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baldurskink2023-09-27 05:03 pm
withinadream) wrote in baldurskink2023-09-27 05:03 pm
Baldur's Gate 3 Prompt Post 1
Leave prompts for Baldur's Gate 3 here!
Rules | BG 1&2 Prompt Post | Fill Post | AO3 Collection (Anon) | AO3 Collection (Unanon)
Announcement: from July 1-15, Filth Fest rules are in effect - all prompts should be filthy and/or kinky af. Full rules here. Prompts that don't meet the filth threshold will be screened at the mod's discretion.
Rules | BG 1&2 Prompt Post | Fill Post | AO3 Collection (Anon) | AO3 Collection (Unanon)
Announcement: from July 1-15, Filth Fest rules are in effect - all prompts should be filthy and/or kinky af. Full rules here. Prompts that don't meet the filth threshold will be screened at the mod's discretion.
Halsin/all the Origins(including or excluding Tav/Durge), sex pollen
(Anonymous) 2023-10-04 12:00 am (UTC)(link)+ The pollen either makes it impossible for Halsin to cum OR goes the complete opposite way and makes it so that even non-sexual touches can make him orgasm without warning.
Fill: left hungry with the want 1/3 (Halsin/Origins, sex pollen)
---
It had been quite some time since Halsin had last ventured into the Underdark. He had attempted the trip to the Shadow-cursed lands many times, although not in some decades. While it was not quite so familiar as many of the deep woods of the Sword Coast, it was still somewhat of a comfort, to be so deep in nature, even if it was a strange biome to anyone of the surface.
Acting as guide had always come naturally to him, more so than any leadership, and he did enjoy it, even more so when things were not quite so forced. This was not an entrance he had known, but their end location is - and even better does he know the many natural hazards that they encounter. Pointing things out, explaining the environment around, he had no need to mask the awe he felt at the various wonders within, quite in character for the wise druid he was expected to be.
They are hurried, of course - ceremorphosis may be halted in these unique parasites, but that didn’t make the need to get to Moonrise Towers any less urgent, not with all the strange tidings of the cult. Still, it was an enjoyable set of travels - and he was growing fond of this group. It was hard not to have some initial affection for those who had saved him from a cell and dour fate in the goblin encampment, who had helped to safeguard the grove, but even beyond that he found himself enjoying their company.
A unique bunch, certainly. He was already passingly acquainted with Wyll; an occasional visitor to the grove over the past few years, in his various activities as the Blade of Frontiers. Already knowing him to be noble-hearted and well-tested, it was good to come to know his wit and humor as well. The others were as unexpected a party as expected from one grabbed randomly by mindflayers, perhaps even more so to be the survivors - a githyanki warrior, a soldier of the hells, a cursed archmage, and strangest of all to find at his side, a cleric of Shar herself. It would be easy to be suspicious of such a party, but seeing the way they acted together, the new forming bonds of trust and friendship, all descriptors fell to the side, and he focused simply on the individuals.
He found himself having many enjoyable conversations, mainly with Gale, who’d caught attention of his library and sought his opinion on a broad range of topics. Astarion often intervened with a quick wit and sharp tongue, quite a sense of humor, albeit a crueler one than his own. Shadowheart was more empathetic than he’d expected, although she leaned to the same biting wit; he’d never expected himself to be quite so fond of one dedicated to she who’d brought down that curse.
Lae’zel was less talkative, and had been changed by whatever had occurred when they had reunited in that mountain pass, choosing to delve instead down to the Underdark. A loss of faith in Vlaakith, he’d managed to glean from the others, unthinkable for a githyanki. He gave her space, recognizing well someone who had been playing leader now left adrift and uncertain; she did come and ask him for advice, although not where the others of the party might know it, and he cherished that trust, as hard earned as it surely was.
Most of his time spent with adventurers had been in such a role; he was archdruid, offering sage advice, he was guide through dangerous terrain. It is what he had been for Aradin and his ill-fated band of mercenaries, and many others, over the years. Strange a thing indeed, the way they welcomed him into their camp as equal and as friend, then - although perhaps that all of them were strangers rather than a long-bound party made it easier. He enjoyed sitting at the fire with them, enjoyed the conversations and the laughter and the joking, enjoyed their company, strange a group as they may have been.
