#sub!rolan

First things first, Rolan is vocal. I don't care if he is domming, switching, or subbing. He is whimpering and moaning as you tease his hot body, tracing all his infernal features. But when it comes to sub-Rolan, he's extra vocal. Rutting into you, grunting in your ear, eyes furrowed as he works to get you closer to your edge, and when he feels you clench around him, a whine will escape his kiss-bitten lips. 

Though I feel the first time you hear Rolan whimper (him showing his submissive side), it was not during sex…it was in sundries. It's late, and you're trying to get Rolan to come to bed with you. Still, he keeps going on about cleaning up the shop, repeating 'One minute' or 'Almost done, just a few more things.' and you're growing tired of this. Finally, as he's walking past you with a stack of books he's planning on putting away, you finally have had enough. Reaching out to grab his fleeing figure, your hand wraps around the base of his tail with a firm pull. The pull, the feeling of your tight grip on his sensitive skin, so suddenly it was involuntary as the sharp whimper broke from him. All the books fall to the floor, and his fists quickly ball from the sudden wave of pleasure washing through him. Dropping his tail, you're going through a mix of emotions. One, guilt because you didn't want to hurt him, and two, that noise that erupted from him was making your cheeks flush and something else stir deep within you. Rolan is a different shade of red now as he looks back at you, he's handsome face contorted in embarrassment. That night in bed, you two don't talk about it. 

Then, some time passes, and Rolan can't stop thinking about it. Late at night, he imagines that embarrassing noise, that sharp wave that rushes his groin, the feeling of your hands pulling…controlling…Before he knows it, he's palming his growing cock to the thoughts of you in complete control…pulling, gripping, grinding, pushing… A moan leaves him, and he snaps back to reality, to the mess he made…Fuck he wants that…

It's been a typical date night for you two; Cal and Lia make themselves scarce, and Rolan cooks a lovely dinner for you both. Now curled up together on the couch reading your book he's reading his in comfortable silence. Then his tail is flops onto your lap. Curious, you look at Rolan, and he still seems to read, but you see his eyes subtly sliding over to look at you. He slides his eyes back, and you feel the blush growing on your face because, just like him…you kept thinking about that night, and this was the hint you needed…

 Slowly, you close your book and trace your hand to the sensitive base. He looks to still be reading, but in actuality, he is burning up on the inside, the book's text blurring, his face blushing. As your hand grips the base, that same noise purrs out from his chest, and with a breathless expression, he turns to you and lets out a soft whisper of "More…" 

Cut to Rolan, tears of overwhelming pleasure in his eyes as he moans and whines as his tail grids itself on your exposed sex, the ribbed texture of his tail mouth watering on your clit; one hand has a fist full of his chestnut hair, forcing his back to arch, and the other rubbing his stiff drooling erection. Rolan desperately buckling bucking his hips for more as his voice keeps giving shirt gasps of want and moans. Your voice is calm as you ask, "More? Does my Archmage want more? Whining so beautifully for me…" 

After that night and lengthy converstaion about kinks you want to try, safety, and your love for each other, you continued exploring each other more and, to your eager delight, found out more about Rolan. 

 Praise, Praise, PRAISE!!!

Praise is very important for Rolan in general, but during sex? You better know he needs it! On your knees, looking up at him as his glazed-over eyes watch you taking his cock to the base, making sure to rake your hand over his naked body calling him "So beautiful." Riding him so desperately, bouncing up and down on him, hearing him moan and shudder chants of "f-fuck!" and "Fe-feels-feels so good!". Cup his sweaty, flushed face and tenderly kisses his trembling lips as you breathe. "Doing so good for me, you're so good, Rolan…My good boy." He could cum from the praise alone if edged properly. 

In my HC for sub-Rolan, there are two things Rolan loves so much. That's you on top and eating you out. So when you ride his face… It's udder bliss. 

Rolan's mouth is salivating as you hover over him, "Sure you want it?" A desperate plea leaves his lips as his claws dig into your hips, trying to bring you down to his eager mouth. Lowering yourself down, Rolan immediately drives his nose to your sensitive clit breathing in your essence and making you hum, watching him get drunk off your scent alone. His hot tongue makes you throw your head back as it licks long strips up to your clit then quickly, lapping at your quivering entrance. Fully sat on his face, Rolan begins to get more desperate with your delicious cunt the more he licks and sucks. It's perfect (partly because of him studying the best ways to get you off). His tongue thrusts into you; you have to grip his horns to keep yourself from falling forward. And that stirs something in him. His whine vibrates through you as he rocks your hips to rub your clit against his nose. The grips on his horns tighten, and worried you're hurting him, you look down, and your breathing stops. Rolan's golden eyes lidded and clouded with lust, his tail practically wagging underneath him. Fuck he's beautiful and utterly drunk off you. Whisper to him how good he makes you feel, and his lips will move to suck on your sensitive bud, and you will be riding out your orgasm as he drinks everything you can give him.  

