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For people to share their kinky writing that doesn't fit a particular meme prompt. (Links can still be shared to the Completed Fills post.)

"Cozy", Matt/Marisha/Taliesin

Date: 2017-03-25 02:35 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
(i posted this under a semi-relevant prompt on the rpf thread but this post is very helpful! i'm not comfortable posting rpf anywhere besides here.)

They’re supposed to be having a nice dinner out, but Taliesin feels awful.

He’s felt pretty terrible all day, to be honest. It’s a combination of physical and mental problems- he can feel a head cold coming on, starting with a low pulse of pain in his skull, and his brain hasn’t been great either, feeling apathetic at best since he got up in the morning. He very badly wants to be in bed, but he and Matt and Marisha have been arranging to have a real date night for a while now, and god, he doesn’t want to fuck it up.

Language aside, there’s another issue- he’s feeling little, especially after a long day of work. But he can’t, not here, not now; they’re out having a normal date, or as normal as they get, having dinner and laughing over wine, and Taliesin has a twinge of guilt because he wishes he was home in his dinosaur jammies, watching cartoons with a bottle of chocolate milk.

It’s not fair to Matt and Marisha. They take such good care of him when he’s little, and he doesn’t have anything to give in return. There’s sex and romance he can provide when he’s big and normal, but it can’t compare to them holding him, singing to him, letting him be a ridiculous child.

“Taliesin?” Marisha says. “You okay?”

Taliesin pulls himself out of his thoughts and nods. “Yeah, yeah.” He gives Matt and Marisha a crooked grin that he hopes doesn’t look too forced. “I’m all right. Just kinda tired. But I’m here, I’m listening.”

Matt gives him a tiny concerned frown and says, “You can always tell us if something’s up.”

“I’m fine, d- Matt.” He chuckles, trying to cover up where he stammered over Matt’s name, nearly calling him daddy. “Promise.”

They still look unconvinced, but then the waiter comes by with their meals, interrupting that line of questioning. Taliesin smiles politely and thanks the server even though he’s completely uninterested in eating this perfectly good stir fry.

He only pokes at his dinner but he does his best to participate in the conversation. Matt and Marisha chat about work, games, movies, and even when he doesn’t have anything to add, he tries to laugh or make agreeing sounds in the right places.

It’s so stupid. He should’ve told them to have a nice night on their own, that he was sick and that they should have fun without him dragging them down. He’s such a nightmare to deal with, worse than a real child because he’s supposed to be a normal adult.

He feels Marisha’s hand on his arm and he realizes his vision is blurry with unshed tears.

“Taliesin,” Marisha says, her voice serious and concerned. “What’s wrong?”

“Sorry, I’m sorry.” He tries to wipe his eyes without drawing attention to the fact that he’s on the verge of crying. “I- I should’ve told you I’m not feeling well, I should’ve stayed home, I don’t want to ruin your night-”

“Our night,” Marisha says firmly. “Taliesin…”

“I’m fine,” he repeats, but his voice cracks, and the jig is up.

Matt nods towards the front of the restaurant. “I’ll get the bill,” he says. “You two sit in the car and I’ll be right out.”

Taliesin starts to argue, but Marisha ushers him outside like a woman on a mission. She opens the back of the car and sits down next to him. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

Taliesin sniffles and stares at the car floor. “I really am just feeling sort of sick. And…my brain isn’t great today. I didn’t want to say anything because I wanted you two to have a nice night.”

“Tal, it’s not just for me and Matt, it’s supposed to be a good night for all of us.” She holds Taliesin’s hands in her own for a minute. “Ah- I know. I have just the thing.”

Taliesin glances up as she digs through her purse and pulls out a little plastic case, the size of one of those travel first aid kits, except it’s decorated with stickers. She pops it open and holds out two things- a tiny Beanie Baby turtle and a blue pacifier.

He bursts into tears, unable to hold it back any longer, feeling so guilty and selfish. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t want- I didn’t want this to happen tonight, I just wanted us to be semi-normal. I wanted you to not worry about me being a mess, or- or have to think about taking care of me- I’m sorry.”

Marisha pulls him into a tight hug, hushing him and kissing his cheeks. “Oh, baby, it’s okay. Please don’t worry about that. We love you so much.”

Taliesin didn’t notice Matt’s arrival, but feels his hand gently patting his leg from the front seat. “We love taking care of you,” he says. “You know that, right?”

“I just- you put so much energy into it, and you don’t get anything back-”

“We do, though,” Matt says. “Do you know how happy it makes us that we make you feel safe and loved?”

“We love playing mommy and daddy for you,” Marisha adds. “You can be small and vulnerable with us because you trust us. That makes us feel so good, baby.”

Taliesin stares at them with wide, wet eyes. They smile warmly, Marisha leaning in to kiss his forehead, Matt reaching back to stroke his cheek. “Can we go home?” he asks softly.

“Of course,” Matt says. “Buckle up, baby. We’ll be there soon.”

Marisha slides the pacifier into his mouth and hands him the little stuffed turtle while she clicks his seatbelt closed. She stays in the back with him, lightly scratching his scalp while he sucks on the pacifier and makes the plush turtle dance in his hands.

When they get home, Matt and Marisha guide him inside. “Daddy’s gonna get you changed while I get us all cozy,” Marisha says. “Do you want some cocoa?”

“Bottle,” Taliesin says quietly. Marisha smiles and gives him a quick kiss before Matt leads him into the bedroom.

“Okay,” Matt says, digging through Taliesin’s drawer. “How old are you feeling, buddy?”

Taliesin hesitates, then shyly holds up one finger. Matt gives him a soft, warm look and nods.

Matt gets him out of his clothes and gently dresses him again, replacing his shirt and dark jeans with a pull-up and his softest pajamas, the Superman ones. They pick out a couple more stuffed animals- a well-loved, scruffy cat, a soft dog, and a handsomely-dressed Build-a-Bear. Matt gives him another soft kiss and walks him back out to the living room, holding his hand.

Marisha is waiting on the couch with a bottle of warm milk. “Come here, my sweet baby,” she coos, pulling Taliesin into a hug. “We’re gonna watch Robin Hood. Maybe we’ll do a whole Disney night, yeah?”

Taliesin smiles and nods. He curls up in between Matt and Marisha and sighs, content.

Re: "Cozy", Matt/Marisha/Taliesin

Date: 2017-03-25 03:33 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
That is so cute! I love how anxious he got about them taking care of him & how Marisha had his little toys in her purse even though he was supposed to be big that even. Just so good! :)
From: (Anonymous)
Liam waits until after the rest of the group have scattered and Matt's packing up his dice to ask, "What exactly were you planning on happening between Vax and Gilmore?"

Matt looks up from sweeping the polyhedrals into their bag. "Hmmm? Oh... well. It would have depended on what Vax was okay with. You seemed pretty chill about the whole thing." His lips quirk into a smile. "How far would you have gone?"

"That depends on what Gilmore would have offered," Liam says.

Matt stands up, and there's really not much to pick in height between them, but Liam feels like Matt's looming over him. "That depends on how seriously Vax would have taken it."

There are still other people in the studio—Ashley's laughing at something Laura just said—but Liam can't really hear them. He's focused on Matt's piercing blue gaze that seems to be boring deeply into him, and on the way Matt's tongue darts out to wet his lips.

"Vax would..." He has to swallow; his throat is dry. "Vax didn't spend the afternoon with Gilmore for nothing."

Matt cocks an eyebrow. "Oh? It wasn't just a friendly stroll around the city to catch up on the local news? Good to know."

"Gilmore—" Liam starts.

"Are you staying here all night?" Sam interrupts.

"Liam just wants to know whether Gilmore can make Vax a certain magical item," Matt says smoothly.

Sam snickers. "With the right incentive, I think Gilmore would make Vax anything."

"That's the gist of it," Matt says with a sly smile, and Liam's stomach does a backflip. "I do have to look up the rules for item crafting, though. Liam, do you want to stick around and make sure I'm doing this the way you want it?"

The sneaky, sneaky bastard. "Sure," Liam says, snagging his PHB just so it looks like he's paying attention to their cover story—and so he can hold it in front of himself. Matt's been throwing flirty looks and winks his way all session, but now that it seems to be Matt-and-Liam instead of Gilmore-and-Vax, he's not sure what to make of the way that his body is reacting. Matt picks up his DMG, a pencil, and a piece of scratch paper.

They make their way to the sofa, waving as the others leave one and two at a time. Before very long they're alone in the room. Matt is drumming his pencil against the cover of his DMG. Liam just watches the way his fingers move, flicking the pencil again and again.

Matt breaks the silence between them. "How far would you have gone?" he asks again, and this time Liam knows for sure that Matt means him and not Vax.

Liam chooses his words with care. "It's clear Gilmore has a special interest in Vax. It would hardly be fair to take advantage of that just to bend him to helping out the party. I don't think he'd be fooled if Vax weren't reasonably serious." He realizes he's still clutching his PHB and sets it aside, trying to pretend that when he tugs down the hem of his brown t-shirt it's just a casual gesture. "And I don't think we'd be welcome back at Gilmore's Glorious Goods if Vax turned around and brushed him off after giving every indication that he was... that he wanted to explore that special interest."

"I see." Matt stops drumming his pencil on his book. "So Vax was sincere about having Gilmore visit any time... day or night?"

"Yes." Liam looks down to where Matt's now twirling the pencil between his fingers instead. "And if you say 'good to know', Mercer, I swear I'm going to kill you."

Matt laughs. "Well, it is. It's always good for a DM to know what they might be able to exploit about their players' characters."

Liam feels inexplicably wounded. "Is that what this is, a chance to find something to use against me—Vax?"

"No," Matt says, and his voice shifts, and he's not quite Gilmore because they're sitting on the couch and not up at the table, there's no DM screen between them, but there's a low, insinuating tone to his voice all the same. "It's a chance to find out just how much of himself Vax would have offered to Gilmore."

This is, on some level, profoundly fucked-up; they are not their characters. This is, on some level, the opposite of a good idea. This is, on some level, something that could fuck their friendship up forever if either of them misreads the situation.

On this level, the one where Liam's sitting barely an arm's length from Matt on the couch where they do their Q&As, Matt can see that Liam's considering his response very carefully. He can't stop twirling the pencil between his fingers, waiting for Liam to tell him that he's being fucking ridiculous.

Instead, Liam reaches out and plucks the pencil from his hand, throwing it fairly accurately in the direction of the tables. "Vax thinks Gilmore drives some hard bargains, but he's noticed a crack in Gilmore's own armor, something that he could exploit if that was what he wanted to do."

