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galesleftearring · 5 months

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How sweet agony can be

Abdirak x Tav, Gale x Tav (no relationship, just yearning) VERY 18+

Larkspur, a half elf cleric of Ilmater, wants to explore the connections of her religion and the worship of Loviatar, two gods long established as enemies but with some very similar characteristics. Meeting Abdirak in the Goblin Camp gives her an opportunity to explore this dynamic in ways she couldn't quite anticipate. But back at camp, there's someone she can't totally get off of her mind... someone she can't help but compare this experience to, wondering how he would touch her instead.

Content Warning: bdsm (all of this with verbal and negotiated consent!!!!), physical restraint, whipping, nipple/clit torture, mentions of birth control, alcohol, sadomasochism, religious discussion as foreplay (and much more), m!dom f!sub, mixed feelings after sex, exploring kink and sex isn't always completely fun and that's okay!, casual sex/hookup, emotionless/loveless sex, injuries/bruising after sex, if I missed anything else please let me know!

Larkspur was no stranger to pain. As a cleric of Ilmater, her worship had involved a fair share of pain, both her own and that of others. She was no stranger to worshippers of Loviatar, and their cruel practices. She was no stranger to the divine rivalry between the two gods and their orders to undermine the work of the other, in whatever way necessary. Still, she was fascinated by Loviatar worshippers, fascinated by their love of pain and devotion to it. In a strange way, it felt like a perversion of her own devotion to alleviating pain. Perhaps the two gods needed each other for balance, for order. At the very least, they needed each other to continue their respective holy missions.

Meeting Abdirak in the goblin camp had been a surprise, but not an unwelcome one. She had long wished to speak in depth to a worshipper of the pain goddess, hoping for an intellectual discussion of their respective religions and an attempt to find some common ground. Abdirak was more than willing to share his knowledge and experience with Loviatar with the party, though Karlach and Odile were less interested than Larkspur herself. Karlach laughed, excited to see the spectacle, but did not offer up her own body. Not that Larkspur would have allowed her to. Gale... Gale seemed a bit horrified, if fascinated. "Your hide, your choice," he shrugged. "Not quite my cup of tea though." He always relished an opportunity to learn. Larkspur did too--she liked that about him. He seemed like a kindred spirit, though he was still closed off in many ways.

Larkspur knew that she was the only member of the party who would be willing to suffer at Abdirak's hands. Not only that, but she felt it was her duty to do so; no other member of her party would feel the pain if she could take it upon herself. Ilmater guide her, but she hoped this exercise would draw her closer to her God--or at least closer to an enlightened understanding of Loviatar. Each swing of Abdirak's mace fell harder on her back. The pain was almost unbearable, only made bearable through the whispered prayers she offered to Ilmater with each shuddering breath. She moaned, she whimpered, she cried out--but she did not move. The mace slammed into her three times, and Abdirak's swings were accompanied by praise. Praise to Loviatar, yes, but also praise to Larkspur herself. If she didn't know any better, he almost sounded... aroused. With the third strike, she felt as if she would pass out, her silent prayers turning from a deliberate recitation to an unintelligible plea. Abdirak stopped, and she turned to look at him as he offered her pain to his goddess.

"Sweet child," he purred, "you bore that pain like a true believer."

Larkspur's body shook, her mind frantically grasping at his words. It is my duty, she thought, though the words wouldn't come.

"Loviatar herself found your performance.... Inspiring. She has deemed you worthy of her blessing," he continued, and Larkspur felt a sudden peace as the goddess's blessing settled onto her shoulders. She could still feel the pain, certainly, but it was almost pleasant. There was an eroticism to the dizziness, the sparks of pain tingling at the end of every nerve. Her body was aching, exhausted, but undeniably alive. Abdirak seemed to sense her sudden calm. He smiled discreetly, as though the others were not in the room. "And on a personal note, thank you. That was positively divine." The words were almost a whisper, but they rang in Larkspur's ears like a bell toll.