Now Faerun seems to have lots of spare rope lying around, which made me think that it can be used in very interesting ways…

My personal favorite is the rope used to bind our favorite teifling wizard…

Rolan is so used to wanting/being in control of everything that when he finally opens up, he fully wants to let go as he places the rope in your hands. He loves and trusts you, and your heart swells with the knowledge that you can be the one who can do this for him. 

It seems to make him so sensitive, his body shaking in expectation as you lazily drag your hands over him. His rigged length throbbing and leaking glistening precum as you continue your teasing. Hands bound and in fists that seem to clench and unclench with every intrusion of your oiled fingers. You two had been going so slow, talking through it and having prepped for it nights prior, and now, as a lewd moan rips from his chest, he's so ready for you; he needs it…

A gentle kiss is pressed to his tail, slung over your shoulders as your hand, now done oiling Rolan's entrance with him full prepped. You’re now coating the strap with the warmed liquid. Lining up carefully, tapping the tip of the strap to his entrance, you whisper sweet praises in his fevered ears before sliding into him all the way to the hilt of the toy. Moving gently in and out and rubbing against his sensitive walls. The sounds get lewder and louder as you angle the tip to rub against his sensitive spot, he loses himself to the madding pleasure. Finally, after riding against you, chanting and moaning loudly for you, his body will suddenly still as his cum shoots in thick spurts into the bed sheets. 

Give him kisses all up his sweaty spine for aftercare and praise him endlessly with love. Help clean him up with a rag (or your tongue) and untie him, taking the time to rub his wrist. Rolan, of course, floods you with kisses and takes care of you in any way you want. 

She murmurs a prayer to Sharess over the salve, made with a slightly different recipe this time. She says an incantation, too, to hold back the burning effect of the ingredient within.

‘What is that?’ Rolan asks. Ever-impatient. The cleric allows herself a brief eye roll whilst her back is to him, the corner of her lip curling with amusement. 

‘On all fours,’ she orders, ignoring him. Sharess, it is hard not to grasp the perfect peach of his ass, presented to her so firm and ripe every time. Blushing such a pretty coral by nature that the faintest kneading of it would make it red, and a punishment the deepest crimson. His raised tail frames the offering— temptation— perfectly.

As her finger sinks in, and Rolan cants up needily in response to it, she thinks yet again of how little she wants to see him go. How much there still is to know about him.

She rubs the new salve deep, not allowing herself even a wistful moment’s lingering over his pleasure. There is far too much to think about, to let herself act on impulse now.

‘There,’ she murmurs, ringing his entrance too. Rolan issues a low groan, sharply cut off, and tenses his thighs around his new cage. His cock is swelling inside it, despite the recent orgasm. His first taste of captivity. 

It must be rather distracting, because he forgets to ask if he can pull his trousers back up; and when she orders him to, he takes a moment to remember what he was asking about.

‘What have you just applied to me?’ he asks, flushing as he spreads his thighs a fraction and then closes them again. 

‘Is the cage noticeable?’ she asks.

He sets his teeth and nods, reddening further. 

‘It should only need to be a temporary solution.

Together with the ginger paste—’

‘Ginger?’ 

‘Yes.’

Rolan flashes her a look, half-affronted, half-nervous. He scowls, swallows, and straightens. 

‘It won’t be necessary anyway. I suppose… that enchantment was delaying the effect somehow.’

‘Yes. You will only feel it if you insert something larger than a finger. However, I have to warn you, once it starts burning, it may take some time to end.’

‘How does that work with—’ he scowls— ‘normal bodily processes.’

‘You are a mage too. You know that magic works on intent. Only your deliberate self-pleasuring will result in pain.’

His tail twists tight around his ankle. ‘I see.’

‘You’ll need to apply the serum to your hole every day, following the same pattern I did. If you follow my previous instructions to the letter, then no further consequences should arise.’

‘I understand. I… will visit you again?’

Hesitation flickers across his face, the gold sunbeams of his eyes shifting in search of something new: permission.

She smiles, and nods. ‘Two tendays from now, to check your progress, and two tendays’ more after that. Unless—’

Rolan’s brow furrows. He’s waiting. 

‘Unless— ?’

‘There’s some kind of emergency. But I doubt there will be now. You understand the importance of following the regimen to the letter.’

She lets her voice be closed off. No room for bad behaviour, no hook of hope for him that misbehaving will get him somewhere he wants to be. If there is something he would like, more than this, he will have to search deep and find the words within himself. 

Rolan frowns, his hand hovering over the jar. Abruptly, he takes it up, and thrusts it in his pocket, nodding to her.

‘Until then,’ she says.

His cheek twitches. ‘Indeed.’ 

To her almost-disappointment, he arrives at the next appointment quietly pliant, without the lashing tail or tensed jaw that would tell her he’d broken the rules. If he had disobeyed her, he would have flushed far harder; and then she could have revelled in the thought of him squirming all day and night, burning up with her punishment. The prayer to Sharess was to make it last, and to fruitlessly swell his cock with it until he knew what true denial felt like.