"Go on," Matt says.

Liam clears his throat and runs a hand through his hair. "It's not. He's too curious to see what Gilmore's intentions are toward him to even think of using it against him."

Matt lets out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "You should probably know that Gilmore's interest in Vax goes beyond just being friendly."

Liam chuckles. "Yeah... I was getting that impression."

The gap between them is small. Small enough that an observer, if one were there, would be hard put to say which of them leans in first.

(Spoiler: it's both of them. They mirror each other, in fact, each lifting a hand to the other's face, palm curving a little to cup the jaw. They even close their eyes at the same moment, the breath-apart moment when it's too late to turn back.

Spoiler: neither of them want to turn back.)
From: (Anonymous)
Matt can feel Liam's stubble under his palm and pricking at his lower lip as his mouth meets Liam's. It's a familiar-but-not feeling; he's more used to it from stroking his own cheek, looking in the mirror to gauge whether he can get away with another day without shaving.

Liam's mouth opens under his, tongue pushing between Matt's lips. Matt meets it with his own, and even that simple act sends a pulse of wanting through his body. He's spent some time thinking about how this might all turn out, but the thing about life, as in games, is that not everything goes according to plan; some things are always down to chance, or luck, or someone else's intentions.

Liam feels the way that Matt relaxes into the kiss and realizes that Matt's been utterly tense waiting for him to react. He strokes his thumb over Matt's cheek, tilts his head a little, and deepens the kiss, making a soft sound of affirmation to let Matt know he's on board with this. Matt tenses again for a millisecond and then his hand slips to the back of Liam's head, tangling into his hair as he kisses Liam back with a new degree of desire. Liam returns the favor with interest; Matt really does have lovely hair and it is awfully convenient for holding him in place for deeper kisses.

Matt ends up on his back, Liam's body covering his. He can feel Liam's arousal pressed flush against his own. Good to know that he wasn't just imagining Liam trying to hide it behind his PHB. Liam's lying between his legs; Matt tucks his ankles behind Liam's knees and wraps his arms around Liam's neck.

"Would Gilmore have been a top or a bottom?" Liam says conversationally, mouthing at the side of Matt's throat.

Matt considers this. "I think he could go either way," he says.

"So could Vax."

Matt slides one hand down to squeeze Liam's ass. Liam retaliates by biting the side of Matt's neck. Matt turns his head and catches Liam's mouth with his again, slow and warm and dizzying.

"How do you want to do this?" Liam asks when the kiss ends, smiling down at Matt.

Matt answers it with a wicked smile of his own, squeezing Liam's ass again. "I had something in mind." He eases Liam's t-shirt up, long fingers stroking Liam's lower back, occasionally dipping under the waistband of Liam's jeans. "You'll have to get up off me if you want to know what."

"Do I have to roll an Insight check?"

Matt nips at his lower lip. "Smartass."

Liam sits back on his heels to let Matt up. "We're all smartasses."

"You are," Matt agrees, sitting up and slinging one leg across Liam's to land straddling his lap, yanking Liam's t-shirt up and off with a second move just as economically graceful. His body presses Liam's into the couch; Liam puts his arms around Matt's neck and seeks out Matt's mouth again, thinking hazily that he could happily do this all night.

But Matt isn't done with him yet.

Liam manages to get his hands up under Matt's own t-shirt and has it worked most of the way off before Matt makes a disgruntled noise and leans back enough to shuck it off and drop it on the floor, where it lands on his discarded DMG. As soon as he does Liam grabs onto him fiercely, hauling him as close as possible so they're skin to skin, and it's enough to make Matt gasp softly in appreciation. Liam's chest is mostly smooth flat planes and he has just enough of a belly to make Matt feel okay about the amount of food that he shoved in his face during their bathroom break. It's okay for the others to snack nigh-constantly, but not for him; the DM chewing into his mic would probably lose them viewers.

"I didn't know you'd be this into it," he says to Liam, who's now chaining kisses over Matt's clavicle.

Liam lifts his head. "Do you even have any concept of your own appeal? Shit, I sometimes think even Laura and Travis would invite you home. They probably had a Mercer clause somewhere in their wedding vows." Just to punctuate his words, he grinds up against Matt, denim sliding against denim, the thick material doing damn near nothing to conceal either's state of arousal.

Matt catches Liam's wrists and pins them down, rubbing against him to increase the delicious friction. Liam makes a low sound in the back of his throat and nuzzles into the side of Matt's neck, lips and teeth catching Matt's skin, probably leaving a mark. Matt doesn't care.

When he backs off of Liam, Liam glares at him, but it's only for a second until Matt drops to his knees in front of Liam, hands on Liam's knees, spreading his thighs. It's easy for Liam to get the point, and his hands go to his own belt buckle, working it open and then raising his ass to get his jeans and boxers down.

Matt generously helps out by yanking Liam's pants down to his knees and then, before Liam can get any further disentangled, diving in tongue-first to drag a wet line up the underside of Liam's cock, the length of which presses against his cheek as he does so. Liam lets out an "Uh!" of surprise and bucks, and Matt leans into him, forearms on Liam's thighs to hold him down as he goes in for another long lick before teasing at Liam's crown with the tip of his tongue. His hair falls down around his face, but doesn't veil the way that his soft pink tongue keeps lapping at the blood-flushed dark head of Liam's cock.

"Jesus Christ," Liam says, hands clenching at the soft material of the couch.

Matt laughs, breathy over Liam's saliva-slick skin. "Still up for this?"

In response Liam grabs a handful of Matt's hair and pushes the tip of his cock against Matt's lips, and Matt's mouth opens to take him in.

Liam has to let go of Matt's hair when Matt's mouth closes over him, because if he doesn't dig his nails into the couch and cling then he's going to lose it immediately.
From: (Anonymous)
Matt's tongue works over him as if Matt's savoring a particularly sweet ice cream cone: long swirling licks around his crown, spiraling deeper and deeper before flicking back up to lap at his tip. Liam leans back and spreads his legs wider, and Matt tucks his arms under Liam's thighs, holding him in place as he licks and sucks. Liam can hardly keep his eyes focused. Matt's tongue is good for more than reeling off character actions and reactions.

"Oh my fucking God," Liam breathes, looking down at the top of Matt's head. Matt glances up at him and gives him a sly smile around his mouthful before lowering his head to take Liam deep, deep, deep in, one long slow practiced movement until Liam's cockhead nudges the back of Matt's throat. He feels Matt's throat contract as Matt swallows against him and lets out a loud groan, eyes closing as Matt's tongue caresses the underside of his cock.

When Matt lifts up to tongue at the head of Liam's cock he notices that Liam's got his eyes closed. "Watch me," he says, voice a little rough. "Eyes open."

Liam's hand twitches, comes up off the couch, reaches for Matt's head, and then drops back to the couch. Matt gives him another sly smile and pulls right off to tease with tiny little licks at the very tip of Liam's cock, which is taut and dark and leaking pre-come.

Looking up at Liam through the veil of his eyelashes, Matt can see Liam struggling with how to react to this overt tease. Finally his hand comes back up again, seizing the nape of Matt's neck, twisting into his hair, and Matt lets out a moan of pleasure as Liam forces his mouth back down. He feels like he's going to just about come from the rough treatment. It's a pleasure to surrender control, to be controlled. Liam's hard, solid length is a delicious mouthful and while Matt knows he will never quite be able to explain this he's not particularly moved to.

Liam can't keep from thrusting up into Matt's lovely mouth, looking down as directed to watch the push of his cock through those enticing lips, the way Matt's cheeks hollow as he sucks, and the way his throat works when he swallows. His fingers tighten in Matt's hair and Matt fucking whimpers around him. Liam grabs Matt's wrist with his free hand, bearing down on it hard, and Matt's body jerks in response.

He wants to say what the fuck is this, why is this happening, but all that comes out is a strangled, "Fuck, Matt!"

Matt uncurls his arm from around Liam's thigh and works it up under his own chin to where he can tease at Liam's balls, which are drawn up tight. Liam curses again at the feeling, especially when Matt squeezes a little, and rides up even harder into Matt's mouth.

It would probably be polite to let Matt know he's gonna come soon, but Liam can't make words. All he can do is tug at Matt's hair. Matt makes a negatory sound and Liam just lets go, shooting hard down Matt's throat, all his awareness condensed down to the pure hot pleasure as Matt sucks him dry.

Liam slumps back against the back of the couch, panting and spent. Matt backs off of him and stands up, wiping his mouth casually with the back of his hand before sitting next to Liam, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. Liam yanks him into a savage, harder kiss, tasting himself on Matt's tongue, feeling Matt's answering moan rather than hearing it.

It's a fairly simple matter to get Matt's pants off, unsurprisingly; all he has to do is begin working Matt's belt open and Matt's back on his feet, slipping the leather free of the buckle and shrugging his jeans down off over his slim hips, kicking them free onto the floor. Liam is also not surprised to see that Matt isn't wearing anything underneath his jeans.

Matt seems unsure where to go after that; Liam solves the problem for him by pulling him down onto Liam's lap, one arm around Matt's waist to hold him in place, the other slipping between their bodies and closing readily, easily, around Matt's cock. He'd thought it might be weird, but apparently reciprocating after getting an amazing blowjob isn't as socially awkward a situation as he'd expected.

Matt leans into Liam's body and hand and lips, letting Liam's mouth claim his in another long, scorching kiss. He rocks against Liam's hand, letting Liam build him up with long, slow strokes. After the hectic pleasure of getting Liam off it's quiet, good—almost too slow.

"Come on," he mumbles against Liam's mouth, and Liam gives Matt a sly smile of his own and continues the slow strokes. He builds up the pace and drops back; builds up the pace and drops back. Matt drops his forehead to Liam's shoulder, feeling the flex and pull of Liam's muscles as he works him.

"Fuck, just..."

"You did me your way, let me do you mine."

Matt bucks into Liam's hand, gasping for breath, and Liam's fingers still at the base of his cock, tightening ruthlessly until Matt manages a breathless, "Please!"

"Please what?"

"Let me come." He lifts his head from Liam's shoulder to say it, eye to eye with Liam, and Liam realizes that maybe he's not in complete control over Matt after all. "Or are you scared of getting messy?"

