#teiflings

It was an understatement to say you were proud of Rolan. He was an accomplished wizard, loving brother and - in your opinion-the perfect partner. One that you could see yourself spending the rest of your days with. That's not to say he didn't get on your nerves. Not only with his grumpy tendencies but more so with his habit of over working.  You adored his passion and drive to further his studies but it had led to more and more long lonely nights. Either from him traveling with colleagues or the tiefling locking himself in his study to work on a multitude of projects until morning light. 

He had returned home only yesterday having spent almost two full weeks away and yet he still seems dead set to spend all evening pouring over his notes. The Wizard's focus was getting worse by the day. Not that he hadn't been overjoyed to see you. He had practically knocked you off your feet with the intensity of his hug when he came striding through the door. You had spent hours locked in each other's arms in your large shared bed. Steadily he moved between tales of his journey and peppering your skin with feverish kisses.

Rolan had taken you greedily. Frantic, practically tripping over himself trying to touch all of you at once. He couldn't quite find a voice for his needs but you swayed to him happily, matching his clumsy passion. There was plenty of the time to truly savor each other. But still your patience was running thin.

Somehow you had once again found yourself in an empty bedroom starving for your partner. Last night had been a sweet reunion but it did little to quell the fire Rolan lad lit in you while he was away. He had only been gone a few days when a letter arrived that left you breathless. Deciding to skip over the details of his journey he focused instead on his longing for you.

'What little beauty there is to be had here is dwarfed a thousand times by the thought of you. I dream of you always. Of being wrapped in your divine cunt. Of feeling it pulse against my tongue. Gods, I am your slave. Use me only for your pleasure. Let me worship you, my heart.'

His words rang in your head even now, pooling that familiar heat down below. How you wanted him. Wanted to hear such words from his own lips. From the moment you met you’d been in love with the deep rumble of his voice. Nothing gave you such satisfaction as pulling music from Rolan’s lips as you made love. It wasn't easy. Even still he had trouble fully letting himself go. Often he would stifle his words and moans to your great dismay. You recall gazing up at him as you ran your tongue over his length to find his hand clamped tightly over his mouth muffling his cries. A senseless action as you two had been the only people home at the time.  

Swiftly you move to your wardrobe every drop of patience spent. You need him; to wring every moan, grunt and whimper out of that man or it would kill you. He deserves to relish in and express his pleasure freely. Perhaps he just needs a little push.

Much to your relief the tower was empty by this hour. You moved lightly through the halls wearing nothing but a sheer purple dressing gown.

You tap your knuckles against the hard oak door as you enter his study. He was exactly as you had pictured him, four open books across his desk and him writing furiously.

"Beloved!" He half glances at you as he takes a quick slip from his wine glass. "Now don't worry," he continues flipping pages. "I hadn't forgotten about you. This was intended to be a short little report but I just keep finding revisions that seem a shame not to add."

Going above and beyond as always. You can't help but smile as you watch him, those tantalizing eyes darting from paper to paper. Just the sight of him makes the warmth of excitement flare in you. You feel your nipples hardening against the thin fabric you wore. He's dressed down; the lacing on his ruffled white shirt undone to his mid chest and sleeves pushed up past the elbow. Such a small glimpse of extra skin makes your heart race. Hopefully you can rise the same reaction.

"You have such a way with words it would be rude not to." You purr, moving to his side.

"I'll be done soon, truly." He can hear the need in your voice. "Then I'm all yours."

You hum amused as you lift his glass to take a deep drink.

"You sound like you don't believe me." Rolan's hand passes through the space once hosting his glass. "Have I ever let you down in the-"

His eyes finally snap to you and his words catch sharply in his throat, blood rushing to his face. You laugh, finishing the glass.

" What's the matter, my love? You're usually so generous with your words."

"I- I-you," He stammers.

"I seem to remember such generosity in a letter you wrote."