But as it is, he has been entirely well-behaved, and so she is professional with him. She can still feel his yearning for her touch. He disrobes quickly, looking to her for approval; presses his ass to her fingers, not seeking more depth than she will give, but offering himself earnestly, without the awkward ceremony that accompanied his first visits. She feels his want, rising beneath the surface of his skin to meet her fingers, the warmth that spreads over his cheeks when she glances at his face. But he doesn’t say it. 

She pulls her finger free.

‘Two more tendays.’

Rolan’s frown is inscrutable, a glimpse of feeling stiffened to nothingness before she can read it. He sweeps up his spellbook, and leaves, and for a moment she watches the door, wondering what it is that truly drives him most, lust or caution, which will win out— 

Seventeen days later, she gets her answer, a frantic hammering on the door as she attends the chafed nipples of a nursing patriar.

Her patient is interrupted mid-flow, expressing how good the salve feels, what a relief it is to get a moment to herself—

‘Please!’ shouts the voice from beyond the door, before commanding itself again. ‘It is urgent— I— Gods!’

It is almost sobbed, and yet still disguised— but she would recognise that cadence anywhere.

‘One moment,’ she tells her patient reassuringly, and stalks out of the door, slamming it behind her. 

This time, he has not chosen to disguise himself as a Dragonborn, but as an elf, and the illusion is flickering in and out as he clings to the post outside her house, a tear trickling down his cheek.

‘Please!’ he gasps. ‘Let me in— ’

‘You will have to wait until my appointment is finished,’ she tells him. The mere act of denying him mercy makes her cunt slick and her tongue wet— and so too does the way he lunges for her as she shuts the door once more between them, unsuccessfully seizing at her sleeve.

Fuck, it is almost impossible to concentrate, hearing his gasps of pain from beyond the door; even such a well-worn set of instructions as for a nursing mother’s salve becomes suddenly block-like and obstructive on her tongue. She enunciates them carefully still, hiding a quickening pulse and fast-deepening lust behind her professional demeanour. 

‘Twice a day, or as needed,’ she murmurs, opening a drawer just for a brief second to check that another salve entirely is where she remembered putting it. ‘Come again after the next full moon; I’ll be able to get you some stronger ingredients after a fresh Tearblossom harvest.’

‘Thank you,’ says the patriar gratefully, gathering up her embroidered robes. ‘Is all well outside? I hope I have not interrupted an emergency—’

‘Not at all,’ the cleric says smoothly. ‘But if that is all—’

As the patriar hurries out, Rolan stumbles in, catching her roughly with his shoulder as he goes. She shoots the cleric a glance of annoyance as she leaves, that the cleric returns with a set jaw and a nod of recognition, seizing him by the collar when he’s safely inside.

The last of his disguise falls off him like ripped silk, showing the mess beneath. Sweating and dishevelled, Rolan claws at his collar buttons, buttoned hastily into the wrong holes.

‘Thank the Gods,’ he gasps. ‘I could not wait–’

‘No matter how desperate you are, you will not take it my other patients,’ she interrupts. The glow in Rolan’s eyes is melting with tears, his lips flushed and wet, arched in agonising pain. 

Pushing your fingers deeper into his mouth, Rolan's incomprehensible mumbling only got worse as you reached the back of his throat.

Looking into his abyssal eyes, two golden rings met your gaze. You dared him to bite down or even think of scratching your delicate skin with his teeth.

"Where's your magic now?"

You rolled your hips, forcing a moan after another out of him. His leaking cock squeezed between his own body and your plush thighs. Teasing the thing each time you moved and grinded your hips on top of it.

Light began bending around his hands, sparks flew and a faint glow grew brighter and brighter as he attempted to channel the weave yet again.

You pressed your fingers harder against his tongue, holding it between your two fingers and rubbing it.

The magic fizzled immediately. Without a spoken incantation, his cute little studious magic education was worthless.

You've wanted to do this since the first time you met him, his cocky attitude, his air of false superiority. They just let anyone become a wizard these days, apparently.

But even then, these wizards really forgot their place, first Gale and now Rolan. It's about time you reminded them that no matter how much knowledge they shove down their throats, they will never be chosen by the weave itself like you were.

You are magic incarnation itself. and the only use you have of any wizard is to serve you. That's their true purpose that they forgot.

"And you call yourself a mage, pathetic." After his second failed attempt at casting anything, not even a simple cantrip, you retracted your fingers from his mouth.

Grabbing one of his horns, you pulled his face closer to yours as you observed the mess you made out of him. A look of anger and shame filled his eyes, breathing heavily with drool dripping down the corner of his lips.

But you weren't blind. You saw clearly behind the curtains of hate he veiled his every emotion with. You saw pure arousal.

Pressing your lips against his, Rolan tried resisting you at first, but that act of his quickly faded away as he melted into your mouth. Forgetting his own anger for a second at the taste of your lips, your tongue against his and god, did you always smell so good-

A sudden heat sparked at the tip of his tail, making him jolt as his eyes flew wide open.

