Still Alive, So Thats Progress @another-middlechild - Tumblr Blog

Jan 11

Blades and hearts laid bare [18+]

"Yes," Nim breathed out heavily. The way he pounded into her, hurtling her body as if she were nothing but a rag doll, made the drow writhe. "No one comes close to you. No one's ever made me such a mess," she admitted shakily. "They didn't know who they were dealing with," Rolan roared in response, succumbing to primal lust, "How to touch, kiss, fuck the divine - aah - and lascivious."

Tags: Shameless smut, rough sex, cunnilingus, Rolan is confident and dominant AF, ass slapping (a lot), dirty talk

Summary: After a close call in battle, Rolan and Nimriel have to confront the insatiable lust they have for each other. The lovers go through a full circle of emotions: anger, regret, passion, and devotion. Hiding feelings in plain sight, they succumb to each other, knowing that tomorrow may never come.

NSFW prompt #1 for the @rolaninto2026 event: "We shouldn't be doing this". Thank you for organizing the event <3

Notes:

For people who haven't read "Worthy": This smut can be read as a separate fic, no prior knowledge is required. Nimriel is a drow ranger Tav, in an established romantic relationship with Rolan. The events take place a month after Lorroakan is killed, but before the final battle. If the story got you interested, you can check the "Worthy" longfic.

For my dearest “Worthy” readers: I hope you enjoy! <3 This smut is 100% “Worthy” canon, just takes place a little ahead of the current timeline. Specifically, a month after Lorroakan’s death. As you can imagine, the only spoiler is that Nimriel and Rolan got together and are now a couple. 😅 But, I mean, it was expected. :3

[AO3 link]

+++

A blur of motion: swords brandishing, spells flashing through the dust-filled air. Yet, in this commotion of tense, bloodied bodies, the couple never lost sight of each other.

This was Rolan's first time joining the party in combat since he became the Master of Ramazith’s Tower. Today was exceptional: he usually conducted their dealings in his study, not on the battlefield.

In truth, the tiefling was far too occupied with restoring the Tower's former glory. As well as the preparations for the final confrontation with the Illithids. Which, Rolan was certain, would come soon.

Yet, his once non-existent personal life has unexpectedly taken center stage. Nimriel was just as busy, but they made the precious alone hours count.

Day meetings with the party. Rare celebrations at the Elf Song tavern. Secret encounters behind the bookshelves of Sorcerous Sundries. Passionate nights in his bedroom. In these twenty-eight days, Rolan and Nimriel had it all.

It just so happened that today the couple’s encounter happened on the battlefield. The whole eternity - two days, to be exact - had passed since they saw each other. When Nim suggested he join them on the hunt for cultists, Rolan jumped on the opportunity. “They contraband rare ingredients to the Foundry, sounds like your field of expertise,” she mentioned casually, but an eager glint in Nim’s eyes gave her away.

The plan was to catch the fiends off guard while they were transporting the cargo to Rivington. A simple, yet effective ambush on the narrow road up the cliffs. One might say, a perfect nature getaway from the city’s bustling streets.

Now, in the heart of the battle, Rolan wondered if Nimriel had chosen this encounter on purpose. Compared to their previous fights, this one felt almost too easy. Surely, there were forty opponents. But they were outmatched by Wyll, Karlach, Lae’zel, Nim, and himself. It was as if Nimriel knew the risks were low and Rolan would be safe either way.

The unamused tiefling missed the point completely. It wasn’t that the cultists were weak. Rolan has grown more powerful. The daily training and the arcane surge of the Tower nourished him plenty.

Nimriel knew this. What’s more, she couldn’t help but enjoy watching him in combat. Her wizard always fought with passion in his moves. But now he was also fueled with raw confidence. There was something regal about him conjuring the ice storm with ease. The way his body floated seamlessly in the air while he threw lightning bolts left and right. How elegant and commanding were his fingers when Rolan cast dominate on Absolutists. She was in awe of him, happy that the wizard had finally reached his true potential. And Nim’s hormones? They wanted to feel Rolan’s confidence and control envelop her entire body.

The drow would occasionally catch him glancing back at her. A yard-long stare, full of concern and yearning.

