Chapter Text
Exhausted and wounded, you fall to your knees. The all-too-many-legged beast lays slain before you, its extremities splayed in unnatural positions, a halfmoon of teeth marks oozing blood from one of its forelegs. In a panic, you bit the creature when it grasped and tried to bind you. The taste of spider is sour in your mouth. The purple light of the temple reflects in the slick surface of the spider's carcass. The Temple of Shar is proving itself challenging in more ways than just the Gauntlet.
“Here, for your wounds.” Halsin has just shifted back from bear form and is limping towards you with a healing potion. The spider had snuck up on the two of you, only a little while after the rest of your companions had headed out of camp, not quite done with the day. Shadowheart had wanted to scout out tomorrow's venture, mumbling about plaques and inscriptions, sacrificial blood rituals and devotion. Astarion wanted in on the blood-action and had left with her. Gale had gotten wind of a nearby library and was nowhere to be seen. Wyll and Karlach had snuck away somewhere private. You’d found yourself left alone with the druid, the two of you making polite conversation and setting up the tents, when a hissing and clicking of eight running legs on stone flooring caught you off-guard.
“I loathe spiders.” You say through gritted teeth and intend to gratefully accept the potion from Halsins big hand, but fall short when your right shoulder dislocates from its socket with an audible crack as you reach out. A whelp escapes you and you reach up with your other wounded arm to grasp at your shoulder. You got hit hard by the entire spider carcass when Halsin, in bear form, gave the creature a finishing blow that sent it flying while you were still in its grasp. And now both of your arms are rendered useless, pain soaring out from your shoulder. You whimper, and double over. Halsin limps over hurriedly and sinks down on his good knee in front of you.
“Was that your shoulder? I’m sorry, I couldn’t do much else than strike the beast to keep it from snaring you. Controlling my strength in bear form is… difficult. Here, tilt your head up.” He gently puts his hand under your chin and jaw and carefully presses the potion bottle to your lips. Slowly, he tips the liquid into your mouth and you swallow greedily, longing for the pain to ease in your body. The flavor is pleasant and washes away the foul taste of the spider, as Halsin masks the bitterness of his potions with cinnamon and honey. But it is not a strong potion, and only your cuts and bruises fade, leaving the pain in your left arm and right shoulder dull but very present. You drain the bottle, but it is not enough. Groaning, you poke and prod at your shoulder, the pain increasing at the thought of having to shove it back into the socket.
“I’m sorry. Shadowheart might be able to heal you, but it will be a while until she’s back. I can put it back into place and bandage you up in the meantime, if you want me to.” His face is concerned and regretful and his hand lingers by your face.
“Yes, I… it’s alright, you did what you had to, we were overpowered.” You manage. You cringe at what has to come next and gesture to your shoulder. “Please put it back in place.”
You brace yourself, but the pain proves too much. As gentle as Halsin tries to be, the force of shoving the joint back into its socket sends a wave of searing agony through you, and your vision goes black.
The smell of smoke wakes you. A soft crackling of burning twigs and logs of a campfire reaches your ears as you come to. You are in Halsin’s tent, half-laying and half-sitting on his bedroll, propped up on fabrics and Astarions pillows, judging by the velvety feel beneath your skin. Your skin? You look down to see that your upper body is stripped of clothing and instead clad in bandages. Embarrassed, but grateful, you oversee the extent of your injuries. A sling cradles your right arm and a dull ache in your shoulder reminds you of what put you here. Your left arm is bandaged as well, and flexing your fingers hurt terribly. A sprained wrist? You look up to see Halsin nursing a fire, adding sticks and gently blowing beneath the frail and hungry licks of new flame. The flames reflect the purple walls and floor. The eerie dark atmosphere is only slightly helped by the light of the fire, casting dancing blue and purple shadows around the camp. You feel unbearably hot, but the heat of the flames could in no way have reached you yet, as you are laying too far away, in what appears to be Halsin’s tent. A light cough shakes you, and you wince at the pain.
Halsin turns around at the sound and looks relieved. “There you are. I was growing anxious, you were out for quite some time.” The thought of the self-assured giant being nervous for your sake amuses and flatters you, despite your condition.
“I was only napping.” You wheeze, and a cough threatens to escape you again. “You don’t happen to have some water?”
Halsin gets up and walks towards you and the tent, his limp gone, likely thanks to another potion. He rummages through his backpack in search of his waterskin. As you watch his shape in the darkness of the tent, you become all-too aware of a growing sensation inside you, spreading from your groin to your thighs and down your legs. The heat in your body increases and you cannot help but notice the warm closeness of the big druid elf sinking down on his knees beside you.
“How are you feeling? Light-headed?” Halsin asks, and un-corks the waterskin. You snap back, and embarrassed at what you're feeling, you feel your face flush.
“Just thirsty. And… warm.”
