[CR] Early to Rise
Feb. 28th, 2019 06:16 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dracoqueen22Title: Early to Rise
Fandom: Critical Role, Campaign Two, Folly of the Brave series
Characters: Mollymauk Tealeaf/Fjord
Enticements: Morning Sex
Description: Molly’s a huge fan of early morning wake up calls, and apparently, Fjord is, too.
There’s something completely and utterly irresistible about a shirtless Fjord, especially one who is still asleep, body mostly healed save for the visible scrape on his shoulder and the shadows of a bruise clinging to his jaw.
Molly knows he should let Fjord sleep. They’d had a hard, painful battle yesterday. While they’d emerged alive and profitable, it hadn’t been unscathed. Cuts and bruises abounded, and Fjord is no different.
The fool took a blow meant for Molly. They will have words about that later.
Right now, Molly’s not much interested in talking. He’s far more interested in touching and tasting and mmm, yes. Fjord is quite delectable like this.
He strips out of the rest of his clothes and slides back into bed beside Fjord, ignoring the untouched bed next to him. Why bother mussing up another bed when they inevitably share?
Molly chuckles quietly and slips beneath the blankets, his bare leg skimming over Fjord’s, who gives a little snuffle in his sleep. Molly grins and skates a hand over Fjord’s belly, brushing across a bit of softness and a happy trail of dark hair heading downward. He bumps up against a cotton hem.
Fjord’s a heathen. Honestly, who wears pants to bed when they’re sharing it with their lover?
Molly nuzzles into the crook of neck and shoulder, inhaling the sweat and musk of Fjord, familiar and tasty. He throws a leg over Fjord's, rubbing his half-hard length against a firm thigh, his tail coiling around Fjord's calf.
Fjord starts to stir, making a little 'hm' sound in his throat. He's so cute when he's half-asleep like this.
Molly nips the curve of his jaw. He gently scratches his talons over the trail of hair, sliding his fingers further down totease at the hem of Fjord's pants. "Wake up," he murmurs into Fjord's ear, tugging on the lobe with his teeth.
"What time is it?" Fjord slurs as he shifts beneath Molly, eyes not quite open, not fully awake.
Well, not all of him at any rate. Molly cups his groin and squeezes the stiffening length beneath Fjord's trousers. "Time for you to finish waking up."
A low groan buzzes in Fjord's throat. His eyes slit open, pale with sleep. "I get the feelin' you want somethin'."
"That's certainly not my sword poking your thigh." Molly chuckles and gives Fjord another squeeze as he mouths at Fjord's stubble-rough jaw.
“Isn’t it?” Fjord’s voice is raspy with sleep, and his hand curves around Molly, palm resting against his bare back.
“That’s fair.” Molly’s fingers slip beneath the hem of Fjord’s trousers, scratching through wiry black curls before finding the thickness of him. He curls his fingers around it, offering a light squeeze. “Play with me?”
“I think you’re the one doing the playing.” Fjord’s breath hitches. He bucks up into Molly’s hand.
Molly laughs and kisses him, open-mouthed and sloppy, giving Fjord another squeeze and then a third one, massaging him to throbbing fullness. The scent of arousal floats up around him, and Molly inhales it, his own dick giving a pulse of want.
He rocks his hips, grinding his dick against Fjord’s thigh, leaving spots of precome-wet on Fjord’s trousers. He keeps it slow though. Languid. A gentle rise of pleasure rather than the hurried rutting they usually aim for after tumbling into bed together. It’s early enough the sun isn’t even peeking through the curtains.
They have time.
Molly’s still not very patient when he starts to tug at Fjord’s trousers. “Well, I’m trying to,” he says as he nips at Fjord’s throat. “But you’re wearing far too much.”
Fjord laughs sleepily and wriggles on the bed, fumbling to help Molly remove the impediments to their good morning. “If you want me to sleep naked, just say so.”
“Sleep naked,” Molly says, firm as he whisks off the trousers and tosses them aside, flinging back the blanket for good measure, so he can get a nice, long look at Fjord in all his nude glory.
And glorious he is.
Miles and miles of sleek, green skin, occasionally marked by scars. A wisp of hair leading up from the thatch at his groin, a cluster of tiny curls over his pectorals, flattened nipples that pebble up under Molly’s scrutiny. Need coils hot and hungry in Molly’s belly, tightening into a hard knot of want in his groin.
By the gods, he’s delicious.
“Sometimes, ya look at me like that, and I think you want to eat me,” Fjord says, more husky than sleepy now, his cock thickening and rising, beading at the tip with moisture.
Molly slaps his hand away before he can touch it, curling his own fingers around the thick length instead.
