Rax Writes

Cal-

Breathtaking, all-encompassing, adoring

After arriving in Baldur’s Gate, helping where he could in the city’s relief efforts, and then, finally, settling in, Cal has gotten the chance to think of more than just the next day on the road and what that may bring.

So, when time and schedules permit, Cal enjoys spending time with you, walking through the city’s markets, visiting local taverns, and walking the streets taking in the sights. 

When Cal first realizes that he has feelings for you, he might also be a bit intimidated by the fact that you are a Hero of Baldur’s Gate—even if he did witness (and politely did not draw attention to) how you occasionally fumbled around the Emerald Grove or Last Light Inn. 

He is fully aware that you are a person, but you’re a person who has accomplished much. So the time that he gets to spend exploring the city with you helps him get to know you as more than just the intrepid adventurer who saved him and his family once or three times.

The two of you share inside jokes and dissolve into fits of laughter. You tease each other, and you enjoy whiling away the evenings together. You are wholly yourself with him, and that realization leaves him breathlessly giddy.

And, in being wholly yourself with him, you share bits and pieces about yourself that you might not have readily done with anyone else—tales from the road, books that you have read, memories of places in the city. He begins to do the same. He’ll share stories about Elturel and the things he loved about growing up there. 

And, sometimes, when the days are hard and the memories are heavy, you two will sit in silence, simply taking comfort in the other person being there.

As time goes on, you learn that Cal enjoys physical touch, and if you assure him that you are comfortable with it, he will sometimes pause to take your hand or hug you. He is the first to suggest a dance if the bards at the Blushing Mermaid strike up a tune, and he will clumsily sweep across the floor with you.

It’s in those moments of shared joy that he realizes how much he adores you and would very much so like to kiss you.

Perhaps after a turn (or five) the music comes to an abrupt halt, and the two of you are left breathless and dizzy, mouths so close that you are sharing in the other’s breath. Cal cracks a smile at you, and his eyes flick to your lips. 

And the rowdy tavern falls away around the two of you as you lean in and kiss, Cal’s wrapping one arm around your waist as he rests his other hand at the base of your neck.

Perhaps after the kiss, just to check, he’ll say, “So… I’m hoping I’m not reading too much into things here, but that was really nice. I really like you and… I’d really like to do that again. The kissing part. And the dancing. And, well, whatever else you might like to do too. To be clear, I think I’m falling for you.”

From there, Cal will greet you with a tender kiss. He will regularly reach for your hand. His favorite outings with you will likely involve finding a grassy, cool place where the two of you can lay and doze in the other’s arms.

Rolan

Heated, passionate, and perhaps a little bit sudden. However, not unwelcome.

I think that a first kiss with Rolan can happen in a multitude of ways (just like I do for any of the characters on this list). So while I may share one of two ideas, trust me when I say that I could make an entire series out of how a first kiss with him might go down.

For starters, when Rolan does realize that he has feelings for you, he does so with no small amount of frustration. Is he frustrated with you? Himself? These damn emotions that, evidently, went unchecked and grew, nay flourished, unabated? He doesn’t know! Zurgan, he took his eyes off things for five minutes and came back to a heart pounding with longing for you. 

Over the course of spending evenings in comfortable silence with him, you working on a project or reading while he studies, a sense of camaraderie and, dare he admit it, affection began to take form.

In that time as well, you two have developed a comfortable sort of banter—it’s two parts teasing, one part sincerity sometimes delivered as blunt honesty, and wholly yours. And Rolan loves it—even more because it’s something that comes so easily for you two.

Rolan does sit on his feelings for you, because he wants to confirm that he isn’t merely infatuated and that whatever affections he holds for you don’t blow over with the turn of the season. To be clear, he waits an agonizingly long time and there may, in fact, have been a season change in there, but he’s the only one suffering here. At least, he thinks so.

But with the passage of time, what he feared was a fleeting fancy proved itself to be a deep yearning affection that was, indeed, love. 

Once again, he was left frustrated that his feelings chose to run off on a tear and, seemingly, had a mind of their own. All he knows is that he is in love with you and he can only wonder if you feel the same. He does know, however, that if he doesn’t tell you, then he is going to be left with a gnawing pain in his chest every time he thinks about you and wonders what could have been had he just… confessed.

On the day that he confesses to you, his mind is abuzz. He worries that his responses could be misconstrued or that he is, perhaps, coming across as too harsh in how he replies to you. All he knows is that he is flustered and when you smile at him that way, all he can think about is how much he wants to lean in and kiss you.