You undo the gown. His eyes fix on you as you let it fall to the floor. As many times as he's seen it the sight of you in your full glory drives him wild. 

"Do you remember that letter?"

"Oh, of course." His voice is barely a whisper, his body tense as if ready to pounce on you.

To his surprise you straddle him and his hands fly to your hips drawing you closer. Both of you groan into a deep kiss as you grind yourself down against the quickly growing tent in his trousers.

"Do you want to please me?" You growl half into his mouth.

"More than anything." He gasps between kisses. 

You pull away, placing a finger over his lips. His beaming cheeks and  pleading eyes stoke your maddening hunger for him.

"Then let me please you. I need to feel it and hear it. Let me drown in you, Rolan."

"Gods above," He groans.

You can see he's already holding back. But you would have to help him along by targeting his weak points. You start with his neck, ghosting your lips over him, letting the tension build. Your hot breath sends a shiver down his spine as he grasps your thighs trying to push you on.

At last you press your lips to his skin earning a soft hiss. You try to go slow but make your need apparent with the ferocity of your mouth. A deep sigh escapes him as you attack his jawline, sucking and teasing as you go. Rolan bucks his hips suddenly, huffing. He's too shy to ask but he's dying for you to touch his ears.

A quick bite to the lobe earns another sharp gasp. You laugh knitting your fingers through his hair- Gods his sounds make your heart flutter.

"Oh? Did you like that, my love?" You coo into his neck. There's words on his lips but they melt away as your tongue slowly traces the shell of his ear right to the tip. "Hhm? What was that? Are you unsure? But you're usually so strong in your convictions."  You repeat the action making him squirm underneath you. You grind down on his bulge creating a delicious friction. "However can I know you're enjoying yourself if you don't tell me?"

"It's good." He chokes out at last, meeting the movements of your eager hips.

"What is? We can't all be scholars you know." You draw away from him slightly. "What do you want?"

He laughs as a devilish grin spreads across his parted lips.

"Everything. You're so, you're so- " his words falter. He still feels your breath on him but the lack of contact makes it clear you're waiting. It's only in times like this when Rolan has difficulty summoning words.

"I've never heard of a wizard so speechless." You goad him and start to move away. "Must want to get back to his dusty old books rather than-"

"No!" He cries, locking his arms around you keeping you in place. "Your mouth- your tongue feels so fucking good I can't stand it."

You lick a strip down his neck while bringing your hands to the sides of his head, making sure to brush your fingers across the points of his ears, pulling a low shudder from him.

"There's the man that wrote me such an inspiring letter. That made me plunge my fingers in myself and dream of his cock."

He swears through his teeth, his eyes sparkling with desire.

"And where do you want my mouth?" You continue practically able to feel the heat flash across his face. Your tongue slides across his clavicle  and then moves lower to lap at the ridges on his chest. "Here, then?"

'No,' he breathes.

You swear you can feel him twitch in his pants. Moving your mouth lower you open his shirt completely and do away with it. You stop at the sharp ridge above his stomach.

"Oh, here?"

He shakes his head, face now blazing hot.  Pained whines fall from him as your mouth climbs back up the path of his chest. It isn't until you graze his Adam's apple that he breaks.

"My cock! Fuck I need your mouth on my cock. I need it now, please." He pleads like his life is at stake.

Instantly you're on the floor in front of him pushing his legs apart. You let out a moan yourself once you've sprung him free. You admire just how heavy he is in your hands and run your fingers over the ridges you wish were currently pounding into you.

With a throaty gasp a few drops of precum spill from his head just as you flick your tongue over it. You don't make him wait long before you take him into your mouth.

His moans ring through the room; the music you've been dying to hear. You waste no time taking him apart. Your mouth runs up and down his full length as you hollow your cheeks.  With a loud pop you release him, a string of saliva still connecting you.

Rolan stairs transfixed, his exquisitely carved chest rising and falling rapidly.

"Like this?"

"Yes! Love, it's perfect. Keep sucking, just like that."

