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Rolan has a fierce temper, when it comes down to it.
It surprises you somewhat, after seeing how he let Lorroaken walk all over him. Sure, he'd backed you and Aylin up when it mattered, but it had taken weeks for all of the bruises from the previous 'master of the tower' to heal. Though, you suppose you saw hints of it at Last Light, when Cal and Lia were missing.
It has its uses, admittedly. When you were ambushed by Bhaal worshippers in Bloomridge Park, and an innocent woman was struck down by one of them, his subsequent attacks were absolutely devastating. You could've stood back and left him to it, and he would've more than managed.
The fact he looks rather pretty when he's angry is an additional bonus; all tense muscles and sharp breaths. You blame your physical reaction to watching him fight on the fact he's the first male tiefling you've been around for an extended period in years. Your stupid infernal hindbrain had been telling you to bed him since he first raised his voice in front of you at the Grove.
Unfortunately, his temper has its downsides too. Like right now, for instance.
The two of you split from the group to search for Mol, who still hasn't turned up after being snatched from the inn in the Shadow-Cursed lands. Pairs made the most sense; more discreet than the whole troupe travelling together while still ensuring everyone had back up. Astarion had smirked when suggested you and Rolan pair up, arguing it looked less suspicious if the tieflings travelled together.
"If anyone asks, you can pretend you're lovers," he'd chortled. "Oh! And if you need to hide you can stuff yourselves into an alley and-".
You had elected not to let him finish that sentence, dragging Rolan away from camp before he had a chance to protest.
It had actually been reasonably pleasant. Despite initial impressions, Rolan is rather delightful company. Sure, he's still a dick, and nearly every other sentence that comes out of his mouth is an insult, but that just makes things more interesting. You'd found you were actually enjoying spending time with him.
Well. You had been. Until now.
It was your fault. You were distracted. He'd laughed at something you said, and you were busy looking at him. You could see a peek of his canines as he threw his head back, and the movement had pronounced the sharp line of his jaw and the muscle in his neck. You'd been so struck with the sight, and the awful realisation that you were actually starting to become attracted to him, that you'd smacked straight into the chest of a Flaming Fist.
"Oi! Devilspawn! Watch your fucking step!"
The man's voice was laced with malice. It's been years since you've been to Baldur's Gate, and it seems in your absence the city has become remarkably less tolerable. You suppose it's something to do with Elturel's descent, but the casually thrown slur stung either way.
"Sorry," you'd averted your gaze in a display of faux meekness. Usually you'd have him out on his arse for talking to you that way, but the streets are crowded and full of Fists. It's not worth the hassle. "Won't happen again, Manip."
"You sure as shit better hope it doesn't, or I'll put you and your Hellspawn boyfriend in the ground where you belong." He sneered around every word, flitting his eyes between you and Rolan. "Fucking foulblooded freak."
You'd grit your teeth, and started to nod, but just as the mercenary was about to step away Rolan had piped up.
"What the fuck did you call her? Watch your fucking mouth, Nul'zereb ."
And now you're here. Next to a seething Rolan, in front of a Flaming Fist Sergeant, being slowly surrounded by other Fists as they take note of the commotion.
You raise your hands up in front of you defensively, "easy, please, he didn't mean it. We've had a long journey and-"
Rolan scoffs, seemingly intent on digging his own grave. " Bullshit , I meant every fucking word. They call us Foulbloods but these imbeciles probably can't tell a shit from a stew."
You shoot him a glare, but he doesn't look at you. Clearly he plans on dealing with this the hard way. Idiot. You feel your core twist. He's going to get you killed, for sure, but the fact he's willing to fight a crowd of people because they insulted you is unfairly attractive. Stupid. Dangerous. But really fucking attractive.
"You cheeky demon bastard!" The Fist shouts at him, and yep, the hard way it is. "I'll fucking flay you!"
Rolan is shouting back now, and his tail whips around violently behind him in a display of his mounting rage. "I'd like to see you try, you spoon-eared piece of-"
Okay, yep, that's more than enough of that.