Liam forgoes his grip on Matt's waist to grab his hair last time and bring him in for another hot, sharp—and yes, messy—kiss as he squeezes Matt's cock hard and jerks him fast, drawing Matt's orgasm out of him unexpectedly quickly, in a burst of wet heat that stripes over both their stomachs. Matt collapses against him, breathing rapidly, letting out a half-laugh.

"Wow. Fuck."

"Yeah. Fuck." Liam lets him go, wiping his hand across the small curve of Matt's belly and putting both arms around Matt's waist. Matt leans his forehead against Liam's. "Where did that come from?"

Matt gives him a catlike smile. "Never ask the DM that."

Liam laughs. It's good enough. It'll have to be. He doesn't think he's going to get more of an answer out of Matt than that—but there might be other things he'll get out of Matt in the future.

He's looking forward to finding out.
From: (Anonymous)
HHHHHHhhhhh thank youuuuuu, god I will always want some kind of resolution for the Gilmore/Vax flirting and this feeds my need. Their intense gazes!!! Their chemistry!! Fantastic
From: (Anonymous)
Eeee yay I am so glad you like it; it took some time to work up the nerve to post it but the positive responses help!
From: (Anonymous)
Thank you for sharing this, it's amazing :DD
Really, any Vaxilmore content is good content and any Liam/Matt is awesome too so you hit all the marks and I love this sooo much, I've reread it a bunch of times by now <3
From: (Anonymous)
Hearing people are rereading stuff is one of my fave compliments!

"Worship," Percy/Vex

Date: 2017-05-18 01:17 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
She smelled of the forest. Pine needles and moss, fungi, the dense ferns that hid all sorts of pathways through tightly knit trees that had seen ages whisper quietly away from them. She was timeless. His own personal deity to bend a knee to, kiss softly, whisper his wants into the memory of fields and forests. Unlike other gods, his whispered back, slid a hand over his own, made promises in return, and sealed her words with tongue and teeth against his skin.

Unfortunately for Percy, Vex’ahlia was in Syngorn as he thought of her, a fact that made any dramatic memories turn somewhat sour. To his credit, Percy had lasted a good two weeks before he abruptly locked the door to his workshop and strode into the forest, face set in determination. He had the sense of mind to grab his firearms, to posture a bit, make an appearance of going to the forest to hunt. Along the path to the woods he inspected bullets as he loaded Animus, and checked the balance of Bad News. A wonderful little physical tick he thought would be most effective.

Percy walked for a few hours. Quiet frustration met with quiet bird song and the movement of leaves and his own footfalls. He stopped and leaned against a tree, breathing in on a loud gasp, focusing on *this*. ‘This’ with outstretched branches and grooves in the bark where deer had come and attempted to scour the velvet from their antlers. ‘This’ of dappled sunlight making the fabric of his coat dance between different colors. ‘This’ being his Lady Vex’ahlia’s and everything that is of her. She was his unending forest and his home.

A loud shuddering breath followed by hands scrambling at fabric. His hands. His hands because she wasn’t here and he needed her. He needed her and so he came to the woods because they were hers. The smell of the mossy undergrowth bringing to mind their last night together before her stay in Syngorn. How he pulled her close and smothered his face in her hair as they lay under the night sky. Then lower when she spread her legs and pressed his face into her sex.

In times where he was completely alone, he wondered how he let himself go so far. How it became that one person held so much sway over him, and how terrifying it was that he would do anything for her. A fact he moaned into the waiting wilds as his hand grasped his cock and he began sliding up and down. He continued for a moment before spitting in his palm and twisting his thumb around his shaft. Vex swam in his vision, soft browns of her eyes, the remnants of the wilds leaving green around the very edges of her pupils. His forest goddess in front of him, lips wrapping around him, her tongue pressing into the sides, swirling around the tip. Percy fell back with his full weight against the tree and he moaned.

He moaned her name, her full title, the small endearments he used just for her, slipping into Celestial, as even if she wasn’t there, he knew she’d have loved to hear him speak it. Percy’s hand slipping up and down his shaft, as he thought of moonlit nights and hair adorned with stars, briefly pausing once or twice to slick his hand again, enough to continue the movement, but not enough to make his length entirely wet. He had long since given up attempting to explain his desire to be in some discomfort during sex. The thought of his dick rubbed raw and throbbing made him grin.

Lips around him. Fingers teasing him before thrusting inward. Gods, he left any supplies he could have had with him back in Vex’s manor. Percy’s legs tightened, his fist moving faster as he thought of Vex smiling at him as she inserted a smooth glass toy into his anus. He wanted her in him more than anything. That was almost the aim of the forest. Outside, he was drowning in her. He was inside of her, and with each breath he took a part of her in. The toy would have been nice, and quite preferable, but it was all still her.

Percy came into his hand, Vex’s name on his lips, the forest that was and was not her around him, wind whispering quietly, as if it knew it wasn’t quite complete without it’s mistress there. He slid down the tree he had been leaning against and sat on the ground.

He may have given up on gods and magic, but Lady Vex’ahlia was a force of nature. A goddess made out of sheer will and necessity. He had let her permeate his very being, had made him incomplete without her steady hand at the back of his neck, guiding him gently.

Percy was wary to call his excursions to the forest a form of worship, but there was truly no other word.

Re: "Worship," Percy/Vex

Date: 2017-07-07 09:58 am (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
This is so powerful. The mental image of Percy doing this is super fucking hot.

Delilah/Cassandra, ep 100 reactionary porn

Date: 2017-06-12 11:50 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Delilah comes back for her daughter.

Episode 100 spoilers, warnings below.

RAPE/NON-CON, implied/referenced underage, mommy kink, pseudo incest, forced orgasm, fingering, sex while one party is impaired.

Deadest Dove, Don't-est eat. If you read beyond here, on your own head so be it.


Cassandra woke to the deeply familiar sensation of the mattress depressing under someone else's weight beside her.

She stirred, and began to roll when she felt a cool hand on her brow.

“Shh dear,” and as Cassandra felt her stomach plummet and freeze as she placed the voice, a shiver passed from the hand on her forehead into a feverish weakness in her limbs, before she was even fully conscious.

“Shhh, darling,” said the voice of Delilah Briarwood, “No need to be afraid, mummy’s here.”

Cassandra tried -and fails- to surge from the bed, elbows buckling as she tries to push herself up, kicking feet failing to free herself even from the blankets as Delilah’s hand came to rest on her shoulder, pressing her back into the mattress.

“Yes, I know dear,” she says, leaning over Cassandra in the bed. This close, Cass can see the firelight in her eyes, glinting off her jewelry, the genuine fucking relief and joy on her face, “I had missed you too, my darling daughter.”

There is just enough time for Cassandra to wonder how, how this could possibly be before Delilah closed the distance, and kissed her full on the mouth.

There was a hand, Cassandra was barely aware where it came from, holding her face in place with iron fingers. Cassandra tried with all her diminished strength to push away, banging closed fists weakly on Delilah’s chest, and the fingers clenched around her jaw, pressing bruises into skin untouched for nearly two years.

Delilah tasted exactly as Cassandra remembered; the wine and blood and grave dirt on her tongue as Delilah forced it into her mouth.

Delilah pulled back, and brushed her thumb over Cassandra's bottom lip, sending an involuntary shudder through her body.

“Darling,” Delilah said, “Don’t be like that, I came as soon as I could.”

Cassandra looked away, and made another effort to roll away from her off the bed, halted by an iron hand on her hip.

“I mean it, dear,” Delilah said, a warning tone that even after all this time made Cassandra freeze in terror. Once she stilled, Delilah relaxed slightly, slipping right back into the simpering, faux loving tone that made Cassandra’s stomach turn,

“I just want to catch up with you,” Delilah continued, as though Cassandra wasn’t pinned to the bed, as though the hand not on the neckline of her nightgown was pulling the blankets from her legs, “We’re together again, soon we all will be, and I wanted to see how you had been without me.”

She slid her hands under the hem of Cassandra's nightgown, and began to slide them up her legs. Cassandra wished she could convince herself that it was just the change in temperature giving rise to goosebumps on her skin, but Delilah’s fingers were light and skilled as they ever were, making her jump and twitch even as they merely grazed her outer thigh.

They stilled, when they reached her undergarments, nails skittering on unexpected cotton.

“What bad habits you’ve developed,” Delilah said “Without anyone to guide you. When did you start wearing these?”

She traced a nail, gently for now, down the middle of the panties, hard enough to make Cassandra, buck, hard enough for her to whimper and turn her head to the pillow to try to escape in some small way, enough for Delilah to laugh at her.

“There will be plenty of time for that later, I think,” Delilah said, “although it is nice to see that you missed me, darling.”

She returned to the hem of Cassandra’s dress, and Cassandra seized it in both hands, pushing it back over her legs, a completely futile attempt at retaining a modesty stolen many years ago. The small effort left her panting, her head spinning, and Delilah pried her fingers from the fabric with far more ease than Cassandra remembered her capable of, pulling them one at a time from the hem of her dress with determination.

Delilah slammed Cassandra’s hands back to the bedding, and dug her nails into the soft sensitive skin of Cassandra’s wrists hard enough that she cried out, and continued to hold her there, digging crescents into the skin for another long few seconds before letting go. When Delilah released her, Cassandra did nothing more than fist her hands in the sheets where Delilah left them, twisting into the fabric even as Delilah's hands returned to her gown, forcing it farther up her body.

When it cleared her breasts, tangling up around her neck and under her arms, Delilah sat back, one hand resting on the centre of Cassandra’s chest. It rose and fell with the tiny, terrified hitches of Cassandra’s breath, Delilah’s making it difficult for her to breathe. The hand, and the gentle, casual pressure Delilah was using kept her pinned to the bed like a butterfly on a board, keeping the dress up where it offered no protection whatsoever. Taking her time to rake her eyes down Cassandra’s body, Delilah made and appreciative noise deep in her throat.

“Darling,” she said, “You’ve grown!”

She pulled her hand from Cassandra’s chest, and no sooner had Cassandra sucked in a full breath of air was she crying out again, and Delilah grabbed one of her nipples and twisted, making her arch full off the bed into Delilah’s waiting hands. Delilah, damn her, laughed, and rolled the nipple between her fingers until it stiffened, and Cassandra whimpered, legs twitching, as each new movement sent traitorous jolts through her body. Delilah’s grin, warm and fond in a way that should never have had a place in Cassandra’s bedchambers, only grew with each noise she made.

“There we are, darling,” Delilah said, “Haven’t I always known just how to take care of you?”

