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The Mighty Nein arrive at the Blushing Tankard with heavy footsteps.
They slump down at a small corner table in relative silence. All around them, the lively tavern is a feast for the senses, the smell of roasted meats and potatoes wafting over the crowd, oil lamps dangling from the wooden ceiling, candles covering every table and a jolly folk tune sounding from the corner stage that is currently played by an eccentric gnomish band. Patrons here and there clink their cups and unwind after a day’s worth of hard work. Jester is still sniffling slightly after their teary-eyed goodbye from Kiri and the Schusters and none of the Mighty Nein seem to be in the mood for another night of partying. With a heavy head Caleb looks up to see Fjord rising from his seat. The half-orc claps his hands together and gives a single nod to nobody in particular.
“Alrighty, I’m getting one round of drinks for all of us, and then I’m going the fuck to sleep if you don’t mind.”
Beau raises her arm in a fist pump and Molly lets out a low, “That’s my man.”
“Milk for Jester and rum for me, please,” Nott pipes in. Caleb smiles at her from across the table. They fall into soft conversation, the occasional joke about how Beau almost died or how Molly failed to charm the Wardenhelm strewn in. Caleb tunes out after a minute and accepts his drink from a returning Fjord. This new life he leads is dangerous in obvious ways, as being pinned to a prison wall by a blade has proven to him just hours before. But there are subtler dangers, lurking beneath the warm blanket of his growing trust for these people that he finds himself willing to sink into. Letting Astrid’s name slip last night… that should not have happened. Baring his affections for Jester in a state of drunk incompetence should not have happened either. He finds it harder than usual to look her in the eyes today.
Another methodical sip of ale takes Caleb to the bottom of his cup. He glances around to see if anyone else has finished and is surprised to find himself the first. The tireless gnomes on stage pull out a third fiddle and start another rambunctious tune while Jester takes out her journal with a flourish. The women all huddle closer to her. Fjord leans back with his eyes closed and Mollymauk is already watching Caleb when he catches the tiefling’s gaze. Wordlessly, Caleb lifts his empty cup and slides out of his seat.
He pushes past the other patrons who at this point of the evening are mostly eating. With the feeling of Mollymauk’s eyes still trained on the back of his head, Caleb makes as straight a line for the bar as possible. Two gnomish women with big curly updos get up from their barstools just as he arrives, one of them curtsying and sending him a cheeky smile on their way past. Caleb feels a flush creeping up his face. He suddenly recalls Mollymauk’s earlier attempt at Zemnian affirmatives and the flush intensifies.
“Something is up in this town,” he mutters to himself and flags down the barkeep for another ale. A moment later, a familiar colorful figure slides onto the empty barstool next to him.
“Not interested in our company, Caleb?”
“Interested in another drink, that’s all,” Caleb says and holds out two fingers for the barkeep to see, “as I am sure you are, too.”
“Always,” Mollymauk chuckles and twists a purple lock of hair between his fingers. “But you’re quiet tonight.”
“A frequent occurrence, ja?”
The dwarven barkeep places two tankards in front of them and stops for a brief chat with Molly. Caleb observes from behind his drink as the other man brings her hand to his lips, as she flicks his forehead with a pleased smile, as Mollymauk raises his cup in Caleb’s direction and then glances around the room himself. They drink in companiable silence but Caleb is restless underneath. He picks up similar tells in Molly’s demeanor, his flicking tail, the way his fingers tap a quickfire rhythm on the counter, how his attention seems to jump from one patron to the next, never once landing on Caleb. The attempt to give him space is endearing once Caleb realizes that is what his friend has been doing. You are not as subtle as you think, Mollymauk, he thinks to himself. Maybe the same is true for me.
“I believe I made a fool of myself last night,” he admits, looking down into his cup.
Molly perks up immediately. “Well, as someone who constantly makes a fool of himself, I'd be delighted to hear your story.”
“Oh, you're a much better storyteller than me, Mollymauk.”