He can’t focus on his studies, and his gaze keeps wandering over to where you are sitting, totally oblivious to his turmoil. Which is likely for the best. 

You might make a teasing comment which, on another day, would have been met with an eye roll and a smirk. But for whatever reason, Rolan is reduced to a flustered mess. He might manage to bluster something back in rebuttal, but it simply doesn’t land.

At this point, you can see that Rolan is bothered. He can’t seem to focus on his work, which is very uncommon; he keeps getting up and pacing to and from the study’s balcony, his tail lashing behind him like it does when he is frustrated; also, he’s struggling to look you directly in the eye, which is very out of the ordinary for him.

Perhaps you voice your concern and ask if he needs some space—maybe he needs some time alone to think on whatever is bothering him. You’re fairly certain it isn’t you, but you won’t know if he doesn’t tell you. And, knowing Rolan, he will be very forthcoming if you have done something to upset him.

Hearing your question is enough to give him pause. The tension will leave his shoulders and he will exhale slowly and apologize.

He will ask if he can come sit with you and he will say, “In the past several months, I have come to realize that I am deeply in love with you, and instead of being forthcoming, I have sat and stewed and let myself be eaten alive by the thought of what would happen, or whom might earn the honor of your affections, if I did not tell you. I love you.”

Now, if you gently tease him but reciprocate his feelings, he might roll his eyes, huff a laugh and say “Gods, you are infuriating,” before leaning in and kissing you. It is sudden, certainly, but as it continues, it grows all the more heated and passionate.

From there, when the two of you settle into the cadence of a relationship with one another, he will press quick kisses to your temples as he walks past you while you are working. When teasing turns into flirting, it’s just a matter of time before one of you cracks and kisses the other, forgetting everything else… just for a moment.

Zevlor-

Tender, romantic, and slow.

A first kiss with Zevlor may happen shortly after one of you professes your love for the other, or it could happen months after the fact. He is a patient man who is content to follow his partner’s lead. So he is happy to court you so long as he knows that his feelings are reciprocated. 

If he courts you in this way, then it might not be uncommon for you two to go on an evening stroll through Bloomdridge Park; before parting for the evening, he may linger there, cast his eyes down to your hand, raise it up, and lay a gentle kiss over your knuckles. If you enjoyed that gesture, then he will continue to do this as way of greeting, farewell, and sometimes as a quiet show of affection.

Sometimes, he’ll lift your hand to his lips and lay a soft kiss there whilst the two of you are talking or sharing in a silence marked by your contentment.

When he is trying to ground himself, he may lay a kiss against your palm and hold your hand there, taking comfort in your warmth.

Though Zevlor might not have much experience in matters of the heart, he still has some. Of course, his experience as a soldier has him searching for what he might term the most “strategic” opportunity to lean in, smile softly, and ask, ever so gently, if he can kiss you.

Which is to say, Zevlor wants to plan the first kiss you two share, because he wants to get across that you mean the world to him.

He doesn’t want it to be a spur of the moment thing, because nothing about how he feels for you is abrupt. 

If he has the luxury to plan everything out while he is courting you, he will take it. For him, this is a chance to learn more about you and all of the things you love, and he will pay attention to your favorite places, your favorite weather, season, meals, etc. 

So, short of a disaster occurring, he will do everything to make the kiss perfect as possible.

Which isn’t to say that his nerves won’t get the best of him—you’re amazing, after all.

Suffice it to say, whatever he prepares is nothing short of breathtaking.

Granted, if the evening doesn't end in a kiss, he isn't going to be bothered--there are plenty of nights ahead, and whatever happens will happen in due course.

Regardless of when you two kiss for the first time, Zevlor is a ball of nerves. He tells himself that he is maintaining a solid facade, but you know his tells--the way his tail swishes when he's overthinking or how he clears his throat when he fears that his words will abandon him.

And when the two of you do kiss for the first time, he might bump his nose against yours and huff out a weak laugh before trying again. Or he might lean forward too much and have you arching your back a smidge too much.

If he rests his hands on your arms, you might notice he’s shaking. Just a little. Sometimes his nerves get the better of him.

But it’s wonderful, and it will leave you a little breathless (which he will apologize for with a nervous laugh).

From there, Zevlor will become a great deal more affectionate. He might press a kiss to your temple while you’re working, or he might walk up behind you and wrap his arms around your waist, resting his head in your hair and coiling his tail around your leg.