Her head swam. Her heart thudded. She felt inspired, certainly, but not sated in her discovery. She hoped to ask Abdirak more questions, but he was already busy, cleaning his weapons and talking to one of the goblins. She would have to come back, she realized, and she would have to come back alone. Ordinarily, this would have terrified her, but Abdirak seemed safe enough. Odd really, but what could he do to her that would be worse than what she had just endured?

It wasn't long before the party decided to make camp for the night, exhausted from their exploration and hoping to stave off combat for as long as possible. Fighting could wait until after a good meal and a long sleep. Well, a long sleep for the others. Larkspur had a feeling she and Abdirak would be talking late into the night, if he would be willing to discuss their divine differences.

Gale made a delicious potato soup for dinner, rich and creamy despite their somewhat limited ingredients. Odile had suggested that perhaps he was using magic to augment their meals, and Larkspur thought they were probably right. Either way, the food was delicious. She made a mental note to ask him for the recipe--if they made it to Baldur's Gate alive, Larkspur would want to recreate the dish once everyone had parted ways. The thought was bittersweet, but she pushed it aside. Now is hardly the ideal time to get more attached to your companions. We are all on death's door at every moment. Do not make their loss harder on yourself than it already will be.

The richness of the soup settled into everyone's bellies as sleepiness took them one by one. Karlach and Odile were laughing quietly with Lae'zel, who seemed frustrated that she didn't get whatever the joke was. Shadowheart had already gone to sleep, and Astarion and Wyll were taking turns throwing Scratch's ball. Or rather, Wyll was throwing it while Astarion heckled him. Gale was cleaning up his cookware when Larkspur stood up and stretched, but began to head to the entrance of camp instead of her tent.

"Going somewhere?" he inquired, surprising her. Larkspur hadn't felt his eyes on her back.

"Yes," she responded, "I-uh, I have something I need to do. Something I need to understand." It wasn't a lie, but she felt her cheeks flush as though it was.

His brow furrowed slightly. "Ah, I see. Well, be careful. I trust your judgement but I... but we will need you again come morning. I doubt our coming battles will be easily won, especially without your healing prowess."

Larkspur nodded. "Thank you, Gale. I'll-- I'll see you in the morning." It was a promise she fully intended to keep.

When she left the camp, she found Abdirak's corner of the desecrated temple with ease. She had hoped he would still be there, and as luck would have it he was. And as luck--or Ilmater, or Loviatar--would have it, he was alone. Larkspur hesitated slightly at the entrance, shivering in the drafty air. She had not replaced her armor after dinner, and her thin camp clothes were not enough to stave off the chill. Her lack of armor was a peace offering, to ensure that Abdirak knew she was not a threat. Larkspur hadn't come to hunt a heretic, and she did not want him to think she had. Unarmed, she stood in the archway outside of his altar. She felt suddenly shy, unsure of what to say to draw his attention away from his table of weaponry.

Possibly he had heard her footsteps, or possibly he had sensed that she would have more to say. Either way, he turned to her before she had the chance to say anything. "Welcome back, dear one. I did enjoy our prayers earlier." His tone was completely sincere, no trace of irony or double entendre.

"What drew you to Loviatar worship?" Larkspur blurted out before she could come up with a less direct question.

Abdirak shrugged. "What drew you to Ilmater? Probably much the same. There was suffering in my life which I could not control. The pain was becoming unbearable. I wished to learn how to bear it."

Larkspur nodded. "I believe the two gods have more in common than others might at first suspect."

Abdirak smiled, delighted by the prospect of someone to discuss esoteric topics with who was not an Absolute cultist. "As do I," he drawled, "without Loviatar, Ilmater would have nothing to repair. Without Ilmater, Loviatar would have no reason for her destruction."

"Precisely. Each views pain and suffering as a tool, just with opposite implications."

Abdirak nodded slowly. "This is, I believe, why you did so well for me earlier today. Why you did so well for Loviatar. You truly understand the nature of pain, the depths of it. The comfort that it can bring, even if you derive that comfort from the alleviation thereof."