With the hold on his horn, you kept him in place, your other hand raised as a flame slowly evaporated from your hand.

Deepening the kiss, you silently cast another spell. A sharp shard of ice resembling a knife. Carefully holding it between your fingers as you ran it over the tip of his tail, slowly teasing the ridges and bumps.

"Look at me." You broke the kiss, "open your mouth wider."

With a look of disbelief, Rolan's eyes darted between you and the ice knife. "You can't be seriously considering-"

Another pull on his horn, "I said open wide. Wizard."

You felt his cock twitch under you. He closed his eyes before opening his mouth in defeat, hands clenched and lips trembling.

"Good, now look at me." For a person who's supposed to be good at following spell instructions, it was honestly embarrassing how much wizards struggled with simple orders.

Rolan begrudgingly obeyed, eyes looking up at you in total submission as his mouth stayed open wide.

"Good boy."

Pressing the flat side of the ice knife on his tongue, the coldness contrasted against the heat inside him. His attempt at squirming to escape the cold only led to his cock getting rubbed against you ever more.

Dragging the knife slowly on his tongue, you watched the sharp edges dull and melt away, leaving nothing but a trail of water dripping from his mouth alongside his own drool.

"You really are a mess if you only could see yourself right now."

Leaning behind, you grabbed his cock from under you as you held the swollen thing in your hand, giving it a firm pump.

"A leaking mess from both ends, very fitting."

With a few more pumps, you forced moan after moan from his mouth. You've been edging him for what felt like hours, and you had no doubt he'd do anything you ask of him for release.

"Tell me, wizard, do you know what education sorcerers get about their magic?" You pressed your thumb against the slit on his cockhead, toying with it and rubbing the sensitive head.

Any attempt Rolan made at speaking ended up being incomprehensible, nothing was even gagging his mouth. Maybe you accidentally fried his brain, how disappointing.

He settled for shaking his head instead.

"None. We get nothing." You tightened your grip against the base of his cock while still toying with the head with the other hand. "You either control it, or die trying."

Your hands were drenched in his precum, the wet sounds of you pumping his cock got louder the faster you went.

"We grew up very aware of our own fragile morality, which is why you don't see us blowing up ourselves very often, you know like your kind tends to do." He was nodding along, clearly brainless and not even comprehending a single word you're saying.

He was getting close, his tail was moving wildly and his thighs were shaking under you.

"You think you can just throw money to buy scrolls and learn spells, as if true magic can ever be bought."

Keeping up the brutal pace, you kept speaking. "Rolan, do you want to cum?"

His haze filled eyes stared at you in desperation, tears collecting at the corners of them. Somehow his skin was even redder than it normally is.

"Ple…" his breath was shaky, "please." He frantically nodded.

You smiled at him.

"Then beg."

Stopping your movement, you gave his cock one final squeeze before leaving it to the cold night air.

"No…nonono you can't I was" To your disappointment, his hand unconsciously reached over to stroke his cock.

You slapped his hand away. To your surprise, he reacted quickly as his hands glowed, lips moving to whisper an incantation.

Not wasting a second, you were even quicker in altering your magic. It barely took any effort to conjure a square beneath him that completely paralysed his body.

"You really don't understand it, do you? Or maybe you simply just can't? It's embarrassing to still be unable to comprehend how much better I am than you in every way." Concentrating on keeping your spell active, you let him completely drink in the feeling of being bound and unable to move below you.

"I thought wizards are supposed to be intelligent, But what's the point of being very smart if you have the wisdom of a magic 8 ball?" Dismissing the square of magic, Rolan was free to move again.

"How did you-"

"I am faster than you, and I can cast more spells in less time. It was never a competition to begin with." You looked at him with disappointment, "and I thought you agreed to obey beforehand when we negotiated how this would go. What do you have to say for yourself?"

Taking a deep breath, Rolan steadied himself as he spoke. "I wasn't thinking….I apologise. My lips moved on their own, and I don't even remember what spell I was casting."

Your gaze softened as you cupped his face gently, "do you want a break? Maybe get some water or just completely stop."

With a quiet chuckle, Rolan shook his head, "by the nine hells no. But thank you, for stopping me"

You smiled at him, "Now, where were we?..."

Moving your hand from his face, you reached upwards as you tugged his horns again. "Oh yes. Beg."

A whine died at the back of Rolan's throat, "please…let me cum" his cock throbbed.

"And why should I? You've been nothing but useless this entire time. What do they even teach you at these schools?" You pulled his horn more, making him wince in pain as he bit his lips to try and suppress the sounds.

Rolan swallowed his pride as he looked at you with pleading eyes. "Please…please mighty sorcerer, let this pathetic wizard cum."

With a snort, you let go of his horns at his embarrassing words. "Maybe there is a use for you after all."

Raising your hips, you moved his cock with your hand until it pressed against the tightness of your entrance. Rolan's breath hitched as his lips trembled. His cock smearing precum against your opening.

