Chapter Text
It was an abundance of gold and an even greater abundance of lust that brought Dismas to the winding backstreet of the town they stopped in. He was pent up in more ways than one, and in addition to the brothel holding no real interest, he was barred from any decent gambling hall the land had to offer. All thanks to the petty meddling of a particular sour and salty bounty hunter.
Angry, Dismas guessed, that the highwayman wouldn’t bend over for him anymore.
He had honestly thought Sarmenti was exaggerating or delusional all together when he described the Velvet Parlour. Yet here he was, picking through shelves full of fake phalluses, potions, and questionable things that would certainly please the Flagellant more than any person with normal tastes. Not that Dismas’ tastes ran anywhere close to the vanilla, of course, but as he picked up the item that looked more like a water canteen than anything lewd, he tugged up his neckerchief without thinking. He felt like a trespasser in this place despite his checkered past and certainly deviant history. So much so, he nearly jumped out of his skin when the shopkeeper materialized beside him.
“That’s my best seller, you know.” The woman’s voice was velvety and smooth. He turned to face her and did his best to look her in the eyes rather than at the wealth of rich chocolate colored cleavage her dress was currently displaying.
She was an elegant sort, he noted. Pretty silk and a velvet corset complemented dark skin and immaculate hair. She reminded him of stories the occultist told of women from his homeland. Captivating.
“It’s disguised as a canteen, but the actual opening is there at the edge- hidden in the design,” she said helpfully.
Slowly, Dismas twisted the top of the canteen and looked down into it, dark eyes widening a bit at the contents. “Hell’s bells…”
The inside was full of a blue glowing gel that shifted and undulated around a vague hole in the center. There was little mystery about what the intended use for such a hole would be. Especially given the current context.
The highwayman shifted on his feet. “Seems like a lot of work just fer something ta stick yer tool in.”
The woman laughed and fanned herself, drawing attention back to her face where it wandered from, down the expanse of soft dark cleavage. He hadn’t even realized he was staring. He thanked the stars the woman was being gracious about it.
“There’s more to it than that, dear! What you hold can be attuned to an owner, male or female, and the owner will feel the penetration of whatever or whoever goes inside. Without risk of disease! Wonderful for self pleasure.” She smiles.
The information takes a moment to realize itself in Dismas’ brain. “Oh... I see.”
That sounded as stupid out loud as it did in his head. The woman just chuckled once more. No doubt used to people being odd in her shop. Dismas felt like a teenager again.
“So do we have a sale?” She asked brightly.
Dismas hesitated turning the metal cylinder in his hand. Was he really going to do this?
She pushed forward. “Perhaps you have a special someone you would be imagining? A lovely young lady. No, no, perhaps a handsome gentleman?”
Dismas gave her an alarmed look and she simply laughed.
“We all have our preferences. I do not judge! And all of my transactions are done with utmost discretion! But that look- I’m right, aren’t I?” She seemed rather pleased with her revelation.
As annoying as it was to admit aloud she was right indeed. Reynauld had come to mind. Immediate and clear. As of a few weeks ago the back and forth between them had left him more unsure and bothered than ever. He felt the Crusader was holding something back from him now. He had opened his big mouth and now everything was different.
“I am sure your life is quite stressful. Wouldn’t a bit of stress relief be welcome?” Dismas could hear just a bit of the same accent Alhazred had.
What harm could it do to fantasize a little?
And didn’t he deserve something nice for once?
Dismas was working to save this world from the spreading eldritch stain. Did he not deserve a moment of pleasureful respite?
Dismas decided the answer was a resounding yes.
“Which oil you recommend with it, I s’pose.” He asked, looking at the vials on display behind her counter.
“No need for it. The device lubricates itself.” She informed.
“Hmph.” He looked back down into the glowing blue jelly sloshing around in the canteen.
That’s how it came to be that Dismas sat in his cold dank shared room at the Hags Cauldron, staring down the deceptively innocuous item like it was going to attack him. Was he really going to do this? He had already attuned the item by scratching his name into the false lid and adding some of his own spit as the instructions called for. He had watched the gel partially solidify into something more consistent before it sloshed back and fourth when he swirled the canister.
“Let’s see if you were worth the baubles I paid for ye.” He murmured, twisting open the canteen.
He stroked a finger over the edge of the hole. Despite preparing for it, he jumped a bit at the feeling of his own calloused finger between his legs.
So it ignored all sense of clothing. Convenient. He bit back a moan as he slid a finger in. The tight warmth around that digit along with the intrusion into his hole felt as foreign as it did familiar. It’s moist and warm; only getting wetter the more he toyed with it. And the more he toyed with it, the more aroused he got, his cock filling his breeches till they pressed painfully against buttons.
Dismas jumped out of bed and grabbed a chair to shove under the handle. It would be a while before the Crusader was back from morning mass. On the off chance he headed back sooner, Dismas would likely just die of shame if his friend caught him doing something so unholy. Even more, Dismas thought, if he heard him moaning his name as he imagined the large, muscled Crusader behind him, fucking him into the sheets.