The two continued talking in hushed tones for a few moments, comparing rites and practices within their respective sects. The conversation was undoubtedly refreshing for each of them, not only because of their similar viewpoints but because neither of them had been able to engage in any kind of deep theological debate since the rise of the Absolute, if not before that. Larkspur couldn't remember the last time she'd been able to intellectually spar with someone in such sacred territory, and she was grateful for the opportunity. Thank you Ilmater, thank you Loviatar, she offered silently.

Abdirak pulled a bottle of wine from under his table, offering Larkspur a swig. She took it gladly, feeling its warmth splash down her throat and settle in her belly. "My sweet child," Abdirak looked at her as her lips wrapped around the bottleneck, "surely this conversation made you want to...pray... again? Attempt to apply the knowledge we have gained in worship?" His eyes glistened with hunger, but he held still and maintained the distance between them.

Larkspur nodded assent. "We owe it to our gods to take advantage of an opportunity to commune with them both. Perhaps our breakthroughs may grant their guidance to other worshippers, if the gods approve of our actions."

Abdirak stood, his broad chest flexing. "We will have no audience this time except for our gods. What a splendid offering we shall make. Are you prepared to give yourself completely in that pursuit?"

Larkspur had suspected that this would be the nature of their prayer. Rising from her seated position on the ground, she unlaced her shirt and tossed it aside. "If it pleases Ilmater, I will pray in whatever way he will hear me."

"In that case, dear one, do not stop there. Undress."

Larkspur shivered slightly, more anticipation of what was to come than the cold. It seemed the goblins had largely gone to sleep as well, so there was little risk of being seen by anyone other than Abdirak himself--not that that mattered as much to her as she would have expected. First she stepped out of her boots, then her pants. She peeled off her socks and slid out of her small clothes, leaving her standing in front of the altar fully exposed.

Abdirak's eyes raked over her, trailing from the tattoo on her throat to her breasts, nipples pricking with cold and arousal, to the soft curve of her stomach, and finally to the fold between her legs. "Good girl," he whispered, "Loviatar will surely be pleased with your offering."

Larkspur breathed once, twice, silently dedicating their actions to their gods, before turning to face the wall once more. "I am ready. Pray with me."

Abdirak needed no more encouragement. Selecting a whip from his table of instruments, he began to brush it across Larkspur's thighs and buttocks, picking up speed and force with each swing of his hand. The audible sting of the whip left Larkspur grinding her teeth, fighting the urge to whimper. She did not want to give in so early; she suspected this would be a long night and wanted to savour every moment. Whether that was for her god's benefit or her own, she was unsure.

When the pink stripes along her legs began to purple in the candlelight, Abdirak put the whip back on the table. "You were so quiet," he said with distaste. "Our gods will hardly be able to hear our prayer if you maintain such stoicism. Let yourself enjoy the act. Get lost in it. Only then can Loviatar find you."

Larkspur turned to face him. "Ilmater blesses those who suffer silently," she murmured, pupils wide. The warmth in her core was certainly not divine in origin. The wet growing between her thighs was undeniably mortal.

A low growl rumbled from Abdirak's throat. "Does he not bless those who suffer willingly? Does he not bless those who relish in that pain?"

Larkspur's breath caught. "Teach me to relish it, then. Show me how sweet agony can be."

His hands were on her waist before she had finished her sentence. Abdirak pressed his full weight against her, pinning her to the wall. He was much larger than she was, and fully dressed except for his exposed chest. She felt her nipples rubbing against his taught abdomen, felt his erection pressed into her soft thigh. Wordlessly, he pulled her hands up by the wrists until they were above her head, the stone rough and cool against her bare flesh. Taking a cord from around his waist, he tied them to a hook she had not realized was there a moment before. He wedged a knee between her thighs, forcing them to spread as he raked his nails down the tender undersides of her arms and down her torso. When he got to her hips, he continued to pull her legs apart until she was spread as wide as she could be against the wall, shackling her ankles in place.

Holding up the key to her chains, Abdirak took her chin into his other hand. "Listen, devoted one. If at any moment you wish our worship to stop, you have only to ask me for this key. Do you understand?"

Larkspur nodded, dazed somewhat, her thighs and back still aching from his prior ministrations.