Her hand stilled, pressing back on Cassandra’s sternum for a moment. Cassandra tried to get her breathing back under control, to control the terror (and worse, far far worse, the tremors in her stomach) that Delilah had always inspired. Even as she did, she felt Delilah’s other hand, previously motionless on her hip, start to move.

“Nn-” Cassandra said, “I-”

“Shh, dear,” Delilah said, tracing the top of Cassandra’s panties with one finger, causing Cassandra to try to clench her legs in response, “I know you can’t talk right now, that’s alright, just let your mother take care of you now, I’ve missed you so much.”

She slipped her hand beneath the band of Cassandra’s underthings, and simply let it sit there, watching the gentle tremors in Cassandra’s legs. She curled one finger, and Cassandra turned her head into the pillow so she wouldn’t have to see Delilah’s face when she found wetness between her legs.

“Oh, darling,” Delilah said, and hooked that finger, bringing slick and friction directly to Cassandra's clit, making her cry out, “You’re so good for your mother, I had nearly forgotten.”

She stroked slowly up and down Cassandra’s slit, pinning her to the bed with her other hand, and Cassandra twitched every time Delilah’s finger brushed her clit. She moved slowly, with no hurry in the world, seeming to relish in every whimper that escaped Cassandra’s lips.

She finally began to circle Cassandra’s clit, feather light, not enough friction to result in anything but whimpers and anticipation, causing her hips to buck entirely without her permission. Cassandra, at some point, had started crying. Delilah cooed, and wiped the tears from Cassandra's eyes with her free hand.

“Oh, darling, it’s alright, I missed you too.”

With that, Delilah slipped two fingers gently into her cunt, which was so wet under her touch that Cassandra barely felt it until they curled, and Cassandra arched off the bed and cried. Delilah shoved her back to the bed as she continued to work her open with two fingers, thumb brushing her clit, expertly kindling a heat between Cassandra’s legs.

Cassandra whined in protest as her legs began to shake in earnest, making one last desperate attempt to clench her legs, to pull away from the fingers inside her as Delilah laughed in delight, moving her other hand back to Cassandra’s hip, pinning her in place once more.

The pace of her fingers picked up, thrusting inside her, thumb pressing relentlessly on her clit, all still restrained by the panties now soaked by her own juices, and Cassandra felt herself begin to tip over the edge.

“You’re even more beautiful than I remember darling, that’s it, come for me Cassandra,”

With one last flick of her fingers over Cassandra’s clit, she did just that, sobbing into her pillow, shaking uncontrollably as she clenched around Delilah’s fingers still buried deep inside her.

“There now,” Delilah cooed. Cassandra twitched one last time as Delilah pulled her fingers from her cunt, leaving one sitting between her puffy lips, “That’s the darling daughter I remember.”

She pressed on Cassandra’s oversensitive clit, circled it twice, making Cassandra twitch again. This had always been Delilah’s favourite game, Cassandra already boneless and sensitive, when she could tip her back over the edge with a single finger.

Blessedly, Delilah sighed, and pulled her fingers out of Cassandra’s panties, wiping them on the nightgown still twisted around her neck.

“There will, I suppose, be time enough for that later.” She patted Cassandra’s cheek, and she could smell herself on Delilah’s fingers. “I have business to attend to, I’m afraid darling, but I’ll have you all to myself again when I return. I won’t let anything stand in the way of reuniting our family again.”

And then, she rose and left, leaving Cassandra shaking and terrified, in a puddle of her own slick on the bed.

Re: Delilah/Cassandra, ep 100 reactionary porn

Date: 2017-06-14 08:20 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
ohhhhhh woww..... this is so filthy and so good omg

Re: Delilah/Cassandra, ep 100 reactionary porn

Date: 2017-06-14 10:56 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Thanks anon! Glad it hit some buttons for you ;)

Re: Delilah/Cassandra, ep 100 reactionary porn

Date: 2017-07-01 03:00 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Ohh boy. That was... Yep. Good stuff.
From: (Anonymous)
Takes place the Tuesday after Liam's Quest part 2. This could have vaguely fit several prompts, but is a little more general than any single one. Hurt(sick)/comfort, bath fingering, snuggling, nothing explicit.


The phone vibrates, but he doesn't look at it immediately. He waits until he's finished with the conversation he's having, ending with laughs, a pat on the shoulder and the declaration that they'll meet up again next week.

Hey can u check on Laura?

There's something that's a grin and a fond smile on his face at the same time.

Still sick? I'll stop over

He'd been able to feel her energy ebb Thursday night, and been completely unsurprised when she'd gone home before the second half of the game. A shame; he liked sitting next to her.

His phone buzzes again.

Just make sure she eats something

Of course, don't worry


He pulls into the driveway, sees Laura's car there and Travis' absent. The sun is dropping behind the trees and rooftops now so that the street is in shadow and is lined with lights, but theirs is dark. He gets out of the car and texts Travis quickly; the show is close to starting.

Here now. I'll take care of her

The front door isn't locked when he tries the handle, which isn't surprising, and when he steps inside, it's dark and quiet. He shuts the door behind himself, making as little sound as possible.

"Baby, is that you?"

He goes to the living room, finds her on the couch with a blanket around her and hair in a mess from sleep, and waves. "Sorry, it's just me. Travis asked me to check in on you."

Laura smiles and sits up, revealing that under the colorful blanket she is still in pajamas. "Hi, Taliesin." She looks sick, she sounds sick, but she's welcoming and cheerful as much as her body allows her to be.

"I can guess," he says, eyeing her carefully but with an exaggerated expression and tilt of his head, "that you haven't eaten."

And she looks immediately offended to a degree that means she isn't. "I ate some toast. Travis saw me."

"Uh huh, and how long ago was that? It's dark in here, but still light enough that I see the guilt on your face." He removes his shoes and shoves them aside, then goes and sits next to her. Gently, he tells her, "You need to eat something. I can order out, or if there's something here, I have been known to feed myself."

The smile fades, and Laura slumps. "I'm just not feeling very hungry."

Without hesitation, Taliesin puts his arm around her. "I know you're not." He pulls her gently closer. "But you have to eat something. Not just to help yourself heal, but for me because Travis will hurt me if you don't."

She looks up, and they smile at one another. "Maybe some soup? We have some."

He waits, just letting her lean on him, until he feels her start to relax, no doubt falling back asleep. "I'll be right back," Taliesin whispers, and separates from her.

Without him there, Laura slides back down so she can stretch out on the couch once again, her eyes closed.


Laura is sipping at the soup, a bottle of sports drink next to her, which must be a fantastic combination, but Taliesin won't criticize, when his phone buzzes once more.

About to start. How is she?

Eating some soup right now

Thanks bud

The bowl is mostly empty when Laura finally pushes it away and exhales deeply. Her hair is still sticking up in odd places from sleeping on the couch, and it's a good guess that she hasn't changed out of her pajamas in over 24 hours.

"You know what would make you feel better?"

"Sleeping for a year?"

"Maybe," he answers cheerily, "but I have something else in mind."

Laura looks at him and arches an eyebrow.

"For you."

But in the moment, they're both thinking the same thing, even if only in jest.

"A bath," Taliesin says, and takes her hands in his own. "And some clean PJs, and then to sleep in bed, not on the couch." He lifts her left hand and kisses the back of it. "All right?"

"Fine fine fine," she answers like it's all a burden but in reality doesn't mind at all. It doesn't even take someone who knows her to understand this, and it's not just the smile on her face.

He stands, still holding her hands, and helps her up. He waits as she loops her arm through his and leans against him, and then they walk to the bathroom.

Laura sits on the toilet and absently brushes her hair while Taliesin starts to fill the tub. "That one," she says as she points to a bottle of green liquid on the edge of the tub against the wall.

As it mixes with the water, it starts creating a pale green foam and sending a floral apple scent into the air. "Smells good," he says absently, keeping his fingers in the water to monitor its temperature. He turns the knob to add a little more cold water.

"It's Travis' favorite." Laura stand and puts the brush aside before she starts stripping out of her pajamas.

When the tub is three-quarters full and the water has a generous head of foam, Taliesin shuts off the faucet. He extends his arm for Laura to hold as she steps into the tub with one foot, then the other, and carefully sits down.
The bubbles come up to her chin when she finally settles and relaxes. Taliesin turns off the overhead light, leaving the room in the dim, orange glow of the nightlight.

Laura smiles, with her eyes closed, and says, "No candles?"

"Maybe if you weren't sick." He chuckles quietly at her pout. "All you had to do was ask. Do you want candles?"

But as is Laura's nature, she shakes her head. "Did you see that video of the woman who caught her hair on fire by a candle on the edge of the tub?"

"No, but I don't want you to catch your hair on fire. I don't know how I would explain that to Travis." Taliesin fishes in the water for Laura's hand as he simultaneously reaches over and grabs a bar of soap. He starts washing her, starting at the hand.

"Your clothes are going to get wet," Laura warns, a small, sleepy smile on her lips now.

He shrugs. "They'll dry."

They fall silent after that, Taliesin continuing to wash her, reaching into the water far enough that the sleeves of his t-shirt start to get soaked.

Laura's eyes are already closed when she bites her lip and brings her hand out of the water to brace it on the top edge of the tub. After a moment, the other comes out as well, grabbing on to Taliesin's shirt, soaking it with water and leaving a mound of suds on his shoulder.

"Like that?" he asks quietly.

With a whimper, she nods, and arches up.

The quiet sloshing of water, Taliesin's breathing, and Laura's whimpers are the only sounds.

She pulls on his shirt and arches sharply, drawing a grin but no words from him. His body follows that pull until his chest is leaning on the edge of the tub, just a breath from getting a face full of suds. When Laura arches again, almost violently, the water comes up to slop across his front and he finally gets that face of bubbles.

With sputtering mixed with laughter, Taliesin doesn't stop, keeping his eyes on Laura as she gasps and moans between short bursts of giggles. He leans in to press a kiss to her cheek as she calms, and withdraws his hand from the water.

Laura releases his shirt, and braces herself so she can sit up from where she's slipped lower in the tub. Her hand slips though, splashing the both of them, and sending them into another round of giggles.

"Maybe give it a minute," he suggests, staying close as she reaches up with a wet hand to clumsily pets his hair. "How are you feeling?"

She answers, satisfied and sleepy, "Am I allowed to sleep now?"

Reaching down, ignoring how much wetter he's getting, Taliesin helps her stand, then exit the tub on legs that are still a little wobbly. "Dry, pajamas, and bed. Then sleep."