And it had not escaped his notice, how attractive they all were, each in their own way but none the less entrancing. And it was not just his own desires, for there was a frequent air of flirtatious jokes and deeper, among the group.
From what he’d managed to decipher, Lae’zel had approached every member of the party save Shadowheart to lay with, something the cleric had made at least one sharp remark on; what others had taken her up, it was difficult to say, but Astarion at least had, multiple times, although not since the return from the mountains - she had not approached anyone since then, what he could tell. His impression of her had been dominating and well-skilled, quite the lover, although he would certainly not approach her while she needed both time and space to set herself to rights.
Astarion was the other most prominent, at least in his flirtations, and was the only one who did so to him directly, although he’d overheard quite a fair share of comments made on his physique. What was sexual desire and what was a more vampiric hunger was hard to disentangle; by the time they came to travel together in the Underdark, Halsin had learned how to tell who had been fed on - variable, among the party, although never Gale (his curse causing bitter blood, which the vampire oft complained of) - but was uncertain how often that was also sexual. Not his business, of course, although it certainly lended to the charged atmosphere.
Of the rest, it was harder to say, he had no place prying in and all scents were muddled, with such close traveling. Shadowheart and Karlach certainly slept together on many occasions, the cleric able to cool the fires of the engine down enough for contact, but that seemed more about physical contact than any sort of desire. Gale’s tent was enchanted by silence, and who could say what happened within. It was hard not to fantasize, about lying with each and all of them would be like, the sounds he might coax from their lips, the expressions on their faces, wrapt with pleasure-
Although, it usually wasn’t so easy, either. At rest, certainly, he might allow his mind to wander, but out here, in the wild, in terrain so dangerous as the underdark? His control was better than that, certainly.
Ah, there was the offender, the soft pink glow, Deissins kuttra, Dreamer’s Charm. Not a full field, thank Silvanus, just the single cluster, but he’d managed to step within the edge of the thin after effects. He’s able to shake it off, easily, recognizing the distraction for what it is. He knew the feeling well, even if it had been a century since he’d last been exposed. In small amounts, a heat beneath the skin, slipping into sweet fantasies - which with the full blast of spores became a clawing, desperate need, aching for touch.
A dangerous little mushroom, in many ways far more than those that poisoned or exploded, but it hadn’t yet been triggered to release a full blast. There might be more - best to tread cautiously, keep a well-earned berth away. Definitely not something they had the time to deal with, especially not with a whole group exposed.
He turns to offer his warning - only to see Karlach bounding towards him, into the field of the spores. “Hey, Halsin, what are you looking at? Something interesting?”
“Get back!” He cries out - too late. She reacts swiftly, pulls away from the mushroom’s base, but not the full range of the cloud of spores. The others all come to attention, having closed in, worried at what had him distracted, which has brought them into range as well, and they aren’t so swift in their own reactions.
His fault, not much time - a gust of wind is summoned at his hands from the still air. He needs to force it away from the others. They stand loosely in two directions - the third is a wall of stone, will only blow it back onto them, a lesser effect but even that would be too much - and the last would direct it all onto him.
Focused on the spell, at acting quickly, there is no time to try and cover, to hold his breath - the spores make contact, sink into exposed skin, as he breathes in the heavy cloud, and falls over, to the ground, coughing.
“Halsin!” Karlach calls out, rushing towards him. She offers the lightest touch, and it burns, not with the heat of her engine, but just the sensation. He jerks away, and she pulls back, worried that she’s caused him pain. Better he be inflicted with this than her, surely. He knew what it was like, to suffer through this without touch, the agony - but never when touch had been so scarce a resource for so long.
“What happened, are you alright?” Wyll asks. He glances to the mushroom, and pulls him out of range. Despite his efforts, he knows he’s hardly more than dead weight too focused on trying to maintain control, to not lose everything at the feeling of making contact.