“Hm.” He says and repeating the process from before, gently holds his hand under your chin and jaw to coax you head up to tilt the water from the skin into your mouth. The feeling of his fingers on your skin sends a wave of sensation through your body, and you only manage to swallow a mouthful of water before you have to break free. You’re coughing and groaning at the pain from the effort as water embarrassingly drips down your chin and throat, but the coolness is welcome on your scorching body.
“You’re very hot. Are you running a fever?” He puts the skin down and lifts a large hand to your forehead. The touch is excruciating. It’s not pain, per se, but the pleasure might as well be, as the agonizing response from between your legs sends a shiver through you and a bead of sweat rolls down your back. You can’t muster any words, only bite back your reaction.
“That feels much like a fever.” He concludes and thankfully, withdraws his hand. You become aware of his large and bare arms, the muscle backlit from the campfire behind him. He smells of smoke from lighting the fire, and deeper of earth and sweat from the battle. It’s intoxicating.
“I can make a brew to bring your temperature down. I should have the ingredients.” He says. You barely hear him as the warmth and feeling from your groin grows to a deafening soaring of blood, rushing in your ears. He starts to tell you something, while looking through his backpack again, in search of whatever he needs for his concoction. His words fade in and out with the rushing of blood in your eardrums.
*thump-thump*
“... closer look at the carcass…”
*thump-thump*
“... harvested a silk gland…”
*thump-thump*
“... body strangely slick with liquid…”
*thump-thump*
“... tasted very sour… sensation similar to succubus-spittle…”
*thump* Wait. Succubus-spittle? And you bit the front leg of the spider… It had tasted sour…
Suddenly, the sensation you’re experiencing starts to make sense. Earlier in the morning, you had found a spider-carcass slick with succubus-spittle. You wouldn’t have known that that was what it was, unless Karlach had dared you to lick it, and to the horror of Gale, you’d done it. It had tasted sour and caused a feeling of arousal, but one that quickly faded. Halsin hadn’t been there, he’d been back at the previous campsite. The spider that attacked you must also have been covered in the same substance. And you must’ve ingested a considerable amount, judging by the throbbing need from your groin and the sweat now covering your body.
Gasping for air, you try to tell Halsin what had happened. Jumbled though your recounting is, the conclusion dawns on him as well, as he stops his search and turns to you once more, his knee grazing your thigh.
“So you… bit it. And now you’re… like this.” He looks at your sweat-covered face with understanding and pity. “Oh, Tav. It must be… painful.” He says, lacking a better word. In that moment, you are grateful for the low light in the tent, as your cheeks surely take on a bright red color and you can’t help but squirm. A new wave of hollowness and need rises through you and you do your best to keep back a whimper. You dare not answer, for fear of what sound you might make instead. Halsin is deep in thought, and you marvel at the lack of embarrassment from the druid. You recall his musings on how nature calls for freedom of love and how he has never been coy about expressing his wants and wishes for companionship, even yours, should you feel like it.
“You should relieve yourself.” He says, but quickly realizes that it is impossible for you. One of your arms is in a sling, and the other has a sprained wrist. “Ah.” He exclaims. The darkness makes it difficult for you to see his expression fully but his silence makes it obvious what he’s thinking. Your thinking, however, is becoming less rational by the second. His scent is wonderful to your senses, his knees touch to your thigh like a warm beacon, sending pulses of vibrating hotness to and from your groin. You feel hollow, aching and desperate. As you shift uncomfortably, there’s an apparent wetness between your legs and you’re embarrassed to know that it isn’t sweat. Your last clear thought is one of hope and need, that the druid is open-minded enough to help you in this situation and that he will see it as a necessity and not as you imposing yourself on him. The last thing you want is to make him uncomfortable.
“Halsin.” You say, in an almost-whisper. “Please.”
The druid shifts his whole body towards you, and leans his face closer to yours. He thinks for a second.
“I will do this to help you. I’d have sought your company before, had the circumstances been right, as I feel affinity for you. It is unfortunate that it should happen like this, but I am glad it is with you and I hope it feels alright for you that it is with me.” His voice is low and sincere. You can feel his breath on your face. It smells slightly of cinnamon from the potion he must’ve drunk before.
“I am happy, that it is with you.” You whisper, and it is true. Even through the haze of the toxin ravishing your body, you know it to be true. You have also felt a closeness to the druid and you too have wished to seek his company, when the time seemed right. It is regrettable that it should be like this, but in the moment all you feel is relief and longing in knowing that you will soon be helped to feel better. You long for his touch, for his lips, for his rough-cut muscular body pressed against yours. Hells, you need him. You crave him. Desperately, you try to lean toward him, despite your aching upper body. He reaches up a hand and ever so gently pushes your chest back down on the stolen pillows, but leans his own body in closer and puts his head beside yours. His breath is a cool caress on your warm neck.