“Doesn't mean I can't be a good listener from time to time,” the tiefling winks and regards Caleb with a soft smile. He rests his head in his palm, elbow propped on the counter and scratching the base of his horn with a filed claw. Cherry eyes blink at Caleb in expectation.
“C'mon, I won't judge. If this is about your dance with our blue friend here, I don't think you caused her any discomfort.”
Molly tips his head back and Caleb follows the motion with his gaze. The rest of the Mighty Nein remain huddled together at the small table, Jester sandwiched between Beau and Nott, wiping her nose and smiling at the wildly gesticulating goblin. Nott's shrieks are audible over the noise of the tavern that is by now packing with patrons. Fjord and Yasha look tired but content. Caleb is tired, the exhaustion from their fight against the Clockwork Warden still weighing on his chest. Yasha nods their way and Molly nudges Caleb's foot with his own.
“Wanna go back over to the table?”
“Not yet,” Caleb finds himself saying. A fresh cup of ale is pushed over to him from behind the counter and he takes it just to occupy his hands.
“Well then,” Mollymauk nudges him again, “I’m always up for spending a night at the bar. Reminds me of front row seats, and people tell the best stories when they think they’ve got an audience. There is a dwarf behind you who’s been trying to chat up the barkeep for the past ten minutes, and I think he’s just involved a dragon in his tale.”
“Last night it was you who was chatting up the barkeep,” Caleb replies with a wry smile.
Mollymauk shrugs, rustling his coat and catching the candlelight in the golden rings adorning his horns. “Well, she is certainly interesting. But I was hoping we’d talk about your folly, not mine. If you’d like?”
“Oh, you know me. Big talker.” Tipsy laughter filters in through the open tavern door, followed by the crackling of fireworks going off nearby. Caleb turns his face towards the bar, away from Mollymauk, and his eyes flicker briefly in the direction of the sound. Finding nothing noteworthy, he casts a glance towards his friends who are sitting around their table unchanged. He turns back and takes a deep swig of ale. Molly already mentioned Caleb and Jester’s shared dance, so he might as well spill some of the beans before his companion comes up with theories of his own. Caleb clears his throat.
“Last night I called Jester by the name of an ex-lover. Then she carried me to bed because I was too drunk to walk. And there you have it.” Caleb gulps down more ale and hides the lower part of his face behind his tankard again. He is rewarded with a warm chuckle.
“Wow. Woooooow.” Molly draws out the sound until Caleb looks at him, and when he does, he finds the tiefling grinning. “You really are a bad storyteller, eh?”
“And you are a bad listener if you make fun of my misery,” Caleb retorts. He resists the urge to glance over his shoulder and make sure that nobody else is listening in on his awkward confession. Instead, he keeps his gaze trained on Mollymauk, trying to gauge his reaction for anything other than the apparent appetite for gossip. Molly grins wider, showing his fangs.
“I don’t really see the misery in any of that, love. It will make for a fantastic story in a couple of weeks when the armies of Xhorhas press down on us and we can all do with some levity.” He pauses for a second and tilts his head, expression softening. “Unless you wish to pursue our blue friend more seriously, of course.”
Caleb snorts and averts his eyes. “She is head over heels for… our green friend, and I cannot begrudge her that.”
“That mustn’t mean she can’t harbor feelings for you, too, you know?”
I know, Caleb thinks, but shakes his head. “I do not think romance works that way for Jester. She enjoys those fairytale endings, the ones that tend to have only two people in them.”
Mollymauk sighs, “Hate to say it, but you might be right about that observation.” His bejeweled hand catches Caleb’s bandaged wrist where he is still clutching his drink on the countertop. “But you needn’t worry that you upset her, or the group dynamics or anything you might believe. You know that, right, Caleb? Jester has a big heart, and not an inch of it is filled with judgment.”
He is leaning in close now, smooth lavender skin and the foamy remnants of an empty drink on his cupid’s bow. The unsettling red irises shine bright with genuine sympathy that makes Caleb’s throat taste like bile. In a bold attempt to steer the conversation down another path, Caleb tangles his feet with Molly’s and manages a small smile.
