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vera-king-hrfl · 2 days

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The denouement of Zevlor x Rolan. Dedicated to the sweetest, most precious @manicpixie-tieflingboyfriend a wizard could ever have. ❤️🏳️‍🌈

You are more than happy for him to take things slow now. It gives you a chance to touch him. He lays back for a bit, hands behind his head, eyes closed and a lovely smile on his face as he lets you caress him. You kiss him sweetly, just playing your tongue along his lips, propping yourself on your elbow, your other hand finally sliding over his hard chest. His body is so taut, so strong, every muscle perfectly defined under the ridges and scars of his tough skin. You find some softer spots. Between the textured ribs, under his arms, Between his hip and belly. You sit up, adoring him with your hands, and he sighs with pleasure. You lean down and use your tongue to trace the cross of his navel like a prayer, sliding your hands across his lower abs, the crests on his hips. His thighs are big and seem so powerful, and you knead the heavy muscles there, built from long years on horseback. His beautiful cock is hardening again, laying up against his belly, and you run one finger lightly up the length, feeling the ribs stutter against your fingertip. It seems bigger now that you know what he’s going to do with it, bigger than anything you’d ever taken before, but you ache with the desire to be filled by him.

You are curling your fingers around his shaft when he reaches down to stop you, covering your hand with his and squeezing for a second with a little groan before pulling you away. “You are being so good to me. Let me handle you now. That’s what you want, right? You want me inside you.”

You whimper when he sits up and strokes your face, closing your eyes. “Yes Commander… please, that’s what I want.”

“Very well, kiss me first.” You are glad to comply. He is gentle again, and the kiss feels more like the first time, his soft lips caressing yours, lingering, his tongue slipping inside. He runs his hands over you, the sensation electric, and finally he touches your cock. He’s avoided this so far, and you flex into his calloused hand, but he merely holds your shaft lightly, running his thumb across the tip, gathering the moisture there. He releases your mouth and brings the damp thumb to his lips, licking the drop from it and groaning. “I would love to taste you as you have me,” he whispers, “but my teeth will hurt you. I learned that lesson long ago. I will finish you again though, with my hand, when I’m taking you. Would that be alright?” You nod vigorously, the thought of him stroking you off while he’s inside you driving your need to a fever pitch.

“Lie down on your stomach, then, Rolan. Let me take care of you.” You comply, stretching out and resting your head on your arms, trusting him completely. You observe vaguely that he seems quite reluctant to allow you any control over him, but you think you understand why. The former Paladin was a lawman, a monster hunter, and had been betrayed by the very people he’d sworn to protect. No one had ever protected him, made him feel safe, and it made sense that he was naturally very short on trust. But his strong calloused hands are on you now, pushing out all thought except the wonderful sensation of him caressing you. He grips your shoulders, massaging the muscles there, and you groan, feeling the lingering tension drain from you. He’s trimmed his claws, you notice, as he uses his fingertips to press on either side of your spine, sending tingles down your back. Gently, he strokes the outline of the little vestigial wings on your shoulder blades, the ridges on your sides, drawing his fingers down the larger scales on your spine. Your toes curl when he kneads your ass cheeks and slips his fingers around the base of your tail. He knows exactly how to touch you, and you feel extremely fortunate that he actually wants to.

His hands move away for a moment and you make a soft sound of disappointment, but he chuckles, and soon the palms return, though now slick with oil. He’d prepared for you, thinking of everything even though the possibility of this had been remote in his mind. You had merely brought your obnoxious needy self, but he didn’t seem to mind. He caresses your bottom again, stroking your tail with his hand, his thumbs passing beneath the twitching appendage and sliding between your cheeks. Your hips jerk a little when he plays one finger lightly along the entrance of your back passage, and you lift your tail higher, tilting your hips, moaning with need. Very slowly, he eases the finger into you, making you shudder with pleasure. He continues to stroke your tail with his other hand as he starts moving, softly at first, just using the one digit to open you, stretching you a little, getting you accustomed to the feeling.

You moan louder when he slips two inside and begins to pump them more vigorously, your pelvis shifting continually now, pushing up against his knuckles, the pressure on the blanket providing more stimulation for your weeping cock. But you don’t want to come again yet, not until he takes you fully, so you lift your ass higher, levering up onto your knees and elbows, riding his fingers and whimpering through gritted teeth, trying to hold back the approaching orgasm. But he’s just too good, and you won’t last much longer, so you still, gasping. He ceases his motion and stills his hand on your tail. “Are you alright?” His voice is soft, but you can hear the desire rasping under the solicitous tone.

“Yes, please… I need your cock in me. Please, gods, fuck me Zevlor.” You push yourself back on his fingers again, whining, looking back over your shoulder.