“There, now. Lie down. We have to be careful of your wounds. Just let me take care of you.”
He lifts his left hand that cradled your chin and jaw before but places it around the right side of your head, just under your ear this time, to support you, while he leans his head in closer and gently presses his lips under your left ear, sending a cascading wave of longing through you. Your breath catches. His right and free hand travels down your body, careful not to press on any bandaged areas. It comes to rest on your hip for a moment, before traveling inward, to the drawstrings of your trousers. He shifts back to look down and pull at the strings. You inhale sharply, anticipating. He’s not wasting any time, and it’s not needed, any more build-up would drive you even crazier. He catches your hungry gaze, a desire building in his too. He closes the distance between you quickly, his lips meeting yours, his hand behind your head gently pressing you into him. You yearn for him, hungry and eager, desperate for more. He matches your hunger, as to not leave you feeling unsatisfied. He parts your lips with his tongue at the same time as his right hand starts to shift around your trouser waistband, gently pulling and tugging. You try to move to help him, and he reaches down his other hand to more easily undo your laces completely and pull your trousers off. Through a collective effort you are finally free of them, and the cool air is welcome on your legs, as you burn hotter with the toxin and Halsin’s touch.
He kisses you again, and you receive his tongue hungrily, wet and warm, seeking deeper. His taste is, Gods, so good. It’s cinnamon and honey and just Halsin. You can almost feel yourself getting pushed over the edge, simply from kissing him. You could melt completely into his lips, if it weren’t for the excruciating desire radiating from between your legs. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. You let out a quiet moan, and it eggs him on further, lets him know you want more. His left hand entwines his fingers in your hair and his right travels from your knee to the inside of your thigh, fingers leaving the sensation of a hot trail on your sensitive skin. He reaches that most sensitive area of your inner thigh, and lingers for just a second with his fingertips against the soft, smooth skin, and you could scream with wanting. But you don’t have to wait long for him to move on, and when he reaches your underwear and cups his hand around your mound you arch your back and moan despite the pain it causes you to pull your shoulders back. He pulls his head back to breathe and chuckles, letting the middle finger of his hand push into your wet underwear, seeking further in. “You are soaked, my sweet.” He murmurs, his voice deep and husky with desire. You wish so deeply then that you could reach out and give back what you’re receiving, to feel his desire as clear as your own, to know how hard he is. You struggle in your bandages, but it’s no use, it hurts too badly. You whimper in response instead.
“Shhh… just lay still. It will feel better soon.” He soothes you, and hooks a finger under your underwear to pull it to the side. When he slides a finger in between your lips you almost fall over the edge. It is excruciating, white-hot and addictive. Your moaning grows louder and desperate.
“Please. Halsin, oh, please.” You beg. Because it’s him, it doesn’t feel too embarrassing. He kisses you then, silencing your moans with his mouth, but his breath is also quicker now, his want also growing. He gently pushes a finger into you. There is barely any friction at all, you are more than ready. You close your eyes and see stars when he slips in a second finger, his thumb pushing gently above and rubbing in circles. He only has to repeat his motions a few times before it’s too much. The pleasure comes crashing down on you in hard, intense waves. One, two, three times over. Halsin quickens his pace. Oh Gods, it’s incomparable to anything you’ve ever felt before. You are high on the repetition, the motion. You are unaware of the sounds you are making into Halsin’s lips as you come again. And again. It grows unbearable. You squirm and writhe in his embrace and he gently pulls his hand back. But no, no. Wait.
“No, please. Don’t stop. Gods, Halsin, I need you.” He pulls back slightly to look you in the eyes.
“Don’t worry, my love, I know. I won’t stop. Not until you feel better.” He promises and you relax under him, reassured that he will keep going. But he has a new method in mind. He pulls back and kisses your bandaged chest and down your stomach all the way down between your legs. He shifts himself so he sits between your legs, gently spreading them further apart with his hands on your knees. He lowers himself to you and spreads you with his fingers, his tongue finding your warmth again. While his tongue moves up and down and in circles, his two fingers find their way inside you again, moving in and out. You are in ecstasy, moving into him and soaring high again. Halsin. Between your legs like this. Only in your deepest fantasies could you imagine him this way, and now he was doing it to you, eagerly. The warmth and intimacy makes you feel drunk. You quickly find your way to release again, and again, moaning, whimpering and asking for more. The warm, intense pleasure is rising and falling but never quite subsiding. You wonder how much it’s going to take before the need for more starts to wear off. But the thought that Halsin might lose interest or get annoyed barely has time to form in your mind before he pulls back. You hold your breath and close your legs again, thinking that maybe he’s had enough, even though you're still throbbing for more. But he has no intention of stopping. He reaches under his vest and pulls it off, now bare chested and beautiful in the backlight from the campfire. He swiftly stands up and undoes the laces of his trousers, takes them off and casts them aside. As with his underwear. You get a few moments to behold all of him, although the darkness leaves out the bit that would be especially interesting, before he bends down over you, reaching around and under you with his arms.