To him, Nimriel was the only person who existed atop that forest cliff. Rolan marveled at his huntress on a prowl – an unstoppable force of nature. So elegant, fast, and deadly.

Still, like all things mortal, she was far from invincible.

It all happened in a heartbeat. An eldritch blast knocked the ranger off her feet, close to the cliff’s edge. Luck, however, betrayed her tried-and-true Phalar Aluve. All Nimriel saw was the sword’s hilt gleaming in the sun before it flew off the steep edge.

Caught in the heat of the battle, Nim denied all logic. Cursing profusely, she leaped off the cliff to save her precious sword. A move that left Rolan less than impressed.

He didn’t think or hesitate.

First - a lightning blast straight to the chest of the cultist who targeted Nim.

Then - a misty step to the cliff’s edge.

Finally, he quickly cast a feather fall on himself and Nimriel, still in his reach.

Rolan came to his senses only when he felt her body in his arms. The jump and the catch escaped his memory - the tiefling was way too worried for that.

“Hey!” Nimriel exclaimed, wrapping her arms around his neck, “Isn’t it my handsome savior?”

“Are you insane?” the wizard yelled back at her. He looked down: the ground was still far from them. If not for a feather fall, the end of the heroes’ story would be far too embarrassing to write down.

“And don’t “hey” at me!” Rolan continued, locking eyes with Nim again, “What were you thinking?!”

“I wasn’t,” the drow replied simply, “But I’d be damned if I lost the Sting in such a stupid way!”

“The Sting?!” the tiefling rolled his eyes, “Gods, you are unbearable!”

The lovers’ bickering continued until they finally landed on the solid ground. The area resembled a small, abandoned forpost: a sluggish river, ruined stone structures overgrown with vines, not a soul in sight. It would be a nice place for a picnic, Nim thought, before noticing her sword on the ground.

“All’s well that ends well,” she shrugged, picking up Phalar Aluve and looking it over. Her gaze then drifted up, “You think there’s a way around the cliff? Can you fly us up?”

Getting back into battle was the last thing on Rolan’s mind. Without uttering a single word, he picked the drow up and carried her further from the riverbank.

Moments later, Rolan gently set her down, worrying eyes sweeping over Nimriel’s frame. His hands followed suit as he mapped Nim’s body inch by inch, looking for signs of injuries. The tiefling shot her a demanding glare, prompting the drow to discard her sword and backpack. Still weave-charged, his palms glided over her shoulders, hands, and back, leaving electrifying warmth on exposed skin.

Nimriel felt his quiet fury and the battle adrenaline blooming into possessiveness. Standing tall, Rolan loomed over her, breathing unevenly. His commanding nature would rarely come out around Nim. Yet, she welcomed it. No one has ever looked at her with such intensity, wanting to drown in her, to be consumed by her without a trace. It was as terrifying as it was exhilarating.

Suddenly, his fingers dug into her waist, forcing the huntress to look at him.

“Don’t ever do this again, you hear me?” the wizard’s voice, deep and shaken, rumbled like the king’s order.

Nimriel shook her head, trying to calm him down, “I’m fine, not even wound-”

Rolan silenced Nim with his mouth, making her choke on words. A ferocious, desperate kiss. A punishment for her recklessness. A blessing for her survival. Nimriel surrendered to both. With a moan, she breathed out, letting his tongue do the talking.

His scent was intoxicating: a blend of arcane, and ozone, and blood – all pushing, all so tempting and demanding. Nim wanted that smell on herself, leaning closer, rubbing their bodies together. Metal against cloth, her steel nerves against his flame-tried temper.

Nimriel’s movements only seduced Rolan into greater urgency. The wizard’s hands slid to her hips, kneading them, guiding them to stay perfectly between his. Her carelessness maddened him just as much as her affection. Rolan bit her tongue hard enough to make Nimriel jolt before parting for air.

The drow glanced at him, still dazed by the kiss. Panting heavily, Rolan looked like a dire wolf who had his prey cornered: confident and hungry. Yet, his eyes flickered with angry devastation. Still holding her hips close with one hand, he lifted Nim’s chin with the other.