Leaning over, you pressed your lips to his again. With a slow sensual kiss, you left his mouth hanging open afterwards. Looked him in the eyes as you opened yours just above his, spitting into his mouth.

"Maybe if I get enough of my fluids inside you, you'll end up with some of my magic." You watched him keep your spit in his mouth, struggling not to swallow it yet. "I guess in a way that'd make me your patron wouldn't it."

Giving him the permission to swallow, you felt his needy cock pressing more against your hole.

"Although you'd end up as a warlock then, wouldn't you?" Pushing your hips down slowly, you felt him stretch you open. "Ah I'm just kidding, after all who would ever want to fuck a warlock?" You saw the corners of his lips curl into a smile as he suppressed a laugh.

Your tightness enveloped him, inch by inch until he bottomed out inside you. His hands held onto your thighs as the pleasure overwhelmed him. Never daring to move his hips as he handed all of the control over to you.

Rocking yourself, you moved your hips at a slow pace. Your insides memorising the shape of his cock and making you the perfect fit. Pressing against all the good spots that made your hips stutter.

Rolan was struggling not to crumble, especially after all that edging. He just entered you, and he can feel his orgasm approaching fast. The way you bounced on his cock, the way your hips moved and how powerful you looked above him, it was all very overwhelming.

"I don't think…I can hold on much more." He breathed out, leaving marks on your thighs from how tightly he was gripping them.

"You may cum, Wizard. Be a good boy and do it for me, completely humiliate yourself for my amusement." You moved your hips faster, in and out, using his horns to steady yourself as you kept riding him.

True to his words, he barely lasted a minute more before white clouded his vision. Filling your insides with his seed and becoming a moaning mess in the process.

You felt him soften inside of you as you came to a stop. Giving a chance for the both of you to catch your breath.

You gave him another kiss, a quick one as you kissed the corner of his lips, moving to his cheek, then finally his forehead.

His arms wrapped around you in a hug.

"How are you feeling?" you whispered against his skin.

With an amused expression, he said. "Like I have more magic inside me now."

But then—

A thought crashed into her brain like a tornado in Kansas. Baldur’s Gate 3 couldn’t have possibly accounted for this particular scenario, right? It wouldn’t have programmed even the appearance of the inside of his tent, nor the impulsive, easy way she’d seduced him…

Was that why he looked so lost? So nervous?

“Are you—?” Rolan started, voice softer than she expected. Was that… concern? “That is—we don’t have to do this if you’re not comfortable.”

She raised an eyebrow. The hell was he on about now? What, she couldn’t zone out for one second like the Vietnam flashback dog without him trying to kill the mood?

Shaking her head, she stepped forward decisively, pressing her hands against his chest—only now, she wasn’t just toying with the fabric of his top. She was tugging.

“Shut up, Rolan,” she teased, lifting his shirt. Except, she’d completely forgotten to account for the fact that the guy had spiky-ass horns, for crying out loud!

He grunted as she inevitably got it stuck, but to his credit, he helped untangle the mess without comment. The moment he was free, she wasted no time, hands greedily roaming over his torso—the ridges of his muscles, the heat of his skin, the sheen of sweat. It was enough to enchant her, to distract her, just as she’d wanted. Still wanted.

Then, with a sharp shove, she sent him sprawling onto his bedroll. He caught himself on his elbows, golden eyes blazing up at her like a beacon. A Great Gatsby green light.

She licked her lips. “I like you like this.” Her grin turned wicked as she dragged her own top over her head, stretching her arms purposefully. “So obedient…”

“I’m—I’m not—”

His protest died the second his gaze landed on her tits. She saw it—the moment all rational thought left his body; pupils dilated and breath hitched as his trousers strained against his hardness in a way that could not be comfortable. And yet, he made no move to ease the pressure.

Just stared. Greedy. Wanting.

She snorted. Call her Derren Brown, cause she had him fully hypnotised.

Smirking, she knelt at the foot of his bedroll, crawling up him with slow, deliberate kisses trailing along his calves, his thighs… When she got dangerously close to where he really wanted her, she glanced up. Was that—was he drooling?

He peered down at her as if offended by her sudden interruption, his brows knitting in frustration even as his large, pleading eyes bore into her.

Such a brat… and so fucking hot!

“So obedient, and yet as impatient as ever,” she murmured, laughing as she tore her loosened hair from its tie and straddled his lap.

Rolan gasped loudly as she slid her fingers into his hair, his heartbeat hammering ferociously against her. God, she’d always thought he was handsome, but he was truly beautiful like this—flushed, panting, eyes darting between her lips and the space between them like he didn’t know where he wanted her more…

“Lo—” His voice was hoarse, but whatever he was about to say was obliterated the moment she nipped at his throat, sucking a mark just below his jaw. His hips bucked up into hers involuntarily, and fuck, she felt it—every bit of him, hard and needy beneath her, throbbing with the same tension coiling in her gut.

