Work Text:
Wyll still believed in old, classic tales of love. Sweet, romantic stories that went at a steady pace, starting with chaste kisses and maybe ending with consummating a marriage, though usually it stopped at the wedding. That was what he truly wanted, a romance like the fairy tales he admired since he was a boy. Bahrmir seemed perfectly happy with that as well, giving him the fondest of smiles as he bid him a goodnight. That didn’t mean Wyll couldn’t fantasize a dirtier story between them, though.
Would Bahrmir have accepted if Wyll invited him back to his tent? Maybe. The tiefling had been hesitant to even get close to Wyll– even after their first kiss– but when he finally allowed himself to give into his feelings, he was passionate. His kisses were full of energy, eagerness, but his touch was still so gentle. A shuddering breath escaped Wyll as he brushed his own fingers across his exposed stomach.
He remembered their first kiss well. They were both tipsy and had forgotten themselves for just a moment, but it was so good. The heat of embarrassment spread across his face when recalling that damned word that slipped out of him that night. He didn’t even know where that came from. Embarrassment was replaced by arousal though, when he remembered how Bahrmir kissed him after that. The way it felt when their forked tongues brushed against each other, Bahrmir’s body heat contrasting the cold stone Wyll’s back was pressed against. “Hah, Daddy…” he whispered into the night air as the tips of his fingers traced his growing bulge.
His other hand pushed his shirt up– slowly, like he imagined Bahrmir would do. The cold air hitting his chest made him shiver. Bahrmir would’ve warmed him up. Wyll let out a soft moan, imagining the facial hair that tickled his lips when they kissed instead brushing against the sensitive skin of his chest, over his hardened nipples before he pinched one of them. He arched his back and let out a moan louder than he meant to, but gods he wished it was Bahrmir’s mouth instead. He released his nipple and shoved two fingers in his mouth to wet them before returning to his chest.
Originally, Wyll had wanted to go slow– to still have his dirty fantasies be sweet and romantic– but the way Bahrmir kissed him and his own teasing had his blood running hot. His wet fingers rolled and pulled at his nipples while his hips desperately bucked up into his other hand now stroking his erection through his trousers. “Oh, yes. Please, Bahrmir.” He wanted to stay quiet, he really did, but all rational thought was quickly leaving his brain with each passing second.
Bahrmir being rougher with him was more appealing than Wyll thought it would be. Outside of battle, the man was always gentle; never yelled, never used force– at most he got firm with people with a voice that sounded more like a stern father than anything. It was one of the things Wyll adored the most about Bahrmir. Surely the man had to get frustrated though, right? Bahrmir wasn’t the type to take his anger out on others, but maybe if Wyll offered…
“Mmmn…” The warlock bit his lip as he stopped stroking himself to dig his nails into the meat of his thigh, the pain dulled by his clothes. Too dulled. He scrambled frantically to get the blasted things off. He would’ve needed too anyway, lest he have to deal with trying to stealthily wash certain stains out of them.
He now laid nude on his bedroll, a strange mix of hot and cold as the heat of arousal contrasted with the chill of the air. He couldn’t tell which one was making him shiver.
Wyll bent his knees as he spread his legs out wide, as if he was presenting himself and inviting Bahrmir between them. “Haah…Nngh…” He dragged his nails down the back of his thigh while his other hand grabbed ahold of his shaft, his thumb spreading around the precum already leaking from the head. Knowing the person he desired so much was just a few tents away had Wyll almost regretting his proclamation of wanting a proper romance. He wondered how Bahrmir would react if he stepped into the cleric’s tent now, exactly how he was; hard, desperate, needy for him and him alone.
“What a naughty boy,” he imagined Bahrmir chuckling lowly in his ear, “What happened to your old tales of romance, hm? Just a few kisses and you turn into a little minx.”
Wyll groaned softly, rolling over to his side to partially hide his face in his pillow and muffle his noises. “Mmh… I’m sorry, Daddy,” he mumbled as he gave himself a few short, quick strokes. His entire body felt flush, like his blood was on fire.
He didn’t know where in the hells this all came from. Bahrmir was a kind man, Wyll had never heard him talk like that. Wyll was also quite certain that he had never enjoyed a scolding or punishment before. Now, he wanted Bahrmir’s tail to slap across his ass like a whip and to hear the older man chastise him for being so dirty. “Ah, hells…” He hissed as he reached his free hand over to grab his pack and dig through it.
Eventually his fingers wrapped around a small bottle of oil, which he promptly pulls out and opens as he rolls to lay face down and on his knees. There was something about the position that was just a tad embarrassing, and there was something about that embarrassment that sent a pleasant tingling heat throughout his body. When had he become so debauched?
The trembling of his hands became obvious as he poured more oil than he meant onto his fingers, cursing under his breath when more than a few drops dripped onto the floor of his tent. Ah well, better too much than not enough, he supposed. He instead worried himself with reaching back and pressing his now slick fingers against his hole. A shuddering breath left him as the pads of his fingers circled his rim before his middle finger pressed just ever so slightly inside. It wasn’t often he touched himself like this, he would have to go slow, as much as he wanted to rush it and imagine Bahrmir railing him into the next tenday already.
