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An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
What better way to celebrate the week than by posting a post-canon fic where Minthara and Lae'zel deal with spies, assassination plots, and the joys of planning to kill Vlaakith together? It's been way too long since I've written something like this for them.
Rating: M for canon-typical violence and incredibly mild sexual content
Ship: Minthara/Lae'zel
Summary:
As the Great Gith Rebellion continues, Lae'zel and Minthara savor the capture of Crèche K'liir. But they cannot rest long after their victory, and Vlaakith's methods to stamp out the rebellion grow with every passing day.
Smooth As Silk, Cool As Air (Baldur's Gate 3 fanfiction)
Lae'zelmancer Week is here! I couldn't miss the date.
The prompt for day 1 is 'silk', so here's a little prequel story to Some Like 'Em Doughy, a modern and human AU about Lae'zel's first date with Minthara.
Ship: Lae'zel/Minthara
WC: 3,880
Rating: E
Warnings: Age-gap relationship, shameless smut (with strap-ons, praise and face-sitting), alcohol, mentions of smoking.
You can read it under the cut or on AO3. Thanks a lot for reading and commenting, y'all are the best!
“Sorry I'm late.”
That deep voice makes her look up immediately from the menu she was checking without much interest. Lae'zel's breath hitches at the sight of her date. The dark jeans enhancing those slender legs. The eggplant-colored silken shirt that would look great on her bedroom floor. The half-smirk, enhanced by dark lipstick. The sharp nose and cheekbones. The icy blue eyes. The two locks of platinum blond hair that have escaped the otherwise perfect bun.
“I have not been waiting for long,” Lae'zel responds when the ability to speak returns to her brain. “It took me longer than expected to find the place.”
Great opening line, she tells herself. She sounds like an idiot. Lucky for her, the other woman chuckles, throwing her head back. The gesture makes her thin neck look even longer. Lae'zel looks away to avoid imagining what it must be like to graze on it, leaving her mark on such pale, delicate skin.
“I assume this is not one of the most popular spots amongst your generation,” Minthara comments.
Minthara. Lae'zel has never been good with names, but this one is engraved on her brain after the many times she has read and reread the note while gathering the courage to make the phone call. I wonder if you are as delicious as that croissant. This is my phone number. Don't lose it. Minthara. And a tiny doodle of a heart.
In fact, until she arrived, Lae'zel had been feeling ridiculously young and out of place in that bar. This is definitely not the place she would have chosen for a first date. Her tank top and ripped jeans stand out among all the blouses, corduroy trousers and dresses. Her leather bracelets are a stark contrast to the fancy watches and golden jewelry around her. Even the waiter in a dark uniform stared her up and down with an arched eyebrow before leading her to an empty table.
Speaking of him, he turns up few seconds after Minthara has taken her seat with his best customer service smile. Lae'zel can feel the heat rising to her cheeks. Although many of the names she has seen on the menu sound familiar from the mixing class she took last year, she doesn't even know what half of them are. Not to mention the prices make her feel dizzy.
“Bring us a bottle of your best Tyche pink,” Minthara orders.
“Excellent choice, madam!” the waiter approves.
His attitude is so extremely polite Lae'zel almost expects him to bow. Once he's out of earshot, Minthara gives her a long look. Those crystalline eyes are as enticing as they are intimidating, piercing through her, examining her like she's transparent. With a quiet and deep inhale, Lae'zel tries her best not to fidget.
“Do you like Tyche pink?” Minthara asks her. “You strike me as a Tyche pink girl.”
“I am not familiar with wines,” Lae'zel confesses.
“I see. Sober by choice? More of a beer drinker?”
Lae'zel hesitates. Between working in the café, her side hustle as a delivery girl and her last year of cooking school, she barely has a chance to go out. Let alone afford anything fancier than the cheapest beer available or those disgusting energy drinks she has to guzzle constantly. In fact, paying for that bottle, even if they split the check, will force her to live on instant noodles for the rest of the week.
“I... do not go out often,” she says, deciding to keep it vague.
“Ah, I understand. Very responsible of you!”
No further questions. No comments. Only approval. Lae'zel wants to sigh in relief. The Tyche pink, impeccably balanced on a metallic tray, interrupts the conversation. Minthara watches the waiter remove the cork and then motions for him to leave as she holds the bottle between her long and thin fingers.