“I’ve contemplated it honestly,” Molly says with a laugh. He rolls his thumb over the head of Fjord’s cock, watching the shiver rise like a wave over Fjord’s skin.
He nudges his way between Fjord’s thighs, legs parting for him without hesitation, and Molly hums in his throat. He gets a gentle handful of Fjord’s scrotum, rolling the furred sacs between his fingers, and Fjord’s back arches. He sucks in a breath, fingers tangling in the covers. A flush darkens his skin up over his face and down across his shoulders.
Fjord blushes like a human, and Molly adores it.
“You’re very edible,” Molly murmurs. He lets go of Fjord’s cock in favor of stroking his own, squeezing himself to offer restraint he’s not really feeling.
Fjord groans and drags his hands down his face like he’s trying to hide. “You’re shameless.”
“Absolutely I am.” Molly shifts a little closer, spreading Fjord’s legs further, leaving nothing to the imagination. HIs fingers slip lower, two rubbing over the wrinkled rim between his buttocks, and a low groan rattles out of Fjord’s throat. His hips roll up, toward Molly’s fingers. “Please tell me the oil is within reach.
An eye peeks at him through fingers. Fjord sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, the hint of newly growing tusks emerging. Then he slowly, ever so slowly, reaches up beneath the pillow and produces the small, corked vial.
Molly’s grin broadens. “Oh, you naughty boy.” He snatches the oil from Fjord’s hands with a triumphant giggle. “You wanted me to wake you up.”
“No man ever wants to be woken from a good sleep,” Fjord argues, but it loses its weight when his eyes track Molly’s every movement, watching with obvious hunger as Molly uncorks the vial and dribbles the herbl-scented oil over his fingers.
“They do when it offers them this,” Molly challenges, and he slides his fingers behind Fjord’s scrotum, spreading the oil liberally before easing two inside, careful of his talons as always.
Fjord immediately squeezes around him before relaxing to let him in. He sucks air through his teeth, heels dragging up, knees falling aside to offer Molly more space to work with. Such a contradictory one, he is.
“I concede your point,” he groans and fists the blankets again, slick seeping from the tip of his cock.
He goes to reach for it, Molly bats his hand aside once more. “No, that’s for me,” Molly chastises. He curls his fingers just right, rubs hard inside Fjord, and is treated with a sharp jerk of Fjord’s body.
Molly grins and slides his free hand around Fjord’s dick, squeezing the hot, hard length of him. He spreads the slick with his fingers, and soaks up the sound of Fjord’s low groans. He tries so hard to be quiet, Fjord does.
“I think it’s too early for anyone else to be awake,” Molly murmurs as he strokes and squeezes and plunges his fingers into Fjord, relishing the squeeze of his body. “Except maybe Caleb. You think he can hear us?”
The bed creaks as Molly gives a pointed rock of his hips, the tip of his dick rubbing over Fjord’s thigh and leaving a smear of wet behind it.
“Gods.” Fjord’s face flushes a juniper green, and he hides behind his hands again, but his thighs further widen, hips pushing down on Molly’s finger, cock throbbing and leaking everywhere.
Molly chuckles. “Your secret is safe with me.” He leans down, close enough to nip the bottom of Fjord’s chin, his tail coiling around Fjord’s nearest calf.
He pulls his fingers free and snags the oil again, liberally dribbling it over himself. Pain is never the name of the game and one can never have too much oil. Oh, sure, it makes for a mess, and probably stains the sheets, but they aren’t his sheets, and Molly leaves a good tip behind, so why should he care?
He pops the cork back into the vial and drops it into the blankets. He’ll rescue it later. He’s more interested in the visibly aroused, squirming half-orc all flushed and pretty in front of him.
Molly squirms into place, leaving hot and wet kisses over the curve of Fjord’s jaw. He slides his hand over Fjord’s hip, curves around a thigh, and ruts against Fjord, smearing the oil and his own precome between them.
“You’re making a mess,” Fjord groans, but his fingers tangle in Molly’s hair anyway, tugging him up into a kiss that Molly allows because kissing Fjord is never a bad thing. Even with morning breath.
“You hush and let me do what I want,” Molly retorts against Fjord’s mouth, nipping his bottom lip and making Fjord jerk.
He pulls back, and Fjord’s mouth looks so lonely. Molly licks his lips, debating, as Fjord looks up at him with eyes cloudy from want and hunger.
He can fix that.
Molly grins and offers Fjord his other hand, tracing sticky fingers over Fjord’s lips as he rocks forward, grinding the head of his cock against Fjord’s dick and scrotum and inner thigh, never quite giving either of them what they really want. It’s the perfect torment, for himself and for Fjord, and he can hear the frustration in Fjord’s growl, in the way his thighs press in on Molly’s, trying to urge him to get on with it.