“It doesn’t appear to be acting as your standard poison,” Gale remarks - and Shadowheart pulls him back from prodding at the stalks, thank the gods. “I don’t recognize this particular species, although I’ll admit my study of Underdark flora is rather lacking-”
“Dreamer’s Charm,” he coughs out, pulling out of Wyll’s grasp to try and put his thoughts in order. Already, that want is building in him, and with it, comes the bear. “We need to act swiftly - you will need to tie me down.” He cannot let himself lose control, let the beast out, cannot hurt them.
“Tie you down? What effect are you expecting these spores to have? We have plenty of antidotes and healing potions to spare-”
“It will not be effective, nor any restoration.” He’d worked with herbs to try and find one, and had only found sleeping potions to give any effect. “The only cure is for it to pass through my system, but I can feel my control slipping. Please-”
With the calm haste she shows in battle, Lae’zel moves, takes but a moment to push him onto his chest, grab an arm, pin him down. “Rope,” she says, extending out a hand blindly, focus kept on him. When it isn’t offered, “Istik! He is the one trained in these plants, we do as he suggests! Rope!”
“Oh, I’m not concerned about the tying him up, so much as that our rope will be a bit flimsy,” Astarion says, but hands a coil over anyways. “Knots won’t be much help against a wildshaped bear, I imagine, and we don’t have any chains. Really, should steal some manacles, they’re sure to come in handy-”
Lae’zel is swift and deliberate in her movements; she knows how to restrain someone well, and for that, he’s endlessly thankful. His arms are bound together, several loops from wrist to shoulder, fastened to a line around his chest. It’s good work, the blood flows freely, but no shift as he flexes. The bear, finding itself trapped, relents, slips deeper into his mind - he’s admittedly grateful that particular piece of training has stayed with him all these years. Instead, all that burns within him is the weight pinning him down, before she rises, grabbing him by the ropes to shift him sitting up.
Fill: left hungry with the want 2/3 (Halsin/Origins, sex pollen)
“Halsin? Are you with us?” Karlach asks, tries a gentle touch to his shoulder, and this one, he leans into, all sense of shame rapidly evaporating from him in search of more contact, any relief from the thrumming of his skin. He forces his eyes open, to meet hers where she’s knelt down, concern clear across her face. Wyll has a mirrored look; Gale’s tinted with curiosity and Lae’zel’s calm focus only barely betraying her worry. But it’s clear that Astarion and Shadowheart recognize the effect, either by name or seeing how it wracks him. As much as he would like to try and suffer through this alone, it’s better, perhaps, that someone else knows.
“I am. This is not my first exposure to these spores. So long as I am restrained, I can maintain control enough to keep my form. The effects are-” he breathes in, centers himself, “-quite intense. But I have built up some resistance. This will not kill or harm me. You need only leave me restrained through the night, and it will pass through my system.”
“What exactly are those effects?” Gale questions, clearly aware there is something being kept. “If we understand the symptoms, we can try and find some way to ease them-”
“Dreamer’s Charm is an aphrodisiac,” Shadowheart recites. “It incapacitates a target, leaving them with an increased sensitivity to touch. The effects usually last from two to four hours, and longer without outside interaction.”
He can see the realization cross their faces, exactly what this means, and shuts his eyes before he can see the horror, the disgust, the concern - “You do not need to be here for this. It will not cause any permanent damage.”
“Nonsense! We’re not just going to let you suffer through something while we can help!” Wyll declares.
“You are a valuable asset as guide through these lands, and we should not waste additional hours on your recovery if it can be shortened,” Lae’zel declares. “State your conditions now while your mind is still present.”
“I will not force you into-”
“Who’s being forced?” Astarion asks. “You’re not exactly in the position to make us do anything, are you really surprised these softhearted idiots want to help?” At Lae’zel’s growl - “or those who just think it makes tactical sense, like myself.”
“If you do not wish our assistance, say so now and suffer. But I offer it with a clear mind,” Lae’zel declares. “Name your conditions.”
“Do not break the restraints, under any circumstances,” he says, the most important one by far. The rest he struggles to remember what would matter. “Do not drink of my blood, I would not see you infected. Avoid giving me any potions or spells to heal or enhance endurance, it will prolong the effects. Do not expect a spoken response; already, words are slipping from me.”