Taking another good look at her, he repeated quietly, but with no less authority, “Do not ever do this again.”

Rolan exhaled, pupils wide. His lips trembled against her cheek as he mumbled, “I… I almost…”

The tiefling’s eyes shut - his worry gave way to something feral. He kissed her cheek, then licked it once, twice, before sucking in her skin. Rolan’s sloppy kisses moved lower, teeth grazing her chin and neck as he tasted Nimriel again and again. His hands shot to the small of her back, urging her even closer.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” Nimriel mumbled with zero conviction, tussling his hair absentmindedly. Her put-on reluctance was quickly contradicted: her hand found the base of Rolan’s tail, fingers massaging its underside. The drow already knew what would rile her wizard even more.

Rolan stopped and met her gaze. His questioning expression faded - the lust in her eyes gave a wordless, loud permission. He slowly cupped Nim’s face, pleading for her to listen.

“I don’t care. I can’t accept I almost lost you,” the wizard stated breathlessly, “I need to feel that you are here,” he paused, kissing the corners of her mouth, “Your taste, your smell, your warmth. Everything.”

She kissed him back, tender lips soothing his frustration, “You can’t lose me,” Nimriel countered softly as her hand started unbuttoning the top of his robe, “At this point, I am yours completely.”

Her fingers reached under his clothes, pressing to his heart, “You think I didn't notice how you practically devoured me with your eyes the whole battle? I can't escape you, I can't deny you. And I don't want to,” Nim assured.

Rolan exhaled sharply, as if something in him finally broke. He crashed his lips into hers, hands kneading her ass possessively, “You’re making me lose my mind,” he growled into her mouth.

“Good, that’s what I want,” Nimriel murmured, already stroking his half-hard cock through his trousers, “Just like when you lost it on the battlefield today. Made you feel alive, didn’t it? Certainly made me tingle - seeing how ferocious you were.”

Rolan heaved in response, the images of their close encounter plaguing his mind, “More than that,” he replied, spreading her legs wider with his knee. His hand traced the seam of her pants, finding what the wizard craved. Her pulsating, warm pussy, “Alive, determined, powerful. When I fought next to you, I was all of it.” He circled her clit through tight leather, coaxing a whimper out of Nim.

She smiled, leaning into his touch, “You are, with or without me, battle or not.” His skilled fingers were twisting her patience thin, “Show me. Fuck all of it into me.”

The wizard crossed the edge of his restraint. He parted from Nimriel, only to descend to his knees, pressing his face against her body. Rolan stopped once he reached her trousers, sliding them down with reverence. His lips followed the path of his hands. A kiss to her bare hipbone, her lower stomach, the delicate tip of her slit.

“I will,” he promised, “But first…” Rolan helped Nim discard the trousers, leaving her bare and trembling in anticipation. His hands landed on her thighs, parting them, exposing her completely.

Kneeling before her, Rolan was a vision of devotion and resolute, intertwined. He looked up, a feral, burning glint in his eyes.

“You must know. You enmeshed me in your snares,” Rolan heaved, pressing his lips to her knee, “I have no illusions about the risks you take daily. But seeing it unravel before my eyes only tightens the rope,” his slick tongue carved a slow, wet path up to her inner thigh. Their eye contact never broke.

“And when you declare that you are mine,” another lick, then a bite, now closer to her slit, “What choice do I have but to tear apart anyone and anything that threatens you?” he questioned, anger returning to his voice.

Nimriel felt goosebumps enwrapping her skin. The determination in his tone left no doubts: this very moment, Rolan was ready to kill anyone for her. The drow let out a surprised whimper. Her legs involuntarily closed in another burst of arousal.

Rolan noticed, of course, the fire in his eyes burning brighter. “And you would enjoy watching me do it, wouldn’t you?” his tone remained serious even as he placed his palms over her thighs, spreading them again, “Show me.”

A pleasant shiver of Rolan’s commanding voice made Nim obey instantly. He was still looking into her eyes even as his tongue made a broad, greedy stroke against her pussy. Rolan’s eyebrows arched, a pleased, arrogant hum escaped him.