Looking down between them, Laura says, "I got you all wet."

Taliesin gives her a cock-eyed grin. "It's only fair."

A light slap on his chest, loud in the room as her hand strikes wet cotton. "Taliesin! You're terrible." But Laura leans up and kisses him softly. "Thank you."

Nothing is expected in return as he reaches for a large, fluffy towel, and wraps it around her. "I'm the worst person you know."

"Sure you are." She leads him to the bedroom where he towels her dry before she slips on a cotton nightdress. After, Laura slides into bed, under the covers with a sigh, and snuggles a pillow.

Taliesin steps back, sees she's almost asleep already, and says, "I'll wait until Travis gets home. If you need something, just call."

"Thank you, Tal."

And just like that, she's asleep once more.


The house is quiet and mostly dark when Travis opens the door. He finds Taliesin on the couch, looking at his phone. "Sorry I'm so late. You know how it is."

"No problem." Taliesin tucks his phone away as he stands, and goes to put his shoes on.

"How was she? Did you get her to eat?"

If they weren't friends, the closeness of the larger man might be threatening, but Taliesin just nods with a smile. "Most of a can of soup. And I don't know if it's really that good for you to drink anything that's the same color as my hair."

Travis laughs quietly. "Thanks." He glances down at Taliesin starting to get one foot in a shoe, then looks back up. "Hey, why don't you stay? It's late. We can order something. If you want."

For a moment, Taliesin pauses, with his hand on the wall for balance, and then nods. "Sure." He takes his foot from his shoe.

Without hesitation, Travis slings his arm over Taliesin's shoulders and pulls him close for a one armed hug. And then, suddenly, he buries his nose in Taliesin's still-damp hair, inhaling deeply. "That's my favorite."

"That's what Laura said." He leans into Travis the same way Laura leaned into him.


Taliesin, in only his boxers, gets into the bed in the guest room, and pulls the sheet and single blanket over himself. Once he finds a comfortable position, he relaxes and wills his brain to quiet itself so he can sleep.

The door opens with a soft click, then shuts in equal silence.


"Hm?" He half rolls over to see Travis standing at the bedside.

"Scoot over." And without waiting for him to move, Travis gets into the bed.

"Aren't you going to…?"

"Hell no, she's sick as shit. I've been sleeping in here since Friday." Travis is settling in, taking up a good portion of the bed.

"Oh, I'll go sleep on the couch then. I thought-" But Travis' arm settles over his side, hand resting on his stomach, which in comparison to the larger man, Taliesin is a little embarrassed of, and pulls him closer. Taliesin can squirm, become the little spoon to Travis' big spoon more completely, but that's as much as he can do. Maybe it's as much as he wants to do, as much as Travis wants him to do.

It's fine because he'll wake up late, and Travis probably gets up early to work out or something. He won't have to try to climb over Travis or anything.

"You gonna stay tomorrow to wash the sheets?" Travis asks, his voice pulling Taliesin from his slow descent to sleep.

"Which ones?"

Travis' hand slides from Taliesin's stomach lower. He exhales heavily against the back of Taliesin's neck, and shrugs.
From: (Anonymous)
Oh my good gods this is gorgeous. So sweet and loving and the end delighted me so much!
From: (Anonymous)
Hehe, they're all adorable :) this is lovely
From: (Anonymous)
I liked that it was non-explicit, I equally liked that Travis trusted Tal enough to go take care of Laura. The bath scene was damn good. Just. It wasn't detailed in naughty ways but you still made it work well. And then Travis and Taliesin...damn. I just. I hadn't expected the prospect of them like that so be so sweet and yet so sexy. Well done, yo. Well done!

(Ps, you know who I am)
From: (Anonymous)
I've read this three times now and it's still gorgeous. Just the quiet caretaking on all the different levels.

Vax/Briarwoods dubcon, Modern AU

Date: 2017-07-09 11:32 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
I'm not sure where the idea of "Vax/Briarwoods dubcon in a modern AU constructed for that sole purpose" came from, but I do know I'm a little too sheepish to post it un-anon but hope some folks here might appreciate it.

Heavy on the dub part, as it includes attempted/partially successful drugging, unnegotiated rough sex, and a general vibe of "Vax is into this but that's because he's a walking disaster".


A less observant man would have missed Sylas Briarwood slipping something into his drink, and someone less quick on his feet would have a harder time pretending to down the drugged cocktail while managing to spill most of it on the floor while Sylas's head is turned. As it is, Vax only swallows a mouthful or two of the stuff, and says a quick prayer that won't be enough to fuck him up too much.

The Briarwoods are talking to each other, close together, Delilah's hand on Sylas's chest and his wrapped around her slim waist. These are the people who very probably killed one of his best friend's parents, Vax reminds himself as he looks at them. The DA in Whitestone couldn't gather enough solid evidence even for an indictment, but Percy's sure of their guilt. They're probably murderers, and they definitely just tried to roofie someone who as far as they know is just a flirtatious young man in an Emon nightclub.

They're also both really, really good-looking.

Vax can't make out anything they say to each other over the bass-heavy music filling the club, but after a moment Delilah holds out her other hand to him with a smile.

"Come dance with us, dear," she says in an inviting tone, stepping back toward the crowded floor.

Vax has to guess at exactly what the drug was supposed to do to him and how soon it was supposed to kick in--his head is starting to swim a little, but he can't tell how much of that is the little bit he got, and how much is the first drink he had before the drugged one--but he tries to be loose and pliable as they steer him onto the dance floor. Delilah's in front of him with her hands on his shoulders, close enough for him to smell her perfume, Sylas at his back with one big, heavy hand on Vax's hip. Five, maybe ten minutes later (Vax isn't sure), he's got his arms around Delilah's waist, pressing her to his chest while Sylas grinds unsubtly against him from behind.

Delilah kisses him first, her dark-lipsticked mouth soft as velvet, and then Sylas threads a hand into Vax's hair and pulls his head back for a rough, demanding kiss. He's pinned between them, his choices reduced to "try to break away and probably blow his cover" or "just go with it", and gods help him but he is so turned-on right now.

When Delilah murmurs "You are coming home with us, aren't you, pretty boy?", he just nods.

They pour him into a car--not a cab or an Uber, but a big, shiny car with a driver who gives a brisk "Sir, ma'am," and then rolls up a pane of dark glass between the front and back seats. Vax is canted sideways on the wide seat, his knees splayed wide enough for Delilah to maneuver herself between them while his shoulders are braced against Sylas's chest. He blames Sylas's hot breath on his neck for the fact that he doesn't notice Delilah undoing his fly, then blames Delilah palming his (stupidly, ridiculously, no-sense-of-self-preservation-ly hard) cock through his briefs for his not noticing Sylas's fingers sliding back into his hair until they suddenly twist and pull, yanking his head back to expose his throat.

By the time they pull up outside what Vax recognizes as one of the fanciest hotels in the city, he's sure there's the start of at least one giant hickey on the side of his neck, and his swaying stumble is not entirely an act. The doorman Sylas tips says nothing, and neither does the night security guard who nods politely to the Briarwoods as they pass him on the way to the elevator. Vax half-expects them to keep touching and kissing him on the ride up, but Sylas just stands quietly with one hand on the back of Vax's neck, thumb sweeping slowly back and forth over his skin, while Delilah fixes her hair and smeared lipstick in the mirrored glass.

They step out of the elevator and into a penthouse suite, the kind of luxurious minimalism that only comes with wealth. Soft, thick carpet under Vax's feet when he obeys Delilah's instruction to take his shoes off, one wall that's just floor-to-ceiling glass, a bed bigger than Vax's entire bedroom in the shithole apartment he and Vex shared when they first scraped together enough to move out of their dad's house.

Vax only really gets one good look around, because as they walk through a tastefully-arranged sitting area Sylas puts a hand on his neck again and bends him over the back of the couch.

Vax hazards a guess as to how much he should be slurring his voice by now. "Whoa, getting right to it, huh?"

Delilah settles on the couch, drawing her legs up elegantly, and pushes Vax's hair away from his face. "I think we've had enough dancing for the evening, don't you?" she asks, the question punctuated by the clink of a belt buckle from behind Vax.

Vax sucks in a breath, resisting the urge to tense up as Sylas tugs at his jeans with one hand and cool air hits his skin. "Y-yeah, okay. Whatever you want."

"There's a good boy," she says, cupping his face and leaning in.

Sylas keeps his hand on Vax's neck, and Delilah strokes his hair and tells him how good he's being when she's not kissing him breathless.

His legs shake when they move him toward the bed afterward, and he fumbles with the rest of his clothing, Sylas's steady grip and Delilah's sure hands guiding him through it. Vax sprawls on the big, soft bed, watching them as Delilah sweeps her hair up with one hand and presents her back to Sylas with a soft "My love?" Her dress is high-collared and long-sleeved, but after a row of buttons at the back of her neck it opens up in a wide diamond shape, bare skin all the way to the base of her spine. The kisses Sylas plants on her as he undoes the tiny buttons are soft, worshipful; a stark contrast to the bruising kisses Vax can still feel on his skin.

Delilah peels off her dress, looking Vax over as she climbs onto the bed. "Whatever we want, you said?"

Vax pushes up on his elbows and nods eagerly. "Yes."

She crawls up the length of his body until she has a knee on either side of his head, hooking a finger into her lace panties to pull them aside. "Good boy."


Vax wakes up groggy and sore, sandwiched between Delilah and Sylas. Moving slowly and carefully, he manages to crawl out of bed without either of them stirring, grabbing his clothes from the floor as he pads toward the bathroom.

A sharp breath hisses through his teeth as he flicks the bathroom light on and gets confronted by his reflection. He looks fucking wrecked, hair a mess and teeth and finger marks stippling his skin, some already starting to turn purple. The worst bruising is on his hips, but the red lines on his neck bring back a vivid memory of when Sylas grabbed him by the throat during the last round before they slept.

He splashes cold water on his face, gets dressed, and pulls his phone out of a pocket. He has a few missed calls and about twenty texts from Vex, her "where are you?"s progressing from irritated to freaked out over the course of the night. A handful of worried texts from the others as well--Keyleth, Scanlan, and two from Percy: tell me you didn't go looking for the briarwoods and then, several hours later, god fucking damn it vaxildan if they don't kill you I'm going to. Vax opens the ongoing group message with everyone and texts the hotel address followed by not dead yet. jenga.