Dammon-

Gentle, a little playful, might make your legs wobble a bit

Dammon has a fairly easygoing nature, so for him, to tease and flirt comes fairly easy, and he loves flirting with you if he knows you’re enjoying it too--or at the very least amused by it.

He likes taking you by surprise with a well-placed compliment or a risqué statement made in passing. He’s very good at it too, and he has an infuriatingly sly smile when his statement takes a second or two to register with someone and then they whip their head around to look at him.

However, because he enjoys flirting and is generally just comfortable in himself, it is possible that, sometimes, his interest in another might be misconstrued as nothing more than him being him and bantering along.

So you might be flirting back and thinking nothing of it. Conversely, if you’re not much of one for flirting but you don’t mind if others tease you in a flirtatious manner, you might just roll your eyes and write off what Dammon is saying as his regular way of interacting—in which case, he will have to make a particular effort to convey that he is, in fact, trying to express interest in you.

A first kiss with Dammon would happen after he has managed to establish that, no, he is not just flirting for the sake of flirting. No, he is expressing a keen interest in you and wants you to know.

When he does tell you, he will make a point to not put you on the spot. He doesn’t want to do anything too elaborate, but he still wants the moment to be special in its own way.

At some point, while renting the building that serves as his home and storefront, he pulled together a small sitting space for visitors and friends near his forge—close enough that they can talk and get his attention if they need something, but not so close that the heat from the furnace is unbearable. 

Perhaps one evening, you’re sitting there, talking with him some but also working on a project or reading a book while he puts the finishing touches on a commission. The sun is setting over the city, and the streets are slowly emptying. There are a few folk about, but they’re quite involved in their own business. 

Dammon is waiting for the right time, and it just happens to be when he moves to quench the steel, and the sound of hot metal hitting water or oil makes you lift your head.

You look up at him, and he smiles a bit crookedly and then, instead of one of his usual flirtatious remarks, he says, “I don’t think I could ever tire of this sight,” while holding your gaze.

He’ll step away to come sit with you, perhaps apologize for smelling like a forge, but then he’ll smile softly. “I adore you.” The sincerity in his words and the affection in his eyes is enough to leave you floored.

If you reciprocate, he will take your hand in his and lean forward, resting his brow against yours. 

The first kiss would be gentle at first, giving you the chance to draw back if you have any second thoughts; however, if you lean closer, Dammon will follow suit and kiss you until you’re breathless.

From there, whenever you visit him, he is quick to step away from his work to greet you with a heady kiss that, were he not to hold onto your waist, might leave you unsteady on your feet. And then, whenever he passes you as he works, he’ll give you a quick peck and let his hand linger over yours for a second or two longer.

Border art by @/saradika

“Ooh, beautiful face with a hot, inked up body – and she’s bossy? Shit, must be my lucky day.”

That was all… what, about an hour ago? Maybe two. You couldn’t be sure anymore.

Not because of the alcohol in your system, though. No, you’d had a couple of drinks, and so had he, but both of you were at the threshold of tipsy, nothing more.

You had lost track of time once you drug him by his collar to an empty room upstairs, on the very top floor of the building – one where you’d crashed a few times, too exhausted after a Cleaner job, and the owner let you make use of the vacant space.

Now, you were in Jabber’s lap, his back resting against the headboard of a worn bed of questionable but acceptable cleanliness, most of everyone’s clothes cast aside long ago. You’d been making out for a while already, and you were down to just your panties, tank top, and bra. He was down to his boxers and an old, holey tank. And his rings – those chunky silver rings adorning each of his fingers, that felt so good on your warm skin when his fingers creeped up under your tank top.

This was the longest duration of time he’d been silent for, since first striking up a conversation with you down in the bar – save the occasional grunts and moans from the two of you lazily dry humping.

Jabber’s fingers slithered lower and lower, before finally moving your panties to the side – slowly, giving you time to stop him if you wanted to.

You didn’t.

His middle finger played with your throbbing clit, and the cold metal of his rings brushing your wet, hot sex was making you twitch a bit, making you crave more.

“More,” you whispered against his lips, without even realizing you’d voiced your thoughts.

“Demanding lil thing, ain’t ya?” Jabber purred. The half-lidded eyes and wicked grin, illuminated only by the moonlight streaming in through the window. Fuck, he looked good.

When he sunk his middle finger into you – followed quickly by the ring finger, once he’d felt how wet you already were – the sensation of that cold silver at your entrance gave you exactly what you’d been craving. You gasped involuntarily, arching in a way that pressed your chest against his, and the way your long, pointy nails dug into his shoulders wrenched a gasp from him as well.

