Yasha had asked him if hiring a couple of companions for his first time might have been excessive even by his standards. But really, as far as Molly was concerned, it had been the only sensible choice. How better to make sure his introduction to sex was good than to get a professional involved - two professionals, even, to make sure the bases were really covered.
Or at least, he'd thought the bases were covered.
Then he'd started getting Caleb talking.
It had started innocently enough once they got back on the road, a plan to rile him up a little by asking him to describe some of the smutty books he seemed so surprisingly fond of. After all, Caleb was even more adorable when he was blushing.
Then Molly had discovered that, even more surprisingly, smutty books and the contents thereof were something that Caleb could discuss with an ease that could only be born of extensive experience. He could critique the smutty books and the plausibility of their contents. He could reference his past experiences. He did this obliquely, certainly, and ever-so-carefully, but Molly could still piece together that much. The worst part was that it didn't even seem to be a game to him! It just seemed to be a fact, as dry and natural as drawing arcane symbols or turning silver into gold for an hour.
Molly realized then that he'd gotten in way over his head.
But really, hadn't that been the story of his life so far? So much of his life had consisted of pretending to be bigger and brighter than he really was, pretending that he was something beyond a bundle of learned instincts and fireside tales and blood powers he still couldn't entirely control. People wouldn't look twice at a barker who couldn't bark larger than life.
He wanted Caleb's attention more than he'd ever wanted it from all the people in any backwoods bar in his short life. So he had to step up his game. He'd talked Cree into believing he was Lucien going on nothing more than a hug and a few names, he'd talked an entire inn into believing he was a reincarnated king of Marquet when he hadn't even been alive three weeks.
Surely he could talk Caleb into believing he wasn't as desperately inexperienced as he really was.
(Because he knew there were so many reasons that Caleb wouldn't want him, wouldn't want to waste his time and attentions on a loud, gaudy tiefling who didn't read well and couldn't have understood magic if his life depended on it and really the only thing they had in common was that they thought Frumpkin was just the best and so at least, at least Molly could prove he could be a good fuck if Caleb ever decided to relieve some of his ever-present stress.
He'd learned a lot more a lot faster for the sake of being useful so as not to be left alone.)
Ask Me No Questions, I'll Tell You No Lies (1/?)
Yasha had asked him if hiring a couple of companions for his first time might have been excessive even by his standards. But really, as far as Molly was concerned, it had been the only sensible choice. How better to make sure his introduction to sex was good than to get a professional involved - two professionals, even, to make sure the bases were really covered.
Or at least, he'd thought the bases were covered.
Then he'd started getting Caleb talking.
It had started innocently enough once they got back on the road, a plan to rile him up a little by asking him to describe some of the smutty books he seemed so surprisingly fond of. After all, Caleb was even more adorable when he was blushing.
Then Molly had discovered that, even more surprisingly, smutty books and the contents thereof were something that Caleb could discuss with an ease that could only be born of extensive experience. He could critique the smutty books and the plausibility of their contents. He could reference his past experiences. He did this obliquely, certainly, and ever-so-carefully, but Molly could still piece together that much. The worst part was that it didn't even seem to be a game to him! It just seemed to be a fact, as dry and natural as drawing arcane symbols or turning silver into gold for an hour.
Molly realized then that he'd gotten in way over his head.
But really, hadn't that been the story of his life so far? So much of his life had consisted of pretending to be bigger and brighter than he really was, pretending that he was something beyond a bundle of learned instincts and fireside tales and blood powers he still couldn't entirely control. People wouldn't look twice at a barker who couldn't bark larger than life.
He wanted Caleb's attention more than he'd ever wanted it from all the people in any backwoods bar in his short life. So he had to step up his game. He'd talked Cree into believing he was Lucien going on nothing more than a hug and a few names, he'd talked an entire inn into believing he was a reincarnated king of Marquet when he hadn't even been alive three weeks.
Surely he could talk Caleb into believing he wasn't as desperately inexperienced as he really was.
(Because he knew there were so many reasons that Caleb wouldn't want him, wouldn't want to waste his time and attentions on a loud, gaudy tiefling who didn't read well and couldn't have understood magic if his life depended on it and really the only thing they had in common was that they thought Frumpkin was just the best and so at least, at least Molly could prove he could be a good fuck if Caleb ever decided to relieve some of his ever-present stress.
He'd learned a lot more a lot faster for the sake of being useful so as not to be left alone.)