"Answer me. Let Loviatar and Ilmater hear your consent. Let them know we devote this sweet moment to them," he ordered. His voice was heavy with anticipation, clearly holding himself back.

"Yes, yes, please, yes," Larkspur whined, sounding much more pitiful than she intended to.

Abdirak picked the whip up once more and began flicking it across the front of her thighs, moving higher, its sting biting at her pelvis, her stomach, her breasts. As the pain moved from her thighs up to infinitely more sensitive places on her skin, she felt herself writhe against her bindings. No release came from behind her, however--only the scrape of rough stone along her back. The pain was starting to blur into pleasure, and she offered it to her god. "Ilmater--bless this pain! Hear my prayer!" she wailed. In response, Abdirak flicked the whip directly across her nipples. A mewling sound burst from her lips as she arched her back into the sensation? Away from it?

Abdirak groaned, raising his voice to the heavens. "Loviatar, take this offering, grant us your understanding!" He put the whip down, removing his cloak and placing it beside his instruments of worship. Larkspur hung from the wall, panting, her cunt slick and her legs aching. "Shall we continue, my sweet supplicant? Or do you want me to let you down?" Abdirak's hand traced Larkspur's cheek.

Larkspur knew that the pain she had experienced so far was only one small fraction of what Abdirak could do to her. She knew that if she asked, he would let her down without question. But she also knew that the gnawing in her core would not be satisfied with just a whipping, that her prayers could be much more enthusiastic. "More," she pleaded.

Abdirak drew his hand back and slapped her across the face, hard. "Good girl," he praised, drawing his hand again across her other cheek. Larkspur gasped. No lover had ever dared use such force before in her limited range of experience, and she was unsure if she liked it or not. "Good girl," he repeated. "Our gods are so pleased with your performance. They will be thrilled with an encore."

His hands travelled down, pinching and twisting her nipples until she was once more arching her back and moaning. He slapped each breast for good measure, drawing louder and louder keening from her lips. When he was satisfied, his rough hands tugged her hips as far off of the wall as he could. With one hand he supported the arch of her back, while with the other he began to smack her pussy. She couldn't squirm away, couldn't do anything to stop the burning sting of his palm against her throbbing clit. The agony was ecstatic, and she heard herself screaming.

"YES, YES! LET ILMATER HEAR YOUR CRIES, DEAR ONE! LET LOVIATAR BLESS OUR OFFERING!" Abdirak roared, his words rising above her scream. Then, as soon as it had begun, he stopped touching her. Larkspur lay against the wall, dripping in sweat, shaking with pain and pleasure and religious fervor. His lack of touch almost hurt more than the torture she had been so willingly taking from him.

Abdirak had broken contact so abruptly in order to remove his pants, revealing a long cock already twitching with want. "If I spill in you, can we be sure that no unwanted consequences will come from this?"

Larkspur nodded, squirming again. She was on fire, painfully aware of the bruising stripes across her legs, the scraped flesh of her back, the emptiness within her cunt, now suddenly twitching and contracting around nothing. It was horrible, it was wonderful, it was confusing and overwhelming and an experience that made her glad she had a charm preventing pregnancy.

He waited for confirmation, then grabbed her hips once more to line up with her entrance. He was not gentle. From the first thrust, he was pounding into her, each push scraping her already torn flesh against the stone once more. Burying his face in her neck, he bit a line from her ear to her shoulder. She half expected him to draw blood. Each time his teeth met her skin, Larkspur squealed, rolling her hips up into Abdirak's.

"Loviatar, take her pain," he chanted between thrusts, "Ilmater, take her pain."

Larkspur was beyond the point of forming words. A high, desperate wail was turning to sobs when Abdirak came, grunting and pounding into her with damn near impossible speed. She felt his cock twitch and pulse inside her and knew with the stuttering of his prayer that he had reached orgasm.

Abdirak pulled out, taking a clean rag from a chest and pouring water from a carafe onto it. Gently, he slipped it between Larkspur's folds, catching his dripping cum before unshackling her ankles and untying her wrists. He wet a second rag and rubbed her scraped back, gently cleaning the sweat and blood before moving to wipe her limbs and torso. He looked her over, assessing her injuries with a pleased expression. "What a beautiful sacrifice you made, sweet one," he hummed into her ear. "Can you make one last offering before I send you on your way?"