“What are you…?”
He lifts you up carefully, one hand supporting your back and one arm underneath you, letting you fully appreciate his size and strength. He slowly sits down on the pillows, still holding you up. You see his intention. He looks you deep in the eyes, wanting.
“I’ll lower you down slowly. Just tell me if you need me to stop.” He says and you nod in agreement, body still pulsating with need. As he starts to lower you down, you wonder why he thinks you would need him to stop, until you feel him start to enter you. At the start it feels like any other time, the pressure is familiar and the anticipation of fullness leaves you panting. But as he slowly lowers you more, you start to feel his considerable size. There is a slight stretching sensation and your breath catches. It doesn’t hurt, but the size is new to you and your body reacts by contracting around it. Halsin notices and halts.
“Are you alright, my love?” He asks, concern in his voice.
“Mm, yes, you’re just very… ah… big.” You tremble. But you want him. Gods, you want all of him. You need the fullness inside, need to feel whole. Nothing in the world could remedy what you feel right now except this. If he would just lower you a little more, you could control the pace at which you take him into you yourself, if your knees could reach the bedroll.
“Please. Continue.” You ask of him. He does as you say and lowers you a bit more, his size pushing gently into you again. Your knees reach the bedroll and you can take control of lowering your body down yourself. Halsin supports your back with one hand and his other rests on your hip. He is breathing heavier now, finally feeling pleasure himself, and he leans back slightly on the pillows. The thought of him feeling good, sharing your ecstasy, lets you sink down further, feeling every inch like a new wave of bliss. Then, he hits that spot inside, the perfect place that connects your pleasure from inside out and you throw your head back in satisfaction and sink down the last bit with a moaning sigh. His fullness presses against your insides, but it doesn’t hurt. He feels like paradise and you can’t get enough. Starting slowly, and then increasing the pace, you ease him in and out of you by lifting and lowering yourself with the muscles of your thighs. Halsin’s breath is heavy and he focuses on holding you upright, as you can’t support your upper body, should you fall or slump from pleasure. He’s laboring too, you realize, to keep himself from reaching his limit too fast. Imagining him finding release inside you is enough to set you over the edge again and you slump forward, desperate for leverage but unable to hold onto anything. He presses you gently into his chest and shoulder and you rest your head in the nook of his neck, breathing him in with every movement of your bodies. He reaches his hands from your hips to under your backside and lifts you, relieving your thighs from their work and instead lifts you up and down along him, meeting your warmth with a push of his hips every time he lets you down. The feeling of being hollow with the ache of wanting to be filled comes every time he slides out, only to be replaced with his fullness and the feeling of being complete when he enters again. It’s mind numbing and you’re filled with an un-ending crescendo, blood rushing in your ears. He grunts and moans softly too and you can tell he’s close.
“Halsin, ah- … Halsin!” His name is all you can say between thrusts. He is going faster, his own greed taking hold.
“Tav.” He breathes in response. You’re bathing in a cascading waterfall of pleasure as he gives you all of him quickly and hard in a few last thrusts. He groans with his release as he too, falls into the waterfall with you. You both surrender at the same time. Warmth and wetness runs down the inside of your thighs when he comes inside you in waves, and somehow you feel even fuller. Then, and only then, do you finally feel the aching need inside you subsiding, leaving a burning afterglow, like the last smoldering embers of a great fire. He holds you to his chest in a warm and panting embrace, as both of your pleasures ebb out. You stay there for a little while, breathing in one another, feeling whole and complete. He reaches up a hand to cup your face and kiss you. Your skin feels sensitive and hot as he then gently lifts you and pulls out, his pleasure spilling out of you and down your legs. He carries you like before and stands up, and again you marvel at his strength. He sets you down with care on the bedroll, and leans you back on the pillows.
“Thank you.” You say with deep sincerity. “It feels much better now.”
He laughs in a low, raspy tone and reaches in his bag for a clean rag and pours some water on it.
“There are worse ways to cure someone of their ailment. Here, let me clean you.” He gently wipes down the stickiness from between your thighs and legs, and with anyone else, it might have felt embarrassing, but with Halsin all you feel is security and trust. Then he does the same to himself. He helps you back into your underwear and dresses himself too. A blanket is procured from his backpack, and he sits down next to you so you can shift closer to him before he tucks the both of you in. He is half-sitting and half-laying on the pillows next to your left, least injured, arm and you lean your head and side on his chest. He leans down and presses his lips to the top of your head.
“Rest now, my love, and I will keep watch until the rest come back. We will heal you properly tomorrow.” And feeling safe and content, you drift off, exhausted, into a deep and peaceful sleep with a gentle giant at your side.