“So, tell me about yourself,” she says as she pours some into Lae'zel's cup. “What do you like to do when you're not making the most perfect croissant I have ever tasted?”
The compliment tingles Lae'zel's heart. And to think she had almost quit when she was told that her job would involve baking! But it was either pay the enrolment fee one more year or biting the bullet.
Unfortunately, she doesn't have much to say.
“Sadly, my work and studies occupy most of my time,” she replies, looking down at the liquid swirling in her cup.
“What are you studying?” Minthara wants to know.
“This is my final year in the Baldur's Gate School of Culinary Arts.”
“Culinary Arts? That explains everything! The Rosymorn Café has improved considerably in the past few months; must have been since they hired you.”
Another compliment. Lae'zel hides the sheepish smile behind her glass as she takes it to her lips.
“Hey! Where are your manners?” Minthara scolds her playfully. “You're not supposed to take your first sip without a toast!”
“My bad. Apologies.”
Their fingers brush gently as they let their glasses meet. A pleasant shiver bolts from Lae'zel's scalp all the way down to the small of her back. The intensity of Minthara's gaze trained on her as she sips intensifies the sensation even more. She welcomes the slight burn in her throat and stomach as she swallows the wine, oddly comforting. Gods, she can barely recall the last time she drank it.
Putting her glass aside to be able to see her without any obstacles, Minthara rests her elbow on the table and cups her own chin. Her jawline is as defined as the rest of her facial features.
“Are you an aspiring chef, then?” she wonders.
“Yes, that is my intention.”
“You're on the right track, by the looks of it. Say, what makes a young person such as yourself pursue a culinary career? Especially in a world in which everyone seems to favor ready-made meals and barely has time to cook.”
“I was forced to take a cooking class at school and realized I had a taste and a talent for it. If I am allowed to say so myself,” Lae'zel adds.
“Certainly!”
No-one she knows had ever shown so much interest. Most of the times she's been asked why she decided to become a chef, it sounds mocking or accusatory. You could have been such a great police officer! Why would you throw it all away to feed people?
“Your wife will be very lucky,” the corner of Minthara's mouth curls into a smirk.
“I do not have a wife. Not even a girlfriend.”
“I assumed that much. Otherwise, you wouldn't have accepted a date with a customer who drew a heart and wrote her number on the check.”
She's not wrong. The heat that creeps up Lae'zel's chest has nothing to do with the wine. This is ridiculous. Lae'zel doesn't get crushes. One-night stands and casual sex with former classmates aside, the only person she's ever considered is Karlach, and they both work much better as friends. Not that she has time for a relationship of any kind right now.
And yet, there's something about this woman. Something irresistible and intriguing. Perhaps it's that kind of charm and confidence only older lesbians have. There's something elegant in the way she sips her wine, leaving a dark mark on the rim of her glass and never breaking eye contact. And the way she gazes at her, as though nothing else in the world existed, as though she had all the time in the world to listen to her answers.
Hmm. Thinking about it, this is starting to feel like a one-sided questioning. She needs to ask Minthara something, or else she will think she's rude. Lae'zel has been called that and much worse insults many times, but for once she's worried about making a good impression. Not in the same way as in job interviews or any other situations that are a mere matter of survival, though.
“And you? What do you do?” Lae'zel wants to know.
Apart from going to Rosymorn on your coffee break and leaving flirtatious notes to the kitchen personnel, she almost adds. Yet she decides not to attempt that poor joke. It's too similar to the one Minthara made before, so she will come across as unoriginal and unfunny.
“I'm an accountant,” Minthara replies.
“Oh. You must be passionate about money and numbers.”
A scoff escapes through Minthara's prominent nose. It suits her well. Gives her a slightly fox-like appearance.
“I wouldn't say so,” she responds. “My job can be rather tedious. And it is, most of the time. But it is also necessary and, what's more important, pays well.”
Interesting. She's honest, but also practical. And while Lae'zel admires people who chase their goals no matter how unrealistic others might find them, she can also appreciate that kind of maturity.
“And what is it you enjoy doing?”
“I like reading, especially a good murder mystery or true crime stories. And I love a show, be it a film, a play or a local comedian.”