With a strangled groan, his hands shot up, squeezing at her breasts, claws faintly digging into her skin as he rolled her nipples between his fingers. A gasp tore from her throat, her hips rolling of their own accord, slow and wanting.

She barely held back a moan. Oh yeah, those antidepressants had deffo worn off, because she was pretty sure she could finish just from this alone if she wanted to.

But not yet. This was way too fun.

Grabbing his wrists, she yanked his hands off her and pressed them firmly against her thighs, leaning back just enough to admire the wrecked mess she’d already turned him into: sweat-dampened hair, and a half-lidded gaze that suited him oh-so well.

She chuckled. “Hmm? Was there something you wanted, Ro-Ro?”

Rolan swallowed thickly, fingers flexing against her thighs as she pinned them there. He was already so wound up that he was practically shaking beneath her.

“Lo, please,” he rasped. “I—” His dick throbbed against her, and another moan slipped from his lips as his head fell forward, mouth landing at the crook of her neck. He kissed into her skin, pleading. “I’m so hard—”

“I know,” she teased, tilting her head to give him more room as he sucked at her throat, his sharp teeth pinching slightly in a way that felt so fucking good. But she wouldn’t moan yet. He had to earn it. “What do you want me to do about it?”

A shiver ran through him, full-body, helpless. She was driving him insane, and she loved to see it!

“Help me,” he begged, his voice breathless, so unlike the arrogant, assured tone of his usual speech. “Please—I’ll do anything!”

Lo had to bite back a moan again. This really was just too perfect. He was so needy, so pathetic, so utterly at her mercy! Did he know how much this totally ruined her? Was he really that smart after all? This man, whose need for control clashed so heavily with her own… He’d really submit to her, just like that?

“Anything?” she echoed, mind momentarily blanking. Shit, he was literally setting her up for the ‘then perish’ meme, and she couldn’t even bring herself to say it!

His claws dug into her thighs, tearing the fabric with a sharp rip. His whole body trembled again, his open mouth panting against her skin—like it took every ounce of restraint not to just shred her clothes off entirely.

“Y-yes,” he begged. “Just tell me what to do…”

Fuck.

Music. To. Her. Ears.

She let him suck one last bruise into her skin before shoving him back—hard. His head hit the bedroll, and for a moment, he just stared up at her, chest heaving, golden eyes blown wide with something almost feral. Excitement. Anticipation.

She grinned, arching her back as she leaned in, teasing him with her closeness. His gaze flicked to her lips, and—god—his breath hitched, his whole body tensing like he was holding something back…

But why?

For just a second, she hesitated, something in the weight of his stare making her pulse stutter. But what the fuck was it doing that for?

No. No way. There was no way she’d do something so romantic as actually make out with the guy! And he didn’t really want her to, did he?

This was just sex. Really fucking fun sex.

She wiped the ridiculous thought from her mind as quickly as it came, a wicked smirk curling her lips.

“If you’ll do anything,” she purred, breathing hard over him. “Then be a good wizard and keep your hands where I put them.”

For a moment, his eyes narrowed, like he wanted to argue, but when she took his wrists and pinned them to the floor, he let her.

Oh, fuck yes!

“There we go,” she cooed, leaning down, her lips brushing his ear, tongue tracing the shell of it. “I’ll help you, alright. But not until I’m done playing with you.”

She trailed slow kisses down his jaw, then his throat, her hips rolling ceaselessly against his hardness as she took her time exploring him—her fingers tracing every ridge, every sharp edge. Beneath her, Rolan squirmed, whimpered, his hips jerking up into hers, and—

Fuck.

He was so hard it almost made her feel bad for him.

Lo smirked against his skin. “You really are quite the little pervert, aren’t you, Rolan?”

“Damnation—” His voice was wrecked. Desperate. “Fuck, Lo! I… I really…”

“Patience,” she teased, her own core throbbing as she reached his chest and brushed her lips over his left nipple, just barely grazing it. “You’re so eager. So needy.”

Rolan let out a shaky exhale, his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. “H-how could I not be? You’re torturing me!”

“Don’t be such a drama queen!” She scolded, now fully sucking at his nipple just to put him in his place.

He bucked hard beneath her, claws digging into the dirt in a desperate effort to keep his hands to himself. That restraint alone, she decided, was probably worthy of a small reward. How very noble of her!

With a satisfied hum, she finally moved lower, teasing her way down his torso until she started untying his trousers. He trembled in anticipation, his hips lifting eagerly as she started to pull the fabric lower, and lower, until—

“Hells—! Aaah!”

Rolan let out a full-bodied groan as his cock finally sprang free.

Lo ran her eyes over his length, an eager grin once again covering her face. Given how shameless this game was about fanservice, it wasn’t exactly a shock to see how big he was. But the ridges decorating it? The obscene amount of precum already slicking his length?

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

She swallowed hard, growing wetter just at the thought of how good it would feel inside of her.

“Holy—” she whispered without meaning to, her breath ghosting over his cock, causing him to tremble all over again.