Before the words are past his lips you've swallowed him down again, your eyes never leaving his. Now comes your turn to rid the fears that hold you back. As you bob your head you make no mind of the symphony of wet, lewd noises filling the air.

The obscene display tears a guttural groan from him. Unable to hold off any longer move you press a hand to your wetness as you relish taking him like this. The feel, the sound, the smell. It was quite literally making your mouth water. You switch to running your tongue from base to tip stopping only to tease him with a few quick flicks at his head. Drunk on lust at the sounds of his grunts and murmurs you dip your fingers into your dripping hole. 

"Nine hells." He shakes out, breathing hard. "Tell me, what have I done to deserve such adoration?”

Rolan’s eye then focuses on your hands. One pleasuring yourself and the other roaming your own body. You throw your head back with a soft sigh, his unyielding gaze intensifying your pleasure.

"What a wanton little thing you are." Rolan licks his lips in awe.

You protest for a moment as he snatches your hand away from your sex but hum in approval as he licks them clean.

"You sweet thing.”He coos after slowly releasing your digits. “Let me take care of that."

The swift flourish of magic swirls pass and you scream as you find yourself tumbling back on the plush blankets of your bed. Somehow it still catches you off guard.

Rolan has your legs pushed apart in seconds, taking a moment to breathe you in before going to work. Gently pulling your folds open his expert fingers, his tongue ravished you with the same pace you had set. In moments he had your hips shaking involuntarily. Each painfully sweet lash on your clit making you chant his name.

Yet you still weren't sated in your need to watch your lover twist in ecstasy. Taking him by the horns you pull his mouth to yours, lapping at his lips to savor the taste of your sex.

"How can I be of service?" Rolan purrs, a wicked smile forming.

"Lay back.”

He complies and you straddle his hips once more. You drag your core against his agonizingly hard cock. Now you were free to delight in the bumps and ridges you so adored. Your slick coats you both allowing you to slide over him with ease.

Rolan tries to caress you but you pull his hands away and pin them to the bed making him shudder.

"No, love. Leave them here." You roll your hips slowly bearing down, pushing a sharp whimper from his throat. "You just focus on this." Another roll, another whine. As you move your hands away he digs his claws into the sheets to obey. His eyes rake over you, especially as your speed increases. The sight of your breasts bouncing never failed to make him feral with lust. 

Quickly the last of his composure is slipping away as you grind over him. His hair framing his face wildly, his body trembling with effort not to take control and plunge into you. He howls when his tip catches on your entrance.

"Oh is this what you want now? What a greedy thing you are."  You tease.

"Please, mercy." he rasps out as you lower yourself ever so slightly only to pull away. “Give it to me, please! Love, I need you.” 

“How do you need me?” you wiggle your hips, toying with him. 

“I need to be inside.” He breathes, his frustration palpable as his tail snaps against the mattress. 

With unsteady thighs you sink enough to just take in his tip before slowly drawing back.

“Fuck, I need you.” Rolan cries, his voice breaking “I need to stretch that perfect tight little cunt. To feel it cum all over my cock. Gods, please fuck me!” 

Unable to hold back any longer your body obeys and you take all of him at once. The sudden action rips a howl from you both. The slight pain and overwhelming pleasure of being so full does little to slow you down and you continue your animalistic pace. 

The song spilling from Rolan’s lips has you intoxicated utterly. It’s a lurid rumble of repeating ‘yes’ and ‘please’ and ‘fuck me’ and words in his own native tongue. You ride his cock with all you have drinking in the sight of him. His claws deep in the mattress now, he’s writhing and wailing below you. 

Finally you pull his hands to your hips and his body jumps to match your rhythm. He’s practically sobbing now, eyes swimming with rapture and concentration as he drives himself into you. A spike of heat pulls at your core and with another desperate thrust you come undone, clenching uncontrollably around him. Another wave of unbearable pleasure hits you as your lover pulses and spills his hot load inside of you. He rides it out, ending his flurry of moans with a few deep ragged breaths. 

