For all her protests that she isn’t exhausted, Nott falls asleep mere minutes after they make it up to the room. She must be deeply asleep, too, because she doesn’t so much as stir when Caleb trips over his own boots as he’s stripping down for the night.
Briefly, he considers digging through some of his newest literary acquisitions for spells to copy, but he’s both too tired and too restless to sit and work. The fight today had been a close one, but he’d pulled out a successful spell in a clutch moment for once, and they’d all come back to the inn bloodied but alive and in good spirits.
In fact, the rest of the Nein are still celebrating downstairs. Caleb had begged off early, both because he could see Nott was fading fast and because there had been more attention on him than usual. There’s also… something he’s been wanting to try. It’s terrible, an unforgiveable violation of trust, but he’s already done so many unforgiveable things in his life that this one should barely register.
Besides, he thinks as he summons Frumpkin to sit in his lap, he might be proven wrong. Caleb has his suspicions about certain alliances within the group, but that’s all they are. It’s absolutely none of his business, of course, but just like Nott feels an itch in the presence of shiny things, Caleb feels an itch in the presence of a mystery.
He scritches Frumpkin’s ears for a few moments, wondering if he can talk himself out of it. If anyone finds out, he and Nott will be back out on the street. But they’ve been there before, and no doubt they’ll find themselves there again. This is a good group for now, but nothing like the Nein lasts forever.
Choice made, Caleb lifts Frumpkin’s ear to his mouth and whispers, “Go to Fjord and Molly’s room. Stay out of sight and keep quiet, but keep an eye on as much of the room as you can.” Then he sets the cat down and cracks the door open just enough to let him through.
Caleb gets settled in bed and douses the candle before sending his perception to Frumpkin’s eyes and ears. It looks like the crack at the bottom of his compatriots’ door was large enough for a cat, because Frumpkin is already in their room, scanning the corners for a hiding place. It’s a small room for two adult men, and there’s not much inside other than the beds and a washbasin on a small table. Frumpkin chooses the space beneath the table, which has been pushed into the corner. It’s not ideal, as tieflings and half-orcs have no trouble seeing in the dark, but Caleb happens to know that they’ve both put away a few drinks tonight. With Frumpkin in place, Caleb waits.
And waits.
He’s nearly dozed off when he hears footsteps pounding up the stairs. They sound like Molly’s obnoxious boots, and sure enough, through Frumpkin’s eyes, Caleb sees Molly shove the door open with Fjord in tow.
“G’night, ladies,” is all Fjord can shout over his shoulder before Molly slams the door behind him and then pushes the half-orc back against it. Caleb can’t see the look on Molly’s face, but he does hear Fjord say, “Gods, Molly, again? I’m not sure all your ribs are back together.”
“I feel fine,” Molly says, and as if to demonstrate, he pulls his shirt over his head. The tiefling’s back is covered in bruises, and there’s a streak of blood across one shoulder where he’d activated a scimitar.
“If you say so,” Fjord replies. He sounds doubtful, but he’s also tugging off his own shirt. “Do tieflings go into heat or somethin’?”
“That’s borderline offensive,” Molly says, not sounding the least bit offended. “We’re not animals. But your dick is so big that I’m prepared to forgive you.”
“Uh-huh,” Fjord says archly. “This generosity wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain someone who saved—”
“Why don’t I get you started?” Molly interrupts, dropping smoothly to his knees.
Caleb has, of course, seen Fjord naked at the bath house before, and he’s a fairly large man in general. But as Molly lifts Fjord’s cock out of his trousers and strokes it to full hardness, Caleb can’t help but take in a sharp breath from two rooms away. Fjord’s cock is flushed a deep emerald green, several shades darker than the rest of his skin, and when it’s hard, it’s nearly as thick around as Caleb’s wrist. Perhaps that’s an exaggeration, but not by much. It doesn’t seem to trouble Molly in the slightest, though – confirming Caleb’s suspicion that this isn’t a new development – and he makes a delighted little noise before taking the head in his mouth and sucking audibly.