“How does it work for you, then, Mollymauk?”
“What, you mean romance?” The tiefling asks easily and adjusts his grip around Caleb’s wrist to a loose hold.
“Yes,” Caleb says, “romance. Die Liebe. Since we are trading stories.”
“Some flowery words in a foreign language are always a good start,” Mollymauk throws in another wink. He wears the warm shine of the tavern like a second skin, peacock feathers on his neck shimmering iridescent under the flickering light of a dozen candles. Someone starts a worker’s song and more and more jolly voices join in.
“Lovely place, eh?” Molly mouths over the swelling cacophony of happy drunkards. Caleb finds it hard to discern if the other man is joking. Their feet are still tangled and he takes another sip of his ale when Nott’s voice rings bright and clear in his head.
"Caleb! I might stay in Jester's room tonight. She misses Kiri already and the girls are planning a sleepover. Will you be alright? Youcanreplytothismessage."
By now Caleb has to crane his neck as he tries to make out his friends on the other side of the Blushing Tankard. He rises from his barstool and links his fingers with Mollymauk’s on the counter, digging for his copper wire with the other hand. What do you think you are doing, his own voice rings in his head as Molly’s warm fingers slot between his own. Caleb’s gaze lands on Nott over the swaying and chanting crowd and he finds her perched on Yasha’s shoulders, braiding the large woman’s hair. A dark top knot and a blue, horned head are visible next to them. Fjord seems to have disappeared already.
"Fine by me. Do not worry, Nott. I won’t stay up much longer, but I am glad you are taking care of our friend."
Her yellow eyes snap over to the bar to lock with his, and then his dearest companion lifts her hands in a bony thumbs-up. Smiling, Yasha grabs onto Nott’s shins to stabilize the tipsy goblin. A sudden, intense affection seizes Caleb’s chest with a sharp pang and he reaches for his drink again. Jester is not to be seen except for a pair of horns slowly making their way to the stairs, and Caleb knows that she will be in good hands. Another hand squeezes his own.
“You alright?”
Rather than catching the sound itself, Caleb makes out the words as he watches Molly’s lips move. There is no more ale clinging to his cupid’s bow. Caleb is no fool – Mollymauk, in all of his hedonistic tendencies, does not seek to complicate his own life. He is also objectively an attractive man. Caleb takes the overall volume as an excuse to step closer into his space. Molly’s fingers slip from his grasp and travel up to rest on Caleb’s shoulder.
“I did not mean to get drunk tonight,” Caleb says lowly. “The ladies are having a sleepover in Jester’s room to distract her from Kiri’s absence.”
“Sleep sounds like a pretty good idea to me, honestly,” Molly says but his gaze is curious, searching. There is nothing tired about the way he tracks the little twitch in Caleb’s right cheek that sometimes kicks in when he is tipsy but unwilling to give up complete control over his facial muscles. What are you doing, his own voice rings again, more insistently. He already confessed his unfortunate fondness of Jester, and still Mollymauk endorses his clumsy attempts at closeness.
“I find that you have evaded my previous question.” Caleb’s voice comes out a bit hoarse and he takes another swig of ale. Most of the fizz has faded and it leaves a stale, bitter taste on his tongue. Molly loops his index finger through one of the button holes on Caleb’s coat, pulling him in ever so carefully.
“You called me magical today,” he lilts and heat rises to Caleb’s cheeks again.
“I was delirious.”
“So you were, love. Are you delirious now?”
“Not entirely.”
As if on cue, someone bumps into Caleb from behind, claiming his abandoned barstool and throwing him off-balance for a second. He is stabilized by lavender hands and finds Molly’s eyes twinkling. The worker’s song has ended but the overall bustle of the tavern still shadows them in anonymity. Their friends have retreated for the night already, and doesn’t the air between them seem to thicken at that thought? Mollymauk catches Caleb’s gaze. He tucks a strand of unkempt red hair behind his ear with careful slowness and the warm brush of skin on skin makes goosebumps rise on Caleb’s arms. Unable to withstand the intensity of his red eyes up close, Caleb looks down again.