Sounds like a woman of culture. And even though some of those interests could be regarded as cliché, Minthara seems absolutely unapologetic about them. Lae'zel nods for her to continue and downs the last of her drink. Instantly, as she keeps telling her about the last time she went to the local theater, Minthara refills Lae'zel's glass. Without hesitating. Without offering first. Without waiting for Lae'zel to ask or reach for the bottle herself.
Before she notices, they've been sitting there for over two hours. The wine is almost gone, but the conversation is far from running dry. The talk about free-time activities and hobbies leads to a discussion about the lack of original ideas in film and television, and how both books and media seem to grow larger and more time-consuming every day in spite of people being increasingly busy. That, in turn, brings about comparisons between current society and that of a few decades ago. Childhood stories. Questions about Lae'zel's hometown.
Minthara appears to have something to say about many topics. She's insightful and analytical, seeing connections between facts Lae'zel would have never considered. And, what surprises her the most, she seems genuinely interested in getting to know her. She's inquisitive, but not nosy. Chin resting on her palm, she hangs on every single one of Lae'zel's words. It's unusual. And it feels amazing.
When there's nothing left to drink and most customers are leaving the place, Lae'zel is sad to think that the date will be over soon. She'd gladly spend two more hours listening to Minthara's smoky alto, to the witty remarks she deadpans, and watching the spark of satisfaction glint in her eyes when she makes Lae'zel chuckle. A click of her fingers and a gesture with her hand are enough to let the waiter know it's time for him to bring the check. Nervously, Lae'zel searches her small leather backpack, wondering if she'll have enough money to contribute her part and hopefully take the night bus home. That's when she feels a perfectly manicured hand on hers to stop her.
“My treat,” Minthara says. “You're in my territory tonight. You can buy my a drink when we go to yours.”
When. Not if. Lae'zel gives her a grateful nod and watches her offer a bill to the waiter.
“Shall I walk you home or would you like to go somewhere else?” Minthara suggests once they're both out.
“I do not live nearby,” Lae'zel says. “And I should not continue drinking or stay out until late.”
“That's fair. But let me help you find a cab. I'm enjoying the company.”
The night is chilly. The clouds gathering on the dark sky promise rain that could start falling any minute, but a tiny burst of heat fills the pit of Lae'zel's stomach. She watches Minthara fumble in her bag and take out a pack of cigarettes and a black lighter.
“Do you smoke?” she wonders, holding out the open pack in Lae'zel's direction.
“Never.”
“Oh.” Minthara freezes and puts everything back into her back. “Apologies.”
“It is alright,” Lae'zel replies. “I do not like cigarettes, but smoke does not bother me as long as it is in an open space.”
Truth be told, she hates them, but Minthara has been incredibly kind and considerate to her all evening and she feels like she should reciprocate. And, while she despises the habit, her insides tingle at the image of Minthara holding a cigarette between her lips, exhaling blue spirals, watching them rise and get lost in the black canvas above them.
“Are you sure?” Minthara arches her light eyebrows. “If you're not a smoker – better for you, by the way – you're probably not terribly fond of the smell. And, quite honestly, I'd much rather taste your lips than a cigarette.”
Straight to the point. No games, no hinting and hoping, no beating around the bush. Those words hit Lae'zel like a tidal wave and drown her in an excitement she hasn't felt in years.
As if possessed, she grabs Minthara by the waist and crashes her lips against hers. She tastes of lipstick and wine, classy and seductive. It's not a shy or innocent kiss; Minthara's tongue enters her mouth without asking for permission, conquering more than exploring.
She's so different from any of Lae'zel's previous lovers.
They stumble their way to a nearby alley, not drunk, but undoubtedly intoxicated by passion. Lae'zel's back hits the brick wall as a hand slides under her tank top, tracing her flat and toned stomach, cupping her breast and twisting her nipple. Thank the gods she decided not to wear a bra in spite of Karlach's advice. One of her hands tugs at Minthara's hair, ruining her perfect bun, while the other feels her up over the silken shirt. A moan escapes Lae'zel as the other woman's teeth capture her bottom lip.
Then something cold and wet falls on her forehead.
It's starting to rain. Unfortunately, the heat of the moment is not enough to protect them from it. Eyes sparkling feverishly in the lantern's light, Minthara holds out her hand.