Back in the main room, the Briarwoods both still look deeply asleep, sprawled in tangled sheets with their arms touching in the space Vax vacated. He turns his attention to the other thing he noticed in his look around the room earlier--the laptop sitting on a desk by the window. .

Hacking's never been a particular strength of his, but he's learned a few tricks if only by virtue of years of hanging out with the wrong sort of people, and the Briarwood's digital security turns out to be pleasantly easy to crack. Vax doesn't really know what he's looking for--assuming he's not going to find a file conveniently labeled "How we convinced Frederick and Johanna de Rolo to sign over their business to us and then killed them"--but he finds a folder labeled "Acquisitions", and subfolders with the names of cities--Whitestone, Westruun, Vasselheim. Emon.

Vax starts with Whitestone. If there's any evidence of murder in here, it's couched in the most businesslike language he's ever seen, but he does find enough to make it clear that in a few years, the Briarwoods have moved from taking over one of the biggest businesses in Whitestone to basically owning the city. There are contracts, spreadsheets full of numbers, paperwork for other businesses Vax guesses are shell companies. He doesn't waste time trying to puzzle anything out, just grabs his phone again, ignoring a new flurry of text notifications to start snapping pictures of the laptop screen as he pages through things. He repeats the process, hastily, with the Emon folder, his heart starting to beat faster every moment he pushes his luck further.

When he thinks he has enough to work with, he shuts the laptop and turns back toward the bed, but doesn't get there before Sylas rolls over and sits up.

"Oh, hey," Vax says casually, bending to retrieve his jacket from the floor. "Sorry if I woke you, I was just--"

"Leaving without saying goodbye?" Sylas finishes, looking him up and down with a raised eyebrow.

Vax runs a hand through his hair and gives a sheepish grin, edging toward the elevator. "Ah--yeah, guess you caught me on that one. Look, last night was...amazing, but I need to run."

"Now that's a pity," Delilah says without opening her eyes, a slight smile curving her mouth. She sits up, hiding a yawn behind her hand, then opens her eyes to look at him. "Are you sure we can't tempt you to at least stay for breakfast?"

"That's, ah--that's real nice of you, but I really need to get going." Vax replies, backing up a few more steps.

Sylas throws back the covers and starts to get out of bed, and Vax just turns and make a run for it. Delilah's soft laughter as he does so worries him more than Sylas's pursuing footfalls. He slams a hand against the elevator button with no real hope it'll get here in time, and then feels one big, heavy hand land on his shoulder and jerk him backward.

"I'm afraid we're going to have to insist, dear boy."

Re: Vax/Briarwoods dubcon, Modern AU

Date: 2017-07-10 01:43 am (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)

Re: Vax/Briarwoods dubcon, Modern AU

Date: 2017-07-10 06:04 am (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)

Re: Vax/Briarwoods dubcon, Modern AU

Date: 2017-07-11 12:02 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)

Re: Vax/Briarwoods dubcon, Modern AU

Date: 2017-07-10 10:08 am (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
hey holy shit anon this is Good, i am always into vax/briarwoods things & very glad you DID have this idea

'Loss' - Marisha/Taliesin(/Matt)

Date: 2017-08-23 05:10 am (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Takes place immediately after episode 68. Apologies for the roughness; finished it Sunday morning in a hotel room.


Marisha is crying even as they leave the studio, and Taliesin can't help but feel a little guilty even though he ultimately couldn't control any of it. Her hand is clutching his almost to the point of pain as they walk out to their cars.

He tries to pull away, move to his car and away from Matt and Marisha's, but she doesn't let go.

"Please," is all she says, and it's so small and helpless, Taliesin lets her lead him.

Even getting into the car, she doesn't let go, just climbs into the backseat after him and leans against him, resting her head on his shoulder. She's not outright sobbing, but it's close, he can tell.

Matt watches carefully, as if he's afraid Marisha might shatter, dissolve into those sobs, while his face remains blank. But there's guilt in his eyes, and when Taliesin looks at him through the car window, Matt raises an eyebrow in helpless resignation.

It's fine. This is how it is: the game, the characters are precious to them. Fictional though they may be, they're all attached, and probably not in completely healthy ways.

Taliesin doesn't pay any more attention to Matt as he gets in and starts the car. The radio is turned down to be a vague background noise behind Marisha's sniffling and his quiet words of comfort.

"I don't want to lose you!" she says suddenly and looks at him, eyes red, tears still rolling slowly down her cheeks.

With a confused and guilty laugh, Taliesin manages a small smile and says, "You're not going to lose me." His smile fades as Marisha looks at him with such heartbreak it starts to hurt. He tucks loose hair behind her ear. There are words he can say, about how it's just a character, about how it was Percy's time especially with Ripley dead, how he has something really cool in his head to play, how Percy wasn't meant to live past his purpose.

None of those words come out. He kisses her forehead. "You won't lose me," he repeats, and holds her to him as the car bounces down the uneven streets.

"You promise?"

"Of course. Why would I ever quit?"

Again Marisha looks at him, but this time they're much closer because of how he's holding her. It's in a rough whisper that she repeats, "I don't want to lose you."

She makes the move, which is a good thing, because he was torn over doing it himself, especially with Matt in the front seat. Marisha's lips are soft on his for a brief moment that still seems to last for an age.

"I can't lose you," she says, and it sounds very different from before, in a way he's not quite sure how to interpret, especially with the way she's almost panting now.

And in response, his own voice is lower, rougher than he plans it to be. "You won't." A glance up and he catches Matt's eyes in the rearview mirror watching them. "You won't," Taliesin repeats while meeting Matt's gaze.

Marisha is on him in an instant, almost savagely, her hands pulling on his shirt to get him closer, a kiss so strong it renders him breathless before he has a chance to return it. Without thinking, his arms go around her, as much to help her balance as to keep her possessively in place, because she is moving as if to straddle him.

The car is roomier than it looks, but it's not that roomy.

Instead, he bodies her back a little so that she's mostly seated, and before she can kiss him and starve his brain of more oxygen than he can spare, especially with the way his blood is being diverted, his hand finds its way under her shirt.

Marisha is not well-endowed, but it doesn't matter at all. Immediately he can feel her nipple pressing into his hand even as she pushes her chest forward to meet his touch. There's a brief moment where that's all there is, just the kissing, devouring each other, and his hand on her breast, and then as Marisha is wont to do, she ups the game.

Without a word, she starts rubbing the front of his jeans with the flat of her hand.

Taliesin pulls away just long enough to gasp out, "Jesus, Marisha." Another look in the mirror to catch Matt looking back, eyes wide now, and pupils wider. He didn't hide who he was from them, they know some of his worst secrets, but in the moment, he isn't sure this sudden new one is a thing he can share.

I want to fuck Matt.

Or maybe let Matt fuck him. Either way, it's not something he entertained before because these are his friends, and they're together, and they're fucking perfect together, and-

Marisha undoes the button and pulls down the zipper.

So this is happening in the middle of traffic, and it's probably not a good idea, but the grip she gets on his cock even through his boxers pushes all that worry away. Now Taliesin's mind is working out the feasibility of actually fucking in this car without giving anyone who might look in the window a show.

Can we?

Marisha is tall, and he is… not small, and as much as his body is demanding penetrative satisfaction, it just doesn't seem possible. But then maybe Marisha's not so picky, because she starts pumping him as she kisses along his jaw.

Matt turns up the radio, because there are apparently lewd noises coming from his mouth and he can't even tell because- "Oh fuck."

And in an instant her hand is gone, and Taliesin wants to scream in frustration. Body trembling, he looks at her, and somehow she looks as destroyed as he feels even though he's hardly even touched her. Well maybe she's not going to get him off in the car (oh god, the sticky chafing), but that doesn't mean she's getting away with it.

Taliesin starts to return the favor, hand cupping her first, watching her eyes flutter shut as a smile curls at the corners of her mouth, and then he presses with the heel of his hand. Even through her layers of clothing, he can feel exactly where he needs to apply that pressure.

The first grind of his hand on her draws out a moan that is clearly audible even over the sound from the radio. And with every movement after, it's the same thing until Marisha is writhing, arching her entire body up off the seat, gripping the neck of his shirt and pulling it to its maximum stretch.

"Matt?" he says, and it comes out as a half-broken croak, his mouth and throat completely dry. "Matt, how far?"

Matt's voice is slightly choked as well when he says, "Not far. Just… hold on."

It's a hard thing to stop the words coming out, but this isn't the place for it, not in the car.

Please fuck me, Matt.

Marisha is still grabbing at him, and Taliesin just wants to get his mouth on her while Matt is fucking him but he has to be satisfied in the moment with just using his hand.

"Just hold on," Matt repeats, and Taliesin jerks his hand away from her, drawing out a cry of protest.

Hold on. He can do that for Matt, even if his fingernails are digging marks into his hand from his clenched fists. Even if he knows he sounds like a water buffalo ready to rut with the way his breath comes out in heavy puffs. Even if Marisha is so close and right there, Taliesin will hold on for Matt.

Time is a non-factor. Taliesin just shuts his eyes, and doesn't think about anything, just tries to get lost in the shifting shapes behind his eyelids, until there's a sharp turn, a soft bump, and the car comes to a stop. The engine goes silent, and the interior of the car remains silent.

Matt clears his throat. "We should go inside." He sounds strained, almost unhappy. No, not unhappy so much as uncomfortable, and no one can blame him for that.

Even with Taliesin's jeans undone, he is as uncomfortable as one man about to get laid (he believes) can be. "Yeah, inside." And though he doesn't mean it that way, he can't help but look at Marisha.

She looks at him, then at Matt, then exits the car and hurries up to the front door.

Women and their lack of hard-ons. With shaking hands, Taliesin zips up his pants, but doesn't bother with the button, and slowly extracts himself from the vehicle. He shares a quick, awkward glance with Matt before they both look down at one another. Oh yes, Matt is in the same state, and there's a thread of tension Taliesin hadn't been entirely aware of that snaps.

He nods, and Matt nods back. They walk to the house with Matt just slightly in the lead.

Once inside, with the door closed, Matt turns and puts his hand on the back of Taliesin's neck. He touches their foreheads together, eyes locked on one another, and says, "Not gonna lose you."

Taliesin can't help but half-smile and half-smirk at that, and say, "I'm not that easy to get rid of."

"Good." It's like a measure of forgiveness is granted with that, one that Matt needed, and with a shyness that hasn't been evident in ages, he looks away. But then he looks back, and presses a light kiss to the corner of Taliesin's mouth. "Good."

And they retreat to the bedroom together, where Marisha is already waiting.