“Your rings – fuck,” you managed to choke out, forehead dropping to rest against his. Long fingers pumped in and out of you at a languid pace, and you felt his laugh reverberate through your own chest, still pressed against him.

“You like?” Jabber teased, free hand rising to cradle your jaw. His thumb traced your bottom lip, and you inclined your head to take the digit into your mouth, sucking it and swirling your tongue around his ring. “Mmm, I’ll take that as a yes. Best part is: they ain’t just for show. Wanna see?”

He didn’t wait for an answer, holding his palm an inch or two in front of your face. A familiar glow emitted from his palm, pink anima threading through the rings and morphing into a partial glove with a set of five, razor-sharp blades extending from his fingers.

“This here’s my baby: Mankira.”

Honestly, Jabber wasn’t sure what reaction he was expecting. It’s not like he’d ever shown off his Vital Instrument in the middle of gettin’ nasty with someone. But he damn sure didn’t expect you to lean forward to run your tongue along the side of the blade on his pointer finger. It pulled a groan from deep in his chest that he didn’t even realize was from him at first.

“Atta girl,” he murmured, toothy grin returning. Absentmindedly, he trailed the same blade you’d licked along your jaw, and down the column of your throat. His focus was entirely devoted to you: on the way your tits rose and fell as you breathed raggedly, and the way your wet, gummy walls felt around the fingers he pumped in and out of you.

So instead, Jabber let the tip of it press into your skin juuust enough that you’d feel it, but not enough to pierce.

Once again, he wasn’t sure what the reaction would be. He suspected any normal chick would probably smack his hand away and tell him to quit, or get scared. So when your cunt clenched around his still-thrusting fingers so tightly that he thought you were tryin’ to break ‘em – his eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas morning.

“You into that, dollface?” Jabber asked, head tilting to the side like an intrigued animal, a faint pink glow in his eyes. When you nodded and bit your lip, starting to buck your hips against his fingers as he did it again – he giggled with sheer joy.

“Oh, you’re gonna be fuuun,” he whispered, surging forward to kiss you – hard, feverish, desperate. His fingers began to fuck you faster, curling to brush against your sweet spot in a way that made your brain fog over more than it already had. With trembling hands, you moved his free hand to wrap around your throat, too horny to care about potential consequences of the blades piercing your skin. (Jabber did, though. It was his left hand, after all.) But he didn’t need to be told twice, squeezing the sides of your throat to cut off some of your airflow.

“C’mon, sweet thing – soak my fuckin’ fingers,” Jabber demanded, pulling you into another kiss by the hand around your throat. He bit your bottom lip in the midst of the kiss, cock twitching against your thigh when you whispered “harder.” He gave you what you asked for, biting hard enough to draw blood this time. And by the grace of god, it was in time with another brush of his fingers against that sweet spot inside of you, and another squeeze of your throat – sending you hurtling over the edge of release with an obscenely loud moan, prettier than anything he’d ever heard.

“Fuuuck, baby. I know that’s right,” he praised with that excited lilt to his voice, bucking his hips up to grind against your thigh, his boxers now sopping wet from your release. He pulled you into a kiss by your throat again, tasting blood as you made out sloppily.

Fuzzy-headed and panting, you reached for Jabber’s boxers, yanking them down and throwing them across the room. Still lounged against the headboard, Jabber sucked his fingers clean of you, moaning at the taste. He smiled around his fingers at the mewl you let out when he cut your panties off with Mankira. After he deactivated the Instrument to remove your top and bra, your shaky hands yanked his tank top off. Once all clothes were discarded, you reached for his long, thick dick – hard and leaking against his stomach. He sighed contentedly and let his head loll back against the headboard, relishing in the way you stroked him.

This stranger had cracked open something dangerous inside of you. The catalyst had undoubtedly been the feeling of Mankira against your throat. Now, you felt some sort of feral, horny adrenaline flowing through your veins, telling you to unleash every sick thought you’d ever had – the ones you kept to yourself, only fantasizing when touching yourself alone, because you knew it’d scare partners off – on this motherfucker. And something about the brainless grin he gave you, your blood smeared across his lips, told you he would be more than happy to take it all.

Wanting to see more of your blood on him, you kissed him again, wondering if he’d bite your lip again if you squeezed his dick just right – and he did, biting down hard as he gripped your hips, flesh spilling between his fingers. You tasted even more copper than before, and immediately began trailing kisses down his throat and chest, stopping occasionally to mark him up with bite marks and bloody kisses. Although faint, you could tell that Jabber was trembling with anticipation by the time your mouth actually reached his twitching, glossy tip.