“My fingers are a bit messy,” Molly agrees, with a casual note that is not at all casual. “You’re going to take care of that for me, aren’t you?” He rolls his hips pointedly. “Maybe convince me?” He paints his fingertips over Fjord’s bottom lip, just over his regrowing tusks.
Fjord licks his lips, the tip passing over Molly’s fingers. “You usually don’t take much convincing,” he rumbles, but he pulls Molly’s fingers into his mouth, tongue sweeping his own precome from them.
Gods.
Molly groans, long and low. He ruts against Fjord, dick slip-sliding against the join of hip and thigh before it slides lower. He needs a better grip and grabs Fjord’s hips with both hands, yanking him into the perfect position, his heart thudding in his chest.
“Convinced?” Fjord asks, his lips shiny with his own spit and precome and it should be illegal, the way he looks with his eyes dark and hungry.
“Shut up,” Molly snaps, aiming himself and sliding home in one long, slow push.
He and Fjord moan in tandem, Fjord’s back arching, his cock giving a spurt of precome. He squeezes and ripples around Molly as if trying to pull him deeper. Molly sinks in and in, to the root, and he gasps, the squeezy-tight-heat sending flashes of lightning up his spine. He curls forward, plants a sloppy kiss on Fjord’s lips, tastes the precome still painting them. His tail tightens around Fjord’s calf.
This is not going to last as Molly wants it to. Fjord’s entirely too tempting.
Fjord’s fingers tangle in his hair, around his horns, trying to keep him in place. Molly allows it, deepening the kiss, leaving biting marks on Fjord’s lips until they are swollen and red. He rolls, grinding deep into Fjord, less a thrust than a rock, trying to stave off the knot of want building at the base of his spine.
He tears away from Fjord’s mouth because it’s a temptation too hard to resist, and he wants to have something like stamina, thank you very much. Fjord makes a noise of frustration, but Molly curves into a smirk and sits back, hands cupping Fjord’s hips.
“You’re such a goddamn tease,” Fjord says, but it peters off into a moan when Molly thrusts just right, and rakes over that bundle of joy inside him.
His hand wanders to his cock again, and Molly effortlessly swats it aside. “Stop that,” he says, tail lashing behind him before it finds purchase on Fjord’s thigh. “Mine.”
“Last I checked it was attached to me,” Fjord grumbles, but he obeys, his fingers tangling back in the thin blanket, the flush darkening his skin to a beautiful hue. Sweat starts to paint his skin in a sheen Molly wants to lick up.
He sweeps his tongue over his lips, thrusts a little faster, a little harder, breath coming in sharp pants. The bed starts to make a racket, creaking and rattling, and Molly has to fight the urge to crow with triumph.
Fjord doesn’t seem to care about the noise right now. Victory.
“All of you is mine, so it still counts,” Molly says with a breathy laugh. He smooths his hands up and down Fjord’s chest, sweeping over pebbled nipples and planes of muscle shifting beneath his palms.
He’d lick Fjord all over given half the chance. He still might. But later. Right now, there’s a bonfire roaring in his gut, and there’s no taming it.
“There’s not a bit of you I don’t own,” Molly continues, skimming down to grab Fjord’s hips, pulling him into each thrust as Fjord rises up to meet him, twisting his fingers through the blankets. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
“Can’t,” Fjord gasps, and his head tosses back, baring the column of his throat.
Oh, that ass. He knows Molly can’t resist such an offer. He can’t resist leaning down, sealing his mouth over Fjord’s skin, leaving a little nip with his teeth.
Fjord groans, long and low and hungry, bucking up to rub the tip of his cock against Molly’s stomach, smearing wet behind him.
“Cause you’re not,” Fjord says, and his hands get tangled in the blankets from holding back, obeying like he knows he ought.
Molly really does think about consuming him some days. Just lock the two of them up in a room somewhere, with a box of rations and big bottle of oil, and spend his time tasting and licking every inch of Fjord’s body, until he’s nothing more than a puddle of satisfaction beneath Molly.
Yeah. That sounds perfect.
Someday maybe.
“I know,” Molly says and bites down, hard enough for Fjord to feel it, but gentle enough any mark will be gone in an hour or so. Some of the Nein are too perceptive to leave anything lasting. Too perceptive and too inquisitive, and as cute as Fjord is blushing, Molly would like to keep that cuteness to himself.
He’s possessive like that.
Fjord moans a long note, bucking up hard beneath Molly, cock scrubbing against his belly. He ripples around Molly’s dick, seeping copiously, his dick flush and angry. He’s close.
Good thing Molly is, too.
He bites Fjord’s throat again before pulling back, watching the pleasure dance over Fjord’s face, the twist of his body, the desperation in his eyes. It’s intoxicating. Fjord is intoxicating, and another sharp throb of want tears into Molly, zipping down his spine and pulsing hard through his cock.