Re: 'Loss' - Marisha/Taliesin(/Matt)

Date: 2017-08-24 07:04 am (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Oh man, I love this. I love the whole idea of OT3 comfort after that episode, and the way it plays out here is great. Matt watching them in the rear view mirror is just...ngghh.

Re: 'Loss' - Marisha/Taliesin(/Matt)

Date: 2017-08-25 06:16 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Wooo, hot hot hot.

at first I was a little weirded out by Matt just being stuck in the front seat listening to them awkwardly, but that definitely went away when I realized he was on board with the shenanigans.

Thanks so much for writing this!!!!
From: (Anonymous)
Co-written in a jam on Discord. Authors prefer to remain anon; if you were there please don't out them!


After they all five get stoned and Marisha takes Laura off to a tantric sex workshop and Matt’s staring at the stars giggling, Taliesin takes Travis’s hand and leads him into the tent the five of them are sharing.

“I can’t,” Travis says.

“I’m sure any guy can manage to get blown at Burning Man.”

“But Laura...”

Taliesin locates his bag in the pile of stuff they’ve made along one wall and pulls out a folded piece of paper, handing it to Travis.

“I talked to Laura. Lie down.”

Travis lowers himself to the tent floor, wincing a little—he underdid the sunscreen and his back is sore—and settles on one of the thin camp mattresses, lounging back against the tight roll of someone’s sleeping bag. He unfolds the note.

It’s a hall pass.

Laura’s given him a fucking hall pass.

“But I—I didn’t—she didn’t even tell me about this—”

Taliesin lowers himself to his knees between Travis’s thighs. “Hey... it’s only night one.” He trails his fingertips up Travis’s beefy right thigh. Travis is down to boxer shorts and the desert night air is chilly, but that’s not what makes him shiver now. “We’ve got all the time in the world for you to arrange reciprocal rights.” He goes to his belly, fingers at Travis’s waistband. “Right now, I have plans for you.”

He doesn’t need to say what those plans are. Grog may be shitty at math, but Travis can put two and two together and get—

“Oh fuck, Tal... fuck!”

Matt, lounging in a deckchair outside the tent, is terribly tempted to peek. But this is the beginning, and they deserve privacy. Peeking—and perhaps joining in—can come later. It is, after all, only day one.

“You can touch my head if you want.”


“Do it, go on.”

“Are you—”

“Just grab my fucking hair, okay, Travis? Matt, shut up, I can hear you laughing.”

“Like this?” Travis barely tugs at Taliesin’s hair.

“You can be rougher than that. Jesus.”

“Are you sure?”

“Do I need to bring Matt in here to demonstrate?”

“I’m busy,” Matt says from outside. (He is not. He is drinking a can of premixed rum and coke and stargazing.)

Taliesin sighs. “Fine.”

The thing about deep throating someone is that it’s only really interesting if you keep moving, keep sucking a little, rather than just taking their cock down and then holding your breath like a kid who won’t inhale or exhale until he gets his own way.

Taliesin, being a voice actor, has excellent breath control.

Travis, being a red-blooded male with his cock in someone’s mouth, has very little patience for this “not moving” bullshit, and puts one hand gingerly on the back of Taliesin’s head. Taliesin rewards him with a minute swallow.

Travis doesn’t quite get why Taliesin wants him to be so rough but when the more he pulls Taliesin’s hair and pushes into his mouth, the more encouraging noises and deep sucks he gets, he gets very quickly to the point where he doesn’t care.

Taliesin doesn’t sound like he’s in pain, not even when Travis gathers his wits enough to actually hold Taliesin’s head in place and start thrusting into his mouth. In fact, he sounds downright pleased about it.
From: (Anonymous)
Meanwhile Marisha and Laura, not as riveted by the wlw tantric sex display as they’d hoped to be, are wandering another part of the campground, when Laura sees a stall with collars laid out on a piece of black velvet. She remembers when Matt and Taliesin came out of the house this morning they were wearing collars: Matt’s thick, black, utilitarian leather; Taliesin’s a thinner purple band that, with a few rhinestones, would probably look at home on some celebrity’s Pomeranian.

“Did you get their collars here?” she asks Marisha.

“I was wondering if you’d noticed.”

“Kind of hard not to.” Laura drifts closer to the table. “So did you?”

“I had their collars custom made to ensure they’d fit.”

Laura’s face falls. “Oh.”

Marisha, who already has her arm hooked through Laura’s, pulls her closer. “Babe, if you don’t know what shirt collar size Travis wears, I call bullshit. I know how many measurements get taken for wedding tuxes.”

“That was a while ago...”

“So get something a couple inches bigger, and we can come back and have it cut down or new holes punched.”

“Are you serious?”

“I like that dark red leather for him. With the nickel hardware.”


“Oh look, there’s a matching leash!”

“ Matt and Taliesin have leashes?”

Marisha grins at her, holding out the wide, long strip of red leather. “They sure do.”

The stallholder, a woman in her early 50s who looks an awful lot like Mary Elizabeth, asks for three things in trade: some assistance packing up for the night, since she was about to close up; for Laura to come back with Travis wearing the collar so she can see it fits okay; and a kiss.

This turns into Laura making out with this woman while Marisha, Travis’s collar and leash draped around her neck for safekeeping, puts everything away on her own, visibly amused at how into the spirit of things Laura is getting.

Laura turns a little pensive on the way back to the tent.

“What’s up?”

“Oh, you know... I made out with her and I didn’t know her.”

“Travis won’t mind. Not when he sees his present.”

“I could probably just give it to Ash for Brian.”

“Don’t you dare,” Marisha says fiercely, and then she’s kissing Laura, hardly an unfamiliar sensation, but there’s a certain heat in it that travels straight from Laura’s mouth to between her legs. Maybe it’s just the weed. But they’ve done weed before. Maybe there was something else in it. Maybe Laura’s brain should shut the fuck up so her tongue and lips can function properly.

Matt’s still lounging outside the tent by the time Marisha and Laura get back, but all is quiet within the canvas walls.

Laura makes a move to go in, collar in hand, but Matt raises a hand to stop her.

“They’ll come out when they’re finished.”

Laura, with a flutter of nerves and excitement in her stomach, remembers the hall pass that she wrote for Travis. For a moment she’s ready to yank the tent flap open and demand her husband back, but then she remembers kissing the leatherworker and thinks, No. I meant every word of that note. She sits down beside Matt, who offers her a beer. Marisha remains standing, going through some Tai Chi moves in extra slow motion.

And gradually, as all the other sounds of the night recede into the background, Laura can hear Taliesin whimpering her husband’s name.
From: (Anonymous)
A few minutes earlier...

“I’m not so sure about this,” says Travis. “I don’t know whether I’m allowed to do stuff to other people, or just have it done to me.”

“I read that fucking note, Travis.” Taliesin arches his back, trying to encourage Travis to close his hand tighter around Taliesin’s cock. “You can do whatever as long as it’s safe sex.”

“Pretty sure you blowing me without a condom wasn’t all that safe.”

“The only unsafe thing about that is the blue balls it gave me,” Taliesin says, and Travis knows he’s telling the truth. Apart from anything else he can’t imagine Taliesin bringing anything home to Matt and Marisha from one of his kink nights or fetish balls. “Come on. Please?”

Travis adjusts his position a little. His currently spent but still heavy cock is pressed against the small of Taliesin’s back, one arm tucked under Taliesin’s neck, the other draped over his hip, fingers around Taliesin’s cock. He’s surprised how comfortable he is, not only with lying on a pretty damn thin mat on desert hardpan, but with having his hand wrapped around his friend’s dick. He tries a few slow jerks, getting a feel for how tight he can squeeze, and Taliesin goes, “Gah, fuck, yes,” and bites his arm.

“You really were hanging out for this, weren’t you?” Taliesin rubs against him and, wonder of wonders, Travis’s dick twitches with renewed interest. He’d thought he was too old for that, especially with dope in his system, but he’s not going to complain.

“You know it.”

Travis finds the right degree of squeeze—a little tighter than he uses on himself—and starts figuring out how fast Taliesin likes it.

“How long?”

Taliesin doesn’t answer right away. His breath has quickened, and he presses his wrists together and into the palm of Travis’s left hand where it lies near his head. Travis doesn’t get it at first but then he closes his fingers around Taliesin’s wrists—and he can get a pretty good grip on them, given the size of his hand—and Taliesin lets out a gratified sigh.

Travis squeezes harder, really pinning Taliesin’s wrists together, and Taliesin’s hips buck, driving his cock into the circle of Travis’s hand.

“How long?” Travis persists, hooking his right leg over both of Taliesin’s, caging him in. “Tell me, or I’m gonna stop.”

“Would you?”

Travis lets go of Taliesin’s cock and wrists and draws his leg back. The sound Taliesin makes is like a little boy being deprived of his favorite toy. “I think I’m gonna go get a beer.”

“As soon as I fucking met you, you asshole. I’m not usually that guy, but you... I wondered from day one if your dick was proportionate.”

“Do you approve?” Travis rubs said body part, which is back at maybe quarter mast, against the curve of Taliesin’s ass.

“Fuck yes,” Taliesin says, and Travis’s body surrounds his again, this time pinning his wrists to the tarp underlay of the tent and holding them there.

Taliesin looks back over his shoulder when Travis doesn’t do anything else right away, and Travis’s mouth lands on his, tongue pushing between his lips like it belongs there. It doesn’t do wonders for Taliesin’s neck, but then Travis’s hand is back on his cock and he no longer gives any shits about his neck.

They kiss messily, wetly, and when Travis’s cock presses along the crack of Taliesin’s ass Taliesin wriggles against it in a most inviting way.

Travis’s mind kind of spins out over that—does Taliesin want that? Does he want that?— but then he remembers it’s only night one and they have time.

Although if they explore all the possibilities, all the permutations, the five of them might not see much beyond these four walls.

“Travis,” Taliesin gasps, “for fuck’s sake, stay with me.”

“Oh, I’m with you. I got you.” And Travis turns his full attention to his friend’s writhing body, doing his best to pin him in place with his legs and free hand, before beginning to jerk Taliesin slow and almost softly.

Even in the near-dark of the tent he can see Taliesin’s eyes go wide.

“You asshole... Travis, come on....”

“I already came,” Travis reminds him.

Taliesin wets his lips. “Fuck you.”

“If you’re gonna be rude I really am going out for that beer.”

“Travis, no, please...”