Fjord groans, “Fuck, Molly,” and tips his head back to rest against the door. From this angle, Frumpkin can’t see exactly what Molly’s doing with his mouth, but it’s loud and wet, and it has Fjord’s eyes starting to roll back in his head. He’s got one hand in a fist against the door and the other hovering awkwardly over Molly’s head, like he doesn’t know what to do with it.
After a few moments, the noises stop and Molly sits back on his heels. “For fuck’s sake,” he says, voice noticeably rougher, “I keep telling you.” Then he grabs Fjord’s hands and puts them on his horns.
“I didn’t know if you were being serious.”
“What makes you think I’d ask for something I don’t enjoy?”
“Fair enough,” Fjord replies, curling his fingers around Molly’s horns. “You’ve never really shown me just how much you can take.” He doesn’t appear to tug very hard, but Molly sinks down and down and down, and at some point, Fjord stops breathing altogether.
There’s no way Molly can take it all, but he gets much farther than Caleb would have thought possible before he gags. Fjord swears loudly and shoves Molly back. “Too far,” he gasps. “I’ll hurt you.”
“Says who?” Molly croaks, but when Fjord guides his head back down, Molly doesn’t take his cock quite as deep.
After a few slow thrusts to establish a range of motion they can both agree on, Fjord pauses and asks, “You good to go?” Molly grunts an affirmation, and Fjord groans back as he sets a rhythm.
If Fjord had any doubts about using Molly like this, he abandons them quickly, and Caleb can hardly blame him. From the sounds Molly’s making and the way his tail is curling restlessly against itself, he seems to be elated as Fjord fucks his mouth, alternately speeding up and slowing down to make it last.
When Fjord’s rhythm truly picks up steam and he starts making a deep, guttural sound at the apex of every thrust, Caleb sees Molly’s fingers tap Fjord’s hip three times in quick succession, and Fjord lets go with another curse.
“Sorry, darling,” Molly says, his voice thoroughly wrecked now. “I need you hard.”
Fjord groans, reaching up to fist his hands in his own hair. His cock bobs hard and glistening in the low light. “Ah, fuck, I know. Just gimme a minute here. You’re too goddamn good at that.”
“You’re welcome,” Molly shoots back.
It turns out Fjord has plenty of time to gather his wits while Molly squirms out of his ridiculous thigh-high boots. When they both shed their clothing, they’re a study in opposites – Fjord’s bulk to Molly’s litheness, the intricate ornamentation of Molly’s tattoos to the roughness of Fjord’s scars – and while they’re not exactly affectionate, they’re clearly comfortable with each other’s bodies.
Caleb pops back into his own body for a moment, biting off a gasp. By now, it’s clear what’s going on between Molly and Fjord. It doesn’t appear to be romantic or based in any kind of desire to split or manipulate the rest of the group, so there’s no reason for Caleb to keep watching. No reason at all, except that Caleb is nearly paralyzed with arousal. Now that he knows what’s about to happen in the room down the hall, it’s impossible to stay away.
As Caleb returns his senses to Frumpkin, Fjord has started to dig in the bedside table drawer, but then he stops abruptly and slams it shut. “Shit, I keep forgettin’ you don’t need slick.”
“One of the many perks of being a tiefling,” Molly sighs, from where he’s draped across the bed. His tail is coiled around his erection, squeezing gently as his thumb rubs lazily around the head.
Fjord reaches down between Molly’s legs, and even Caleb can hear the squelch. “Gods above, Molly, you’re soaked. You sure you knew it was me you were blowin’ just then?”
“Shut up,” Molly snaps, and it’s the first time he’s sounded less than amused all night. Letting go of his cock, he grabs Fjord’s arm and executes a maneuver Caleb can’t quite follow, but the end result is Fjord sprawled on his back with Molly straddling him.