A guttural, punched-out groan escaped him when the barbell on your tongue flicked across his slit. As you set to work – taking him down your throat, one hand squeezing the base and the other cradling his balls – one ringed hand twisted into your hair, pulling it into a ponytail for you, and the other gripped the sheets like his life truly depended on it.

“Fuuuck, baby,” Jabber stuttered out, gasping in a way that sounded pained when you pulled off just enough to suckle the tip, running the ball of your tongue piercing over the frenulum. Without thinking, he pushed your head down, forcing you to take his full length down your throat. It caught you off guard, and caused you to choke on it.

You pulled off, still holding it at the base, and slapped his cock.

Jabber cried out like he’d been wounded, but it faded into a pretty little whimper as his hips bucked up, trying to fuck into the hand that still held his cock.

“Godddd, do that again,” he pleaded pathetically, moaning at the mere thought of it.

“I’ll do it when I damn well please,” you countered, and he nodded obediently.

“Shiiit, yes, ma’am,” he replied, all whiny and breathy. He jerked violently when you trailed your sharply manicured nails up and down both sides of his cock as you sucked the tip again, moaning profusely now. “I’ll do whatever you want, baby. Promise. Just keep makin’ it hurt so damn goooood!”

“Make yourself useful and hold my hair again.”

Jabber did so before you’d even finished the sentence, pulling on it from his need to grip something, and the sensation went straight to your already-throbbing cunt.

You went back to sucking him off, alternating between digging your nails into his hips, stroking the few inches you couldn’t take without gagging, and cradling his balls.

“Close – fuuuuuck, I’m close, baby. I’m so close for you, dollface. So good– makin’ me feel so goddamn good,” Jabber rambled, scratched up hips twitching, careful to not thrust too deeply into your mouth. He wanted to be good so you’d give him what he wanted, just as much as he wanted you to punish him again.

That feral adrenaline bubbled up inside you again, so you pulled away, letting your teeth ever-so-gently scrape his mushroomed tip as you went, slapped his cock again, swallowed him whole, and gave his balls a squeeze – all in the span of what felt like half a second to Jabber.

“Oh – oh goddamn, girl – fuuuck!”

He came down your throat almost instantly, shaking so violently you faintly wondered if he was having a seizure. The string of curses, your name, and gibberish that fell from his lips ensured that he was still conscious, though.

Well… until he went limp, the ghost of a smile on his lips despite the ragged breathing.

Your eyes widened slightly, and once you swallowed all of him up, you moved to sit in his lap to wake him – trying to ignore the distracting feeling of his still-pulsing dick trapped between you, twitching against your pussy.

“Jabber,” you said sternly, slapping him gently. That didn’t work, so you slapped him a bit harder. He grumbled something nonsensical, then giggled, but still didn’t wake. So you slapped him again – hard. He woke with a jolt and a gasp, hands flying to your waist and bucking his hips up to grind his cock between your pussy lips before even realizing where he was or what’s going on.

Slowly, that deranged, toothy grin split his face, and he let out a manic laugh.

“Holy fucking shit,” Jabber said, laughing still. “You – you made me cum so hard I passed out.”

His hot hands massaged your hips, thumbs tracing the lines and swirls of the tattoos that adorned the soft flesh there.

“Kudos to you, girl. Like, for real. But, problem is: preeeetty sure I’m obsessed with you now. And when I’m obsessed – I’m real obsessed,” Jabber admitted in a tone befitting a giddy schoolboy with a crush – smiling with just enough insanity in his eyes that you knew he wasn’t joking.

“Aw, you got a crush on me now, sweetheart?” you teased, despite the fact that a less horned out brain would find it concerning that some stranger is now admittedly obsessed with you. Jabber’s pretty pink eyes darkened, and he nodded slowly – in a way that would probably concern someone in their right mind. But right then, it just looked hot to you.

“Yeeeaaahhh. I do,” Jabber replied, with a predatory slowness to his tone. “What about you? You got a crush on me, sugar?”

You nodded in the same way he had, only partially aware that you had the same psychotic look in your eyes as him. You might be a little obsessed with him too – or at least, with this deranged desire he was bringing out of you. And the way he took everything you had to give so, so well.

Both of your hands wrapped around his throat applying just the slightest pressure, and you kissed him again. Jabber smiled into the kiss, then whispered against your lips, “On your knees for me. I’ve been dreaming about the way your tats will look in an arch since I first laid eyes on you.”