“While that is all useful information, I believe the pertinent question at hand was more: what limits do you have in ways that any of the party might act upon your body?” Gale suggests. “That is, the sort of negotiations one might have before a more normal bout of intercourse.”
“No knife-cuts, no deeper wounds, permanent changes,” he says. “Do not force yourself across your own boundaries. Do not- do not break the restraints, I cannot let myself harm you-”
“What do we need to do?” Wyll asks.
“Given that it is an aphrodisiac, one must assume the way forward is self-evident.”
“Yes, obviously, but does it just mean sex? Would reading out some erotica help, or just be a distraction? You have some experience with this, don’t you, Shadowheart?”
“I’ve read about it, but only on a list, as a method of interrogation,” she says. “I don’t know what would make it easier.”
“Isn’t it obvious? Touch, darling.” Astarion rolls his eyes. “Really, I’m surprised none of you have seen it before; it’s quite popular, in Baldur’s Gate at least.”
“Who would willingly subject themselves to this?” Wyll asks.
“Oh, plenty - although it’s usually the less-than-willing. Mixes well in alcohol, if you catch my drift. Any sort of touch becomes intensely pleasurable, not just on sensitive parts; direct skin contact is more effective than through clothes.”
“We are out of sight from most potential ambushes; we will set up camp here, where it is defensible.” She’s already stripping off her armor. “You will undress him, and hold him still while I act.”
“I’m not taking orders from you,” Shadowheart declares.
“I was not asking it of you. It is Karlach and Wyll, who are seeking direction, and have the strength for it; I do not care what you do. Wizard; you will prepare to use hold person in the case any restraints break.”
“I don’t know if I’m entirely comfortable being part of these proceedings. Not that I want Halsin to suffer unduly, of course, but I have enough trouble undressing in front of my cat-”
“I am not asking you to undress, I am asking you to prepare the casting of a spell,” Lae’zel says. She stands, already halfway bared down to her underwear, arms crossed. “Is this beyond your abilities?”
“Do not - he need not-” Halsin starts, as Karlach steps into the side, arms wrapping around him, melts into the grasp, getting harder to think about anything but touching and being touched.
“Hold person, I can manage,” Gale says. “Although, I’m uncertain it would be necessary. He seems…very well restrained.” His face is flushed, takes a glance down at the tableau before looking hurriedly away. Halsin wants to push him down, claim that soft skin, bite his throat.
A tighter grip from Karlach, he pushes that away, pushes himself back down into the feeling of being held. He needs, they need to- she pulls him close, to sit on her lap, and her head rests against his. “I’ve got you,” she says, unbothered by the whine that escapes his lips at being held. “I know you did this for me, took the burden - and I can’t - so I’ve got you, okay?”
He tilts his head to the side to look her in the eyes as well as he can, trying to offer what kindness and assurance he can still manage. “It’ll be alright,” he says, although the words slur together, and buries his face into her neck, rubbing up against her.
Framing him on the other side, Wyll is pulling off his armor, sliding off boots and undoing buckles and leaving flushed and sweaty skin exposed to the air. It’s more functional than anything, but each graze against his skin is like a lifesend. Wyll’s hands on his legs, Karlachs on his hips, every touch electric, he wants more, needs more.
“I can’t remove the chest piece while his arms are tied.”
“Skva. He gave his conditions. Cut it off, it can be mended,” Lae’zel commands. At the hesitation, she draws a knife, and breaks through the leather at the buckles, pulling the chest piece off. He should be more troubled by that, but instead, there are hands on his chest, and he whines at the contact.
Karlach’s arms wrap around his chest in an embrace, head resting against his neck as he falls back in weakness. Lae’zel presses close, hands exploring over his skin, making a thorough test and observation of all of his reactions. Every part of him is so impossibly sensitive, and he stops trying to hold back the moans that come, pushing himself deeper into Karlach’s embrace.