“Tell me. Why are you granting me all of this?”
Mollymauk hums as if in consideration. “You know I’m an opportunist at heart. Am I reading you wrong? Do you not want my affection?” His voice comes out a soft murmur and he runs a hand down the side of Caleb’s face. His touch is light enough to be evaded at any time. Caleb swallows and finally sets his cup aside, reaching for Molly’s silken shirt instead.
“I do… want it. But why give it to me?”
“Cause I’m into you, Caleb, I thought that much was clear.” Warm breath ghosts across his cheek as Mollymauk leans in. “I like Jester, too, but that’s different. And it doesn’t trouble me that you want to be close to her, you understand me? Something tells me your fairytale would not have to end in marriage and monogamy.”
“No fairytales for me, my friend,” Caleb whispers. Mollymauk is close enough now that Caleb’s world has narrowed down to the smell of sweat and incense, and he brushes his nose up along Molly’s smooth jawline. The tiefling’s breath hitches and a spark of electricity runs down Caleb’s spine at the soft sound. Mollymauk inches even closer on the barstool to wrap his legs around Caleb in a loose embrace. Caleb feels him tensing ever so slightly.
“If you asked me to join you in your room tonight, I’d say yes in a heartbeat.”
“…I would like that, I think,” Caleb admits over the sound of his own pounding heart and immediately Mollymauk relaxes against him. Claws graze the tender skin of his neck before a hot mouth is pressed against his ear.
“Lead the way then, magic man.”
The blood rushes loudly in Caleb’s ears. He pulls Molly through the partying crowd and wonders if this moment has been a long time coming, or if Hupperdook’s ale somehow just strips him of all restraint. They got up right after Mollymauk hastily plonked down a handful of silver pieces on the counter, too much as usual, but that is a habit Caleb has no interest in picking apart right now. They pass another handsy couple on the stairs and Molly lets out a wolf whistle. Caleb shoots him an angry glare over his shoulder.
“No need to draw attention, ja?”
“You forget who you are talking to,” the tiefling retorts with a grin. At the door he presses up against Caleb’s back and drops a quick kiss to his neck. Caleb fiddles with the key. He motions for Molly to be quiet as the door swings open. The room lays dark and empty before him and some of the tension in his shoulders melts away.
Mollymauk slips past him and the tip of his tail grazes the back of Caleb’s thigh as he does so. A moment later, the room is washed in the soft orange glow of an oil lamp. Caleb closes the door and watches Molly shrug off his coat. You are a fool if you expect this to be easy, his own voice mocks him. He bites the inside of his cheek and slips out of his coat as well, hanging it from a twisted hook by the door. As Caleb moves to take off his book holster and the component pouch, his hands slow involuntarily.
“No need to take that off for me,” Mollymauk chimes in from behind. Caleb turns and stares at the tiefling already lounging on one of the beds. “Most important thing is that you’re comfortable, love.”
“You do not have to coddle me, Mollymauk.”
He unbuckles the leather strap of his book holster, strides over towards the bed with deliberate steps and places his most precious belongings on the nightstand. Molly rises up to meet him, the orange lamplight reflecting off his fanged smile.
“If you say so…”
As soon as Caleb straightens his back they are about the same height. Something like hunger flickers to life in Mollymauk’s monochrome eyes and he grabs Caleb by the scruff on his jaw.
“Enough talking then?”
Instead of answering, Caleb buries his hand in soft purple locks and pulls the other man in. Mollymauk meets him open mouthed and Caleb can’t help but growl at the feeling of hot breath and a velvety tongue against his lips. Molly’s claws dig into the hollow behind his jaw and Caleb lets his mouth fall open, reveling in the overwhelming sensation of closeness. He drinks Mollymauk in and keeps one hand tangled in his hair while the other slides under his open shirt. The scarred chest feels smooth and unnaturally warm under his palm. When they break apart for air, Mollymauk is panting.