“How could I deny you when you ask so prettily? Just be still for a minute, let me do the work. Tell me if it’s too much.” He moves your knees apart a bit and moves his between them, and you lift your tail higher. He takes that appendage and lets it drape up his chest and over his shoulder, and you curl it against his back, trembling with anticipation. The blunt head of his cock presses against your ass and you struggle to relax, but you are so tense with longing that you clench inadvertently when he tries to push. He stops, stroking your back, soothing you. “Concentrate, sweet boy. Keep your muscles loose. Let me in.” You nod and take a deep breath, resetting yourself, and eventually you feel your tight hole stretch around him as he pushes into you. The head is completely within you when you tense again, but he is very strong, very hard, and he forces his way past the thick ring of muscle as you try to control your breathing and unclench your ass.

He keeps going, holding your hips, inexorable, ridges fluttering your rim and rippling your insides, and its all you can do to brace against the intense intrusion without crying out. You shudder when he pushes deeper, feeling so full of him that you can’t stifle a whine. But he isn’t there yet. You can’t feel his body against yours yet, and you wonder through the fog of sensation how much more there is. He doesn’t keep you in suspense. “Almost there, just a bit more. You’re doing so well, sweetheart. You feel so good wrapped around my cock, so tight. I am enjoying your body so much, Rolan. You’re beautiful. The way you take me. Gods, so…” he groans, and his strong thighs finally meet yours. His pelvis presses against your ass. He’s there. You gasp a little, feeling pleasure at his words, proud that you are able to take all of him. But you still feel incredibly full, your asshole straining, and he hasn’t even started moving yet. There is some pain, but the incredible feeling of being with him like this overshadows it. You want more.

But he holds himself still for a few minutes, letting you get used to him, before withdrawing just a bit, and pushing back in a little harder. He shudders. “Can’t take it… too tight, too good. Need to fuck you. Fill you… Brace yourself, I can’t… can’t control it anymore.” You fist your hands in the blanket when he pulls out almost all the way and then immediately rolls his hips into you, dragging a sharp cry from your trembling lips. He finds a rhythm, not too fast at first but deep and hard, gripping your hips and pulling you back onto his hard, hot, rippling cock, and it’s all you can do to endure.

Intense. That’s what he had said, and it is. Almost overwhelming when he speeds up. One rough hand grips your shoulder and he jerks you back, over and over, groaning, and the feeling is so strong that you begin to shake with waves of pleasure, little orgasms from deep inside that have nothing to do with your twitching cock. You’d never felt anything like it before and you gasp, the sensation growing more powerful with each second that passes. His thighs are slapping against yours now and you keen through gritted teeth, trying to hold on. You hear yourself begging for relief, for his hand on your cock, and he obliges, pulling you up against him and wrapping one arm around your chest, dropping the other hand to wrap around your shaft, his fingers still slick with oil, and the amazing feeling compounds the ecstasy from your shuddering insides when he starts to pump you. He continues to fuck you as well, matching the rhythm of his hand to his thrusting cock, driving up into you.

You are helpless in Zevlor’s grasp, able to do nothing but grip his forearm with both hands and shake, moaning, crying and whimpering as he drags you closer and closer to the edge of sanity. It’s too much to take anymore and you arch, groaning loudly as your mind goes blank and you come apart, shooting another load into his hand, feeling yourself contract and clench around him. Your climax brings him with you and he bites down on your shoulder, snarling against your skin, filling your guts with his hot seed, pumping it deeper, harder, faster until your desperate cries ring through the soft night air. He finally slows, panting, licking at the little marks of his teeth, tasting your blood. You gasp for breath, trying to calm yourself, but only his strong arm is keeping you from collapsing onto your face.

Zevlor kisses the back of your sweaty neck and slowly eases out of your fluttering hole, guiding you to lie again on your stomach and turning to flop on his back next to you, his hand just lightly resting on one ass cheek. You tremble with aftershocks, still hypersensitive, willing your pounding heart to slow. Eventually you regain the ability to speak. “Thank you,” you rasp, “needed that. You’re incredible. Can’t believe… how good it felt.”

He gently rolls you onto your side with your back to his chest and pillows your head on his arm, wrapping his other around your waist. You hiss a little at the motion, but then relax and let him hold you close. He kisses your neck again, “are you in pain? I can fix that if you like.”

But you shake your head, feeling the swell of your throat again at the kindness he shows you. “No. I want to feel it. Want to remember.” You bite your lip, “I am sorry for what I said. Sorry for being difficult. You don’t deserve that. You could have hurt me… but you were so nice.”

He hushes you, rubbing your side. “I could never want to hurt you, Rolan. I only want you to be safe. You were only telling me how you feel. I know you’re scared. I am too. But let’s just lie here together and rest. Don’t worry about anything else tonight. I’ve got you.”

You nod, and you do feel safe, protected in the strong arms. The scarred old Hellrider caresses you softly, kissing your hair, and you finally drift into a sleep untroubled by nightmares for the first time in years.

#zevlor #bg3 zevlor #zevlor bg3 #nsft #zevlovers #bg3 rolan #rolan #rolan bg3 #holy rolan empire #m/m #cw smut

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vera-king-hrfl · 2 days

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Some pretty stuff for Pride Month. Zevlor kissing boys and some stories. 🏳️‍🌈

Zevlor x Dammon - This one is sweet and loving. Dammon is more dominant

Zevlor x Rolan - soft dom Zevlor, angst and comfort.