Laura, outside, has her fingers pressed tightly to her mouth, other hand gripping her beer bottle. She’s heard everything from “stay with me”, and she’s desperate to know how Taliesin got Travis off, and she would also cheerfully murder a coven of kobolds to know exactly what Travis is doing to get Taliesin to plead this much.

Travis gets bored of him being a mouthy shit.

He pulls away from Tal, and as Tal starts whining, these soft lil moans, he flips Taliesin over like he weighs nothing

(Taliesin nearly comes on the spot. he’s not a light man, he knows that, and jesus... being manhandled like he’s a child...)

then settles himself instead so he’s straddling Taliesin’s thighs, curls a hand around Taliesin’s dick again and puts the other over his throat - not properly pressing down, just pinning, just enough to make his breathing rasp a little bit, his pupils blow even wider and darker than they were before

And that’s when Taliesin starts properly begging, because Travis’ hand isn’t even moving, and Tal is so hard he could cry, and gods, gods yes, this is what he wanted, this is what he needs, being manhandled and pinned down and put in his place, punished, gotten off, Travis looming over him with that big, soft cock and that muscled chest and those arms, staring down at him and grinning like he’s maybe about to fuck Taliesin, maybe about to beat his ass, and honestly, Taliesin doesn’t really care which right now, just Travis, fuck, please- please, Tra- Travis-

Matt can hear the rasping catch in Taliesin’s voice and can guess at its cause. Laura can’t, but really, she’s not hearing much beyond the begging, Travis’s name so raw in Taliesin’s mouth. She sticks a knuckle into her mouth and bites down, and then feels Marisha’s arms slip around her waist.

“They sound like they’re having fun.”

(“Like this okay?” Travis asks genially.

“Travis, fuck—”)

“Uh-huh,” Laura says intelligently.

One of Marisha’s hands creeps down to lie flat on the smooth skin just below Laura’s navel, not doing anything yet but just resting there. Her other hand creeps up to rest just under Laura’s right breast, also not doing anything else just yet. Laura closes her eyes, her mouth falling open a little. Matt prudently takes her beer away, his eyes meeting Marisha’s over Laura’s shoulder. He gives her a nod, and Marisha presses her lips to the side of Laura’s pale neck.

Travis feels like he’s gone from zero to a hundred. An hour ago he was eating a vegan taco and it actually tasted sort of okay. Now he’s got one of his best friends pinned underneath him, eyes dark, cock hot in Travis’s hand, and this whole Burning Man thing really does open people up to new experiences.

“Harder,” Taliesin says, and Travis thinks for a second he means the hand on his cock, but then Taliesin’s fingers briefly graze over the back of the hand on his throat, and Travis gets it.

He puts a little more weight on Taliesin’s throat, feeling his pulse jumping and racing like a manic butterfly, and meets Taliesin’s eyes, waiting for a nod, which he gets. Then he starts in on Taliesin’s cock again.

“Too sloooow,” Taliesin whines.

“Sorry, man, I gotta start over now I’m up here.”

Someone passes behind the tent with a bright flashlight and for a moment Laura sees the silhouette of what is very clearly her husband pinning their friend to the floor, and from the position of his arms they’re not reenacting a WWE fight. She doesn’t remember any of those featuring the distinctive motion of someone getting their dick very slowly jerked.

She’s not so focused on the there and gone shadow that she doesn’t notice Marisha’s hand coming up to cup her breast, though.

“Why should they have all the fun?” Marisha whispers.

“They absolutely fucking shouldn’t,” says Laura.

Travis hears his wife’s voice and goes still for a second, looking toward the tent flap.

“Travis Willingham I swear to all the gods if you stop now I’ll kill you.”

Taliesin’s hand closes around Travis’s on his cock, and Travis looks down at him, eyes suddenly cold.

“Let go.”

Taliesin lets go.

“Good. Put your hands by your fuckin’ sides and don’t move them.” He digs his thumb into the side of Taliesin’s throat for one dizzyingly long moment until Taliesin complies. “Good. You’re not the one calling the shots here.”

Taliesin can lift his head just enough to see Travis’s cock stirring again.

If Travis turns out to be into topping, he may have to go home with him and Laura instead of Matt and Marisha.

“Oh fuck,” Laura murmurs.

“Is he like that with you?”

I’m like that with him.” Laura casts a mournful look toward the tent flap. “I’d really like to see this.”

Marisha gives Laura’s nipple a little pinch. “We have more nights,” she says. “I’d really like you to stay right here.”

“Here is good,” Laura says, and then, “God, Marisha!” when Marisha gives her breast a more serious squeeze.

“You don’t need to see,” Marisha whispers against the delicate curve of Laura’s ear. “Not when you can hear.” The hand on Laura’s belly slides down and cups Laura’s mound through her shorts. “You’re very, very hot...”

“Mar... Jesus...”

Travis recognizes the tone of voice Laura uses when she says Marisha’s name, recognizes it very well, and lets out a low groan at the thought of what exactly might have elicited that reaction.

He’s been distracted enough tonight, though. He can keep imagining, or he can start stroking Taliesin again, slow and steady, working to find the right tightness of grip, and watch the reality of Taliesin’s face going soft with pleasure even though he’s probably going to have an imprint of that weird little collar on his neck in the morning.

He finally gets happy with how tight he’s got his fingers. Taliesin’s palms are obediently flat on the tarp at his sides. Somewhere along the way they rolled off of the thin camp mat and Travis can feel dirt and pebbles through the tarp under his knees. He gives exactly zero fucks. Having Taliesin pinned under him like this, making desperate needy noises as Travis ups the pace just a little, is worth any amount of tiny pains.

Taliesin’s so vocal. He could be putting on a show, but Travis doesn’t think so. He thinks Taliesin probably pleads like this when it’s just him and his girlfriend at home, or him and Matt and Marisha when they’re... well, he’s long theorized, along with their other friends, that this is a regular Burning Man thing for them, but for all he knows Matt and Marisha get him alternate weekends and for Halloween.

“Please, Travis,” Taliesin chokes.

“Please what?”

“Faster. More.”

“Oh my God,” Laura whispers.

“Were you not expecting him to take you up on the offer?” Matt asks in a low voice. “I know Taliesin can be very persuasive when it comes to convincing straight guys that they aren’t.”

“I thought he might.” Laura lowers her gaze to the ground. “I didn’t think it would be this fucking hot, okay?”

“Ssssh,” Marisha says, slipping her hand inside Laura’s cutoffs. “Don’t think. Just listen.”

Matt turns in his seat so that he can watch them, Laura leaning back into Marisha, cheeks going pink when she realizes Matt’s paying more than offhand attention.

“Go on,” Matt says gently. “She’ll take good care of you.”

Despite the cooling night air, Laura is almost impossibly hot under Marisha’s fingers, and she moves her hips in uneven little jerks. Marisha can hear Taliesin beginning to beg for real, and it’s interesting imagining what Travis might be doing to him, but she’s far more concerned with the reality of the woman pressed against her. She noses Laura’s hair aside to nuzzle and kiss her neck, and Laura turns her head to catch Marisha’s mouth with hers.

“Fair play,” she gasps, fumbling to get her hand between them, and Marisha guides her down onto the blanket laid out at Matt’s feet. They’re only separated for a second but Laura already misses the knowing dance of Marisha’s fingers on her clit, so much so that she practically shoves Marisha’s hand back into her shorts.

“Bossy,” Marisha says, but she cups Laura’s cheek with her other hand. Matt’s watching them like they’re a particularly fascinating battle map.

It’s a lot easier for Laura to get her hand into Marisha’s own shorts this way and within seconds they’re striving together, exchanging gasping kisses.

Marisha’s moans are low; Laura’s are higher, and carry to the two inside the tent.

“She’s getting off on hearing us,” Taliesin says, voice strained. “She’s—”

“Then fucking beg for it, bitch,” Travis says in a slow, measured tone. He’s not even close to smiling. He’s staring down at Taliesin like maybe he’s going to eat him. “Go on.”

“Fuck, Travis!”

Travis jerks him harder, faster, and this time it doesn’t seem like he’s going to hold back.

“I can’t hear you,” he says in a low rumble.

“Travis, please!” Taliesin struggles to thrust into Travis’s hand and Travis shakes his head, bears down on Taliesin’s neck until he’s struggling, instead, to breathe. “Pl—Trav—”

“Oh holy fuck, Laura,” Marisha moans.

Travis does smile now, a great big bright grin. “Sounds like everyone’s happy you brought us.”

“Yes,” Taliesin manages, and then, “Fuck, yes, Travis, Tr—”

Travis feels Taliesin’s cock jerk and pulse in his hand, and rakes his gaze from Taliesin’s rather pretty O-face down to where he’s making a sticky mess of Travis’s hand and his own stomach. He hadn’t really thought about that bit. It’s kind of hot, though, seeing that physical evidence of how he’s brought Taliesin all the way undone.

Outside, Laura stiffens against Marisha as she hears Taliesin’s last loud cry, and Marisha forsakes finesse for just rubbing Laura fast and hard.

Even her mouth on Laura’s can’t stifle the scream Laura lets out.
From: (Anonymous)
A moment passes.

Another moment passes.

Travis, now wearing only his boxers, comes out of the tent and stretches. He looks down at the two women entangled on the blanket. Taliesin comes out behind him, buck naked except for a blanket thrown carelessly around his shoulders, a few tears streaking his cheeks.

He goes straight to Matt, who puts his arms around Taliesin’s thighs and presses his face to Taliesin’s belly. For a second it just looks like a hug, but then Travis sees the flick of Matt’s pink tongue and the look on Taliesin’s face as Matt licks him clean.

Travis puts his sticky hand in front of Matt’s mouth and feels Matt suck one finger in, as Laura comes to her senses and says, “You too,” against Marisha’s lips. Travis can see the movement of Laura’s hand in Marisha’s shorts, feels Matt suck harder and then move on to the next finger.

Marisha’s voice breaks on Laura’s name.

The five of them make a fascinating tableau in the moonlight: Laura and Marisha entwined on the blanket, Matt in his chair, arms wrapped around Taliesin, and Travis looming over them all.

Taliesin breaks the silence, fingers combing through Matt’s hair as Matt finishes licking Travis’s fingers clean.

“Welcome to the desert,” he says.
From: (Anonymous)
Holy fricken smokes!!!! That was so awesome, and there was something very charming about travis' hesitation at the beginning, but I have no doubt tal is talented enough to convince any man bed.

This story was the perfect mix of sexy and sweet- thank you!!!


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