“I admit I thought you’d be a bit timid, but clearly, I was wrong. Come here–“ and he surges forward to kiss Caleb again, but Caleb sidesteps him and pulls both of them backwards towards the bed. As the bedframe hits the back of his legs, he sinks down, blindly reaching behind to steady himself. Mollymauk glides forward and smoothly straddles Caleb’s lap. Their lips meet again and Caleb slides the wide, billowy shirt off his shoulder. He trails down his lavender throat in a line of open-mouthed kisses, mindful of the spiraling horns, and the tiefling sighs in his lap.
“You are beautiful,” Caleb whispers. “Du bist wunderschön, Mollymauk. Zu schön für mich.“
He feels a tail snaking around his calf; an odd sensation combined with the two warm hands already roaming his back over his shirt. His own palm trails down Molly’s spine, feeling the pronounced vertebrae yet still finding him to be muscular, until he reaches the base of his tail. Unsure of how to proceed, Caleb’s hand resumes its journey upwards again. Mollymauk chuckles lowly.
“You can touch it, you know?”
Using the grip he has on his longish strands of red hair, Mollymauk forces Caleb to look up at him. His face is flushed and some of the jewelry dangling from his horns has become twisted and entangled. Caleb runs his hands over his defined thighs. The tiefling looks and feels as if the Gods themselves designed him to entice. Molly leans forward again.
“Are you imagining how Jester would wrap her tail around you as well?” he whispers into Caleb’s ear.
“I'm - nein,” Caleb grits out, furrowing his brow in confusion. “I am pretty occupied with you in my lap already.”
“I'm just saying, I wouldn't mind.” Molly headbutts him gently before pressing in for another kiss. Caleb pulls back, stiffening. He regards Mollymauk evenly until he has his undivided attention, then he speaks.
“It is different for me, Mollymauk. I am with you right now and that is enough, ja?”
People in the past have scolded Caleb for being too curt, too forward, but something about his statement makes Molly's gaze darken. His red eyes widen briefly before he schools his features back into a slow grin.
“I should have known you were a charmer somewhere in there,” he breathes and finally pushes Caleb down onto his back. He unbuttons his shirt a little further and makes to pull it over his head in a swift move, but then he halts at the last second and searches Caleb’s face as if asking for permission. Caleb wordlessly reaches for the final buttons and watches as the soft fabric slides off, revealing Mollymauk’s bare frame looming above him. His bandaged hands settle on Molly’s narrow hips, the contrast of his pale fingers against the luxurious expanse of smooth lavender skin almost obscene. Caleb dips his thumb beneath the waistband of Molly’s trousers. The tight, patterned fabric does little to conceal how much their encounter is clearly affecting him. Caleb feels his own growing erection straining against his underclothes and pushes his hips up a little, rocking into the solid weight of Mollymauk still straddling him.
Something wicked washes over Molly’s face and Caleb wonders how he himself must look, still fully dressed and surely flushed red, already pressing his hardening cock against his lover’s body. Then Molly leans forward, takes Caleb’s hands in his and brings them down with him. He pushes them into the mattress next to Caleb’s head, leaning his weight on his elbows and shifting until he is fully sprawled on top of Caleb. All the while, he licks into his mouth and moans softly as Caleb pulls him closer with a leg thrown over the back of his thighs. Molly releases Caleb’s hands and immediately rests one on of his on Caleb’s throat instead, the other snaking in between them and underneath Caleb’s shirt to play with the soft trail of coarse hair that leads down and below the hem of his trousers. Caleb wills his eyes to open, unsure of when he closed them, and grabs hold of Mollymauk’s horns with both hands. After adjusting to the tiefling’s movements for a moment, he suddenly locks the muscles in his arms and forces Molly to look at him instead of sucking bruises into his neck.