Restraint tumbles out the window. He thrusts harder, faster, noisily rocking the bed.
“Fuck, I’m gonna--” Molly breaks off into a panting groan, gripping Fjord’s hip and leaving pinpricks behind, little jewels of red seeping free behind him.
“Yeah,” Fjord agrees, the slap of flesh on flesh startingly audible, sweat slicking his brow, as he squeezes and tightens around Molly.
Oh, gods.
Molly squeezes Fjord’s cock in time to his thrusts, the bed creaking ominously. “Promise to clean you up,” he gasps out, as the coil in his belly tightens and tightens until he can barely keep hold of the tension.
“Yeah,” Fjord moans and fuck, he’s so hot when he goes monosyllabic, when he tosses his head back and rides Molly’s cock and just gives into it. Gives into everything that Molly takes from him and offers in return.
It’s permission, and Molly’s gonna take it and run. He hisses through his teeth, talons digging in, as he thrusts deep and comes, spurting into Fjord with little jerks of his hips. He whites out for a second, vision dancing with spots, breath coming sharp and fast.
Fjord squirms, making needy noises, thighs squeezing Molly’s hips. His cock is leaking so much there’s a sticky string from his belly to the tip, but he’s learned. He’s obeying because he doesn’t reach for it, just bucks and squirms, trying to get some kind of friction.
He deserves a reward.
Molly curves over him, sucks an earlobe between his lips. “Mouth or hand? Your choice darling, since you’ve been so good and all.”
“Mouth,” Fjord says without any hesitation whatsoever.
Molly smirks and slips free, sliding down the bed so he can get his mouth on that beautiful cock. “Sure thing.”
He pulls the head past his lips, tonguing at the slit, and Fjord seizes beneath him, bucking up until Molly grabs his hips and pins him back down.
“Don’t tease,” Fjord begs.
Molly laughs around Fjord’s cock and lets him slip free, dragging his tongue up the length of it and ending with a flick. “Not up to you,” he near-sings and mouths his way down to Fjord’s scrotum, rolling the furred sacs over his lips.
“Molly, I swear if you don’t--” He cuts off into a string of swears as Molly licks up and swallows him whole, right down to the root, swallowing around Fjord’s cock with a squeeze of his throat.
Fjord’s breath escapes him on a wheeze. He tangles his fingers in Molly’s hair, twines it around, nails gingerly scraping Molly’s scalp. He’s shaking from holding himself back, making all these desperate noises in his throat, and Molly hums, treating Fjord to dizzying vibration.
A choked word that might have been Molly’s name crackles out of Fjord’s mouth, and then he’s coming, spilling hot and salty over Molly’s tongue. He swallows every drop, suckling Fjord until the tense tremors ease, and he collapses back into the bed, a sweaty mess.
Molly hums and licks his lips, crawling up Fjord’s body to find him for a kiss, languidly tangling their limbs together. Their bodies are sticky with sweat and oil, but it’s far from a turn off.
“Mmmmm, good morning,” Molly says as he nuzzles into Fjord’s throat, licking over the mark he left behind.
Fjord laughs quietly. “A little late for that, isn’t it?” But his arms slide around Molly, hands stroking up and down his back, fingers tracing the swirls and whorls of his tattoo.
Has a strange fascination with Molly’s tattoos, Fjord does. Maybe he’s thinking about getting one for himself.
Molly hums at the thought. Dark swirls painted black over Fjord’s skin? Oh, they’d be stunning. Decoration is something of a necessity, in Molly’s opinion. Everyone should be as free to embrace their own flamboyancy.
“Molly?”
“Yes, dear?” Langor seeps into every bone and muscle and sinew. Molly curls on top of Fjord not unlike the boneless way he’s seen Frumpkin drape against a comfortable surface. His tail coils on top of him.
It’s too early to be awake.
He should sleep.
He let his eyes close and twines himself more firmly around Fjord, tangling their naked, sweaty bodies together. Oh, it’s going to be a mess to clean later, a mess he’d promised Fjord he’d handle, but messes are to be worried about later. Right now, he wants to soak in this satisfaction and cling to it for as long as possible.
“Oy. Are you falling asleep?”
Fingers card through Molly’s hair and it feels so damn soothing. He purrs and gives Fjord’s throat a little lick.
“It’s still early,” Molly says, feeling the steady thump-thump of Fjord’s heart beneath his cheek. “Just a nap.”
Fjord sighs, but there’s concession in it. He grumbles something under his breath, but he doesn’t toss Molly from the bed and he doesn’t say much else, and Molly falls asleep like that, listening to his heartbeat, body still thrumming with pleasure.