“I live two streets away,” she says in a husky whisper. “We could stay warm and comfortable until the sky clears.”
Hand in hand, they rush through the curtain of raindrops and resume their kissing and fondling few minutes later in Minthara's elevator. If this is all part of Minthara's plan to get her naked, it's a really clever one; Lae'zel can't wait to get out of those soaked clothes.
It must be really nice to live alone. Not being forced to choose between loud and messy roommates or spending every day confined in her tiny room, door locked and earplugs on while she tries to study. That's the first thought on Lae'zel's mind as she lets Minthara lead her to her queen-sized bed, separated from the tidy, minimalistic living room by a divider. In spite of the dim warm light, the absence of dirty clothes and food containers on the couch almost makes her cry tears of joy. Even the ashtray on the coffee table is remarkably clean and not full to brim with butts and cinder. There's a pretty much imperceptible hint of smoke in the air, well hidden thanks to the wooden diffuser on the shelf by the entrance that spits sandalwood-scented clouds every now and then. Much nicer than the weed that lingers in the endless corridor of her apartment.
Another kiss – fiercer, hungrier – pulls her out of her musings. Those long and thin fingers finding the button of her jeans remind her that there's no time to waste. She likes this – no toying around, no being coy.
Just like she had predicted, the blouse of purple silk looks much better on the floor, an improvised mat by Minthara's bed. And what hides beneath it is not bad either. She would have never expected Minthara to choose a simple white bra with lacy rims, but it works on her. The enticing grin on her lips and the light hair falling untidily on her shoulders make her look at least ten years younger. Her collarbones and ribs are a little too visible for Lae'zel's taste, but her skin is soft, splashed with a few freckles across the chest and upper arms. Leaving a trail of wet kisses on her neck and chin, Lae'zel unbuttons her jeans and peels them off those slim legs that snake around her waist and draw her closer, urgent and demanding.
Her breasts are small, but nicely round, her pale nipples perking up in anticipation. Lae'zel takes one of them into her mouth and forms a seal around it with her lips. She licks and sucks like a thirsty newborn, enjoying Minthara's gasps as she tugs at her hair.
“Bite.” It's not a request, but a demand. “Don't be afraid.”
Eager to please, Lae'zel catches the erected bud between her teeth. She's delighted to hear a symphony of guttural moans, nails scratching her naked back. Then, after giving the other breast the same treatment, she covers that flat yet soft stomach in kisses, stopping only when she finds a gray waistband. She looks up at her lover with an unspoken question. Instead of replying, Minthara cups her face and pulls her into another kiss, her tongue bursting in once more. She shifts underneath Lae'zel, gazing seductively into her eyes as she takes off her underwear and drops it.
Lust burns within Lae'zel at the sight. Minthara is sprawled in front of her, legs spread wide. Her dangling, lopsided inner lips glisten in the half-light, ready to welcome her.
“Do you want to taste it?” Minthara suggests in a low voice, emphasizing the question with a significant glance downwards.
“Yes,” Lae'zel breathes out.
She would have expected Minthara to lie down and spread her legs father apart. She would have expected her to cup her face and guide it to her core. To kiss her passionately, biting and pushing her tongue aggressively into her mouth. Or to chuckle and tease her for being so keen, perhaps.
But nothing in the world would have prepared her for what happened next.
“Good girl.”
In a surprising display of strength and agility for her petite frame, Minthara hooks her leg around Lae'zel and pulls her onto the bed. With Lae'zel lying on her back, head resting on the pillows, Minthara crawls on her hands and knees until she's straddling her face, holding onto the bars of the headboard.
She's exquisite. Strong and heady like the wine they've shared, with tangy notes and the faint sweet taste of her arousal. Her long and labyrinthine folds feel delightful against Lae'zel's tongue. Her small boobs, free from the bra, bounce with every shudder, with every sway of her hips as she seeks the addictive friction, wordlessly asking Lae'zel for more. No, not asking. Demanding. Her thighs on Lae'zel's ears muffle the groans and exclamations that fall from her mouth. Harder. Faster. Don't stop. Watching her chew on her bottom lip, letting her head hang, Lae'zel clutches even tighter onto her waist, sliding her tongue deeper and intensifying her lapping.