“So fucking wet,” he curved his tongue, catching on her entrance, teasing her. “The thought of never seeing you blush again when I pleasure you,” Rolan hissed, licking with more insistence, “Makes me want to do unspeakable things.”

Nim moaned shamelessly, arching her back as she pressed firmer against his mouth. Rolan lapped at every curve of her folds, marking her generously with his slick desire. His eyes still devoured every small reaction on her face. The wizard’s own expression embodied the mixture of ferocity and devotion.

“Don’t think ‘bout it,” Nimriel whimpered, her fingers gently tugging at his hair, “I am here, with you.”

The tiefling stopped, his brows furrowing. Suddenly, he surged up, leveling with Nim.

“It is not enough,” Rolan objected strictly, before diving down to bite at her neck. Nim’s gasp was quickly soothed with the flick of his hot tongue against the bite mark.

Nimriel’s eyes searched his, questioning. Rolan looked shell-shocked, bothered by Nim's obliviousness. Still, his hands roamed her body, tugging impatiently at her corset. Despite his frustration, the urge to be one with her was overwhelming.

“I want you to realize-” the wizard challenged her with a glare, “that you can’t keep on living like you are the only person left in the realm.”

Her breath hitched, but Nim wouldn’t dare to argue with her lover. Rolan was right in his desire: to have her safe. To watch her live. To be by her side until the very end. Today, the wizard finally let it slip how the thought of losing her petrified him.

And Nim? She couldn’t guarantee him tomorrow. Perhaps, not even tonight. The huntress only had now, and she intended to make it count.

She watched, glassy-eyed, as Rolan unlaced her corset, helping Nimriel out of her armor. Once bare, the drow leaned into him immediately, kissing Rolan with the same possession he showed her earlier. The friction of her nipples against his blood-soaked robe made Nim shiver and crave more of his touch. Rolan felt it too, fondling her hips, pulling her impossibly close.

As they parted, his lips kept tracing the delicate silk of her neck. Rolan’s attention, however, was entirely dedicated to what Nimriel had to say.

“You are right,” she mumbled, breathing heavily, “I need to be punished for my vagary. I want to.”

Rolan’s lips and tongue slowly circled the path down to her breasts. Yet, a knowing, mournful smile spread across his lips. His huntress loved to play charades with him. It was her way to spare the wizard’s feelings. Rolan was grateful all the same. Nimriel was giving her all to him. Right here, at a time like this, disregarding the rest of the world. How could he not give in to her completely?

“It will not absolve you from any future misfires,” the wizard murmured, unable to resist cupping her pussy again. His thumb stroked the top of her slit, nesting in between.

“I know, but I don’t care either,” Nimriel insisted, gliding above his eager fingers, “I was wrong to make you worry. And I want to apologize the best way I can,” she whispered, her hand squeezing his clothed cock impatiently.

A pleased thrum left Rolan’s throat. His tongue kept on toying with her nipple. He didn’t rush with an answer, taunting her. Nim wanted to be punished after all – how could he deny her? Finally, as her writhing and whimpering grew chaotic, Rolan slurred mockingly, “Spell it out for me, will you?”

Nimriel rolled her eyes, but a small smile only confirmed she enjoyed his arrogance, “Fuck me, Rolan. Until we are so sore we’ll forget about the battle.”

He didn’t have to be told twice. With a groan, Rolan kneeled, his mouth closing tightly around her clit. Nim cursed at the sudden sensation, grabbing onto his horns for dear life. She felt Rolan smirking against her skin before he sucked in the bud. He moaned at how swollen it was, how desperately it wanted to be cherished by his tongue. The pads of his fingers moved carefully against her folds, spreading the lips and massaging in the moisture. Rolan intended to drink all of it, but not before her body would start begging.

It didn’t take long: overwhelmed, Nimriel tugged his horns up. She shifted, pressing her pussy closer to his lips, her whines desperate and demanding. A familiar aroused hiss followed, and then Rolan’s tongue was all over her folds. He licked and nipped at her as if starved. His palms glided over her ass, slapping it playfully each time Nim grew particularly loud.