Good morning indeed.
***
Fandom: Critical Role, Campaign Two, Folly of the Brave series
Characters: Mollymauk Tealeaf/Fjord
Enticements: Morning Sex
Description: Molly’s a huge fan of early morning wake up calls, and apparently, Fjord is, too.
There’s something completely and utterly irresistible about a shirtless Fjord, especially one who is still asleep, body mostly healed save for the visible scrape on his shoulder and the shadows of a bruise clinging to his jaw.
Molly knows he should let Fjord sleep. They’d had a hard, painful battle yesterday. While they’d emerged alive and profitable, it hadn’t been unscathed. Cuts and bruises abounded, and Fjord is no different.
The fool took a blow meant for Molly. They will have words about that later.
Right now, Molly’s not much interested in talking. He’s far more interested in touching and tasting and mmm, yes. Fjord is quite delectable like this.
He strips out of the rest of his clothes and slides back into bed beside Fjord, ignoring the untouched bed next to him. Why bother mussing up another bed when they inevitably share?
Molly chuckles quietly and slips beneath the blankets, his bare leg skimming over Fjord’s, who gives a little snuffle in his sleep. Molly grins and skates a hand over Fjord’s belly, brushing across a bit of softness and a happy trail of dark hair heading downward. He bumps up against a cotton hem.
Fjord’s a heathen. Honestly, who wears pants to bed when they’re sharing it with their lover?
Molly nuzzles into the crook of neck and shoulder, inhaling the sweat and musk of Fjord, familiar and tasty. He throws a leg over Fjord's, rubbing his half-hard length against a firm thigh, his tail coiling around Fjord's calf.
Fjord starts to stir, making a little 'hm' sound in his throat. He's so cute when he's half-asleep like this.
Molly nips the curve of his jaw. He gently scratches his talons over the trail of hair, sliding his fingers further down totease at the hem of Fjord's pants. "Wake up," he murmurs into Fjord's ear, tugging on the lobe with his teeth.
"What time is it?" Fjord slurs as he shifts beneath Molly, eyes not quite open, not fully awake.
Well, not all of him at any rate. Molly cups his groin and squeezes the stiffening length beneath Fjord's trousers. "Time for you to finish waking up."
A low groan buzzes in Fjord's throat. His eyes slit open, pale with sleep. "I get the feelin' you want somethin'."
"That's certainly not my sword poking your thigh." Molly chuckles and gives Fjord another squeeze as he mouths at Fjord's stubble-rough jaw.
“Isn’t it?” Fjord’s voice is raspy with sleep, and his hand curves around Molly, palm resting against his bare back.
“That’s fair.” Molly’s fingers slip beneath the hem of Fjord’s trousers, scratching through wiry black curls before finding the thickness of him. He curls his fingers around it, offering a light squeeze. “Play with me?”
“I think you’re the one doing the playing.” Fjord’s breath hitches. He bucks up into Molly’s hand.
Molly laughs and kisses him, open-mouthed and sloppy, giving Fjord another squeeze and then a third one, massaging him to throbbing fullness. The scent of arousal floats up around him, and Molly inhales it, his own dick giving a pulse of want.
He rocks his hips, grinding his dick against Fjord’s thigh, leaving spots of precome-wet on Fjord’s trousers. He keeps it slow though. Languid. A gentle rise of pleasure rather than the hurried rutting they usually aim for after tumbling into bed together. It’s early enough the sun isn’t even peeking through the curtains.
They have time.
Molly’s still not very patient when he starts to tug at Fjord’s trousers. “Well, I’m trying to,” he says as he nips at Fjord’s throat. “But you’re wearing far too much.”
Fjord laughs sleepily and wriggles on the bed, fumbling to help Molly remove the impediments to their good morning. “If you want me to sleep naked, just say so.”
“Sleep naked,” Molly says, firm as he whisks off the trousers and tosses them aside, flinging back the blanket for good measure, so he can get a nice, long look at Fjord in all his nude glory.
And glorious he is.
Miles and miles of sleek, green skin, occasionally marked by scars. A wisp of hair leading up from the thatch at his groin, a cluster of tiny curls over his pectorals, flattened nipples that pebble up under Molly’s scrutiny. Need coils hot and hungry in Molly’s belly, tightening into a hard knot of want in his groin.
By the gods, he’s delicious.
“Sometimes, ya look at me like that, and I think you want to eat me,” Fjord says, more husky than sleepy now, his cock thickening and rising, beading at the tip with moisture.
Molly slaps his hand away before he can touch it, curling his own fingers around the thick length instead.
“I’ve contemplated it honestly,” Molly says with a laugh. He rolls his thumb over the head of Fjord’s cock, watching the shiver rise like a wave over Fjord’s skin.