The reaction is immediate: Molly’s eyes glaze over and he lets out a soft “oh” before his expression clears and melts into a smile. He lets his face fall forward to rest his forehead against Caleb’s.
“So you’ve got a commanding streak in you as well, or was that just play?” Mollymauk whispers, brushing Caleb’s lips with his own.
“Whatever you would allow me to do, I will do,” Caleb replies in a low voice and pets down Molly’s horns. His soft, purple curls feel luxurious in Caleb’s palm, and he enjoys the sensation as his own scruff scrapes against Mollymauk’s smooth, hairless jaw.
“I am starting to regret not going into this better rested,” Molly sighs and adjusts the angle of his hips so that Caleb feels Molly’s cock pressed up against his own. The tiefling starts up a slow, grinding roll, causing Caleb to tip his head back and let out a stuttering breath.
“Yeah, feels good, doesn’t it?” Molly whispers into Caleb’s neck. He tugs on Caleb’s shirt. “Wanna keep that on?”
Caleb somehow manages a nod and simultaneously slides down his hands to rest atop the curve of Mollymauk’s ass, right where his tail grows in extension of his spine. He presses down to guide the rhythm of Mollymauk’s hips and the tiefling moans softly.
“Tell me how you like to be touched here, Mollymauk.”
Face still buried in Caleb’s neck, Molly slowly lifts his head, still mindful of his horns. He appears much more flustered now, a deep purple hue settled on his nose and cheeks, his gaze slightly unfocused.
“Bring your fingers to the underside, right where my tail – yeah, like that,” his eyes fall shut as Caleb obliges. “Stroke a bit. Press your fingers into it. And, fuck, yes, and kiss me.”
Caleb does as he is told, massaging the underside of Molly’s tail with his right thumb while his left hand simply digs into his ass. Molly’s kisses are growing more frantic now and Caleb’s head swims with the needy little noises he makes. The constant friction of Molly’s skillful grinding has heat curling low in his stomach as well. Suddenly, Mollymauk pulls away.
“Fuck, I could come like this.”
He is panting, lips glistening with spit and the thin sheen of sweat on his face glowing softly in the low lamplight. The image alone is almost enough to push Caleb over the edge.
“What is stopping you?” Caleb murmurs, not trusting his own voice.
Molly huffs out a laugh and pushes himself up to his knees. “I wanna take my pants off. Want to feel your hands on me, if that’s okay.”
“I – ja,” Caleb manages and then massages a palm over his own erection to ease some of the pressure. His chest is rising and falling in tune with his heavy breathing as he watches Mollymauk unfasten the button right above his tail. It is the only button Caleb has noticed on his legwear.
“…that is a pretty clever idea.”
Molly turns to look over his shoulder, “What, you mean the button? Well, yeah. How very much like you to care about efficient button placement in the midst of things, eh?” He flashes Caleb a grin. “Sorry, love, I need another minute for those boots.”
Caleb sits up and takes up the space behind Mollymauk on the bed, who is perching on the edge and leaning forward to unlace his thigh-highs. The muscles in his back flex beautifully as he progresses down each leg, and Caleb takes some time to trace the lines of his tattoos.
“You need help?” Caleb asks belatedly, but Molly is already sliding the boots and garments off his legs. Now completely exposed, he leans back against Caleb’s chest and into his embrace. The spade of his tail flaps on the sheets next to them. There is something undeniably filthy about the way Caleb is still fully clothed but holding Mollymauk’s nude form, flushed purple cock dripping precum for both of them to see. The imagery is not lost on Mollymauk either, who reaches for Caleb’s hand and wraps it around his leaking erection.
“You like this?” he whispers, tipping his head back over Caleb’s shoulder. “Seeing me like this, aching for your hands on me when you’ve barely worked up a sweat?”
“I do,” Caleb admits lowly. He runs his mouth along the curve of Molly’s naked shoulder, careful not to impale himself on his horn, and starts sucking a deep bruise into his skin. At the same time, he smears the precum down over Molly’s hard shaft and begins stroking him in earnest. His other hand innocently brushes over a pierced nipple. Molly arcs into the touch and lets out a broken moan.
