Chapter Text
Nyssa doesn’t care if this is a dying hallucination anymore.
Gale groans into her mouth and his hands, always so nervous, grip her waist like he’s been aching to touch her for years. Nyssa licks into his mouth and he eagerly lets her in. She feels Shadowheart’s breath against the shell of her ear as the cleric lets out a pleased little sigh and kisses down her neck.
With a guiding pull on his leash, Shadowheart forces Gale deeper into the kiss. Nyssa hears a dark chuckle somewhere behind her when it brings her tongue deeper down the mage’s throat, making him choke around another moan. It’s delightful that he’s as noisy in bed as he is babbling around the arcane.
With his leash safely in Shadowheart’s care, Nyssa drops her leverage in favour of backing him up against the wall. Gale goes so willingly it nearly drives her to madness. He collides against it so hard it nearly knocks the breath out of his lungs– a half huff, half moan against Nyssa’s lips.
She pulls away to catch her breath. Anchoring a hand on Gale’s sternum when he tries to chase her lips is all it takes to still him. He blushes, bashful and embarrassed, as he’s pinned with such a gentle touch.
His mouth is hanging open, slick and red from her kiss. He already looks a little lust-drunk. But Nyssa thinks Shadowheart deserves to see him even more wrecked from her position as the maestro over their shoulders. So she presses her lips to the soft of Gale’s jaw and trails downwards, kissing around every inch of skin that isn’t adorned with his collar. Ours, she says with her lips against the hollow of his throat, ours.
Gale’s head thunks against the wall as he bares his throat to her. Nyssa thinks it’s the most amazing sound she’s ever heard in all her bardly travels. That is, until she hears Gale and Shadowheart moan in unison. His so low and rumbly she can feel it in his throat, and hers breathy and smugly mischievous directly in her ear. It’s a goddamn symphony and Nyssa can’t help but join in with some breathlessness of her own as she tugs Gale’s robes aside just to kiss every inch of his skin.
“Why don’t you bite down. Just a little,” Shadowheart whispers in her ear as Nyssa lavishes Gale’s neck with open-mouthed kisses. She reaches over her shoulder and brushes his long hair asides. Two slender fingers tap just about his collar. “Right here. Mark him up.”
Nyssa kisses Shadowheart’s fingers before she can pull them away. Cheeky. She looks up at Gale, steadying both her palms on his heaving chest. “Gods. Would you… would you like that?”
“Yes, I think I would–” His eyes are squeezed shut as he breathes through his nose. “I– I think I would enjoy the reminder that this truly happened once we’re free. That the memory of your lips against mine wasn’t some delirious, dying man’s fantasy, as it were.”
Nyssa chuckles. It’s as endearing to see him stammer as it is enticing. “You know. I was thinking the same thing,” she replies before she presses another kiss just under his jaw.
His skin is rough– in need of a shave after days on the road. When Nyssa scrapes her teeth against it she feels Gale’s fingers dig into her waist. He’s trembling beneath her, trying not to buck up off the wall. Shadowheart encourages her with a gentle yet firm hand at the back of her head. She keeps her in place until she’s satisfied Gale will be bruised up nice and pretty.
“Gorgeous,” the cleric murmurs over her shoulder as Nyssa draws back.
And oh, it is. A lovely little bruise to decorate his collared throat. One of Gale’s hands leaves her waist to press against it. The ache of it pushes the breath out of his lungs once more as he lets out a quiet curse.
“You’re full of good ideas, aren’t you?” Nyssa leans back against Shadowheart, emboldened by the way she lets out a little gasp as their bodies line up together.
“I know I am. I have to be with you two lovesick fools for companions. But...you’re very kind to notice.” She can feel Shadowheart smile against her shoulder as her hands settle on her hips, just beneath where Gale holds her waist like a lifeline.
Nyssa slides her hand down both of their holds. Pure indulgence. “And what’s your next commandment, oh High Priestess of Darkness?”
“Hm. I think you’ve given the wizard too much attention. He’s to be our prisoner, isn’t he? I think he needs a reminder of his place.”
Nyssa grins. She stands on her toes once more to give Gale a kiss on the cheek. She’s not about to ignore Shadowheart– not when she has spent hours alone imagining how their first and only kiss tasted; with wine celebration on both their lips. So a chaste peck is all their wizard gets as she leaves him. He still whines like a little puppy at the loss of attention. In response, and perhaps in punishment, she deliberately grinds against him as she turns around to face Shadowheart. Just to hear him whine a little bit more.