His length throbbed painfully, stretching the fabric around it. Rolan blindly unlaced his trousers, giving himself a couple of measured, soothing strokes.

“So hard,” Nim stammered, watching him, “Don’t w-wait, you can thrust.”

The tiefling slowed down, looking up at her once more, “So inpatient, wanting to be filled,” Rolan purred, rubbing her clit with his thumb. The way Nimriel – this battle-hardened, daring huntress - always turned beet red he’d go down on her, never failed to melt Rolan’s heart. At moments like this, she was his delicate violet flower. He wanted to bask in her beauty, to rub her petals as gently as he could. “Don’t be a brat. If you want it this bad, you must soak my tongue first.”

Wasting no time, he dove deep again, plunging his tongue into her pussy. Nimriel whined loudly, feeling it greedily explore her walls. It made Rolan slap her one more time, claws digging deeper into her flesh, holding her whirling body still.

The sensation was all too much. Nim breathed out his name before shuddering against his mouth. Rolan was relentless, drinking her honeyed release until her knees gave in.

Breathless and amused with himself, Rolan leveled with Nim, face moistened with her arousal. Her dazed and grateful expression was everything the tiefling had hoped for.

“Come here,” he hissed, drawing Nimriel close. Rolan’s glance flicked with arrogance before he drove his tongue into her mouth. The taste of her own release made Nim shiver. The next wave of desire struck her as if it were untamed summer lightning.

“Taste how sweet you are?” Rolan questioned between kisses, holding his lover tight, “Is this what you wanted to take away from me?”

“I wouldn’t dare. Not when you are this bossy,” Nim chuckled, kissing him back as fiercely.

The wizard parted from her for air, lips gliding over hers as he spoke, “Not bossy, concentrated on what I want.”

“Right,” she mumbled, feeling his erect cock throbbing against her stomach, “Bossy it is.”

Rolan smirked, his right hand coaxing her thighs to spread for him again, “Look at you, can’t bear not being in charge for once?”

“Who said that I don’t like you being in charge?” Nim asked, her fingers drifting along the ridges of his length, “You can be. Just remember that, when it comes to battles, I am still your commander,” she said smugly, hoping her little provocation would work.

It did.

Rolan replied with a smug hum of his own. He caught Nimriel’s chin, tracing her lips with his index finger before parting them, “My dearest commander, you know better than to mock me. Could it be that your daring behavior is intentional?”

“Oh, you are smart,” Nim teased, licking his fingers.

The tiefling shook his head, pressing his forehead to hers, “We clearly need to find a better occupation for your pretty mouth,” Rolan grunted, sticking his tongue out.

Nimriel obeyed, sucking in his tongue, looking at Rolan through her eyelashes. A devious reminder of how she always glanced at him while swallowing his length. The imagery alone almost made the Master of Ramazith’s Tower come. But Rolan didn’t want to waste it. Not while the desire to rut into her soaked, silk pussy has overtaken his every cell.

The tiefling began stroking his cock, brushing its tip generously against her folds. He groaned into the kiss, feeling her wetness spreading all over his twitching flesh.

It wasn’t long before the drow whined, trying to press closer to him. Rolan only purred in amusement, curling his tail around Nim’s waist to hold her in place.

“Ask nicely, commander,” Rolan taunted, barely capable of not thrusting into her. He rolled his hips, catching on Nim’s entrance.

“Please,” she squirmed impatiently.

Rolan repeated the motion, “Not convinced.”

Everything fell silent as their eyes met. Rolan didn’t expect Nim’s face to soften into a knowing, warm smile. Shortly, her hands were over his chest, peeling off the remaining layers of his robe, “I need to feel you, too.”

With his clothes being discarded mindlessly, Nimriel caressed the pointy ridges of his chest. And then, she whispered the loudest confession, “Please do whatever you want to me, my insatiable dragon.”

An electrified tingle ran through Rolan, filling him with hot white arousal. He picked her up with ease. Holding Nim’s hips, he balanced her above his cock, hissing, “Hang on tight.”