Rolan x Lorroakan - CW: non-con. It's not violent or anything, but it's still kinda gross. Avoid if it's going to bother you. Edit: Yeah, Rolan gets smacked around a bit, but we already know about that. I meant the spicy part isn't violent.

#zevlor #bg3 zevlor #zevlor bg3 #nsft #zevlovers #bg3 rolan #rolan #rolan bg3 #bg3 dammon #dammon #cw noncon

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vera-king-hrfl · 2 days

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Ignore the context. This is part of a future chapter of my novel. @dark-and-kawaii gave us such a delicious treat that I wanted to share this bit. I call it Infernal Viagra.

In Raphael’s boudoir once more. In circumstances which, in your darkest dreams, you’d never imagined you’d find yourself. The slave of a Devil, his property. Raphael’s plaything. You wonder if this charming, dark eyed man would hit you as well. He said he would not damage you, but you reflect that you’ve taken a staggering amount of abuse in the past year without any permanent injury. Your smooth pale skin does not even hold scars. You stand, head down, trying not to shake as the fiend stands at your back, running his hands down your bare arms. He caresses your scales, as Zevlor does, and you feel tears prick your eyes.

He leans down to kiss the side of your neck above the collar, wrapping his arms around you and pressing his pelvis against your bottom. Hands moving over you, clutching, kneading, pulling you back, and it seems as if he’s straining for something. His fingers fist in your hair, dragging your head back, running his tongue across, your neck with a growl. You shudder, unable even to seek the detachment of the cold. It is worth the cost to save him, you tell yourself. You had agreed to this, for that purpose. You are not being assaulted, you are paying a small price to bring your husband back from the dead. You close your eyes, forcing the faces of Zevlor and Gortash from your mind and remembering the words of your grandfather, his instruction on how to make oneself numb to the reality of a seduction. How to convince the target that you truly desire the interaction. You allow yourself a soft moan. If you can convince Raphael, who knows you are under duress, then it will be easier to deceive the other.

“Yes, little one,” he breathes, “you are allowed to enjoy this.” It feels good, you tell yourself. His hands are strong, his mouth is warm. You slip into the role and reach back to caress his soft brown hair. He nips at your throat and you whimper a little, pressing your bottom back into his groin. Strangely, you feel nothing. He reaches down to grab your hip, pulling you tight to him, thrusting against you and growling. He rips the top of your dress down, his other hand kneading your breast. His snarl sounds almost… frustrated. Suddenly he releases you and makes a quiet sound of irritation, moving to the small cabinet beside the bed. He yanks it open and grabs a little bottle from within, turning to you with a look that seems strangely apologetic. “It’s not you, dear. You are delectable, but I am afraid I am accustomed to more… stimulation.” He uncorks the vial and downs the contents, leaving only a few drops in the bottom, then hands it to you. “You will not need as much, but this will make the proceedings more pleasant for the both of us.”

You take the bottle and frown, sniffing it. As soon as the sickly sweet scent of decay touches your nostrils you understand. Succubus spittle. A powerful aphrodisiac. The devil does not really want this either. Using your body is a means to an end for him. You almost feel sorry for him as you tilt the last few drops into your mouth… but not quite. He is a fiend, in several ways, and this is a business transaction. You feel the heat pool between your thighs immediately as the poison hits your stomach, and the intense desire blooms in your loins. He is obviously feeling the effects as well and he comes to seize you again, pressing his mouth to yours and pulling you against him. He is hard now and his lips are hungry as the remaining clothing covering you both vanishes. He feels wonderful, and desire for the devil sets your straining nerves on fire. You need not pretend any longer. You want him. He kisses you hungrily and pulls you toward the bed, laying himself down on his back against the multitude of embroidered cushions.

“Take me, little mouse. Impale yourself on me. Receive my essence and mark yourself with my scent. You want it. You’re beautiful. Do it now”

You have no choice but to comply, the desperate need spurring you onward, and you move to straddle his hips, lining him up with your center. You shove yourself down on him and start to ride him quickly, driving down onto him, wanting, needing the completion. He grips your hips and groans, squeezing his eyes shut, jerking himself up into you, needing the release that you and only you can give him. It’s disgusting, it’s horrifying. You’re fucking the devil and you love every moment of it. It doesn’t take him long now. After a few minutes he cries out and shoots a stream of burning seed into your womb, but you keep going, not finished yet, taking him, using Raphael’s body for your own satisfaction, tilting your pelvis, clenching around him, chasing the sweet release, and, finally you feel that crisis collapse upon your heated body and you are shaking, crying, coming hard in his embrace. He endures you for a while longer, gasping, shuddering and straining to endure the intense madness of the powerful climax that you drag again and again from his body, milking him, hungry for every drop, before he is replete and shoves you off of him, and you fall trembling to the mattress, gasping for air.