He moved behind you while you did as he bade you, dropping into a nasty arch as his hands came to rest on your hips. He sucked in a breath through his teeth, running his hands all over your back, hips, and ass to trace the swirls of dark ink decorating your body. He paid extra attention to the spots where traces of ink were missing, from old wounds.

“Hottest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever seen,” Jabber whispered. You could hear the smile in his voice, but you turned your head just enough to see it for yourself, swaying your hips and pushing back against him.

“Do somethin’ about it then.”

Jabber grabbed the base of his cock, and slowly pushed into your syrupy, dripping pussy. Both of you moaned, and he pulled your hips back til they were flush against his, landing a harsh slap against your ass before beginning to drill into you. The pace became frenzied almost immediately, a mix of him thrusting into you in deep, powerful strokes that had you feeling him in your throat, and you fucking back against him, keeping pace as well as you could.

After he lifted your hips and changed his angle a little, it didn’t take long before you were nearly screaming into the sheets, praying the music from the bar downstairs would drown you out for the sake of the poor patrons – but also not giving much of a shit if it didn’t.

“Hit me.”

Jabber groaned, enthralled by the request itself. He slapped your ass – hard – leaving a distinct, welted handprint there, but he knew it had the desired effect when you clenched around him so hard he choked. So he did it again, and again, and again, until you were screaming.

“Ughh, that’s right, baby. Scream for me,” Jabber encouraged, smirking. He reached down to grab you by the throat and lift you until your back was flush to his chest, the sound of your screaming and obscene, wet skin slapping echoing throughout the room. “C’mon, pretty, say my name while you’re at it.”

“Jabber! Fuck!”

“Aaaaatta girl, keep goin’. Whose pussy is this?”

“Yours, oh my god!”

“Whose, huh? Answer right, sweet thing. Say my name all pretty for me again.”

“Jabber’s! Fuck, it’s yours, Jabber!” you wailed, voice going hoarse and eyes rolling back as you came.

“Yeeaahhh it is,” he laughed, fucking you through your orgasm, groaning at the feeling of you milking his cock so perfectly. The second your spasming pussy began to calm down, he threw you back onto the bed, rolled you over, hooked your legs over his shoulders, and folded you in half before pounding into you again. He took the new position as an opportunity to wrap a hand around the back of your head, grabbing a fistful of your hair at the base of your neck with his left hand, and squeezing your throat with the right hand again. “You’re mine, ain’t you, babes? C’mon, say you’re mine.”

“I will,” you panted, then smiled with bloodied teeth as he applied pressure to your throat. “If you bring out Mankira again.”

Jabber giggled madly, and held your gaze as his eyes and hand glowed pink in the dim room, and blades extended from the fingers on his right hand.

“How ‘bout this? You say what I wanna hear, and I’ll mark you up just a lil,” he propositioned, and his hips stuttered when you clenched around him at the thought. He already knew your answer from your body’s reaction, but you nodded in secondary confirmation. “These claws will make you feel a little floaty, but it’ll feel good, alright?”

“You gonna let me mark you up, too?”

Jabber laughed maniacally, “Be my guest, pretty girl.”

He ran a blade across the tops of both your breasts, as well as a line down the center of your bottom lip, and down the middle of your sternum. The pain was nothing more than a sting, but the way the head of his cock kept bullying your sweet spot made the combination of sensations exquisite. You moaned, loud and broken, as slivers of blood bloomed the wake of the blade – small but effective cuts, like deep paper cuts.

Jabber let your hand reach out and turn the blade on him, slicing a horizontal line above his collarbone and another across his pectoral, before drawing your initials in the center of his chest. He moaned at the feeling as well, overwhelmed from it, slamming his hand down beside your head and leaning down to kiss you.

When he pulled away a bit, you found that he’d slashed through the mattress, and your blood had mixed together on your chests. He ducked his head down to lap at the cuts on your tits like a thirsty dog, moaning at the taste of your blood as he sucked a nipple into his mouth. You arched off the bed, pressing your chest further into his mouth, and he rolled the bud between his teeth, earning another scream from you.

“Easy, girl, I got ya. But we made a deal, baby. Tell me what I wanna hear,” he whispered, kissing up your chest, up your neck, and mouthing at your jawline, smearing blood all over you in the process. The smell filled your nostrils – along with the heady scent of sex filling the room – and you wrapped your arms around his torso, digging your nails into his back and scratching down. He hissed through his teeth, hips bucking into you wildly, then with lightning speed, grabbed you by the jaw – the blades just scarcely avoiding your face. “Tell me.”