He nudges his way between Fjord’s thighs, legs parting for him without hesitation, and Molly hums in his throat. He gets a gentle handful of Fjord’s scrotum, rolling the furred sacs between his fingers, and Fjord’s back arches. He sucks in a breath, fingers tangling in the covers. A flush darkens his skin up over his face and down across his shoulders.
Fjord blushes like a human, and Molly adores it.
“You’re very edible,” Molly murmurs. He lets go of Fjord’s cock in favor of stroking his own, squeezing himself to offer restraint he’s not really feeling.
Fjord groans and drags his hands down his face like he’s trying to hide. “You’re shameless.”
“Absolutely I am.” Molly shifts a little closer, spreading Fjord’s legs further, leaving nothing to the imagination. HIs fingers slip lower, two rubbing over the wrinkled rim between his buttocks, and a low groan rattles out of Fjord’s throat. His hips roll up, toward Molly’s fingers. “Please tell me the oil is within reach.
An eye peeks at him through fingers. Fjord sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, the hint of newly growing tusks emerging. Then he slowly, ever so slowly, reaches up beneath the pillow and produces the small, corked vial.
Molly’s grin broadens. “Oh, you naughty boy.” He snatches the oil from Fjord’s hands with a triumphant giggle. “You wanted me to wake you up.”
“No man ever wants to be woken from a good sleep,” Fjord argues, but it loses its weight when his eyes track Molly’s every movement, watching with obvious hunger as Molly uncorks the vial and dribbles the herbl-scented oil over his fingers.
“They do when it offers them this,” Molly challenges, and he slides his fingers behind Fjord’s scrotum, spreading the oil liberally before easing two inside, careful of his talons as always.
Fjord immediately squeezes around him before relaxing to let him in. He sucks air through his teeth, heels dragging up, knees falling aside to offer Molly more space to work with. Such a contradictory one, he is.
“I concede your point,” he groans and fists the blankets again, slick seeping from the tip of his cock.
He goes to reach for it, Molly bats his hand aside once more. “No, that’s for me,” Molly chastises. He curls his fingers just right, rubs hard inside Fjord, and is treated with a sharp jerk of Fjord’s body.
Molly grins and slides his free hand around Fjord’s dick, squeezing the hot, hard length of him. He spreads the slick with his fingers, and soaks up the sound of Fjord’s low groans. He tries so hard to be quiet, Fjord does.
“I think it’s too early for anyone else to be awake,” Molly murmurs as he strokes and squeezes and plunges his fingers into Fjord, relishing the squeeze of his body. “Except maybe Caleb. You think he can hear us?”
The bed creaks as Molly gives a pointed rock of his hips, the tip of his dick rubbing over Fjord’s thigh and leaving a smear of wet behind it.
“Gods.” Fjord’s face flushes a juniper green, and he hides behind his hands again, but his thighs further widen, hips pushing down on Molly’s finger, cock throbbing and leaking everywhere.
Molly chuckles. “Your secret is safe with me.” He leans down, close enough to nip the bottom of Fjord’s chin, his tail coiling around Fjord’s nearest calf.
He pulls his fingers free and snags the oil again, liberally dribbling it over himself. Pain is never the name of the game and one can never have too much oil. Oh, sure, it makes for a mess, and probably stains the sheets, but they aren’t his sheets, and Molly leaves a good tip behind, so why should he care?
He pops the cork back into the vial and drops it into the blankets. He’ll rescue it later. He’s more interested in the visibly aroused, squirming half-orc all flushed and pretty in front of him.
Molly squirms into place, leaving hot and wet kisses over the curve of Fjord’s jaw. He slides his hand over Fjord’s hip, curves around a thigh, and ruts against Fjord, smearing the oil and his own precome between them.
“You’re making a mess,” Fjord groans, but his fingers tangle in Molly’s hair anyway, tugging him up into a kiss that Molly allows because kissing Fjord is never a bad thing. Even with morning breath.
“You hush and let me do what I want,” Molly retorts against Fjord’s mouth, nipping his bottom lip and making Fjord jerk.
He pulls back, and Fjord’s mouth looks so lonely. Molly licks his lips, debating, as Fjord looks up at him with eyes cloudy from want and hunger.
He can fix that.
Molly grins and offers Fjord his other hand, tracing sticky fingers over Fjord’s lips as he rocks forward, grinding the head of his cock against Fjord’s dick and scrotum and inner thigh, never quite giving either of them what they really want. It’s the perfect torment, for himself and for Fjord, and he can hear the frustration in Fjord’s growl, in the way his thighs press in on Molly’s, trying to urge him to get on with it.