You grab his wrist and utter the incantation for Dimension Door as quickly as you can manage, teleporting the both of you out of reach of the group of mercenaries surrounding you. As soon as your feet hit solid ground again you break into a sprint, dragging Rolan with you as he makes an indignant noise behind you. You hear the group shout, and the thunder of footsteps on the pavement as they pursue you.
Luckily, clad in robes compared to their metal plating, you and Rolan are quicker. You drag him through a few side streets, and then at the last minute you duck into an alleyway. It's a tight squeeze, but it's better than nothing.
You hiss your admonishments through your teeth at him in an attempt to keep your volume down. "What the fuck were you thinking, Rolan? I thought wizards were meant to be smart! You almost got us fucking killed!"
His eyes widen in shock, and he hisses through his teeth back at you as he argues. "Are you joking? What was I doing? You're the one that fucking walked into him! Besides, did you hear what he fucking called you? I can't believe you just-"
"Shut up!" He's raising his voice with every word and you have no idea how close behind you they are. "Of course I heard, but the middle of the street isn't the ideal spot to pick a fight with a group of Flaming Fists! They would've fucking flattened us!"
He scoffs, "as if, I fucking had them."
"Oh sure, sorry, I forgot how great and mighty you are. You obviously could've taken on a crowd of twelve blokes with military training."
He grits his teeth, "I still will if they fucking find us, what sort of hiding place is this anyway? If they spot us we're fucking cornered."
"You didn't give me much choice, did you? It's better this than-"
You cut yourself off at the sound of footsteps in the street. Rolan opens his mouth to say something but you place a finger over his lips to shush him. His mouth clamps shut reluctantly.
You can feel your heart beating in your ears as the footsteps get closer. They're right within earshot now, the slightest noise will alert them to where you are. You hold your breath.
Six of the Flaming Fists round the corner, and suddenly you're peering at them from the alley perpendicular to the street they stand in, barely 10ft away. You're shrouded by darkness, but if one of them happens to look this way carefully you're sure you'll be spotted. You daren't move.
You hear muttering and turn to look at Rolan, and you realise he's preparing a spell. His hands curl into somatic shapes by his sides, and you realise he's speaking the incantation for Ice Storm. You're both backed into a corner like fish in a barrel, if he lets the spell loose you know you're done for.
You don't think. You shove your fingers into his mouth.
His head whips back around to look at you, eyes wide in shock and anger. It suddenly dawns on you that. Well. You've got your fingers in his mouth. Three of them.
Not the most elegant solution to a problem you've come up with, that's for sure. But hey, it works.
He tries to draw back to free himself, and you can tell from his eyes that he's absolutely seething, but you can't risk him speaking and alerting the guards. You press your fingers down on his tongue and push them further into his mouth. His head backs into the wall, leaving him nowhere to go, and he writhes around the digits in his mouth. You press a little deeper. He makes a quiet, strangled noise in the back of his throat, before he finally resigns himself to his fate.
You stare back out of the mouth of the alley. The mercenaries are still there, pacing through the side-streets searching for you, but they haven't spotted you yet. After a few moments, they're all out of view, and you hear their voices disappear into the distance.
As soon as you can't hear them anymore, you let out a sigh of relief.
It's at this point you remember rather suddenly that your fingers are, in fact, buried in Rolan's throat.
You turn back to look at him.
He still looks angry, absolutely. But his eyes are softer around the edges, a little glazed over, and his tail whips around wildly where it's pinned behind him. He's panting a little around the digits, and you realise there's a weight against your thigh that wasn't there before. You raise your eyebrows and smirk.
"Is that a quarterstaff in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?"
He scowls, and makes a noise as if he's trying to speak, but you press down a little harder on his tongue and it turns into a whine.
This is an interesting development. Not an unwelcome one, but definitely unexpected.