Lo was trembling too as she pressed her lips to his tip, just for a moment before dragging her tongue along the underside in a slow, deliberate stroke.

Rolan jolted, a strangled moan breaking loudly from his throat. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, but he didn’t reach for her.

Good boy.

She took her time, licking, sucking, teasing, drawing out every sound he had to give her. And fuck, he was so responsive—every moan, every twitch, every broken gasp going straight to her core.

Then, when she finally took him into her mouth properly, hollowing her cheeks, sucking deep—

“F-fuck—”

His back arched. His whole body tensed.

“Your mouth is so—it’s too good, it’s too—!”

She realised much too late what was happening.

Rolan roared, his orgasm enrapturing him.

And Lo’s eyes went wide.

She sat back abruptly, mouth twisting as she swallowed on instinct; her nose scrunching with the taste of Rolan’s cum trickling down her throat.

She stared at him, barely able to process what had just happened. His face, however, said it all—pure, unfiltered horror. One hand slapped over his eyes, the other gripping the bedroll like he could physically sink into it and disappear. His cheeks flushed such a deep red she was genuinely concerned about his blood circulation.

How did this man have enough blood for all this blushing?!

‘A… chastity cage?’ Her client almost chokes, his tail twisting tight. ‘I came to you so I could stop wearing…devices… beneath my clothes. I am not a—’ Rolan fights for a suitable word—  ‘Freak.’

She’d like to ask him what a man who can’t control his urge to fill his asshole is then. A pervert? A whore? Her self-control is wearing increasingly thin, tempted anew at each meeting by his repression and desperation— and the elegant steel cage in her hand is not helping. But she remains impassive, letting Rolan vent his shame without comment.

He tries to argue further. 

‘It won’t work anyway. A simple Knock spell— ’

‘You would wake up half a Tower just to pleasure yourself?’ 

Rolan bites his tongue, and she smiles, pressing her point. ‘It wouldn’t matter anyway. I commissioned it especially for you yesterday. Since the Hero of the Gate brought back the secrets to making sussur weapons, the smiths around here have been innovating.’

‘What do you mean?’ Rolan asks, curious in spite of himself.

‘The lock itself is impregnated with sussur. It should be impervious to spells, without having any effect on your own casting ability. Now. Shall I put it on you?’

Rolan’s thighs clench. The breath he snatches is audible. Tantalising. 

‘I— how much was it? Do you expect me to— ’

‘Do you want this treatment to be effective? If you cannot stop yourself from masturbating then—’

His mouth twists; and then abruptly, he nods and begins to strip, refusing to look at her until he is undressed— and even then, his glance is quickly jerked away.

‘Go on then,’ he mutters. 

She reaches to move aside the length of his robe that still covers his cock; but Rolan, flushed, snatches it aside first. He is already stiffening.

‘Lie back,’ she tells him, and his eyes go wide; a glimpse of sweetness beneath the surface. 

He swallows, as if considering, for barely a moment— and then he obeys, slowly lowering himself down and opening his legs a little. She nudges one gently off the side of the bench, slipping into the gap.

Rolan whimpers as she takes his balls in her hand. His cock is almost fully swollen already, twitching as she brings the ring of the cage up to his balls.

‘Clench your muscles, and breathe. I know this process can be arousing—’

A noise of protest— or perhaps pure shame— escapes him.

‘I am trying,’ he gasps. 

She leans over him to take a bottle of oil from the counter, and he gasps again, screwing his eyes shut. And she’s not even touching him. The mere suggestion of her above him is enough.

‘Breathe,’ she murmurs, the oil pooling in her palm; and then she reaches to slick his balls with it. His tail lashes, catching her calf.

‘My apologies!’ he chokes out. 

‘Don’t worry about it,’ she says, and is immediately lashed again, more ferociously, as she takes one of his balls in her firm grasp and pulls it through the ring.

‘Fuck!’ he whimpers. ‘Zurgan—’

The second is through. She surveys his throbbing cock, and the needy trail of pre-come dribbling down its length. Rolan opens his eyes long enough to see her looking, and winces in shame.

‘We can’t put the cage on until you are soft,’ she says, taking the shaft in her hand.

‘I— oh, Gods! You’re not— going to— nfffff!’

He whines as she lets go.

‘Either I do it, or you’ll have to. If the act of being caged is arousing for you—’

Rolan’s lips arch in exquisite, mortified pain. She takes his flush as acknowledgement, and at last, a sharp, stilted nod as agreement.

‘I will do it,’ he gasps. ‘But…’

‘You struggle to come without something inside you?’

He looks revolted by himself, but he nods again. Sympathy twinges inside her, but so does a slash of pleasure. Rolan’s shame is beautiful, coloured in crimson flush and outlined in twisting, grimacing features; lips and brow and nose so elegant that the humiliation written on them only shines more brightly in contrast. For now, she lets neither feeling win out; merely reaches back briskly for yet another bottle.

‘I can’t let you put anything too large inside,’ she murmurs. ‘But I can help.’