“I have not lain with someone who’s reactions came so easily,” Lae’zel admits, mouth running along him, hot breath and dancing tongue. “Among kin, it is a great challenge, to see who first breaks into such mewling sounds.”
“Don’t,” Karlach says. “He’s not well.”
“I do not tease. Different though it may be, I will enjoy making you sing.” She bites his ear, then pulls back, finally places hands on the soft inner stretch of his thighs, to touch his cock. It had been brushed by fabric, as Wyll had stripped him bare, but this is the first contact with skin, and he jerks uncontrollably at it.
Her hands are skilled, efficient but not hurried, as she cups his balls, runs thin skin between fingers, studies every strength of his length, taking him well in hand. She’s perched over one of his legs, is pressed up enough against him that he can feel her breasts even as she focuses her hands and movement on his cock. Karlach, still restraining him, presses gentle yet steaming kisses along his shoulders, while Wyll massages the muscles of his free leg, worshiping over the skin.
Hands give way to mouth, as Lae’zel takes him in, toying with her tongue before fully working to swallow his whole length. Faster than most, who did not try to take his whole girth at once, but still a slow and teasing endeavor. Her hands, slick with oil he had not seen, find his entrance and press in, working him over from both ends.
What control he has over his body is slipping away, held in place only by tied rope and hands on him. He rolls his hips, strains to lean to every touch, wants more, needs more, and begging pleads tumble near unconsciously from his mouth, whining and twisting and finding no respite, every inch of him afire.
She is in no hurry, as she finally moves to take him, putting her map of all his body to work as she takes those points of weakness and exploits them, settling down to ride him with little mercy. Warm and slick and tight, each slow move down a new, unbridled ecstasy - he cannot stop the shallow jerking of his hips to rise and meet her.
“Hold him down,” Lae’zel orders, and Karlach grabs at the soft flesh of his hips, fast and firm, while Wyll moves to hold him by the ankles, rubbing gently where he grasps. Enough pressure and dominance, and he is stilled, caught in the revelry, and Lae’zel sets an unrelenting pace, that blacks out his mind with the pleasure of it.
But cruel mistress that Dreamer’s Charm is, there is no rush, no release.
He can feel the jerking clench, as Lae’zel takes her own pleasure from him, rides him long and hard, until her movements still from exertion. When she finally pulls aside, she stays leaning against him, keeping that touch of skin. “I know the way of bodies; he should have found release, many times.”
“That’s rather the point,” Astarion says - are his senses so dulled not to have seen him rejoin the group, or had the rogue simply been stealthy in his approach. How many eyes were on him, what were they thinking - he does not want to know. “He isn’t going to find any release until it’s all passed through; it’s meant to leave the victim edged and unsatisfied until everyone has had their way.”
“Given the nature of certain more magical afflictions - is everyone in that case literal?” Gale asks.
“No, you’re free of this particular obligation, wizard, unless you’re interested?” Astarion laughs.
Lae’zel bristles. “Endurance is a skill I’ve trained my life for. I will again-”
“And exhaust yourself?” Wyll questions. “We don’t know how long this will last, it’s better to share the burden equally. Get some food and rest.”
“Oh? Are you going to take her place and actually participate?” Astarion asks, leaning in.
“Compared to your helpful remarks?” Wyll shoots back.
“Hey, Gale, do you also want to get in on this dick-measuring contest?” Karlach calls out.
“No, I’m good, thank you.”
“Just because I prefer courtship doesn’t mean I can’t…” Wyll trails off. “This isn’t about us, regardless, it’s about Halsin.” He pushes further up, between his spread out legs, arms brushing against thighs as he spreads his ass apart. His fingers are thicker than Lae’zel’s, and spread him apart easily, each thrust earning a groan.
Astarion presses close to one side, hands going to toy with his nipples, mouth running up the side of his torso, while Karlach takes most of the weight, lifting him up to a better angle as Wyll finally slides in. It’s a rare blessing - not often is he the one taken, and both time and spores make it near unbearable.
Two hands make his way down onto his cock - one ice cool, and one burning hot. He shudders in their grasp near as much as he does from Wyll fucking up into him, caught between them desperate for more.