Shaky, you push yourself up and roll to sit, looking at him. He’s sitting up as well, elbows on his knees, looking at you strangely. “That was more pleasurable than I expected. You were practically a virgin when I first met you, and so delightfully shy. The ridiculous Baneite that you allowed to use your body only made you more hesitant. But the tiefling… he seems to have been good for you, love.”

“He’s more of a man than you’ll ever be,” you growl, but he just laughs. You blow out a breath, still feeling the effects of the venom, “but surely you can do better than that. You really want this to look good? Transform. Let yourself go, teeth and claws. Mark me. Make it hurt. Be the monster that you are. It’s what Samael wants to do to me, isn’t it?” It’s too late now to stop this. His seed is already leaking from you, but you want the other devil furious, unhinged. You want him off balance enough to make a mistake, to perhaps reveal his true purpose.

He raises an eyebrow, looking surprised. “Certainly it is, and I can do that. I promised not to damage you, but if that is what you really want…” The fires flare around him and he grows, his skin flooding with red, massive wings spreading from his back, horns erupting from his head. His growl is deep and dangerous as he reaches for you again with huge clawed hands.

Raphael finally loses himself in you, snarling, grunting, his talons digging into your flesh as he forces himself into you. His fangs are longer than Zevlor’s, claws sharper, cock bigger, and you grit your teeth, struggling to endure the pain. But this is what you want now. You had enjoyed riding him, and you can’t have that. You need to be ravaged, brutalized and bloody. Giving yourself to him must be an unpleasant experience, a bad memory, and surely that is what it will be now. He explodes into you again, burning your chafing walls with hot seed, and doesn’t stop, flipping you over, pulling you to your knees and slamming back inside. It’s agonizing, but you climax again and again, shaking and struggling under him. But he has no mercy on you now. He becomes that raving beast he’d denied, sinking his teeth into you, raking your skin with his claws, gripping your hair to jerk you back against him. He’s too big, he’s going to ruin you, and you smell your own blood mixed with the sulfurous musky odor of him. He goes on for quite a while, coming into you over and over, filling you until the thick load swells your womb and he finally pulls from you with a gush of fluid. “Enough!” His voice is deep and rough with effort, but he is in control of himself again.

You can’t move yet, the pain is too much, and you whimper, panting, feeling each sting of the tooth and claw marks which cover you, the sharp pain between your legs, the deep ache in your belly. He’d destroyed you more completely than Zevlor ever had, and there will be no healing this time.

Raphael laughs breathlessly and flops back onto the cushions. “If I go any farther I will kill you. You are resilient, for a mortal. I must admit, I am impressed. I had to resist a rather powerful urge to breed you.”

You cough and are able to roll painfully onto your back, gasping. “I will not be fertile for years, possibly, but... Fuck, Raphael. I may not be able to walk.”

You turn your head, wincing from the bites on your neck, but he’s grinning. “I could bring you there, little mouse. I could prepare your body with my essence. You are fortunate that I have no wish to cause such increase as that would be onerous for me, and unpleasant for you. But only imagine the manner of creature we could make, the two of us. The power…” he pauses, and you see his expression become calculating. “I wonder…” but he stops and reaches for you, and you hiss when he pulls you against his hot, broad chest. Your muscles are like water, and you lie against him uselessly, unable to protest. “I will give you a little time to recover, but you look marvelous like this. Perfect. Utterly debased and defiled. I want to call on my rival before you begin to heal. Your body closes wounds more quickly than I expected. Come, I want you to see yourself.”

You stifle a cry as he lifts you and slides from the bed, crossing to a full-length mirror on the wall nearby. He sets you on your feet, holding you so you can stand upright on your wobbly legs. The sight before you is astonishing. Wherever the scales give way to softer skin, you are marked. Large bite marks still ooze blood, and claw slashes decorate you from neck to ankle. He has even scratched your face, three long diagonal red lines passing from temple to jaw. Your inner thighs drip with blood and semen, and you are covered in darkening bruises. The grinning red devil behind you seems to enjoy the sight. “Just imagine, my pet. In a few days this will all be gone. I almost regret that I cannot keep you forever.”

#bg3 raphael #nsft #very nsft #cw blood #cw smut #violence #teeth and claws

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vera-king-hrfl · 3 days

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Second part of the thing I did. This one is more porny. Soft dom Zev, Rolan on his knees... 🏳️‍🌈

As you weave your way through the darkness, heading toward the river, you reflect on everything that has happened since the fall of Elturel. That city had been restored, but your people had been blamed, and you were no longer welcome. It made little difference to you. You’d rarely felt welcome anywhere until Cal and Lia decided that you would be their brother, and share in their love. But Zevlor, also, had always been there. He had broken his Paladin oath to keep you all safe, to protect you. Abandoning his city, his post, his duty and his gods, choosing to lead a pack of feeble refugees into the wilderness to find a new home for you all. You owed him everything, more than any of you could ever repay. But he asks for nothing in return. His life has been nothing but pain since then. You want to give him what he’d given you. A feeling of belonging. Of comfort. Your body and your feeble skills are a meagre offering, but you will give gladly, if he will only accept. The kiss, earlier, burns in your mind. The heat and power of him, the staggering effect he has on you. You have never wanted another person this badly, and the longing to give him pleasure spurs you onward despite your nervousness. You will not measure up. You can’t. But by all the gods above and below, you will try.