“Shit, Caleb, yes. I need more. I need you. Gods,“ he chokes out another moan when Caleb twists one nipple between his fingers then moves over to his other pectoral, all the while keeping a steady rhythm on his cock. “Gods, I wish you could fuck me but I don’t have the patience for that tonight.”
The words almost break Caleb’s resolve to make Molly come first, but then an idea crosses his mind. “I could – your thighs, if you sit up –”
“Oh, that’s brilliant,” Molly agrees, panting as he maneuvers into a kneeling position on the bed once again. Caleb can’t help but steal a kiss, leaning over and licking deep into Molly’s waiting mouth. The tiefling clutches Caleb’s shirt in an iron grip and Caleb reaches blindly around to tease the underside of Molly’s tail with the rough pad of his thumb again.
“Stop it, Widogast, or I’ll come right here,” Molly growls into his mouth and Caleb releases him with a low hum of his own.
“Not much longer, Schönheit. Keep your thighs close together for me, ja? Do you need the wall for balance?”
Molly nods and crawls a few feet up on the bed. He is up on his knees, smooth lavender thighs pressed together, tail swishing on top of the sheets and one hand braced against the wall. Caleb positions himself behind him and finally unbuckles his belt. The cool air on his aching cock feels at the same time like a slap to the face and fresh water after a long day in the sun. He leans his forehead against Mollymauk’s neck and just holds himself in hand for a couple of breaths. Then he reaches around to grab Molly’s chin.
“Spit in my hand.”
Instead of spitting, Molly takes Caleb’s hand in his own and up to his mouth, sucking on his fingers and swirling his tongue in ways that make Caleb wish they had at least five more nights scheduled at the Blushing Tankard. He wraps his spit slick fingers around Molly’s cock again, really feeling the shape of him, when Molly rocks forward into his hand and swears under his breath. Caleb pulls him close with his other arm and clasps his free hand over Molly’s mouth.
“Now spit in my other hand, bitte.”
The tiefling does as he is told as soon as Caleb stops covering his mouth and holds the half-bandaged palm out in front of him. Reaching down and feeling his own spit slick fingers on his straining length is enough to punch a moan out of Caleb as well.
“Come on now, I want to come with you” Molly urges him on, the needy tremor in his voice sending a wave of arousal through Caleb. He lines himself up, kneeling over Molly’s stretched out calves and presses the tip of his slick cock right beneath his ass cheeks, hand now resting on the base of his tail to keep him from lashing out. Carefully, Caleb pushes into the tight heat between Molly’s muscular thighs until he bottoms out and feels his sensitive tip nudging against Molly’s testicles from behind.
Caleb lets out an audible exhale into the kiss-bruised lavender shoulder in front of him and realizes that he has slowed his hand on Mollymauk’s cock to a halt. He lets go of the tail and blindly brushes some locks off the tiefling’s sweat slicked forehead before once again grabbing onto a horn and pulling his neck straight. Molly gasps.
“Ready?” Caleb whispers in his ear, voice rough with lust.
Molly’s answering “yeah” is barely more than a breath. All at once, Caleb’s hand on Molly’s cock picks up speed again and he starts fucking his thighs with urgency. Molly rolls his hips back into him in a fluid motion that has Caleb’s head spinning, making the slick heat of his thighs even more delicious. The friction is incredible, enough to almost punch the air from Caleb’s lungs. With every roll of Mollymauk’s hips that pushes him closer against Caleb, Molly also fucks himself harder into Caleb’s hand on the way back. A cascade of swearwords and soft moans falls from his lips continuously and then his tail wraps around Caleb’s thigh, pulling him in further.
“Gods, Mollymauk, you feel amazing,” Caleb is panting now, “Ich will dieses Zimmer nie wieder verlassen, ich will dein Gesicht sehen, wenn du kommst–”
“My chest, touch my chest Caleb fuck,” Molly interrupts his Zemnian rambling. Mindlessly Caleb lets go of the horn and slides his hand across Molly’s chest until he catches on one of his pierced nipples. As he rubs and pinches the little nub, Molly’s moans become louder and more drawn out. The sound rushes straight to Caleb’s cock.