She grabbed his shoulders, wrapping her legs around Rolan’s torso. A high-pitched “ah” escaped Nim when his searing tip penetrated her. Rolan smirked, feeling her wet heat enwrapping his ridges snuggly. He always fit perfectly inside her. Perhaps because every collision of their bodies felt so natural, so absolutely inescapable.

Nimriel closed the distance, impaling herself on his throbbing cock to the hilt. She began moving instantly, riding Rolan as if he belonged to her and her alone.

“Nim-h,” the tiefling blurted, thrusting up, trying to catch up to his lover. His tail flew up, coiling around her thigh, his hands already groping every inch of her slick body.

“L-love when you hold me,” she moaned, pushing herself onto him faster and faster. Each thrust - a gratifying taunt to her sweet spot.

Rolan groaned at the sensation of his ridges catching on her walls at a maddening pace. Nim wanted to tear him apart completely. Drown him. Devour him. And he’d let her, again and again. He caught her collarbone in a wolfish bite, edging his lover on, “Hard to h-hold someone so wild,” the wizard breathed out heavily. Yet, his pace was as relentless as hers, “My huntress.”

“Yours?” Nimriel asked teasingly, slowing down.

“Yes!” he replied immediately, mouth wide open, unable to control his whimpers. “Mine!” Rolan hissed, his tongue licking the place where he’d bitten her.

Nim stopped, urging him to halt as well. His cock throbbed impatiently deep inside her, but all Rolan could do was watch her.

She moved his hands from her hips to under her ass. Then, her palms locked behind his neck, “Prove it,” Nim demanded. She lifted her legs and leaned her calves against his shoulders. Except for those points of contact, her body hung in the air, relying solely on her lover’s strength.

The tiefling stared in awe, struggling to understand how Nimriel folded herself in half so casually. All Rolan knew was that he was one lucky bastard. Her lean, light body was now completely at his mercy, presented for his depraved enjoyment.

Still holding him by the neck, Nim drew her face close to Rolan’s, “You wanted to be in charge so badly...” She clenched around him, making them both whimper. The new angle let his cock penetrate Nimriel even deeper, “...what better way to do it than to take what’s yours? Don’t hold back.”

A piercing shiver ran down his spine. Grabbing her tighter, Rolan began to pull out.

They both savored every inch.

Every maddening pull of the angle.

"Haa. You are fucking devious for this."

"D-don't act like you don't enjoy it," she whispered against his mouth.

"This-" he was almost all the way out, his throbbing tip threatening to slip out, "-is to die for".

And then, Rolan swiftly drew all the way back into her. A divine torture.

"Fuck," the tiefling's eyes rolled back. His mind went blank. Only the feeling of her stuffed, dripping pussy, suffocating him, "Mine completely."

Drunk on Nim's loud whimpers, Rolan grew possessive again. He began moving her hips back and forward, rapidly rutting into her.

"Yours," Nimriel panted, pressing her forehead to his, "Ahh, you're so deep. D-don't stop."

She clamped on him even harder, making Rolan whimper at an embarrassingly high pitch. But he didn't care. He was drowning in her honeyed, wet heat, her uneven breathing against his own opened mouth.

Unable to resist, Rolan kissed Nim sloppily before resuming his punishing pace, "Your body, your moans, your lips - fuck - your tight pussy. Mine."

"They didn't know who they were dealing with," Rolan roared in response, succumbing to primal lust, "How to touch, kiss, fuck the divine - aah - and lascivious."

"Rolan!" she desperately pushed back onto him, "You yourself are divine, beloved."

The word. He didn't realize at first. But once it hit him, Rolan knew he could hold any longer, "I'll give you everything, Nim, as long as you let me," he moaned, locking her hips in place. The heat of his release consumed them both, pulling them under the heavy blanket of daze.

The silence that followed was sobering, if only for a short while. Embraced, they panted heavily against each other, bodies still shivering.

"It was perfect," Nim purred, wiping sweat off his brow.

"What, you had doubts?" Rolan smirked, only to hide how her praise made his heart flutter. The wizard caught her gaze, lingering. If only he could, he'd make them freeze in this moment for ages. "Gods, Nim..."

