[CR] Lay on Hands
Oct. 30th, 2018 06:18 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dracoqueen22Title: Lay on Hands
Universe: Critical Role Campaign Two, Folly of the Brave series, Episode 20
Characters: Fjord/Mollymauk Tealeaf
Rating: K+
Description: Molly has a gift, without expectations, for a very stressed Fjord.
Molly's reclined on the bed, stretched over the tapestry he's laid out between himself and the questionable sheets, relieved of his boots, his jewelry, his belt. He looks warm and cozy, and the first thing on Fjord’s mind is joining him.
Fjord locks the door, shucks out of his own armor, tugs off his boots, lays his sheath and travel pack aside. There's something quietly intimate about it, but he can't put any other words to it.
"You're not really going to sleep on that floor, are you?" Molly asks, bare feet kicking in the air as he lounges on his belly, arms folded beneath his cheek.
"No. That was just what I said for everyone else's benefit," Fjord says as he checks the door again, giving it a little shake. He doesn't trust the structural integrity of it, but it's better than nothing, he supposes.
Molly hums. "You know," he says. "We could just tell them. Save ourselves the trouble."
"That is a terrible idea," Fjord says, and his feet squish in the small layer of standing water as he turns toward the bed. “Especially with this group. None of them have any shame. They'd ask all kinds of questions. Personal ones. And they'd want details." A pained look breaks into his face before he can stop it. "And Jester! She'd be the worst. She'd want to give me pointers and advice and--"
"Fjord." Molly cuts off his diatribe, his tone even and neutral, but definitely firm.
Fjord sighs and scrubs his hands down his face, palms scraping over days old beard scruff. Gods, he needs to shave.
"You know it's not about being ashamed, right?” Fjord asks, giving Molly a slanted look. “That's not it."
"I know." Molly pushes up, sitting on the edge of the bed, delightfully alluring in his half-dressed state. Jewelry jingles as he tilts his head. "Come to bed."
Fjord hesitates, and doesn't know why, so he pushes the weird thoughts down. "All right."
Molly scoots over, making room. "Lay down," he says, patting the bed. "On your belly, please."
"Molly, I'm not--"
"Shh. Trust me." Molly tugs on the hem of his shirt. "Here. Take this off."
Fjord scrubs over his jaw before he slips off his shirt, laying it on the edge of the bed so it doesn't get soaked by the floor. He lays down, on his belly, folding his arms beneath his chin, much the same as Molly had been earlier. He's unexpectedly tense, mostly because he has no idea what Molly has in mind, and he's not at all aroused at the moment.
The bed dips.
Warmth straddles the back of his thighs. He hears the pop of a cork before the distinct scent of lavender fills the air. Fjord peers over his shoulder, but Molly's still fully dressed.
"Sorry, it's going to be cold," Molly says, "But it'll warm up soon enough."
What is he talking about?
Fjord startles as chilly oil splashes on his back, right along his spine. His skin prickles, and his brow furrows.
Warm hands follow, the heels of two palms digging into his back as fingers sweep the oil over his skin, spreading it all over. Fjord instantly melts, a low groan leaving his lips. His eyelids flutter shut.
Oh.
Molly chuckles, sounding pleased with himself. "Better?" he asks.
"So much." Fjord groans again and sinks into the bed, face rubbing against Molly's tapestry, which smells so much like Molly, it's a bit heady.
"Good." The pads of Molly's fingers dig into his muscles, pressing hard against knots of tension that have been there for months it feels like."You don't relax enough. You're tense all over." His hands sweep up, over Fjord's shoulders, spreading the oil around.
The scent of lavender is even more relaxing. Fjord feels languid, and he exhales a slow and steady breath. The stress from earlier starts to melt away.
"How'd you learn to do this?" he asks.
"I was in the circus, sweetheart. You learn a lot of things."
Fjord hums approvingly, arching against Molly's hands as his thumbs dig into the muscles of his lower back. "What other hidden talents do you have?"
Molly leans forward and murmurs into his ear, his words a wet, warm puff. "I'm saving those for a special occasion." He leans back and starts the massage again. "Gotta keep some surprises."