“I don’t know for how much longer–“ Caleb starts, but Mollymauk interrupts him again.
“Caleb, Caleb, ohmygod I am going to come, fuck–“
Caleb bites down on Mollymauk’s shoulder and the tiefling spurts white-hot into his hand with a broken sob. He trembles and clenches in Caleb’s arms, still moaning through the aftershocks, and it takes Caleb all of two more deep thrusts between his clenching thighs until he finally allows himself to give in to the all-consuming pleasure. He comes back to himself breathing deeply, arms wrapped around Mollymauk’s warm body and face buried in his neck, a light ringing in his ears. Was he out for a second? Possible, but Mollymauk is still coming to as well.
“Shit,” Mollymauk sighs, still supporting his weight against the wall, “I want to lie down.”
With a shaky exhale, Caleb allows Molly to extricate himself from his embrace and then sinks into the sheets next to him. His clothes cling to his sweaty skin and he tucks himself back in, sticky and uncomfortable as he stares up at the ceiling.
“Hey,” Molly pokes the side of his ribcage where his shirt has ridden up. “Not immediately devolving into regret, are ya?”
“I am not,” Caleb says, still looking up and catching his breath. “I enjoyed myself.”
“So did I,” the spade of Mollymauk’s tail presses against Caleb’s calf, “You’re a good lay, Caleb.”
Caleb snorts. “Thank you. I am not going to flatter you by telling you things you already know.”
“You know, I don’t see the issue that most people have with flattery. It’s a perfectly harmless way to make somebody else feel good, so why should you ever decide against that?”
The mattress dips beneath them and then Mollymauk pushes himself up into a seat, tattooed back emerging in Caleb’s field of vision. He stretches his arms over his head and Caleb reaches over the covers to brush his fingers against the side of Molly’s thigh. The tiefling looks over his shoulder.
“I’ll see you at breakfast, then? And don’t you dare worry your pretty head over this. I’ve had a good time, and I would be happy to have a good time again.” He grabs for his discarded shirt and wipes between his legs with a frown. “Maybe wash up a little if you don’t want the others to know.”
Caleb digs the heels of his hands into his eyes. “I am a dirt wizard, did you forget that, Mollymauk?”
Mollymauk chuckles as he slips back into his patterned trousers. “Well, it’s one thing to stink of a life on the road, it’s another to smell of sex and incense. The latter is decidedly more my brand, if you catch my drift.”
“Would you prefer if we kept this encounter a secret then?” Caleb asks and pushes himself up on his elbows. He can see bruises forming on Mollymauk’s neck and exposed shoulder already and he doubts that he looks much different himself. Molly hesitates and looks around the room for his coat.
“Maybe, yeah. If they find out, they find out, but I won’t brag about landing the hot dirt wizard for a night until we decide what to do with this. Sounds fair?” He shrugs on his coat and regards Caleb with his cherry gaze. Molly looks tired now, painted warmly in the lamplight, chest bare and holding his shirt and boots in hand. Caleb feels the exhaustion of the day returning to his own limbs as well, now mixed with the pleasant boneless state his body fell into after his intense orgasm.
“That sounds fair, ja.”
For a moment Caleb fights the impulse to rise to his feet and kiss Mollymauk goodbye. Astrid’s face flashes before his inner eye and he hears Jester’s tinkling laughter. There are too many already, too many he still holds dear despite knowing what he is capable of.
“I said don’t worry, Caleb,” Molly sighs, but his face is softened by a fond smile. He hesitates again, seemingly unsure of whether to say something else. Then he shakes his head and turns to leave. “Sleep well, magic man.”
Caleb sinks back into the sheets. “Gute Nacht, Mollymauk.”
The door shuts softly, and Caleb is alone.