“Don’t bite,” Wyll orders, and it takes him far too long to realize that’s not a command for him but the vampire who’s fangs are brushing against skin.
“I wasn’t planning on it,” Astarion says, and grips harder. “I do know how to play by the rules, and trust me, I don’t want even the risk this transfers through blood.” His face recoils at the thought, and a slight chill. “Although, trust me, darling, you do look delicious.”
The sounds that come out of him are certainly not words, but it must be something that seems pleased, the way Karlach picks up on it. “You’re so fucking hot for us right now,” she croons, as he leans further into the touch.
He’s thick, and full, and burning hot under their touch, and he needs more, more, desperate, shaking. Wyll picks up speed, fingers gripping tight at his hips, hands dig tighter into hush skin, and he keeps pushing down, pushing close, trying to drag out every sensation he can manage.
When Wyll comes, hot seed spilling inside him, there’s not enough thought to slow or stop - not that Wyll makes any move to pull out, instead of just collapsing forward to hold him close and press him tighter back into Karlach, locked in a sweet, sweaty embrace.
“You should listen to your own advice,” Astarion suggests, sliding out from where he was pinned between them. “What was it? Better to share the burden equally?”
“I’ve got more energy in me,” the Blade of Frontiers says, although his voice somewhat belies the point.
“Very believable, darling. Help me lift him up?” And hands are pulling him to stand, although his legs are far from stable under him.
“Hey, Wyll might need a break, but I’ve mostly just been a pillow, I’m fine,” Karlach says, as Astarion positions them so that Halsin’s buried against Wyll’s chest, held up by arms.
“Oh, I wouldn’t dare suggest otherwise - I just thought you might use a stretch,” Astarion suggests. “And this angle works better,” he adds, and then there’s a tongue, diving into the hole still left gaping from where it had just been fucked, as slow and languid, Astarion starts to eat him out.
That definitely robs all strength from his legs, but there’s a shift of weight as Shadowheart also steps in beside Wyll to support him, another stretch of skin against his, and the cool ethereal weight of a mage hand, as Gale also reacts from where he stands, still watching.
The wizard is still fully dressed, and no less flustered than he had been, as the mage hand forces him to actually make eye contact on the scene. There’s the look in his face, that distant gaze of tadpole-to-tadpole communication, and, no less embarrassed, the mage hand moves lower to wrap around his cock, at someone’s silent suggestion - likely Astarion, the way he smirks against skin, not coming up for air.
Fill: left hungry with the want 3/3 (Halsin/Origins, sex pollen)
“You’re being so good for us,” Shadowheart says, running her fingers through his hair as she keeps him held up. “Such a good boy.” He whines, pushing into her, into them, into the mage hand, as much as he can as Astarion keeps a tight grip on his thighs.
The mage hand vanishes far too quickly, leaving him twitching instead at empty air. Astarion pulls back, resting head against the inner thigh and looking up. “What are you thinking?”
“Depends,” Shadowheart murmurs. “Karlach, how’s your engine running?”
“A little hot, but not as bad as it used to,” she says, and presses her hands to his skin, hot, yes, but he leans into them anyways. There’s a presence on the opposite side, as Gale steps close enough that his robes brush against skin, to hold a hand against Karlach’s shoulders, cooling her engine down. “Hey, thanks mate! I think it might be safest if I stay hands, though.”
“You’re, ah, very welcome,” Gale says, stepping back. “I will be here. If you need me.”
“More hands are always useful,” Astarion says, and laughs. Karlach kicks him, and the shift in grip is enough that Halsin nearly topples before she catches him.
“Astarion, what angle would be best for you to fuck him?” Shadowheart asks.
“Oh, any, I’m flexible.”
“C’mon, don’t leave him hanging like this,” Karlach says, and pulls Halsin down to sit on top of her knees, facing her this time. “Shads, you want to slide on in?” She does, sandwiching herself, as from behind Astarion pushes them closer together so that there’s skin pressing at him from all angles.