He is there. You see him in the distance by the soft gleam of moonlight on his horns, the pale streak of the white shirt he wears. He is out of armor for the first time in weeks, standing at the water’s edge, his back to you. His head is bowed, hands curled at his sides, shoulders seeming tense. You call his name when you draw closer, but he’s already turning, sensing your approach. Sneaking up on Zevlor would be no easier then besting him in combat. The nobles of Elturel has driven out their greatest treasure, their most devoted servant, to slog along a dirty dangerous road, caring for people who did not deserve his loyalty. People like you. You feel shame again at how you had treated the dignified older man, but you’re here to make that better, if you can.

He smooths his shirt when you draw near, touching his hair, his horns, looking quite nervous. Your own heart is beating like a trip hammer, and you think you know how he feels. “You came,” is all he says before turning again to study the reflection of the moon on the dark water.

You smile as you reach him, taking his hand and standing next to him, remaining silent, enjoying his closeness. The moment stretches, and you feel more comfortable the longer he presses your hand. “I couldn’t stay away,” you whisper finally. “Do you want to talk about this? I don’t really need to, but if you’re apprehensive…”

He glances at you and sighs. “I must admit… yes, I am. This… these feelings. I never imagined that I would allow anyone to affect me like this again. I thought all that behind me. My purpose…”

“Yes, I think I see. Zevlor, I want this. I want to spend the night with you. But I won’t push you if you’re not ready. I thought it might make you feel… but I have to tell you, I have little experience. Some, but rather outdated. There have been other more pressing concerns than… that.”

He looks at you again and this time he holds your eyes. “For me as well. Perhaps at one time…” He chuckles softly, “But I know how to please a man. I can still make this good for you. I may be a bit rusty, but if you will only tell me what you enjoy, I will do anything you want. But let me lead. Please. I am more comfortable...”

You grin at him, lowering your head. “You like to be in charge. I have no problem with that. And I have a feeling I will enjoy anything you do to me. Put me on my knees. Let me call you Commander. I know I act like I have everything handled, but usually I’m just fumbling for purchase, for my place in the world. For tonight, you can control my body.”

He looks rather startled for a moment. Understandable, given your previous aggression, but then he smiles, “Then I will do my best to liberate you. Come, there is a place nearby.” He turns then and leads you away from the shimmering river into a deeper darkness beneath a copse of trees. There seems to be the unspoken agreement between you that this remain secret, but you don’t mind that. He has placed a bedroll there, and he stops, turning to catch you by the back of the neck and drawing you to him. His mouth covers yours and now he is not hesitant, but confident, the kiss almost fierce, so great is his need. You moan, melting in his strong grasp, releasing your tension and putting yourself completely in his hands. His tongue plunges between your lips, his other arm curling around you and pulling you against him hard. You feel your cock start to stiffen immediately. The shy, reserved man is gone. This is the Hellrider, the Zevlor you once knew and secretly fantasized about, the one you’d heard the older folks mention in hushed tones as a miracle worker in the bedroom as well as on the battlefield. His kiss is hot, hungry, and he pulls the tie from your hair and grips a handful, pulling your head back so he can kiss and lick your neck. Every shred of hard-won poise deserts you then, and you whimper, clutching at him, pushing your pelvis forward, wanting to feel every inch of his solid, muscular body. You feel his sharp teeth nick your skin. “May I?” You nod, begging for his bite, and he sinks the fangs deep, drawing blood and a sharp cry from you. He holds you while you twitch, licking at the wound, then lifts his head and reclaims your mouth, coiling his long tongue around yours. He is not much bigger than you, but harder, stronger, with more infernal blood, and his tongue is deeply forked while yours is only lightly indented. You feel the power of that heritage when he pulls your head back again and grins. “Take off your clothes.”

He releases you and you step back, hastening to shrug out of your robe and underthings, and you shiver with delight when he looks you up and down with seeming approval. He pulls his own shirt off and your breath catches. It is dark, but your night vision is good, and you let your eyes trace every ripple of muscle, every ridge, every deep slashing scar on his beautiful torso. The Commander is modest around others, and you’d never seen him shirtless before. You start to approach, wanting to touch him, but he holds up his hand and you halt, trembling.

“On your knees.” You hit the ground almost before you can think, the weight of his command overwhelming, desiring nothing more than to obey, to please him. “Do you want to taste me?”