Rolan catches you in his arms before you even realize you’ve started to fall forward and presses you to his chest. You languish there enjoying the rhythm of his heartbeat. 

“I don’t deserve you.” he says, tangling his fingers in your hair. 

“You’re so dramatic” you sigh “I’ve just missed you. A lot.”   

“Well, with a greeting like that I have half a mind to leave you more often.” he smirks. 

“Don’t you dare,” you warn. 

“Of course not. I wouldn’t dream of it.” Rolan kisses the top of your head, holding you tightly to him until you both fall into slumber. 

Thanks for reading! 

Zevlor's lungs ache as he runs through the grand tapestried walls of the castle. Rolan's command was clear: Storm through the palace, gather every noble you can find and herd them into the throne room where Rolan waits. 

As Zevlor rushes past his fellow brothers and sisters in arms, he feels that slight flicker of hope, hope for justice, that all they have fought for and lost will have been worth it. Passing by each companion, he sees that though they have the upper hand in the fight, they have not yet won. Waldemar's guards desperately try to cut them down, but the tieflings are desperate, too. Though, unlike the guards, the tieflings' desperation had long since boiled into a rage, one just as powerful as any sense of duty, and it continues fueling them all to fight back. This isn't just them taking a castle; this is them taking back their lives. 

Zevlor skidded past Karlach as she cut down two guards in a scream. The fire within her calmed but was still burning as she swung down her axe. To the right, Larkessa provides defense for Alfria, and though the sound of her strumming could hardly be heard over the ensuing combat, the magic that resonated from each plucked cord was still felt as it bolstered and reverberated through her allies. Zevlor's burning eyes swept around the battle, on the lookout for any stranglers or escapees but spying none. A shrill cry of a scream catches his attention as he sees Tilses being overrun by two guards. With a smite and a swing of his long sword, their blood is spilled to the polished marble, staining it the blood red of Waldemar's flag. With a quick healing touch, Zevlor has her back on her feet, but gratitude will have to wait until this war ends: "Commander, we have swept the castle. All nobles are in the throne room. Rolan is waiting for you there."

The old paladin touches her shoulder and nods, "We are almost there. Just stay alive." With that, Zevlor took off again towards the throne room. The previous ache in his lungs dulled as the adrenaline cast a second wind over his body.

Towards the throne room, bodies line the floors, and the feeling of the Weave vibrates through as the air grows denser and more prevalent the closer he gets. At the doors of the closed throne room, Zevlor hears the harsh voices of the pinned-up nobles, cursing or promising anything to any soul that might listen. Their words fall on deaf ears as Cal and Rolan stand surrounded by the slain and the unconscious. When the two younger men noticed Zevlor, Cal smiled while Rolan kept his stern gaze. 

"Tilses says all the nobles we could find within the walls are in the throne room. So, what is the next step of your plan?"

Rolan hums as he looks down at his hands, making Zevlor's brow furrow. He had been told to get them here, but now he detects hesitation from Rolan. It's short-lived, however, and the wizard looks up to his younger brother with a new look of determination in his eyes.

"Cal, I want you to go find Lia. I will meet up with you two when this is over." 

Cal tried to protest but was quickly cut off, "Just do as I say, Cal. Please."

With a nod and a quick embrace, Cal is running down the blood-stained hall. 

Zevlor and Rolan watched him leave, and once he was out of view, Rolan turned toward the paladin, "Zevlor, I need you to guard this door. I need you to ensure nobody, friend or foe, enters this room until I exit."

Zevlor is taken by surprise for a moment, but he is all too compelled to give a nod. Rolan let out a quick sigh, placing a hand on Zevlor's armored shoulder before the young wizard turns away, lifting his head high as he approaches the doors.

"What are you going to do?"

Rolan turns his head, eyes serious and simmering with righteous fury. "What I must."