"Everything about you is a surprise."
"It's part of my charm."
Fjord hums a noncommittal noise and sinks further into the bed. Molly's tapestry below him, Molly above him. Despite the dank, musty smell of the inn, it's comforting. Soothing.
"You're very charming."
"I know I am." Molly chuckles and keeps sweeping his hands over Fjord's back. "Now hush and enjoy. I don't do this for just anyone, you know."
Fjord wisely shuts up. He lets himself enjoy instead, and it's interesting. Because as outwardly sexual as Molly is, this remains distinctly not. His hands go as far as the hem of Fjord's trousers, and no further. They sweep up to his shoulders, down to his elbows, and back again. But there's nothing sexual about it.
It's really, really nice.
He feels relaxed and boneless, and more than halfway to sleep, when the bed shifts and Molly's weight vanishes from his thighs.
"Hm?"
"All done, big guy," Molly says with a squeeze to his shoulders and a quick peck to his cheek. He skates out of reach before Fjord can grab him, but it's only so he can stow the vial of lavender oil away.
He comes back as Fjord rolls onto his side, and he manages to pull Molly into his arms, toppling the tiefling onto the bed and against him. Molly laughs, but doesn't put up much of a fight for once. He tucks Molly against his chest, but Molly twists at the last moment, squirming until he's under Fjord's chin.
"Oh, it's bedtime, is it?" he asks, tone light and playful. His hand rests on Fjord's hip, a welcome, barely present weight.
Fjord makes a noncommittal noise. He closes his eyes, slipping back into that haze of comfort. "Thank you, Molly. That was very nice."
Molly laughs and presses a kiss to the corner of his jaw. "You're lucky. Normally I charge good coin for a service like that. You get a discount however."
Fjord chuckles. "I'll have to do you a favor in kind someday."
"Well, you know, that's a gift, not a favor. Gifts aren't meant to come with expectations. They just are." Molly's tail flops over his thigh and curls around it, as he's wont to do when they sleep in the same bed.
"That's very true. Still. Thank you." The pull of sleep is irresistible.
Molly squirms until he's perfectly comfortable, just like a cat. "My pleasure."
*
Universe: Critical Role Campaign Two, Folly of the Brave series, Episode 20
Characters: Fjord/Mollymauk Tealeaf
Rating: K+
Description: Molly has a gift, without expectations, for a very stressed Fjord.
Molly's reclined on the bed, stretched over the tapestry he's laid out between himself and the questionable sheets, relieved of his boots, his jewelry, his belt. He looks warm and cozy, and the first thing on Fjord’s mind is joining him.
Fjord locks the door, shucks out of his own armor, tugs off his boots, lays his sheath and travel pack aside. There's something quietly intimate about it, but he can't put any other words to it.
"You're not really going to sleep on that floor, are you?" Molly asks, bare feet kicking in the air as he lounges on his belly, arms folded beneath his cheek.
"No. That was just what I said for everyone else's benefit," Fjord says as he checks the door again, giving it a little shake. He doesn't trust the structural integrity of it, but it's better than nothing, he supposes.
Molly hums. "You know," he says. "We could just tell them. Save ourselves the trouble."
"That is a terrible idea," Fjord says, and his feet squish in the small layer of standing water as he turns toward the bed. “Especially with this group. None of them have any shame. They'd ask all kinds of questions. Personal ones. And they'd want details." A pained look breaks into his face before he can stop it. "And Jester! She'd be the worst. She'd want to give me pointers and advice and--"
"Fjord." Molly cuts off his diatribe, his tone even and neutral, but definitely firm.
Fjord sighs and scrubs his hands down his face, palms scraping over days old beard scruff. Gods, he needs to shave.
"You know it's not about being ashamed, right?” Fjord asks, giving Molly a slanted look. “That's not it."
"I know." Molly pushes up, sitting on the edge of the bed, delightfully alluring in his half-dressed state. Jewelry jingles as he tilts his head. "Come to bed."
Fjord hesitates, and doesn't know why, so he pushes the weird thoughts down. "All right."
Molly scoots over, making room. "Lay down," he says, patting the bed. "On your belly, please."