Fjord licks his palm and strokes his cock a few times. “Sure you don’t want some fingers first?”
As if in answer, Molly spins around on his knees so he’s facing Fjord’s feet and begins to sink down on his cock. It takes actual work – Molly has to hold himself open and wriggle his hips while Fjord holds himself steady. Molly makes a pained noise when the head finally slides in, but he takes a moment to stop and breathe through it.
“Wouldn’t be such an ordeal if you’d stop bein’ stubborn and let me open you up first,” Fjord grumbles, body quivering with the tension of holding still.
“All good things have a price,” Molly says, so softly that Caleb can barely pick it up though Frumpkin’s ears.
It takes a few moments for Molly to adjust, but when he rises up on his knees and slides back down, they both moan. Molly’s thighs flex beautifully as he starts to ride Fjord’s cock properly, and Fjord’s hands go back and forth between gripping Molly’s ass, fondling the base of his tail, and rubbing at his hole where it’s stretched wide around his cock. It’s thick enough that Molly can’t move too fast, but that hardly seems to matter to Molly, whose skin is beading up with sweat as he impales himself over and over again.
Eventually, his thighs start to tremble, and Fjord brings his feet up flat on the bed so Molly can use his knees for leverage. Molly grunts in gratitude and sets to fucking himself on Fjord’s cock with renewed vigor.
Back in his silent, darkened room, Caleb is grinding his hips down into the bed, the corner of a pillow in his mouth so he won’t make a sound. His eyes and ears are full of Molly blissfully riding Fjord, but he can still feel the almost painful level of arousal wracking his body. He wants so badly to touch himself, but he has no sense of how loud his breathing is. Hells, it’s possible Nott has woken up and is staring at him – he’d have no sense of it. But he’d sooner risk getting caught than look away now that Fjord’s hips are rising off the bed to get deeper into Molly with every thrust.
Molly makes a sound that’s more frustration than pleasure and his rhythm falters. “Not enough,” he gasps. “Need more.”
Agreeing, Fjord sits up, hooking Molly around the waist with one muscular arm and shifting his legs until he’s on his knees, and Molly – still speared on the length of Fjord’s cock – has his ass in the air with his face and chest pressed into the mattress. Fjord takes Molly by the hips and gives an experimental thrust.
“Mmm, almost,” Molly says. “Get my hips a little higher.”
Fjord complies and rocks forward again, and that has Molly yelping, “There. Right fucking there.”
Fjord starts pistoning his hips slow and even, but Molly squirms, angling for more. His tail whips back and wraps around Fjord’s hips, urging him on. “Faster! Godfuckingdammit, you worthless shit – faster!” Fjord picks up the pace and Molly cries out happily, but the half-orc soon slows down again and Molly whines.
“Listen, you horny purple bastard,” Fjord growls, “I can give it to you like you want it, but you’ll have about 30 seconds before I shoot my load.”
“Then do it,” Molly growls without a moment’s hesitation, and Fjord does.
With his uncanny ability to keep time, Caleb can tell that Fjord actually manages to hold out for nearly a minute with Molly writhing on his cock. For his part, Molly’s making sounds like Caleb’s never heard before, exotic prayers or curses or possibly just gibberish. Caleb can’t even imagine that kind of mind-wiping pleasure, but the thought comes to him unbidden that it’s Fjord’s place he wants. He wants that soft lavender skin under his hands. He wants to feel the dull ache in his knees as he fucks Molly into making those sweet, filthy sounds.
But even though Molly’s voice is going higher and sharper, it’s Fjord who breaks first. He does manage to breathe out “I’m gonna—” but Molly orders him not to stop, and he doesn’t. He lets out a cry, and the bed rattles with the force of his last thrusts. His hips judder and his body curves down over Molly’s back, giving a few more weak pushes before he stills entirely.