“Open your mouth for me,” Shadowheart orders, slipping fingers between his lips, as Astarion pushes into his already well fucked open ass. Hands, everywhere, he doesn’t know whose, he sucks on her fingers as she slicks him open, prepares herself. He ruts against Karlach’s thighs, held back from Shadowheart as she wraps a hand around his cock to further work him open.
When she does slide on, it’s in time with Astarion’s thrusts, trapping him in on either side as they work him to the core. Her hands grip onto his shoulders, massaging into his back and neck, pulling him close to her and Karlach as Astarion pins him hard from the other side.
“Eyes open for me,” she orders and he does, meeting her dark gaze. “You’re doing such a good job for us, Halsin. Just like that.” Praise sinks into his skin even deeper than the spores had, he can’t help but twist between them even as they set their pace.
“You know, it’d be fun to keep him like this,” Astarion murmurs like an aside to Shadowheart, although his mouth is right against his ear. “Trussed up in camp for anyone to use, like a good little toy.”
“Everyone? You wouldn’t want to keep him to yourself?”
“I know how to share.” There’s a particularly deep thrust at that, fingernails digging into skin.
The two of them send him spiraling, in ways both comfortable and complicated, that he would do anything they asked in exchange for hands on him, even without the spores that course through his body and corrupt his mind.
She keeps his eyes on her, his focus as clear as possible, hands bracing herself while still offering the sensation of touch. Although, while Karlach’s warm touch is still on him, the other cooler hands are gone, no longer grounding him.
“Not that I don’t appreciate the attention,” Shadowheart calls out, “but we’re trying to focus on Halsin, not me.”
“Hmm? Yes, of course,” comes a distracted voice from behind him, as Astarion’s hands find his skin once more, grazing along his chest in soothing, arousing patterns, dancing and never faltering as they slip between other grasps and touches.
Their matched rhythm breaks when pleasure claims Shadowheart for the first time, although the sensation is still overwhelming. Astarion pulls out, as it does the second time, shifts him over so that he’s straddling across one of Karlach’s thighs as Shadowheart pulls herself off to also collapse against the tiefling.
Astarion claims his mouth with no small amount of force, hands tight in his hair, and he ruts mindlessly while he’s taken, until Astarion comes, shooting down his throat as his head is held firmly in place.
“Drink,” Shadowheart says, pressing a waterskin to his mouth pouring some in. She’s returned with something else in hand as well - a toy, larger than he’d expected, ridged, even. Astarion slides into the place she’d been, pulling him tightly into a kiss, hands grabbing and roaming as he rolls his hips and pulls Halsin tighter.
Even bound as it is, the bear wants to claim him, take him, own him, mark him, ruin him all his strength goes thrusting forward, no hands holding him back as he pushes deeper in.
Shadowheart presses in from behind, rakes her fingers down his back, and Astarion rolls his hips, eyes staring up as Halsin collapses and buries into his neck. Warm and sweet and soft, all around him. He’s pretty sure the sounds he’s making are begging, although he doesn’t know what for other than more.
“Get off,” comes a distant voice, one he feels that he should listen to, but can’t turn thought into action. A hand drags him back, but the order isn’t meant for him - it’s for Astarion, who jerks to attention beneath, purposefully not removing himself as Lae’zel intercedes. “Your eyes are empty, your endurance is gone. Find blood before you return, and do so with a clear mind.” She does not bring hands down to pull him aside, but the strength of her voice is firm enough.
“I’m fine-”
“Istik, do you think I cannot see? Go, now, or I will remove you.” He pulls off, and there’s no annoyance on his face, just an empty look. “You should have removed him sooner,” Lae’zel tells Shadowheart, firmly.
“Astarion can take care of himself, he’s not-” she slows her stride, although doesn’t pull away. Lae’zel grips Halsin’s head roughly, tilting it up to check his eyes, and then at Shadowheart’s own. “He wasn’t exhausted. I would have told him to stop if he was.”
“He does not state his limits; is everyone in Fay-run such a fool?” Lae’zel scowls. “I know this weakness of his well; that you do not is worrying. But it is not why I approached.” She slides a thumb under the ropes, testing the skin, and he recoils at the feel of it, more intense than most of what he’s felt. “His struggle is causing damage; we need to cut the ropes.”