“I’m yours, Jabber,” you gasped, and he grinned lazily, glowing pink eyes half-lidded and content. He leaned down again to kiss you, sharing the taste of your blood from his reddened teeth and tongue. “Are you mine too, sweetheart? Hm?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely I’m yours,” Jabber replied instantly, groaning and diving in for another messy kiss.

Faint traces of the anesthesia from Mankira fully set in then, and it made the edges of your minds fuzzy. Jabber let his weight press you into the mattress more as he kept fucking you with harsh, powerful strokes. He deactivated the Mankira on his right hand to wrap it around your throat again, moaning more when your nails dug into his back again.

“Hit me,” he begged, desperate and broken. “I’m so close for you, baby, please – hit me.”

A loud, stinging slap landed on his cheek, and he whimpered as his hips stuttered.

“So good, sweet thing, soooo good. You close too, pretty? Wanna feel you cream all over my cock. Want it so bad.”

“Bite me.”

Jabber ducked his head down to bite your neck, hard. Blood bloomed there too, his sharp canines breaking the skin with relative ease. The scream that tore from your throat burned a little, and you felt yourself falling into an orgasm headlong – legs shaking around his neck, tears spilling from your eyes, cunt beginning to milk an orgasm out of him. But what really did him in – aside from how beautiful you looked with fresh tears and running mascara – was another slap across his cheek. A pitchy, whiny sound fell from his lips as his cum flooded your insides, hips grinding against you to fuck it deeper into you – wanting to mark you on the inside, just like he had all over the outside.

He let his entire body fall on top of you, not minding the little “oof” you let out. He was heavy, but it felt nice, especially with his slowly-softening cock still nestled inside of you. Although he hesitated, as though a bit of his bravado had subsided, Jabber pressed slow, sleepy kisses all across your throat and collarbone, admiring the bite marks, cuts, and slowly drying blood littering your pretty skin.

You traced your nails all over his back in mindless circles, causing a random twitch or shiver from his overly-sensitive body. Your other hand rested comfortingly on the back of his neck, cradling his head against you. It was obvious that you both needed a clean-up – a full-body shower, honestly – but both of you could feel fatigue seeping into your bones.

“So… did ya mean it?”

Jabber’s quiet voice broke the silence, his head stilling against your chest.

“Mean what?”

“That you’re mine…. And that I’m yours…. Or was that just some bullshit pillow talk?”

You laughed softly, but it didn’t sound teasing, and Jabber found that he loved the sound.

“Well, we don’t know a thing about each other, ya know. Might be a bit fast to belong to one another, don’tcha think?”

“Might be a bit fast for us to have our initials carved into each other’s tits. So, I ain’t keepin’ score if you ain’t.”

You laughed again, and Jabber smiled against your skin.

“Fair point.”

“Soooo?”

“….Yeah, alright. You gotta take me on an actual date, though.”

“Deal.”

a few weeks later

Jabber made good on his promise. A total of seven dates and just as many more nasty, filthy, raunchy-ass hookups later, was when it all changed.

“There you are.”

You didn’t know a voice so familiar could send such chills down your spine.

Kinda hot.

Jabber perched above the glowing green exit sign like a viper ready to strike, eyeing Rudo with manic glee in his magenta eyes.

Also kinda hot.

He hadn’t noticed you yet, primarily due to the fact that you still had your full-coverage Cleaner mask on, rather than just the standard partial mask part. He remained locked in on his primary prey. Part of you was grateful, because this gave you a second to process the realization that –

“He’s a Raider!” Gris announced, just as Jabber’s iron grip on the wall caused the cement to explode.

Sure, the two of you had discussed occupations. But it seems the truth of your occupation as a Cleaner had been met with a lie: that he was a simple wanderer and aspiring scientist, spending his free time experimenting with toxins. You’d even outright asked if his occasionally purple attire meant he was secretly a Raider, but he’d simply tucked some hair behind your ear, kissed your nose, and gave a convincing, “Don’t be silly, babycakes! Of course not!”

When the dust settled and Jabber began a tense exchange with Gris and Rudo, you kept quiet, unsure of whether your presence would be an asset or a catalyst.

However, the moment he mentioned having hurt Zanka, all bets were off.

“But if you come quietly,” Jabber said to Rudo, “I’ll make sure it won’t hurt a bit.”