Molly makes a little mewling sound, but he makes no move to get up or touch himself, letting Fjord enjoy a few shivering aftershocks. Then Fjord, to his credit, sits back up on his heels and brings Molly up with him, his chest pressed to Molly’s back. Molly groans at the change in position, and Caleb gets a perfect view of the tiefling’s cock, flushed dark and dripping generously at the tip.
“Fuck,” Molly moans. “I’ve always wanted to come untouched. That was as close as I’ve ever gotten.”
Fjord runs a hand down Molly’s chest and stomach, gathering sweat and precum before gripping Molly’s cock and pumping mercilessly. “Maybe next time,” he growls into Molly’s ear, “we’ll get Caleb in here, have him slide his finger in right alongside my cock. Think that’ll do it?”
Without making a sound, Molly bucks in Fjord’s grip and comes so hard it hits the underside of his chin.
Fjord pulls him through it in long, tight strokes until Molly’s shaking with oversensitivity. Then Fjord lets his hand fall away and they’re both still for a moment, breathing hard and unsteady.
Finally, Molly mutters “Fuck you” and reaches back to slap Fjord’s arm weakly. But both men chuckle and slowly, stickily begin to separate.
Fjord groans loudly as he pulls out. “Dammit, Molly, I’m not gonna listen to you bitch about being sore tomorrow. I tried to go easy on you.”
“When have I ever wanted easy?” Molly replies, stretching his legs and putting his feet on the floor. At first, his knees don’t appear to want to hold his weight, but after a moment, he’s able to stand without wobbling.
“You get the bed with the wet spot,” Fjord grumbles, only standing long enough to flop down on the other mattress.
“In some corners of the world, it’s considered polite for the penetrating partner to help the receptive partner clean up.”
“In some corners of the world, roommates let each other sleep instead of beggin’ for dick every night.”
“I did not beg, Fjord,” Molly says, advancing on the washbasin. “When I beg, you’ll know it.”
Caleb snaps his fingers.
His sight and hearing return to the dark room down the hall, and as aroused as Caleb is, he waits until he hears Nott’s slow, steady breathing before he shifts to his side and wraps a hand around his cock.
Shamefully, he’s gotten good at this, at jerking off while his friend sleeps soundly across the room. He never intended to perfect this practice, but Nott is so worried about him, so concerned with protecting him that she hates to sleep anywhere else, even if she does sometimes sleep so deeply that hardly any ambient sounds will wake her.
He had been traveling with her for months before his libido decided to rear its head apropos of nothing. After a decade gone, it was an unwelcome presence, inconvenient at best, and it’s only gotten worse since they’ve joined a small party of unexpectedly beautiful adventurers. Beau’s athleticism and Fjord’s bravery and Yasha’s strength and Jester’s mischievousness and Molly’s…
Caleb tugs carefully at his cock, feeling overstimulated despite the fact that he’s avoided touching himself until now. He squeezes his eyes shut, making sure that the sound of his hand under the sheet is no louder than his breathing. Tears begin to leak out of the corners of his eyes as he gets close, and he crams the fingers of his other hand in his mouth to stifle any sound. The sight of Molly, back bowed and body straining as he came, flashes behind Caleb’s eyes, and he tips over the edge, spilling silently into his hand.
He lays there for a long moment, holding in his own breath for any sign that his recklessness has woken Nott, but she’s still lightly snoring on the other bed. Caleb wipes his hand on his smallclothes, feeling even more nauseous than he usually does when he’s done. He’s betrayed the trust of his new friends, spying on them in an intimate moment in a shameful bid to assuage his own curiosity. His mind can’t even touch the way Molly crumbled when Fjord said Caleb’s name.
As he rolls over and tries to calm his thoughts enough to sleep, his mind’s eye sees the last thing Frumpkin’s eyes took in before he sent his familiar away. It’s an image of Molly’s face as he reached for the washbasin in the corner where Frumpkin was hiding, and if Caleb’s mind were clearer, he’d see that Molly’s lips are beginning to curl in a small, knowing smirk.