With a sharp gesture of his hands, Rolan loosed a spell, blasting through the heavy doors as if they were paper and allowing the wizard entry. Zevlor caught the sight of the shaken nobles for only a moment before another harsh gesture from Rolan summoned a thick wall of scorching flame, barricading the entrance and obscuring all beyond the threshold from sight.

Zevlor readied himself, his blade still unsheathed, when the first two armored guards approached, their weapons drawn, and demanded entry. Lifting his sword, the paladin refused; thus, the battle for the throne room ensued.

Zevlor parried and ducked as the two guards tried to overwhelm him, sending silent thanks to Dammon for the armor that now shielded him from their blades. The paladin became aware of more approaching footsteps before allies and enemies rounded the corner as both sides became aware of where their leaders were.

Tilses was the first to make it to her Commander's side, dispatching a third guard who had been advancing on the older tiefling, and soon the other two lay dead at the Hellriders' feet. Moments later, Zevlor sent her back down the hall, carrying Rolan's orders to the others while guard captains rallied what remained of their own men to reach the throne room at any cost.

The two sides continued to clash, and the air continued to grow thick with the metallic scent of blood. Karlach tipped over the long tables intermittently lined against the walls, creating makeshift barricades for the archers and marksmen like Lakrissa to use as cover; the objects previously on display crashed to the floor and were trampled underfoot as the hellfire warrior then turned her focus back to their foes. As more guards attempted to force their way down the hall, Alfira dashed from cover to cover, dragging wounded allies behind the heavy wood to heal them before they charged back into the fray. Whatever foes slipped through this gauntlet would have to contend with Zevlor. They never reached him unharmed, but the attack to breach the castle had been brutal; the battle throughout the palace had been long, and the paladin knew that, sooner or later, one side would eventually have to buckle under that strain.

Another pair of guards began to close in on Zevlor. He didn't give them the chance to gain the upper hand, driving his blade through one's armored shoulder before ducking to the side as the other attempted to charge him. From his peripherals, Zevlor caught sight of the second guard attempting to whirl back around to flank him. Without thinking and in one fluid motion, the paladin wrenched his sword free as he turned and kicked the charging guard into the roaring blaze at the threshold. The man's final agonized scream was brief as metal melted onto blistering skin, leaving nothing but a mass of charred flesh and slag.

Both men stood there for a moment, stunned by the brutality of the flames. Zevlor almost doesn't move aside in time when the remaining guard manages to tear his eyes away from the blaze. The guard's swing was clumsy, the wound on his arm having weakened the grip on his own sword—two things the paladin capitalized on. Guard and weapon clattered to the floor, and Zevlor quickly knocked the blade away from the man's reach with a boot. Before either could decide their next move, a new sound joined the din of battle, and his stomach dropped.

Screams. Panicked, pained, and utterly desperate screams from beyond the wall of flame began to swell and drown out everything. This time, it seemed as if the whole battle had halted, with friend and foe alike standing frozen as they heard the ensuing hell.

Zevlor's only source of comfort at that moment was the sight of the wall of flame, knowing that if it still remained, then that had to mean the same for its caster. Surely, it had to mean that Rolan still lived. It had to. The screams grew shrill and ragged, spilling from the throne room and echoing throughout the hall. Louder and louder, reaching a harrowing peak, until... silence.

Seconds later, the roaring wall of flame flickered, dimmed, and slowly began to disappear.

Once the flames had dissipated, Zevlor released the breath that he hadn't realized had been trapped in his chest. His eyes widened at the sight of Rolan standing completely unharmed in the middle of the throne room—alone.

The sound of shuddering breaths came from the wounded guard at Zevlor's feet, "The- The nobles... The King.. What- What did you do?". The man trembled, eyes unblinking and mortified.

"What your king swore to do," Rolan answered, head held high as he lifted a hand, revealing the gold and jeweled crown of the king dangling irreverently from the wizard's clawed fingers. "Purge the monsters from Waldemar.”