No, they can’t. He arcs away, shifting, trying to break free, pulls away from Shadowheart and half-twists to the side, but Karlach grabs and holds him tighter. They can’t- he won’t- they can’t-
“I honor your conditions; you will remain restrained,” Lae’zel says, gripping his head and forcing him to look at her. “Wizard, cast your spell, keep him still.”
“Technically his condition was- yes, hold person, I can do that,” Gale says, and the spell falls over him. He doesn’t know if it’s even in him to resist, so affected, but if he does it’s surely weak, as paralysis keeps his muscles trapped in place. The stillness is almost a welcome peace, except for the way it leaves every inch of skin raw and even more aware of the clawing need to be touched.
She cuts the ropes swiftly, careful with the knife to avoid skin, and he hadn’t realized how much his arms were aching trapped in place until they’re pulled free. “Help me carry him,” Lae’zel commands, and Karlach picks him up in her arms, bearing most of the weight as they move over towards where his tent has been partially set up.
“Lie him down; I will fasten him to the ground. This will retain access while not providing stress, making it able to be maintained over a longer period of time.”
Karlach sets him down, and rests across his chest, keeping contact, as Lae’zel drives pitons into the solid earth, wrapping cloth around his wrists before she binds him to them, several points that keep him fast. He’s still paralyzed from the spell Gale has over him, lies still against the thin cloth over cool earth, drifting.
“Return to claiming him with your addition,” Lae’zel tells Shadowheart. “I need to know what angle at which to bind his ankles down.
“I told you, I’m not yours to boss around,” she shoots back, but takes the place regardless, lifting up his legs. “Gale, drop the spell. This won’t be a good sensation if he’s still paralyzed.”
“Right, of course, that makes perfect sense,” and control over his limbs returns. Between the ropes and Karlach pinning him down, there’s no struggle, no attempt by the bear to try and break free again of the bonds, and Shadowheart returns to fucking him, a gradual but unrelenting pace.
“Hold the other leg fast,” Lae’zel commands, and there are new hands on him, the soft unscarred hands of Gale, who moves to hold his ankle, while Lae’zel angles the leg in testing where to fasten the ropes. Even the smallest touch from a new person is still a shock to the system, even on skin as overwrought and overworn as his.
It’s only a temporary feeling, as Lae’zel finishes the rope ties and moves onto the other, far swift as she finishes off the ropes, and comes to his side, hand resting on the head of his cock. She squeezes at the tip, and the smallest bead comes out, is swiped away by a finger.
“Hours, you said, for your diluted extract,” she notes, holding her finger in front of Shadowheart’s face. “I think we make good time. Although there is more work to be done.”
Shadowheart ducks forward, taking Lae’zel’s finger into her mouth; the Githyanki freezes, and only after a long moment pulls herself back.
“Istik! We do not know the ways this might be transmitted! Already we have lost so much time, we will not do the same for you!”
Karlach laughs, repositioning and pulling his head up into her lap, hands running through his hair and massaging his scalp. “Are you doing alright?” She asks, leaning in closer. “Anything I can do, I mean, besides the obvious?”
Everything is too much, skin on fire and burning and thirsty and wanting, the scents of all of them around him, needing them close and closer still. Bit he can remember, somewhat distantly, the last time he’d succumbed to the pollen, the times before - none come close, to this.
“Stay,” he croaks out, and lets himself fall deeper into being touched and held, as Lae’zel’s touch finds him again, and again, and again, rest still so far away but closer with each brush and touch and roll of hips.
“Promise,” Karlach says, and presses a kiss against his head, stays holding him as his mind slips off into sensation.
Re: Fill: left hungry with the want 3/3 (Halsin/Origins, sex pollen)
(Anonymous) 2023-10-10 05:21 pm (UTC)(link)Oh my lawd this was so hot and perfect. Hhh I feel like I am melting now! THANK U
Re: Fill: left hungry with the want 3/3 (Halsin/Origins, sex pollen)
(Anonymous) 2023-10-11 02:34 am (UTC)(link)