the door, frowning, as if trying to see Elkantar through it.

Look at me, Gale.

Look at me.

He startled as Halsin stepped closer and pulled him into a warm embrace. Astarion’s frown broke, his body slumping against the druid.

“It feels like a dream,” he whispered.

“He asked for you,” Halsin murmured.

Astarion pulled back, eyes wide. “You’re teasing me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Gem.” Halsin kissed the tip of his nose. “He fell asleep again before I could get you.”

Astarion couldn’t speak. Halsin's hand moved comfortingly across his back.

“You’ve been strong,” the druid whispered.

“Hardly, I—” Astarion froze as the door creaked open.

Rage flared. Gale’s robe slipped through the crack as he entered Elkantar’s room.

“Gale!” Astarion snapped, twisting in Halsin’s arms. “He doesn’t deserve—”

“Let it be, my love,” Halsin said, holding him tighter.

“He doesn’t care—”

“That’s not true, and you know it—”

“He ran! Left Elkantar for that damn crown!”

Left us.

Left me.

“Astarion, stop.” Halsin shook him—he had never done that before. “Look at him. Tell me you see a man who doesn’t care.”

Astarion looked.

Gale had rushed to the bedside. His hands hovered over Elkantar’s, unsure. Then he sank to the floor, buried his face in the sheets, and wept.

“Where’s his crown, Astarion?” Halsin asked.

“What?”

“The crown you said he chose over Elkantar. I don’t see it.”

Astarion stepped back, glaring.

“This changes nothing.”

“It changes everything,” Halsin said gently, taking his hands. “Everything. He’s awake. We can finally go home.”

Halsin’s voice was soft, hopeful.

And Astarion, pushing past him, spat under his breath, “Where the hell is that?”

When Elkantar wakes again, it’s Astarion by his side.

The room is dark and silent, the air standing still, as if holding a breath.

His eyes flutter open, and he startles—drawing a sharp breath. Astarion’s hand twitches where it rests over his; his eyes are fixed on the drow’s face with a hawk’s precision. A flicker of recognition, a slow inhale, and then—he meets that keen, burning gaze.

A soft smile makes a dead heart flutter.

“Hello,” Astarion breathes, his voice uncharacteristically tender.

“Hello, Gem,” Elkantar murmurs hoarsely. “How I missed your beautiful smile.”

Astarion’s face aches with it.

Something in Astarion’s chest aches at that, his mouth curving despite himself. Salt touches his tongue—tears slipping unbidden, sliding past his lips to his chin. Elkantar notices too, and with what strength remains, lifts Astarion’s hand to his lips to kiss its back before sinking into the pillow with a sigh.

“You are never to do that again, do you hear me?” Astarion’s voice sounds strange, even to his ears. Reedy. Strained. “I won’t abide it.”

“I promise,” Elkantar answers, locking eyes with him—those molten, restless eyes—before shifting to make space.

The invitation is wordless. The acceptance, the same.

Astarion curls around the shape Elkantar makes, settling atop the blanket. Slowly, he presses his forehead to the drow’s. He watches his slow, exhausted blinks as the world sharpens around him. Being looked at by this man feels different. Astarion inhales the soft warmth of his breath and waits. 

Usually, Elkantar is the first to speak, but now, he seems content with silence.

“You had Halsin extremely worried, you know,” Astarion remarks when the silence stretches too long. “I feared he’d go bald. What would we do then?”

Elkantar shrugs.

“Keep our eyes down when we sucked his cock, I suppose—ow!” he yelps as Astarion slaps his shoulder. “You can’t do that! I’m sick!”

His eyes glint mischievously.

“I can’t believe that’s the first thing you say to me after all that,” Astarion groans, tucking the blanket more snugly around him. “For all the good it did me, throwing my lot in with a drow.”

“I’m touched,” Elkantar smiles.

“Yes—touched in the head.”

Elkantar groans theatrically. “Oh, such acid!”

“That’s what you get for leaving me so long.”

“I promise I won’t do it again,” Elkantar whispers, burrowing closer to brush his nose against Astarion’s—a soft, intimate nudge.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, drow,” Astarion chides gently, fingers carding through Elkantar’s pale hair.

“Drow, drow, drow,” Elkantar huffs. “Say my name, Gem. I missed seeing its shape on your lips.”