“My fingers are a bit messy,” Molly agrees, with a casual note that is not at all casual. “You’re going to take care of that for me, aren’t you?” He rolls his hips pointedly. “Maybe convince me?” He paints his fingertips over Fjord’s bottom lip, just over his regrowing tusks.
Fjord licks his lips, the tip passing over Molly’s fingers. “You usually don’t take much convincing,” he rumbles, but he pulls Molly’s fingers into his mouth, tongue sweeping his own precome from them.
Gods.
Molly groans, long and low. He ruts against Fjord, dick slip-sliding against the join of hip and thigh before it slides lower. He needs a better grip and grabs Fjord’s hips with both hands, yanking him into the perfect position, his heart thudding in his chest.
“Convinced?” Fjord asks, his lips shiny with his own spit and precome and it should be illegal, the way he looks with his eyes dark and hungry.
“Shut up,” Molly snaps, aiming himself and sliding home in one long, slow push.
He and Fjord moan in tandem, Fjord’s back arching, his cock giving a spurt of precome. He squeezes and ripples around Molly as if trying to pull him deeper. Molly sinks in and in, to the root, and he gasps, the squeezy-tight-heat sending flashes of lightning up his spine. He curls forward, plants a sloppy kiss on Fjord’s lips, tastes the precome still painting them. His tail tightens around Fjord’s calf.
This is not going to last as Molly wants it to. Fjord’s entirely too tempting.
Fjord’s fingers tangle in his hair, around his horns, trying to keep him in place. Molly allows it, deepening the kiss, leaving biting marks on Fjord’s lips until they are swollen and red. He rolls, grinding deep into Fjord, less a thrust than a rock, trying to stave off the knot of want building at the base of his spine.
He tears away from Fjord’s mouth because it’s a temptation too hard to resist, and he wants to have something like stamina, thank you very much. Fjord makes a noise of frustration, but Molly curves into a smirk and sits back, hands cupping Fjord’s hips.
“You’re such a goddamn tease,” Fjord says, but it peters off into a moan when Molly thrusts just right, and rakes over that bundle of joy inside him.
His hand wanders to his cock again, and Molly effortlessly swats it aside. “Stop that,” he says, tail lashing behind him before it finds purchase on Fjord’s thigh. “Mine.”
“Last I checked it was attached to me,” Fjord grumbles, but he obeys, his fingers tangling back in the thin blanket, the flush darkening his skin to a beautiful hue. Sweat starts to paint his skin in a sheen Molly wants to lick up.
He sweeps his tongue over his lips, thrusts a little faster, a little harder, breath coming in sharp pants. The bed starts to make a racket, creaking and rattling, and Molly has to fight the urge to crow with triumph.
Fjord doesn’t seem to care about the noise right now. Victory.
“All of you is mine, so it still counts,” Molly says with a breathy laugh. He smooths his hands up and down Fjord’s chest, sweeping over pebbled nipples and planes of muscle shifting beneath his palms.
He’d lick Fjord all over given half the chance. He still might. But later. Right now, there’s a bonfire roaring in his gut, and there’s no taming it.
“There’s not a bit of you I don’t own,” Molly continues, skimming down to grab Fjord’s hips, pulling him into each thrust as Fjord rises up to meet him, twisting his fingers through the blankets. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
“Can’t,” Fjord gasps, and his head tosses back, baring the column of his throat.
Oh, that ass. He knows Molly can’t resist such an offer. He can’t resist leaning down, sealing his mouth over Fjord’s skin, leaving a little nip with his teeth.
Fjord groans, long and low and hungry, bucking up to rub the tip of his cock against Molly’s stomach, smearing wet behind him.
“Cause you’re not,” Fjord says, and his hands get tangled in the blankets from holding back, obeying like he knows he ought.
Molly really does think about consuming him some days. Just lock the two of them up in a room somewhere, with a box of rations and big bottle of oil, and spend his time tasting and licking every inch of Fjord’s body, until he’s nothing more than a puddle of satisfaction beneath Molly.
Yeah. That sounds perfect.
Someday maybe.
“I know,” Molly says and bites down, hard enough for Fjord to feel it, but gentle enough any mark will be gone in an hour or so. Some of the Nein are too perceptive to leave anything lasting. Too perceptive and too inquisitive, and as cute as Fjord is blushing, Molly would like to keep that cuteness to himself.
He’s possessive like that.
Fjord moans a long note, bucking up hard beneath Molly, cock scrubbing against his belly. He ripples around Molly’s dick, seeping copiously, his dick flush and angry. He’s close.
Good thing Molly is, too.
He bites Fjord’s throat again before pulling back, watching the pleasure dance over Fjord’s face, the twist of his body, the desperation in his eyes. It’s intoxicating. Fjord is intoxicating, and another sharp throb of want tears into Molly, zipping down his spine and pulsing hard through his cock.