Reynauld was his best friend. A pious man of the Light. He couldn’t know his real feelings. Reynauld had made his thoughts on loving other men fairly clear, and Dismas regretted even that admission. A comment made to test the waters.
He couldn’t lose Rey, plain and simple. But maybe, just maybe, he could dream.
With unrequited longing buried, Dismas shucked off his breeches. It didn’t take too long for the rest of his clothes to join them on the floor. He took the pillow Reynauld used the night before and laid his head on it, smelling the faint scent of the man that clung there. Eyes closed, he pressed his finger back into the hole and bit back a soft moan. The phantom feeling was amazing. After working himself for a moment, he added another finger to increase that delicious stretch in his twitching hole. He felt a pang of guilt, imagining Reynauld as he prepared himself. The hole his fingers pressed into was already pliant, making the step unnecessary but feeling good all the same. It played into his fantasy of the man. He would be good to him. Make sure he was ready.
“Rey…please, Rey- c’mon.” He begged to none but himself and the empty room. Dismas buried his face in the pillow and inhaled the scent of the man. By the time he moved on to the next bit, his hands were shaking. He positioned the canteen under raised hips on the bed, legs spread like he was presenting himself for it. He rubbed the tip of his prick over the toy. Just that feeling alone made him let out a rather embarrassing mewling noise. He pushed in slow and bit down on the pillow at the sensation of both his ass being filled and his dick sinking into the twitching hole below him. His hole.
Dismas was grateful for his own average endowment as he laid panting and trying to adjust. Every time his hole twitched, he could feel it making him tighten up more around his own cock. The hole was wet and hot around him, and Dismas reached back curious. There was no slickness or mess around his hole, but he could feel it stretched around nothing as he was being filled by his own phantom cock as well as the experimental finger he slid into himself. His cock twitched and leaked at the strange sensation of the double insertion. Overwhelmed, he moaned into the soft pillow below him.
Fuck, he had not even moved yet!
Eventually he felt his body relax enough to give an experimental thrust and he couldn’t hide the noise he made. Gods, it was too much. The give and take of ass and cock. He gripped the canteen with both hands and imagined it was Reynauld behind him, pushing down on his back and pinning him to the bed as Dismas started to thrust down hard into the toy. Imagining his friend was there forcing him to take it.
“Fu-HUCK, Reynauld! Rey- G-Gods. More, please Reynauld!” He begged the empty room. Wishing it were for the stalwart crusader’s ears. He wanted to reach back and feel those battle hardened muscles in the man’s arms and thighs as he was held to the bed. Holding him in place and making him take it. Praising him for taking him so deep. Dismas settled for the chasing his pleasure as he hammered into the toy. The sheer overwhelming sensation of dual pleasure reduced his thoughts to scattered things as he buried his face in the pillow once again. Rey’s scent filled his nose, and not long after, he peaks. His hips stutter and jerk as he shoots his spend into the pulsing hole and feels it filling his own. He nearly whites out as he fucks himself through his orgasm, until finally, he slips out of the warmth and collapses on his side against the sheets.
Moments passed. As the haze cleared, he noticed the absence at his back. He craved the feeling of powerful arms wrapping around his torso holding him close as sweet things were whispered into ear. Instead, chill from the drafty window crawled across his back, coupled with the sensation of being fucked senseless. He stroked one hand over his own forearm to mimic the tender touch, but as the fantasy ended, he felt foolish.
He wanted to lean back against a solid muscled chest. Have his neck kissed and his hair tousled.
“Great sappy shite I am.” He muttered as he rolled over, staring up at the wood grain of the bunk above him.
At least there was the absence of cum leaking out of him despite feeling it earlier. All the fun and none of the risk or mess, as promised. Handy.
He ran a hand through his dark hair as he reached down to get his clothes back on.
Mass would be ending soon, and afterwards they would be heading out on expedition. He sat up and tried to compose himself further. He only had a cursed few minutes left to reflect. The longing he had for his closest friend that had helped drag his mind from the edge of the abyss he had been standing on after the darkest night of his life. The faces of the pair he had killed haunted him still, but Rey had made him truly believe he could be redeemed. For that alone he would love the man till his dying breath.
He was jolted out of his thoughts by the very object of his desires trying to open the door he had failed to unblock.
“Dismas? Are you decent? We don’t have the time for whatever it is you’re doing. I have to check my gear before we depart!” Rey’s deep voice sounded from behind the thick wood.
Shit.
He jumped up and moved the chair. “Yeah, yeah, I‘m up.”
“I do hope you are ready for another expedition, my friend. I believe it would be wise for me to take point for this leg.” Reynauld came in and went to check his satchel and a final fastidious check of his armor. The comment made Dismas growl in response.
“The great bloody fish got a lucky shot!” He protested and threw a pillow at the man as he laughed at him.
His pillow, he’d later muse over. He tried not to think about the teeth marks on it.
Dismas took the time to watch the man as he moved around, imagining the way his body shifted under plate. Arms he had felt slung over his shoulders in camaraderie so many times. Shoulders that had carried his battered body back to town not days before.
A small smile spread behind his neckerchief mask.
Maybe the toy would be what he needed after all.