A moan escapes Lae'zel when the juices of Minthara's orgasm flood her mouth. She can feel Minthara's legs shaking. Watches her rise from the bed, almost losing her balance in the process, breathless and flushed. Sweat beads on her back. The yellowish glow of the lamp bathes her skin, giving her the appearance of a golden sculpture. She strokes Lae'zel's cheek, a tiny glimpse of softness before grabbing her chin and planting another rough kiss on her mouth.
“That was a delight,” she whispers. “Now it's your turn. How do you like toys?”
The word toys alone is enough to make Lae'zel shiver. She's used them before, of course she has, but none of her lovers have been bold enough to suggest them like that. And none of them dared to use them on her. This is all new. And intriguing.
Her pulse races while she watches Minthara open the drawer of her nightstand and pull out a black leather harness. She slides her long legs into the straps and adjusts the dildo, covering it with a condom. It's not a very big one, but it's got ridges and a relatively realistic shape in spite of the bright pink color.
With the smirk and the hungry look of a spider about to devour its prey, Minthara climbs onto the bed on her knees. Lae'zel's breath shudders.
“Turn around,” Minthara's voice comes out as a dark whisper. “Show me how much of a good girl you can be.”
Her hands gripping the headboard. Her face sinking into the pillow. Her lover's hands holding her in place as she thrusts in and out with no mercy. Those long and skilled fingers rubbing her in perfect synchronization with the movement of her hips. Those teeth leaving their mark on her shoulders.
This is all so strange. So different. And yet, Lae'zel finds herself enjoying it. She would have never thought the feeling of not being in control could be so exhilarating. Whenever Minthara's breath tickles her ear, whenever she tells her how well she is taking her or how beautiful she looks while being fucked, the throbbing in her lower belly grows stronger. So strong it is unbearable.
Lae'zel's nail dig into the mattress when the storm breaks loose. She arches her back and clenches her teeth to repress a roar. Her trembling arms and legs won't hold her up much longer. Only Minthara's arm, wrapped around her waist, keeps her from collapsing completely onto those light gray sheets.
After a few breathless minutes, aftershocks still making her body twitch, Minthara pulls out slowly. Her free hand tucks a few strands of hair behind Lae'zel's ear in a way that feels uncharacteristically tender, almost motherly. The familiar sensation of her warm breath caressing the side of her face accompanies the words that come out of the older woman's mouth.
“Such a perfect girl.”
Perfect. No-one has ever called her perfect. Lae'zel has been praised for her cooking skills, for her strength and endurance, for her sinewy frame, but never for her beauty. Or for just being. Heat rises to her cheeks again. This time, it's her who turns her face and hungrily seeks Minthara's lips.
And the scariest thing of all is, satisfied as she is, all she can think is that she could get used to this. She's already craving for more of this experience, wondering if it will happen again.
“We should get some rest now,” Minthara says. “Unless you want me to drive you home.”
Why would she want to return to her tiny, chaotic apartment now that she's had a taste of something much better? Why would she trade those comfortable pillows, those smooth sheets that still smell like Minthara, for her rough cot and the noise of her careless roommates staggering into their rooms in the wee hours? Her brain hasn't processed it, not yet, but she longs to fall asleep next to this fascinating stranger who is powerful and domineering, but also makes her feel safe and cared for like no-one ever has.
“I can stay here for tonight,” Lae'zel finally answers.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Wrote a lil Laethara fic last night as a gift to @mischiefwife for help with something.
This is some pre-relationship feelings realization that happens over the course of Minthara telling Lae'zel about one of the times she killed for her House in Menzoberranzan.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
It's been too long since I've written for my favorite rarepair. This time, let's have some more fun with leather and... gasp some softness? Well, a little bit of softness.
Written for Kinktober 2024.
Rating: E
Ship: Minthara/Lae'zel
Tags and AO3 Summary under the break.
Tags: Explicit Sexual Content, Shameless Smut, Leather Kink, Service Kink, Dom/sub, Cunnilingus, Strap-Ons, Aftercare, Established Relationship
Summary:
Lae'zel and Minthara have been unable to meet at night on the arduous journey from Reithwin to Baldur's Gate, and Minthara's desires have been pent up for far too long. Everything snaps once they're inside the city.