Bahrmir would go slow, he reminded himself in an attempt to keep his sanity. Bahrmir would want to take care of him and make sure he feels good. A long exhale left Wyll as he relaxed his muscles, imagining Bahrmir’s warm body draped over his back and lips at the back of his neck. Perhaps some teeth as well.
Finally, the first knuckle slipped in. Wyll bit his pillow as the rest pushed in not long after. His toes curled tightly for a moment before he forced himself to relax again with a heavy exhale. Just one finger wouldn’t be enough, Bahrmir’s hands were much bigger than Wyll’s. A moan escaped him as he thought back to how easily the tiefling’s hand fully covered his own during their dance. He wanted to find out how easily those hands would wrap around his waist.
He kept his breath as steady as he could while he gave a few thrusts of his finger, letting himself get used to the almost foreign feeling. Once he didn't have to think about relaxing, he pulled his finger out until just the tip of his finger remained. His index finger joined, drawing out a low moan from him as it pushed in along with his middle finger. “Mmm, yes…” This was the kind of stretch he would get with Bahrmir. Part of him wanted to add a third finger, maybe even a fourth, but he felt like he’d implode if he didn’t cum soon.
His fantasies became vague blurs again as he began fucking himself at a quick pace, scissoring and curling his fingers trying to find what felt best. His free hand went back to his chest to pinch and pull at his nipples, his nails occasionally digging into his skin to mimic Bahrmir’s claws. He wanted to be marked by the man, have bites and bruises on his neck, chest, thighs, anywhere Bahrmir wanted. Instead of grimacing at the sight of his horns when looking in the mirror, he wanted to fawn over the proof of the side of Bahrmir only he got to see, proof of his affection for him.
A sharp gasp escaped him when his knuckles brushed against a spot that sent pleasure shooting up his spine. “Oh!” He crooked his fingers to press against that spot more intently with a high pitch whine. His hips started pushing against his own fingers as if trying to push them deeper. “There… Right there…!” He whimpered into his pillow, his voice high-pitched and breathy. The soft slapping of skin against skin with each thrust of his hand reached his ears, he imagined it was instead the sound of Bahrmir’s hips slapping against him, hard enough that it’d bruise by morning.
Some of the dirty novels he’s read mentioned characters limping after a night with their lover. He never quite understood the appeal until now. He wanted Bahrmir to leave him pleasantly aching afterwards. There was no doubt Bahrmir would offer some sort of healing, but Wyll would reject it, wanting the reminder throughout the day. He… He wanted everyone to know exactly what caused his stiff walking. It was almost painfully embarrassing to imagine, but at that moment it just fueled the fire in his loins. “Ah, ah, ah…. Haah, fuck. Fuck me, Daddy. Oh, gods.”
His nails dragged down his chest, briefly scratching his stomach before his hand gripped his leaking erection. His breath came out in harsh pants mixed with deep moans as he tried to sync his hands, swiping his thumb over the head of his cock with every press against his prostate. “Please, please, please…” He was so close. He just needed a little more…
“Cum for Daddy.”
“A-Ah!” The pillow barely did anything to muffle the moan ripped out of him as he came. His feet dragged across the floor of his tent while his legs kicked out and tried to push his hips back further against his own fingers. He was fortunate enough to have half the mind to cover the head of his cock with his hand to catch most of his spend before his mind went blank at the peak of his pleasure.
The fingers inside of him twitched against his prostate, prolonging his orgasm until he finally eased himself down and pulled them out before rolling onto his back with a heavy sigh. He was sweaty, both of his hands were dirty, so were his thighs, and yet… he felt good.
He held up the hand covered in his own cum, staring at it in consideration for a good second then bringing it to his mouth to give a hesitant lick. For a brief moment, he fell back into his fantasies, imagining he was licking it off of Bahrmir’s hand instead. He groaned when his softening dick gave a twitch of interest. What was he? A teenager?
He let his hand fall to his side again and his eyes fell shut. As great as that orgasm was, he was exhausted now and sleep sounded perfect. Well, almost perfect. Without the heat of arousal, Wyll felt cold now, every fiber of his being wanted to get up and go to Bahrmir’s tent to curl up in the tiefling’s arms. It was tempting, it really was, but he didn’t even know how he was going to face his lover in the morning after imagining all of that.
So for tonight, he cleaned up as best he could without going for a dip in the nearby stream and got comfortable in his bedroll alone. One night, he hoped soon, he would be held by Bahrmir and feel safe in his arms. Tonight was just a night for fantasies, though, and he chose to indulge himself with them just a bit more. Imagining the tickle of Bahrmir’s beard against the shell of his ear and the familiar gentle voice whispering sweet nothings, Wyll drifted off into a sleep full of dreams of his fairy tale romance.