“Yes, Commander. Yes, please. I’ve dreamed of this.” His authority sets you on fire and you reach around behind him to release the clasp of his pants and drag them down his heavy thighs. His scent hits your nose when his hard shaft springs free, clean and fresh, but with a hint of something more. Dark, spice, animal. You groan when he tangles his fingers in your hair and allows you to lavish the length and crown of him with your tongue, kissing, licking, needing his taste. You had never particularly enjoyed this in the past, hadn’t been very good at it, but tonight your own cock twitches in sympathy when he eases into your mouth. You grip his hips, opening, letting him sink deeper until he’s lodged in your throat. He’s quite large, but you have a wide mouth and you are able to take him with only a little strain. Despite his show of dominance, he is still being careful, not pushing you too hard, and his deep groan is beautiful to your ears. The idea that you are drawing such a sound from him winds the tension in your groin near to the breaking point.

He seems to notice your crisis and growls, “you can touch yourself while you suck me if you want.” But you don’t release his hips, instead simply letting him pull your head back and then hold you still, pumping into your throat again and again, slowly, dragging the ridges of his length against your tongue, making your eyes water. You don’t need to touch yourself. You are already close enough, and when he loses himself a little and shoves deeper with a growl, you gasp through your nose and release onto the ground, shuddering and moaning. He continues for a few more seconds before pulling you off of him and looking down at you, stroking your hair. “Did… Rolan, did you come just from that?”

You close your eyes, licking your lips to savor his taste. “Yes I did. You… it’s so good. Wanted this so badly.” It is liberating, to allow him control, to know that he is going to use you, without you having to think, having to perform.

He chuckles. “Good boy.” You smile at the praise, feeling warm and content. “My, you are enjoying this. Who would have thought… do you want to continue?”

“Fuck yes. I want to make you feel good. Want to make you come. Use me, Commander, please.”

He growls again and grabs both of your horns, pulling you back down his cock, and starts to fuck your mouth more vigorously, challenging you to keep your breathing controlled and your teeth away from his skin.

“Oh gods, yes… fuck, Rolan. So good… you’re doing so well… suck a little harder… oh fuck yes yes just like that… close, going to come down your throat. That’s it, you can take it. Just a little more.” His words are magical, his moans and whimpers delectable, his smell and taste and the feel of him yanking on your horns making you hard again, wanting him to spill into your mouth, wanting his pleasure, needing it. You feel his cock swell, twitching, and then he cries out, forcing your face to his belly and filling your throat with hot spurts of his seed. You choke a little but control yourself, managing to swallow every drop. He gasps and snatches his hands away, but you rise slowly, drawing his climax out until he’s shaking and whimpering, fisting his hands at his sides. You finally release him with a sharp pop and grin, looking up. He pants, eyes blazing, and then groans and stumbles to the bedroll, dropping down on it and lying on his back. You follow, stretching out beside him and caressing his chest.

Eventually he turns a bit and kisses you, pressing his forehead to yours with his eyes closed. “That was incredible,” he whispers, “I haven’t felt anything like that in more than a decade. I still have no idea why you’re here, but I am glad I did not lose my nerve. It was a near thing, you know. I was going to send you away and come over here, get myself off, and go to sleep. But you were so sweet, holding my hand. So pretty…”

You snort, “that doesn’t sound like much fun. I’m happy that my own courage didn’t fail me. And I’m glad you enjoyed it. I wanted to be able to do this for you. To make you feel good. At first, I really just wanted you to fuck me, but this was so good that I am certainly not disappointed. We can do that another night if we get the chance.”

His eyes open then, and he raises his brows, “Oh, sweet boy. You think I’m finished?” He laughs and sits up, reaching for a bottle of water and taking a long drink before handing it to you. He bites his lip, grinning and looking you over as you sip. “I may be getting up in years, but I think I can outlast a cranky little wizard. I would still like your pretty ass, if you think you can take it.” His smile grows darker. “I’m not sure you can.”

You hear the challenge in his voice and growl. “Yeah, yeah, I know. My jaw is already aching a bit and I probably won’t be able to walk properly afterward, but that’s what I’m here for. I’ve been so fucking stressed… I think if you pound me until I can’t see straight it might improve my mood. At least for a little while.” You think it also might serve as a personal penance for how you behaved toward him earlier, but you don’t mention that.

He chuckles and shakes his head, “you make a convincing case. We’ll have to get you ready first. I’ve been told I can be a little… intense… when I’m doing that. And I know I’m a bit bigger than average, but if we start slowly, I will be more than happy to fuck the attitude out of you.”

#zevlor #bg3 zevlor #zevlor bg3 #nsft #zevlovers #bg3 rolan #rolan #rolan bg3 #holy rolan empire #rolan x zevlor #zevlor x rolan #zevlor going from nervous to dommy just does something for me #not sorry

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vera-king-hrfl · 4 days

Text

Here's the first bit of the promised Zevlor/Rolan little one-shot spicy story. It's more gentle than I expected, after the first bit, but I don't really plan things, and that's what came out. 🏳️‍🌈

Edit to tag @manicpixie-tieflingboyfriend in case they didn't see it. I gotchu fam.

“So I hear that you are planning to leave us.”

The gruff rumble of Zevlor’s voice cuts through your reverie and you look up, frowning. “I’m surprised you aren’t. They don’t want us here. We’re going to be forced out anyway. I’m just cutting to the chase.”