You feel the smirk on your face widen, "you know," you say, as if you're pondering something, "you're much less annoying with your mouth occupied."
He scowls, but his breathing harshens. You grin.
"This is the problem with wizards," you know you're goading him, but you can't help yourself. Your hindbrain has kicked in, and he's right where it wants him. "They're all talk, aren't they? Take away your hands or mouth and what are you? You couldn't even cast a simple cantrip right now, could you?"
He makes a noise like a growl, and you can feel yourself rapidly approaching the point of no return, but you're finding it hard to care with his length pushed rock hard against your leg. You push your weight against it experimentally, and he whines around your fingers.
"Gods, you make some pretty noises. You look fucking delicious when you're angry, you know that? Defending my honour in front of all those people, spitting infernal curses at them. You wanna be the only one who talks to me like that, huh?"
His eyes are locked on yours, and he hesitates.
"Go on, now, tell me the truth."
There's another brief moment of pause before he shuts his eyes and nods.
"Good boy." He groans at that, and the noise sends heat rushing to your core. "Maybe you'll get a chance, but not til I'm done with you. Wanted to fuck you since I heard your petulant grousing in the Grove, I'm gonna fucking enjoy this."
He's writhing against you now, seeking pressure against his erection, but you pull back enough that he can only brush against you. The noise he lets out is pitiful.
"Shit, Rolan. You look lovely like this. Mouth wrapped around my fingers, all needy and desperate underneath me. Suck my fingers, show me how much you want this."
He responds instantly, hollowing his cheeks around you and stroking the length of your fingers with his tongue. You moan at the feeling. His mouth is hot and warm and his tongue is enthusiastic in its movements. Your noise seems to spur him on, and his eyes roll into the back of his head as he closes them, redoubling his efforts as he works your digits. You can feel slick pooling in your small-clothes.
You adjust your stance, rearranging your bodies so that his cock is rubbing against you between your thighs. The friction is delicious, but not enough between all the layers of clothing you're both wearing. Even so, he still moans as you grind into him.
Undoing the clasps of his robes is difficult with just your non-dominant hand, but eventually you free him from the confines of his robe and undergarments, gripping his cock in your fist. The noise he makes is completely lecherous, and it has you tightening your grip and twisting your wrist on the upstroke. He's not sucking your fingers anymore, just moaning around them, but it doesn't matter. He sounds fucking obscene and you're completely addicted as you wrench every lewd noise you can from him.
He's grabbing at your own robes now, trying to undo them, but he's struggling between the movement of your hand on his cock and the distraction of your fingers on his tongue. You pull your hand from his mouth, and the minute you do he groans and pulls you into a bruising kiss. It's feral and uncoordinated, both of your hindbrain's completely running the show now, overcome with the need to rut into one another. You release your grip on his cock to give him better access to your own robes.
He makes quick work of them, pushing them out of the way and pulling your small-clothes to the side to rub his cock against your slit. You both groan, and you lean backwards into the wall behind you as you hoist a leg up to plant it on the wall opposite.
He leans into your ear, hissing in a low tone that has your walls fluttering, and you bring your hands up to clutch at his chest. "Is this why you really dragged us down here? You're that desperate for my cock that you have to accost me in an alleyway? Fucking sorcerers. So full of yourself, when what you really need to be full of is a nice fat knot."
You moan wantonly and he groans against the shell of your ear, rubbing himself against your clit. The action has you keening.
"Gods, Tav, you're fucking dripping. Not sure you even deserve anything after pissing around like that earlier. Tell me how much you want my knot, maybe then I'll consider giving you it."
The logical part of your brain knows he's as desperate as you are, hard and heavy against your core, but the feral infernal instincts that have taken over would rather die than risk him stepping away without fucking you. The words spill from you easily without a second thought.
"I fucking need it, Rolan, need your fucking cock in me. Need you to bite me and mark me up while you split me open on your knot, need your cum inside me."
He teases his cock against your entrance, but he doesn't sink in. His words are breathless. "Yeah? Yeah you need it? Need my knot?"