‘Help— how? Ahh!’

She smears the first of the paste on his cock, rolling its sheath down so the head is fully exposed. The thrill of possession is hard to suppress. Her ownership of his cock is only temporary, but it will be hers; all its lovely length and girth crushed down beneath her lock and key.

‘Gods—’ Rolan whispers. ‘Is that— Chaunsel?’

‘Yes.’ 

She leaves him, legs wide open, to scrub it from her fingers before any more of its sensitising power blooms on her skin. Her fingers already feel alive to the chill water, and the rough sponge she scrapes them with; Rolan’s cock must be weeping.

‘I thought healers-- discouraged its use—’ he gasps, clinging on to coherence by a mere thread. ‘Oh Gods—’

His hand hesitates still, even as he’s biting his lip bloody with desperation. She raises an eyebrow, almost impressed by this last vestige of reserve.

‘It causes numbing for a few days, and regular use worsens the problem. But occasional use has its purposes.’ 

Rolan nods, trying to stifle a squirm. 

She takes up position again between his legs. ‘Now.’ Slicking two fingers, she presses them deep inside him. ‘Come for me.’

‘Ah!’ 

Rolan’s eyes fly open in surprise. His ass tightens around her fingers; for a second, she feels tension shoot through him and thinks he’s going to say he can’t do this; but then he slackens, submitting. Eyes locked on her, he closes his hand around his cock and begins to work it— tentatively at first, but soon urgently, his hips arching into her touch as her fingers find his pleasure and exert their practised pressure, strokes that make his stomach flutter and his fist grasp even tighter.

Sharess above— he is a vision, desperately trying to contain each wanton gasp, to stop his hips from bucking and his body from begging for more. Her cunt is soaking through her clerical robes, oceans of want that make her feel more divinely connected to her goddess than ever. She says nothing; only leans a little closer, inspects Rolan’s wild pupils for the glaze of near-orgasm and finds him so close to the edge.

‘I cannot—’ he sobs, punishing his cock with one rough stroke after another. ‘I can’t— I can’t— I— ahhhhhhhhhh!’ 

His come splatters the neat silver embroidery on his robes, ropes of pearl that are just as pretty to her eyes.

‘Good,’ she murmurs softly, stroking his taint. ‘Good.’

As she expected; it is less about his ass— though he does respond to it so well— and more about another’s touch. What she could do to him with both— a huge cock strapped to her hips, and her encouraging grip around his waist— 

Rolan groans, his eyes fluttering open. They don’t focus for several seconds, and he doesn’t speak for another minute more, waiting as she goes to pour another basin of water from the pitcher and wash her hands again.

He sits up abruptly as she comes back, catching enough breath to Prestidigitate his robes clean (though, she notes, a faint white stain still remains). Taking his softening cock in her hand, she wipes it clean— and draws it through the ring briskly, ignoring the whimpers still slipping from his lips. The Chaunsel will last some time yet, and he must feel the metal’s constriction acutely.

‘Now the cage,’ she tells him, and slips him into its grasp. His cock fits it perfectly; room to get ever so slightly inflamed but no more. She chose well. 

Rolan is utterly still, watching with open lips and held breath as she hooks the lock into place and closes it.

Click. She tucks the key in her pocket, and he lets the breath go.

‘Hells,’ he says quietly. 

His hips shift slightly, trying out its weight.

‘I also have some straps to wear around your waist; if it proves a little too heavy, those will help to hold its weight. It’s important that you’re comfortable.’

‘How can I be— ’ he counters, sarcastic, but he swallows the rest of his sentence and shifts again, looking at her uncertainly. ‘I will take them. Thank you.’

‘Do you think you’ll be able to resist using toys now?’

Rolan’s hand wanders briefly to his caged cock. He pulls it away, as if scalded, flushing to the temples. 

‘I… do not know,’ he confesses. ‘I wish I could promise you…. I don’t know what possesses me. Even now— this cage—’

‘Does it arouse you too?’

He groans faintly.

‘Give it some time,’ she tells him. ‘Some men find chastity allows them to think less about their cocks. Their desires.’

‘And others?’ 

‘I have heard that for some… but it doesn’t matter. I trust you, Rolan. You have promised me not to touch yourself again, or to fill yourself again, and I know you understand why it’s important. If you want to break yourself of this habit, and return your body to its former state—’

‘I do,’ Rolan gasps. ‘But— please. Wretched Gods. Is there nothing else you can do to stop me?’

So if Tav’s an actual Bhaalspawn? Perfect. He’s already inches away from death; he doesn’t even have to pretend. He can just whimper and gasp and struggle all he wants, succumbing to them in a haze of bliss made possible by the pretence that there's nothing he can do about it.

Even his sharp fangs are mere decoration compared to theirs. He goads them into biting, sinking his teeth into their shoulder as they pin him down, knowing they will bite him back so much harder that his eyes will roll back in his head. Marked by Bhaal's Chosen— taken as their own—