“And that is what it will be, Rolan. As soon as you step out that gate, the three of you will be vulnerable. And that’s not all. By abandoning the rest of us, you will be putting everyone at greater risk. We are stronger together.”

You bark a laugh, “are we? Dragging around a load of children, elderly, non-combatants. Almost all of them. I saw Guex yesterday. The kids. They will fall like wheat to the scythe. Can you and a handful of soldiers save them from gods know how many goblins and worgs and whatever else they send? At least, if it’s just Cal and Lia, we can hide, and I might be able to…”

He cuts you off with a chopping motion. “If I cannot hope to stand against this, then what chance do you have? You should wait. The party that just arrived, they are on our side. They have offered…”

“Bullshit. We don’t know those people. They took the Blade of Frontiers with them and fucked off. He was the only one left here that was on our side and the Arch Druid is probably dead. Even the mercenaries left after they knocked out their leader. For being rude to you, I might add. Can’t even fight your own battles. I think you’re going soft.”

“And I think you’re being very selfish. We have elderly, and actual children to care for. You should think of that instead of acting like one yourself.”

You growl, feeling the heat in your face. You know you’re getting too angry, given his calm demeanor, but you don’t care. “Yeah. Children and elderly, like you. Broken down old asshole. Half of our people are already dead because you can’t cut it anymore.”

You see him wince a little, and almost wish you could take the words back, but it’s too late. He bares his teeth, finally raising his voice, “Fine! Have it your own way. Petulant, stupid little brat. Go and get yourself and your family killed. I have better things to do than argue with you.” He whirls and starts to stalk toward the door of the cave he’s been using as an office, but his words burn you. Partly because you know he’s right, but you are seeing red, and almost before you realize what you’re doing, you raise your hand and shoot a single magic missile at his retreating back. It hits him, and he staggers, stopping dead. He’s wearing armor, but it still probably stung him pretty good.

Zevlor turns, “you really want to do this, you little shit? It would take more than…”

Desperate to shut him up, you snarl and send two more missiles his way, but incredibly, he manages to dodge one. Fuck, the old man is fast. The other hits him in the shoulder, and he shakes it off and starts toward you, fangs gleaming.

Dodge this, you think. “Detono!” He leans into the Thunderwave, and it pushes him back, his boots sliding over the stony floor, but he doesn’t go down. Shit, he’s still coming, and you’re getting tired.

You try to blow him back with a gust of wind, all you have left, but the spell is too weak, he seems hardly to notice, gripping your wrist and twisting, whipping you around, wrenching your shoulder and pressing himself to your back. His other hand flashes up to cover your mouth. “Stop this now,” he snarls, “save it for our real enemies.”

You struggle, squirming in his grasp, attempting to pry the hand from your face, curling your tail around his leg and yanking at it, but he is far too strong, and your shoulder is screaming, and you’re thinking of enemies. Enemies everywhere, threats on every side, goblins on the road, gnolls in the hills, druids trying to force you out. You hear the insults, the filthy names, flashing back to your life as an unwanted orphan, the sting of stones thrown by human children when you were cold, hungry, and desperate for someone, anyone, to care about you. And now Zevlor will hate you as well, the person you secretly trusted to be strong enough to save you and your siblings.

Perhaps he feels your chest hitch with the stifled sob, or the tears trickling onto his fingers, or perhaps not, but either way he releases your wrist then, letting you drop your arm, and wraps his arm around you, still holding you tight and covering your mouth. “Are you finished?” But his voice is much more gentle now, and you nod, gasping for breath when he releases you, stumbling forward to lean against the table. You are reluctant to turn, to let him see you crying, but he is silent, merely standing there behind you, perhaps waiting for something. An apology, most likely. You know you should apologize for picking a fight, for attacking him even when he was resisting what had to be a powerful urge to knock some sense into you. He hadn’t hit you even then, merely restraining you so you would stop trying to hurt him. Your shoulder aches, and your lips sting where they were cut against your own teeth, but the tough old Hellrider could have destroyed you if he’d wanted to.

“That was really stupid,” you rasp, finally turning to look at him, “I am sorry, I don’t know what came over me.”

He looks a bit stunned, taking in your tear-stained face and bruised, bloody mouth, but shakes his head, “we’re all under a great deal of stress. I should not have let it go that far. I engaged where I shouldn’t have. The fault is mine.”

He's blaming himself, as usual, looking so contrite that another little sob forces its way past your lip. You had hurt him, just not physically. You know how little Zevlor thinks of himself, and this is just another stone piled onto the great burden of guilt he carries. That, more than anything, causes your face to heat with shame and the tears to flow faster, and you cover your face with your hands. “No no no,” you whine, “it was me. It’s all just… too much. I am afraid… makes me so angry…”

He's here now, closing on you, his hands gentle, soothing, and you feel the soft wave of his power flow over you, healing the cuts, the bruises, the pain in your arm, and he pulls you to him, hushing you and tucking your face into his shoulder. You wrap your arms around him, uncaring of the armor, holding him tightly as he rubs your back, letting you cry on him and whispering words of praise and encouragement. He is so kind, you think, so steady, a solid wall to prop yourself against when the shadows gather too near. You finally run down and sniffle, chuckling a bit, “I’m going to rust your armor.”