You wail, "yes, fuck, please I fucking need it. Had me so wet, defending me like that, wanted to mount you then and there-".
The noise he makes is absolutely ruinous, and you moan back in answer. There is absolutely zero upper brain function going on in your skull anymore, you need him to fuck you into this wall right now or you might actually die.
He seems to feel the same, and slowly he eases his length into you. He buries his face into your neck and you wail and shudder as you feel the ridges on his cock drag against your walls with every inch he sinks further. By the time he's sheathed fully inside of you, his pelvis against yours, you're panting and writhing around him. His tail reaches around and wraps around yours, and they snake together in a tight coil.
He's shown remarkable restraint given the circumstances, sinking his cock into you slowly, but as soon as you clench your muscles around him his resolve snaps. He pulls his hips back and snaps them back into you, setting a brutal and rapid pace that has you sobbing. The angle, with your leg hoisted up, has every thrust hitting the soft spot inside your walls, and when you close your eyes at the sensation you swear you're seeing colours that don't exist, that's how intense and all-consuming the pleasure is.
He teases the soft skin at the base of your throat with his canines, and the sharp drag has you whining and baring your throat to him on impulse. It's pure instinct, your body begging for a mating bite, and he growls into your skin as he gives in to his own instincts and sinks his teeth into you.
The pain shoots through you like ice in your veins, but your mind and core sing. The pinch and sting is the perfect crescendo to the mounting pleasure, and with several shaky, panting moans you come undone around him, crying out as your whole body tremors. It's the most intense orgasm you've ever had, and your toes tingle as your release crashes over you.
He cries out, releasing his hold on your throat, and his hips stutter and pace falters as he chases after his own release. You feel his knot growing every time is catches against the rim of your cunt. Just as you start to cry at the feeling, half convinced it's going to rip you in half, he sinks it fully into you and it pulses and expands as he empties himself into you with a loud shout of pleasure. With every rope of hot spend he spills into you, his cock twitches hard into that perfect spot inside you, and without warning you're met with another orgasm which has you squeezing around him as he finishes. He groans at the feeling, low in his throat, and grinds himself into you as his cock finally gives its last, valiant pump of seed.
He groans into your neck, nosing his way up your throat and planting open mouthed kisses under your ear. You whine, and slowly lower your shaking leg back down to the floor. The change in position pushes his cock into you again, and you both grunt, overstimulated and spent. You stand there, locked together and panting for breath. He laves his tongue over the spot where he bit you, sucking a mark over it. The pain is almost too much, but the primitive part of you loves the feeling and you moan despite yourself.
There's silence after that. It stretches for a long moment as you both attempt to catch your breath, stuck together in the tight space of the alley with Rolan's knot keeping you tied together. When you speak, your voice comes out hoarse and blissed-out.
"I'm sorry for. You know. I didn't actually mean to, if you believe me."
He laughs into your throat, and rubs his nose into the pulse point under your ear in an uncharacteristically intimate gesture, "I'm not sure I do, but I'm not sure I particularly care anymore, to be frank."
You laugh too, "fair enough. I'd do it again, to be frank."
You both break down into warm, breathless laughter as you hold eachother. Slowly, you feel his knot shrink and he slides out of you. His spend gushes down your thighs, and he bends sideways to look, before moaning and throwing his head back against the wall behind him.
"That's absurdly hot. Fuck . You're lucky I just knotted you or I'd have you again right here."
You rub your thighs together, and whimper quietly, "I'd let you."
He moans again, "don't fucking say shit like that. That's not fair at all."
You shrug, "wasn't trying to be fair. If you don't like it, maybe you should do something about it."
He rolls his head forward to look at you, opening his eyes and levelling you with a hooded-eyed look that has your core pulsing. "Shut your mouth, or I'll have to shut it for you."
You shrug, then smirk. "I dare you."
In hindsight, you think Rolan was onto something earlier. Doing things the hard way is much more fun.