“And what about me, sweetheart?” you interjected sweetly, stepping in front of Rudo and shoulder-checking him a bit, trying to urge the poor kid outta the way. Jabber’s eyes darted to you, face softening as he finally took notice of you – especially once you removed the entirety of your mark. His eyes outright lit up then, and he broke into a smile. “You gonna hurt me a little?”

“Baby!” Jabber exclaimed, bouncing from one foot to the other excitedly. You felt Rudo tense behind you, but he kept quiet. “I was so hopin’ I’d run into you here!”

“Can’t say the same to you. I distinctly remember you tellin’ me you’re not a Raider.”

Jabber was certain the venom in your voice was far more deadly than anything he had encountered before. It’d have been hot, if it hadn’t been for the underlying tone of disappointment, and the frown on your pretty face.

“Aha, yeah, so…. Funny story about that,” Jabber began awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck with a nervous smile. “I sorta… lied?”

“I can see that.”

“Ain’t notin’ a lil head can’t fix, right??”

The audible cringes from a grand total of five Supporters, and a soft gag from Rudo, would forever haunt you.

“Sweet offer, but no. I don’t fuck with Raiders,” you seethed, and Jabber frowned.

“No, no, baby – wait, okay? It’s like, forbidden love or some shit. We can work this out,” Jabber protested, then scratched his neck again. “Well, ya know… after I take the lil Sphereite to the boss man. Gotta job to do. You understand, don’tcha, pretty?”

“Look, I couldn’t care less about whatever lover’s quarrel you two’ve got goin’ on, but you’re dealing with me now,” Gris interjected, stepping forward to stand beside you and push Rudo back further. Jabber’s attempt at a sweet expression faded into irritation as he turned to Gris, clearly pissed about being interrupted, and his Mankira-covered hand raised towards Gris. Your hand moved to rest upon your Vital Instrument. “You need to understand one thing: I protect my team no matter what.”

“Ohhh, you’re one of them Supporters or whatever. The chumps Cleaners like to keep around for some reason…. So, chump, what can you do?”

In the blink of an eye, Jabber used the back of his forearm to push you to the side – hard. You managed to stay on your feet as you slid backwards a few yards, finding enough traction to stop in a cloud of dirt just a moment later. But it was too late.

“Oh, little Sphereite, and my pretty girl…. Promise y’all ain’t gonna crash out on me, a’ight?” Jabber said, feigned concern dripping from every word. Your eyes darted to Gris, and it felt like every nerve in your body became a live wire when you saw it.

Mankira, stabbed a few inches deep into his torso.

“I think he’s already dead. But don’t worry. It’s all good….” The air was collectively stolen from the lungs of everyone in the room, and before anyone could move a muscle – the remainder of the blades were pushed entirely through Gris and clean out the other side. “The weak are worth less than the stain they leave behind!”

You were the first to react, lunging at Jabber with a nauseating mix of hurt, disappointment, and rage pouring out of your very soul, Vital Instrument drawn and ready to strike. Rudo followed closely behind, shock and rage of his own fueling him.

Unfortunately for you, Jabber pinned you to a pillar after a few minutes, and tilted his head at you with a frown, just a couple inches from your face.

“C’mon now, baby. I’m used to you tryna hurt me, but not like this,” he pouted. “Not how you’re supposed to treat your boyfriend, ya know.”

“You’re not my fucking boyfriend,” you spat, and Jabber’s frown deepened, looking genuinely upset. It was quickly replaced with a wicked smile, and he grabbed your jaw with his left hand.

“I’ll always be yours, and you’ll always be mine. Ain’t no changin’ that, gorgeous,” he said in an even, earnest tone. “No matter what you say or do, we will always belong to each other.”

“In your fucking dreams.”

“You’re so hot when you’re pissed. But how ‘bout you worry about your own dreams for a while. Okay, baby?” Jabber said, his tone sickeningly sweet and condescending.

Only then did you feel it: the right-hand claws of Mankira puncturing your abdomen, just enough that the neurotoxins were beginning to haze your mind.

“No,” you gasped, shoving him away by the shoulders. As Rudo began to approach from behind him, calling out your name frantically, your knees buckled and you slid down the pillar behind you until you reached the ground.

Jabber crouched down to look you in the eyes, that same wicked smile on his lips. He leaned forward to kiss you quickly, and your limbs were already too heavy to protest. As your eyes fluttered closed and you slumped down to the ground, he whispered, “Night night, gorgeous. Dream of me.”