“Fuck the armor.” He eases you back to look at you, and you wipe your face on your sleeve. “Better now?” He’s still speaking quietly, smiling a little but still looking anxious, and his solicitous nature moves something in you. Your hair has come undone and he reaches up to brush a lock from your eyes and tuck it behind your horn. So gentle, so generous, eyes so bright, just like yours, lips so soft… without thinking you lean forward and press your mouth to his.

Zevlor freezes for a moment, but then pulls back, holding you away from him. “You are overwrought, Rolan. I think you should rest now. Come, you can wash your face and when you are more yourself again you can go back…”

“No,” you interrupt him, clearing your throat and lowering your eyes, mumbling, “I mean, I am, yes, but that’s not why. I know you don’t feel the same but… I kind of… I have a little crush on you. Have for a while. I don’t know if you would ever… never mind. It’s fine, I’ll deal with it.”

He looks more surprised than he had before, but he’s still holding one of your hands, and he doesn’t release it. “I don’t know what to say. I’ve never thought about you like that. Never allowed myself to…” Of course he hadn’t. You had known men who had, who had made their desires very clear, sometimes even forceful, and you’d had to fight off quite a few unwanted advances in your youth. It was one reason you strove so desperately to make yourself more powerful. But Zevlor isn’t like that. You’d never seen him so much as look at anyone in a way that might suggest interest. If he has desires, he hides them very well.

You swallow, his proximity and the warmth of his hand in yours making you brave. “Well, think about it now. If… I mean, if you want to. If you don’t like men…”

He shakes his head, his burning eyes wide. “It’s not that. And you are very… but I still think you are a little off balance. Not thinking clearly. You couldn’t possibly be interested a battered old soldier like me.” But you see the barest flicker of hope cross his face. Hope that he would quickly crush himself if you don’t act decisively.

You touch his face, the ridges on his cheek, and he doesn’t pull away. “I should not have done that without permission. I’m sorry. I will ask this time. Zevlor, may I kiss you?”

He is silent for so long that you become nervous again, thinking that perhaps you’ve offended him. He’s going to refuse, you’d misread him. You are gathering yourself to apologize again, to pull away, to take back your words, but it seems you have just rendered him speechless, because after another moment, he merely nods. You blow out a breath, feeling relief flood through you. You have to reset yourself. You want this to be good. Steeling yourself you slowly lean forward, slide your fingers up into his hair, and touch your lips gently to his.

He doesn’t respond at first, but you shift closer, increasing the pressure incrementally, and after a few more seconds he begins to return your kiss. His lips are even softer and sweeter than you had imagined in your guilty late night fantasies, and he moves them slowly, hesitant, not applying much pressure of his own. He is being very careful, you think, probably he still doesn’t really believe that you want this, thinks you might change your mind and pull away with every second that passes. But you have no intention of stopping. It feels too good. You tilt your head a bit, fitting your mouth to his, sliding your fingers to the back of his head, and you feel his own large, warm hand lay lightly on your waist. He likes it. He’s responding, getting a little more confident, and you hear his sharp intake of breath when you flick your tongue briefly over his mouth. He parts his lips, slightly, allowing you to taste the moist inner surface, to touch the points of his teeth. The hand on your waist slips further, settling against your lower back above your tail. That appendage is trembling, and you can’t see, but you think his might be as well. You decide to check, passing the length between your legs and his, seeking his own tail. A soft brush of the spade on the end, and you coil it around his, squeezing a little. That seems to crack some of his reserve and he wraps his arms around you fully, opening his mouth and letting you push your tongue against his. You moan, feeling the delicate tapered points taste you carefully. It’s incredible. He feels amazing, his heat, his strong hands, his tail around yours, and you feel safe in his arms, protected.

But you want more. You want all of him, and you lose yourself in the intensity of the moment, sealing your mouth with his, and reach your hand around to grip his ass and pull him hard against you. You are as hard as granite, but the armor is in the way, you want it off, want him bare against you, on top of you, taking you. You are considering the fastest way to get into his pants when he suddenly breaks the kiss with a gasp. “Stop.” You shake your head, needy, and try to recapture his lips but he holds you away from him. “Not here. Not now. Someone else might walk in at any moment. And I… Rolan, that was… no one has touched me, kissed me in years. I need time to think, and we need to talk about this. Tonight. Down by the river. I will be there, and if you still feel… but I will not press you. If you change your mind I will understand. I won’t be upset. We can forget the whole thing, alright?”

You nod, breathing deeply, trying to calm yourself, but you know you will remember that beautiful kiss for the rest of your life. “I will be there.”

#zevlor #bg3 zevlor #zevlor bg3 #nsft #zevlovers #bg3 rolan #rolan #rolan bg3 #holy rolan empire #rolan x zevlor #zevlor x rolan

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