But Astarion stays quiet, even as his hand keeps its slow, careful path.

“Did you miss me?” Elkantar asks.

“Sometimes,” Astarion says, trying for aloofness—and failing.

“I remember you,” Elkantar says in a low voice. “Sitting by my bed. Kissing the tips of my fingers.”

“It was the only place that wasn’t hurt,” Astarion admits thickly.

“I missed you.”

Astarion’s lips shape around ‘I’ve missed you too, terribly.’ But what comes out is:

“Are you cold?” Astarion asks. “Do you need another blanket?”

“No, Gem. It’s okay—”

“You are shivering!” he exclaims, suddenly rising. “What are you wearing?”

Astarion watches as Elkantar’s face twists with barely suppressed laughter.

“Aren’t you bold?” he peeps, clearly reveling in Astarion’s exasperation. “I’m wearing the knitted socks Halsin made me,” he pauses, raising a plucked eyebrow, “And your little red thong.”

“Seriously?”

“Halsin doesn't play around with my circulation,” he says with mock gravity, “He’s got my feet nice and toasty—”

“—And the thong?” Astarion interrupts, arching a brow.

“That’s just for fun,” Elkantar winks.

“You are incorrigible as ever,” the elf whispers, the urge to kiss that silly little grin growing unbearable.

“I don’t want you to worry.”

“It’s a little late for that.” He lies back down, letting Elkantar twine their fingers together.

“I can help you not think about it,” Elkantar offers. Beneath the blanket, a long, shapely leg slides against Astarion’s calf, a teasing brush of wool. For a moment, the sock peeks into view—long, knitted, utterly ridiculous.

Astarion laughs, and Elkantar grins.

“I mean it,” Elkantar says as Astarion rolls onto his back, shaking with laughter.

“Oh, I know you do, darling,” Astarion manages between chuckles, eyes shining.

Elkantar presses in closer, wrestling with the covers until his arm rests across Astarion’s chest. He presses the cold tip of his nose into the side of the vampire’s neck, where a pulse would be, then slides a hand beneath his shirt to find a nipple and pinch it.

“Ow!” Astarion yelps, scandalized. “Elkantar!”

“I’m not made of glass,” Elkantar murmurs. He rolls over him, pinning his arms, letting Astarion take in the long lines of his legs and the glimpse of red strings beneath his shirt.

“Nice shirt, little thief,” Astarion drawls.

“The image of socks and a thong is sexier,” Elkantar shrugs, refusing to move.

“You should get under the covers before you freeze, you silly man. You’ll get sick again.”

“I’d rather have you keep me warm,” Elkantar smiles, then, at the pointed glance, adds, “I am well, really. Stop fretting.”

“You were half dead for weeks—you look half-starved,” Astarion says sharply.

Elkantar opens his mouth for a retort—

“Not another word.”

Astarion wanted to kiss him.

Instead, he leaned back, gaze roaming inch by inch in the dark. Elkantar preened under the scrutiny. This man reveled in attention; he thrived under it. He knew he was beautiful—even now, ravaged by illness.

Remarkably, he looked better than a man who had spent weeks dying in his bed had any right to. Where once he’d been gaunt, he was now merely thin. His eyes were tired, but they were alive. His heartbeat was strong and steady. Astarion still couldn’t quite believe it.

He had sat by Elkantar’s side. Held his hand. Said his goodbyes again and again—until goodbye turned into hello.

Elkantar should be dead.

“Am I not diverting enough for you?” Elkantar huffed, snapping Astarion back to the moment.

“What?”

“I was doing my best to seduce you, and you’ve barely noticed.”

“Nonsense.” Astarion’s hands tightened on the drow’s hips, but Elkantar remained unimpressed. “I was just… carried away by your beauty.”

The flippant flirtation landed flat.

“Don’t nonsense me. I see you.” Elkantar slid to the side, settling back against Astarion’s shoulder. “What is it?”

Here it was—the moment of truth.

Finally, he could spill the anger, frustration, and hurt he’d been carrying. But the words caught in his throat. Where would he even start?

Gale had been pulling away long before their fallout. Weeks spent sequestered in their rented room, emerging only rarely. Burying himself in tomes and scrolls, devouring everything with those greedy wizard hands.

Astarion had once found that hunger for power intoxicating.