His intense stare made Nimriel blush again, "What? Lost all your words in convulsions?" she teased. The drow attempted to get off him, but Rolan stopped her once her legs reached his waist.

"Please, don't," he muttered, "I'm not done with you."

The revelation excited her, "Oh? Haven't had enough of me yet?"

He didn't. It was never enough, not with her.

Rolan slowly thrusted forward, his length growing hard again inside her, "Not in the slightest. Besides-," the tiefling leaned in, kissing her tenderly, "-you wanted me to make you sore. And you still look way too lively."

She grinned into the kiss, hands gliding over his tense torso, "You're right. I wouldn't want the Master of Ramazith's Tower to break his promise."

Rolan parted from her, already overtaken by a new surge of lust, "I want you on your hands and knees, then, my huntress."

Nimriel huffed, feeling feverish already. Once he let her go, she turned around and leaned her back against Rolan, “I can’t resist you when you’re like this,” Nim murmured.

“Like wha-?” Rolan stammered. The drow arched her back just right, rubbing her ass against his groin. Such a dirty trick, he thought. Nim was perfectly aware of all his weaknesses. And she didn’t hesitate to use all of them against him.

“When you discard your prim and proper attitude,” Nimriel explained, descending on all fours, “And just being shameless about your desires,” she looked over her shoulder, rolling her hips in invitation, “It’s reassuring.”

“Reassuring?” Rolan followed her down. His hands landed softly on her hips, gliding, savoring their velvet feel.

“Shows that you’re fond of me,” Nim hummed, rubbing against his palms.

A genuine, confused chuckle escaped Rolan’s throat, “Fond of you?” he repeated, eyes devouring the sight of her perfect curves. The tiefling kneaded Nim’s inner thighs, coaxing her to spread them.

She was so wet and swollen, quivering with anticipation. She had already taken him so well. Yet, she craved more. She craved him. Of all people she could have kneeling before her, it was him. This realization sometimes hit Rolan out of nowhere. And each time, it turned him into a wavering ball of sheer nerves and devotion.

"It doesn't hurt, does it?" Rolan asked, carefully touching her folds with his knuckles.

"Not at all. Why?"

He exhaled hazily, "I don't think I can show much restraint after seeing you like this."

"Hmm, sounds promising," Nimriel probed sweetly.

Her joke fell on deaf ears. Rolan suddenly felt blue. The kind of blue that sneaks up on you when you swim in a river of bliss. The kind that whispers confessions you tuck into the deepest corners of your mind.

"Fond of you… Doesn't even begin to describe it," Rolan echoed, pressing his tip to her slit.

He moved carefully, enamored with how greedily she devoured him. "I want you, Nimriel."

The way Rolan said it – so devastatingly simple – made Nimriel turn again. Dazed, the tiefling watched her body with reverence, consumed by it entirely. His hand slid up Nim's back, moving her to meet his throbbing cock.

Rolan took his time, his first push slow and electrifying.

"You've taken so much out of me," he sibilated, "But I can't. I want to be inside you again and again."

His pace remained painfully sluggish, making Nim push against him, "Rolan, please."

A slap against her ass. Voluminous and stinging. The kind of slap he knew would make her pussy leak even more.

"Patience, my huntress," Rolan leaned down, soothing the red mark on her skin with his tongue, "I told you, want to keep you on my cock for as long as possible."

"I know, but," Nimriel didn't get to finish her sentence. His other hand reached underneath her, massaging her clit in circular motions. "You're playing dirty," she whimpered.

"It's nothing compared to what you do to me," Rolan groaned, leaning closer into her. He slapped her once more, before gliding his palm further up her spine, "The way your body moves, I-" his thrusts grew quicker, "I can't fucking take it."

He leaned further into her, hands pressing tightly around Nim's waist. The tip of his tail flew up, working her clit instead of his fingers. He couldn’t let any part of her escape him, even for a second.

"Thought I am going to lose it in the middle of the battle today," he confessed, "Only you can look so seductive when cutting limbs left and right."

Nimriel huffed, unable to resist pushing back into him, "I watched you too," she moaned, "Watched and wanted."

"Tell me," he hissed into her ear.