He slipped one, two calloused fingers into her slit, tracing a circle on her clit with the index finger of his other hand. Larkspur was still shaking into his hand, and it took little stimulation from Abdirak for her to follow him into orgasm with a soft howl. He held her steady in his lap for a moment, waiting for her to come down before helping her rise to her feet.

"Surely our gods will be pleased with the prayers we raised up tonight. I know I was," he smiled warmly. "If you ever wish to pray again, you know where to find me. I enjoyed exploring the divinity of agony with you."

Larkspur smiled weakly. The experience had been a unique one, certainly, and not unpleasant, but she was unlikely to seek out such intimate brutality again.

Feeling suddenly very small and alone as Abdirak walked into the darkness of the temple, Larkspur pulled her small clothes on, wincing with every touch of the cloth on her battered skin. Lacing her breeches, pulling her shirt over her head, Larkspur felt a deep exhaustion settle into her bones. She didn't even fully lace up her boots before stumbling out of the altar to Loviatar and trudging back to camp. Every fiber of her being ached, and she couldn't decide if she was stifling cries of joy or misery as she reached the campfire and her warm tent. She couldn't quite decide if she had enjoyed her experience, or if her deity had. Still, even in her dazed and overstimulated state, she couldn't help but notice that a small light, as if from a candle, was snuffed out in Gale's tent as she opened the flap of her tent. He waited for me to come back, she thought sluggishly, or is that just a coincidence?

Her eyes fluttered closed and sleep washed over her. The loneliness has dissipated slightly at the sight of that candlelight. Whether Gale had been quietly waiting to be sure she got back safely or simply reading late into the night, the knowledge of his presence was comforting. She knew she would be unbearably sore come morning, and that the mouth-shaped bruising on her neck would not be easily explained away as battle wounds. Odile would certainly ask questions, smirking all the while. Karlach would probably congratulate her on getting some with a hearty slap on the back, which would hardly make the bruising and scabbing along her spine heal faster. Astarion would be disgusted, or jealous, each in an effort to disguise some truer feeling. Whether he would be jealous that Abdirak got to ravish her or that she got to be ravished Larkspur couldn't anticipate. Lae'zel and Shadowheart would sniff in disapproval if they knew how she had spent her night, viewing such activities as a waste of time in such a dire situation. Wyll would be too tactful to say anything, a true gentleman. But Gale... How would Gale respond to the knowledge of what she had experienced? The intimate bruising, the loving ministrations of pain made private. She didn't feel shame, exactly, but she did feel a soft sadness descend on her. Ilmater's will be done she murmured, but why do I feel so empty?

Her sleepy, lust-tainted thoughts wandered to Gale. Gale's beautiful hands, such long fingers... How would they feel buried inside her as Abdirak's had been? Gale's voice, low and sensual in her ear... Would he ever say such praise to her as Abdirak had whispered? Gale's intelligence, his interest in all things arcane or intellectual... Could she have such electrically charged conversations with him? Gale's eyes, so sad but so warm... Larkspur couldn't imagine him being so harsh with his hands, so rough with his hips. Part of her wanted him to be, but most of her wanted him to be soft and gentle. Above all, she just wanted him to touch her. Since pulling him from that portal, the feel of his hands had been traced into her memory. He had shown little to no interest in her so far beyond the platonic, and that was probably for the best, but GODS did Larkspur want him to want her as badly as she wanted him.

She drifted into sleep, wishing that Abdirak's rough hands had been Gale's tender ones, wishing that her bedroll was warm with his body heat rather than cold with the absence of the lover she had shared her night with. Her last thought before sleep claimed her was Ilmater, forgive me. Loviatar's suffering should have been a gift. I am grateful. But still, the emptiness in her core betrayed her lie.

#mine #abdirak #abdirak x tav #gale x tav #yearning #larkspur #baldur's gate #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate fanfiction #can't always be romantic sometimes you need some filth

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