"Molly, I'm not--"
"Shh. Trust me." Molly tugs on the hem of his shirt. "Here. Take this off."
Fjord scrubs over his jaw before he slips off his shirt, laying it on the edge of the bed so it doesn't get soaked by the floor. He lays down, on his belly, folding his arms beneath his chin, much the same as Molly had been earlier. He's unexpectedly tense, mostly because he has no idea what Molly has in mind, and he's not at all aroused at the moment.
The bed dips.
Warmth straddles the back of his thighs. He hears the pop of a cork before the distinct scent of lavender fills the air. Fjord peers over his shoulder, but Molly's still fully dressed.
"Sorry, it's going to be cold," Molly says, "But it'll warm up soon enough."
What is he talking about?
Fjord startles as chilly oil splashes on his back, right along his spine. His skin prickles, and his brow furrows.
Warm hands follow, the heels of two palms digging into his back as fingers sweep the oil over his skin, spreading it all over. Fjord instantly melts, a low groan leaving his lips. His eyelids flutter shut.
Oh.
Molly chuckles, sounding pleased with himself. "Better?" he asks.
"So much." Fjord groans again and sinks into the bed, face rubbing against Molly's tapestry, which smells so much like Molly, it's a bit heady.
"Good." The pads of Molly's fingers dig into his muscles, pressing hard against knots of tension that have been there for months it feels like."You don't relax enough. You're tense all over." His hands sweep up, over Fjord's shoulders, spreading the oil around.
The scent of lavender is even more relaxing. Fjord feels languid, and he exhales a slow and steady breath. The stress from earlier starts to melt away.
"How'd you learn to do this?" he asks.
"I was in the circus, sweetheart. You learn a lot of things."
Fjord hums approvingly, arching against Molly's hands as his thumbs dig into the muscles of his lower back. "What other hidden talents do you have?"
Molly leans forward and murmurs into his ear, his words a wet, warm puff. "I'm saving those for a special occasion." He leans back and starts the massage again. "Gotta keep some surprises."
"Everything about you is a surprise."
"It's part of my charm."
Fjord hums a noncommittal noise and sinks further into the bed. Molly's tapestry below him, Molly above him. Despite the dank, musty smell of the inn, it's comforting. Soothing.
"You're very charming."
"I know I am." Molly chuckles and keeps sweeping his hands over Fjord's back. "Now hush and enjoy. I don't do this for just anyone, you know."
Fjord wisely shuts up. He lets himself enjoy instead, and it's interesting. Because as outwardly sexual as Molly is, this remains distinctly not. His hands go as far as the hem of Fjord's trousers, and no further. They sweep up to his shoulders, down to his elbows, and back again. But there's nothing sexual about it.
It's really, really nice.
He feels relaxed and boneless, and more than halfway to sleep, when the bed shifts and Molly's weight vanishes from his thighs.
"Hm?"
"All done, big guy," Molly says with a squeeze to his shoulders and a quick peck to his cheek. He skates out of reach before Fjord can grab him, but it's only so he can stow the vial of lavender oil away.
He comes back as Fjord rolls onto his side, and he manages to pull Molly into his arms, toppling the tiefling onto the bed and against him. Molly laughs, but doesn't put up much of a fight for once. He tucks Molly against his chest, but Molly twists at the last moment, squirming until he's under Fjord's chin.
"Oh, it's bedtime, is it?" he asks, tone light and playful. His hand rests on Fjord's hip, a welcome, barely present weight.
Fjord makes a noncommittal noise. He closes his eyes, slipping back into that haze of comfort. "Thank you, Molly. That was very nice."
Molly laughs and presses a kiss to the corner of his jaw. "You're lucky. Normally I charge good coin for a service like that. You get a discount however."
Fjord chuckles. "I'll have to do you a favor in kind someday."
"Well, you know, that's a gift, not a favor. Gifts aren't meant to come with expectations. They just are." Molly's tail flops over his thigh and curls around it, as he's wont to do when they sleep in the same bed.
"That's very true. Still. Thank you." The pull of sleep is irresistible.
Molly squirms until he's perfectly comfortable, just like a cat. "My pleasure."
*