"So relentless," she breathed, clenching harder around him, "Flying around like you ruled this plane. And I - ah - all I could think about was you dropping everything and bending me over right there and then."

His grip on her strengthened. Next moment, the air filled with a rapid succession of wet slaps of skin on skin and their shameless moans.

“I’d done it if you asked me,” Rolan huffed, rutting into her as if possessed.

“Fuck, Rolan, don’t say things like that,” she pleaded, “I already c-can’t think straight when you’re close. You have me wrapped around your finger.”

“You’ve had me wrapped around yours day one. Don’t think. Just give yourself to me,” he groaned.

They both lost it in a sea of their raw, white want. Cursing, screaming each other's names, chasing each other's pleasure. Nothing mattered anymore.

They collapsed together, bodies tangled in a shared ecstasy. Taking a deep breath, Rolan rolled them over, placing Nim on top of him. For a while, they lay in silence, listening to the thundering of each other’s hearts.

“Nim,” he started quietly, “What you said…”

She slowly tilted her head up, but couldn’t withstand his gaze for more than a second. Rolan watched Nimriel’s cheeks quickly blossom with patches of red flowers.

“When I called you “beloved”?” she asked, already knowing.

“Yes.”

“I…,” Nim paused, her index finger drawing circles mindlessly against his chest, “I just… it felt right to me. I… I wanted to,” she replied sheepishly, still making no eye contact, “I am sorry if this startled you.”

Rolan barely suppressed the urge to pull Nimriel into the longest, most tender kiss. But he simply knew better. It was not the time to act on his feelings. Only when Nim would be ready, comfortable enough to face him.

She already was his heart, his beloved. Long before their confession or even their victory over Lorroakan. Rolan couldn’t tell when Nimriel had become an indispensable part of his life. It felt like it was always meant to be. A mere six months ago, Rolan would have considered such dependency pathetic. Now, the wizard had to accept that Nim had shattered his common sense irrevocably.

No matter how hard he tried to remain composed, the corners of his mouth curled into a timid smile. “I see,” he whispered, kissing the crown of Nim’s head, “You can call me that, if you want.” Rolan paused, but couldn’t help it, “No matter the place or the… activity we partake in.”

Still blushing, Nim chuckled, “You are too cute, Rolan.”

Seeing his unamused expression, she laughed harder, “Only you can go from spilling dirt while pounding into me to calling it-,” Nim pinched her nose to mimic his voice, “-oktivities.”

“You’d rather I call it “pounding”?!” he grimaced.

Nim leaned closer, kissing the tip of his nose, “At least you didn’t call it “fornication,” that would take me out for certain,” she giggled.

“Didn’t realize being polite and biology-aware was laughable,” the wizard deadpanned.

“Sorry for doubting your esteemed qualities. Can I make it up to you?” the drow wheezed.

Rolan fell silent, thinking, “If possible, stay with me tonight,” he finally replied.

Nim’s features softened as she considered the offer. “I will. We don’t have any other missions planned for today,” she sighed, finally remembering they had left the party to fend for themselves. Nimriel didn’t doubt their strength, but indulging here while the other fought felt wrong. “But we need to get going.”

Before she could get off him, Rolan caught her hand - a silent plea to face him again. The tiefling studied Nimriel’s features, as his trembling body exposed his nerves. Finally, he uttered, quiet but certain, “Beloved.”

Nimriel’s heart dropped, sending scorching terror across her body. She felt his sincerity with every fiber of her being. Nim was mortified by how much she enjoyed Rolan calling her that. Mortified by its implications. Mortified, she won’t be given enough time to cherish it.

Despite it all, Nimriel leaned in and kissed him. Slowly and softly, she poured all the words of love and adoration she couldn’t yet voice.

The drow stood up then, reaching for her pipe in a pile of clothes before she even started getting dressed, “Now we really need to get going.” Nim tried to hide the tremor in her voice, turning her back on him.

But Rolan knew.

“One strikes, another – parries,” he thought again, accepting that they started another dance around the subject. This time, Rolan hoped, they’d end it before it’s too late.

Trending Blogs

Recently Viewed Blogs

Still Alive, So Thats Progress