Until the spark between them had been smothered by Gale’s ambition.

“I can see the cogs turning,” Elkantar said, fingers walking up Astarion’s chest. “Gem. Come on.”

“It’s Gale.”

“Of course it’s Gale.” Elkantar rolled his eyes, resting his chin on Astarion’s chest. “What about him?”

Astarion stared at him, floored.

“I know the shades of your brooding, you silly man.” Elkantar parroted back his own words, “I can feel something is wrong, but Halsin won’t say, and Gale—”

“He was here? With you?” Astarion’s voice simmered.

“Hardly.” At Astarion’s sharp look, Elkantar rushed to clarify. “He stood outside my door when Halsin came to check on me. He wouldn’t enter. Just looked at me with his big, sad eyes.”

“He’s good at those.”

“So are you.” Elkantar grinned, but it faded when Astarion stayed serious. “Gem.”

“He left.”

“And now he’s back.”

“Can you—” Astarion stopped, choking back biting words. “Take me seriously. Please.”

Elkantar stayed silent, patient.

“We went up, fought the brain, and won. You hit the water and shattered into a million pieces.” Astarion drew a deep breath. “Halsin almost drowned in guilt for not catching you in time.”

“Oh…”

“We barely got you out of the water. Gale never waited to see if you’d recover. He took one look at you, in this bed, in this dreadful house, and left.”

“Gem…”

“Being here was bad enough. Watching you rot in this bed. Watching Halsin lose hope. And then—” His voice cracked. “He left me here, in the dark, and went back for his crown.”

“Where…?” Elkantar’s voice was cautious.

“Cazador’s mansion.”

Elkantar’s expression went blank. His silence was heavier than words.

“All of Halsin’s plants died in their beds—in this cursed house—and everything…” Astarion’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Everything stinks like death. Like him. His ashes are still down there. I couldn’t stay here. And I couldn’t leave, because you were here, and Halsin was wilting before my eyes and—”

Elkantar's eyes are wide as he gazes at him, shining with a mix of understanding and sorrow.

“Your hair fell out when I brushed it,” he choked, “And there was nothing I could do.”

Elkantar gathered him close, arms fierce and tight. His long hair fell like a silvery curtain, hiding Astarion’s tears, nails pressing crescents into his skin. 

For a moment, he pretended Elkantar was holding him together.

He held him for a long time.

Astarion doesn’t know when their lips meet. 

When the embrace turns into something more.

His fingers tangled in Elkantar’s hair, wrapping the end of it around his fist, keeping his lover close. Astarion tastes skin, teeth grazing up until they reach the pulsating point of his heartbeat. He yearned to sink his teeth in, only for Elkantar to take his face in his hand and kiss him, fierce and demanding. 

Astarion lets himself be pushed back, sinking into the mattress, absorbing the warmth left by Elkantar.

“This house doesn’t have to be your tomb,” Elkantar said seriously, hand sliding up to cup Astarion’s cheeks, “It won’t be.” He braces his hands against Astarion’s still chest, eyes closed in concentration as the world around them erupts in faerie fire.

The dark, dreary room was washed in violet light, giving everything a dreamlike cast.

As Astarion watches, Elkantar slips out of his nightshirt with the grace of a snake shedding its skin. He looks younger now, as if the hazy lights have softened his edges somehow. He takes Astarion's hesitant hands and presses them against his warm skin, allowing Astarion to feel the thrum of his beating heart.

“Feel,” Elkantar commands.

Unconsciously, Astarion closes his eyes, focusing.

Elkantar’s heart beat is strong, his breath steady. He can hear the rush of life- sweet, tantalizing blood- in the drow’s veins, the cadence of his excited breathing, and the blunt edges of fingernails as they press into the flesh of his chest.

Astarion looks up at his drow.

It’s Elkantar, like he was before the brain, before Baldur’s Gate.

With that silly, clever little grin and that hopeful look in his eyes.

The faerie fire casts soft light on his face, making him appear younger. Was this what Droog saw when he looked up, Astarion wondered. Did Elkantar smile for them so sweetly, too? Were his touch as kind, his words as sweet? 

Elkantar’s hand reached and wiped away a tear that Astarion wasn’t aware he had shed.

“Your gaze is so far away.” Elkantar murmured, “Are you with me?”

“For as long as you’d have me.”