Restraint tumbles out the window. He thrusts harder, faster, noisily rocking the bed.
“Fuck, I’m gonna--” Molly breaks off into a panting groan, gripping Fjord’s hip and leaving pinpricks behind, little jewels of red seeping free behind him.
“Yeah,” Fjord agrees, the slap of flesh on flesh startingly audible, sweat slicking his brow, as he squeezes and tightens around Molly.
Oh, gods.
Molly squeezes Fjord’s cock in time to his thrusts, the bed creaking ominously. “Promise to clean you up,” he gasps out, as the coil in his belly tightens and tightens until he can barely keep hold of the tension.
“Yeah,” Fjord moans and fuck, he’s so hot when he goes monosyllabic, when he tosses his head back and rides Molly’s cock and just gives into it. Gives into everything that Molly takes from him and offers in return.
It’s permission, and Molly’s gonna take it and run. He hisses through his teeth, talons digging in, as he thrusts deep and comes, spurting into Fjord with little jerks of his hips. He whites out for a second, vision dancing with spots, breath coming sharp and fast.
Fjord squirms, making needy noises, thighs squeezing Molly’s hips. His cock is leaking so much there’s a sticky string from his belly to the tip, but he’s learned. He’s obeying because he doesn’t reach for it, just bucks and squirms, trying to get some kind of friction.
He deserves a reward.
Molly curves over him, sucks an earlobe between his lips. “Mouth or hand? Your choice darling, since you’ve been so good and all.”
“Mouth,” Fjord says without any hesitation whatsoever.
Molly smirks and slips free, sliding down the bed so he can get his mouth on that beautiful cock. “Sure thing.”
He pulls the head past his lips, tonguing at the slit, and Fjord seizes beneath him, bucking up until Molly grabs his hips and pins him back down.
“Don’t tease,” Fjord begs.
Molly laughs around Fjord’s cock and lets him slip free, dragging his tongue up the length of it and ending with a flick. “Not up to you,” he near-sings and mouths his way down to Fjord’s scrotum, rolling the furred sacs over his lips.
“Molly, I swear if you don’t--” He cuts off into a string of swears as Molly licks up and swallows him whole, right down to the root, swallowing around Fjord’s cock with a squeeze of his throat.
Fjord’s breath escapes him on a wheeze. He tangles his fingers in Molly’s hair, twines it around, nails gingerly scraping Molly’s scalp. He’s shaking from holding himself back, making all these desperate noises in his throat, and Molly hums, treating Fjord to dizzying vibration.
A choked word that might have been Molly’s name crackles out of Fjord’s mouth, and then he’s coming, spilling hot and salty over Molly’s tongue. He swallows every drop, suckling Fjord until the tense tremors ease, and he collapses back into the bed, a sweaty mess.
Molly hums and licks his lips, crawling up Fjord’s body to find him for a kiss, languidly tangling their limbs together. Their bodies are sticky with sweat and oil, but it’s far from a turn off.
“Mmmmm, good morning,” Molly says as he nuzzles into Fjord’s throat, licking over the mark he left behind.
Fjord laughs quietly. “A little late for that, isn’t it?” But his arms slide around Molly, hands stroking up and down his back, fingers tracing the swirls and whorls of his tattoo.
Has a strange fascination with Molly’s tattoos, Fjord does. Maybe he’s thinking about getting one for himself.
Molly hums at the thought. Dark swirls painted black over Fjord’s skin? Oh, they’d be stunning. Decoration is something of a necessity, in Molly’s opinion. Everyone should be as free to embrace their own flamboyancy.
“Molly?”
“Yes, dear?” Langor seeps into every bone and muscle and sinew. Molly curls on top of Fjord not unlike the boneless way he’s seen Frumpkin drape against a comfortable surface. His tail coils on top of him.
It’s too early to be awake.
He should sleep.
He let his eyes close and twines himself more firmly around Fjord, tangling their naked, sweaty bodies together. Oh, it’s going to be a mess to clean later, a mess he’d promised Fjord he’d handle, but messes are to be worried about later. Right now, he wants to soak in this satisfaction and cling to it for as long as possible.
“Oy. Are you falling asleep?”
Fingers card through Molly’s hair and it feels so damn soothing. He purrs and gives Fjord’s throat a little lick.
“It’s still early,” Molly says, feeling the steady thump-thump of Fjord’s heart beneath his cheek. “Just a nap.”
Fjord sighs, but there’s concession in it. He grumbles something under his breath, but he doesn’t toss Molly from the bed and he doesn’t say much else, and Molly falls asleep like that, listening to his heartbeat, body still thrumming with pleasure.
Good morning indeed.