Standing behind her now, the mage tries to be a gentleman about the hardness between his legs. He shies away from pressing against her as best he can, mumbling an apology as he tries to hold her at arm's length without actually letting her go. Laughing, Nyssa grabs his leash and yanks him forward; forcing him to grind against the small of her back.
As Gale groans and obediently rolls against her, Nyssa thinks it’s a marvel his lead ever felt wrong in her hands.
Laying eyes on Shadowheart, Nyssa suddenly understands Gale’s poetry of worship. She looks radiant. Pale skin made rose in the candlelight, green eyes twinkling with both lust at the thrill of a chase. She almost can’t bring herself to touch. Like she would be desecrating some grand temple with her peasant’s lyre-calloused palms.
“Can I kiss you again?” She blurts out without meaning to. So uncouth for such a fine priestess.
“Hm. I suppose you may,” she responds with a laugh. A callback to Nyssa’s own teasing vernacular.
She doesn’t have the mind to be offended. She doesn’t have the mind for much at all– not with those green eyes before her and the desperation behind. All she can do is stumble forward in hope she meets Shadowheart’s lips. Even if she doesn’t: she’ll be lucky enough to kiss some part of the effigy before her.
Shadowheart lets out a surprised little ‘oh’ as they crash together. Even though Nyssa misses, connecting with the side of her mouth, the cleric quickly guides her back with a hand on her cheek and a more even tempo. And it’s so much better than their drunken revelry. She doesn’t taste of wine as she licks against her lips– incessant, but asking all the same. This time there’s peppery black tea on her tongue and the lingering scent of the flower oil she combs through her hair. This time it’s not a fleeting second, but a bond Nyssa nearly loses herself to.
They kiss, slow and desperate, for what feels like ages. What feels like they’re owed for weeks of pining. Nyssa’s hands come up to the silver ties in her hair before realizing they are far too complicated to romantically unknot. When they travel lower she realizes how truly armoured Shadowheart is. Her hands wander along all the chainmail and that is their priestess of sorrows, up and down her waist, until they come to cup her jaw in a desperate bid for skin on skin. Shadowheart sighs when Nyssa traces the shell of her pointed ear. Oh, interesting.
She doesn’t have much time to tease. Nyssa melts against Gale’s body– head nestled just beneath his jaw– as Shadowheart nails scrape through her hair. She could stay like this forever. That is, until she feels Gale let out a long held back gasp behind them.
He bites his tongue, but it’s too late. Nyssa and Shadowheart’s teeth nearly click together as they both smile into their kiss.
“Oh, he’s eager,” Shadowheart murmurs against her mouth. Only for her, it seems; a whispered secret between lovers. “Would you like to test how eager? Or shall I keep coming up with all the clever ideas?”
“That depends,” Nyssa says, drawing back from Shadowheart as she tugs Gale in by his lead so he can busy himself with kissing down her neck. ‘Would you trust your acolyte? Hand over the altar candles and the prayer books for horribly nefarious purposes?”
“Horrible nefarious purposes sound wonderful.” Shadowheart presses a final kiss to her lips and tucks a finger up her jaw. “And I’d trust you can find your way through the dark.”
She drops her head back against Gale’s chest so she can look up at him. “And what do you think?”
“Gods. I think it’s both a divine and a medical marvel that I am still here, breathing, and haven’t ascended to the plains of Elysium,” Gale murmurs behind them. His hands are splayed out across Nyssa’s waist, fingertips digging into her ribcage and the softness of her stomach as if he’ll lose her if he lets go. “Whatever you wish of me…cast it out. Like a djinn to a lamp, I will follow where you lead.”
“Whatever we wish? My. Powerful words from a powerful wizard,” Shadowheart teases, stroking his beard in a wonderfully possessive way. All three of them shiver as he leans into her palm.
“Oh, he so likes it when you stroke his ego,” Nyssa says as she feels his cock twitch behind her. She feels drunk on the power of it all. She pushes off Gale and walks towards the bed, trying to ignore how her legs shake as she does. She doesn’t miss the way Gale waits until he’s pulled along to follow, nor the way he hums happily as he’s yanked along. Speechless already.
Shadowheart stalks just behind him. She busies herself with the stays of her armour, sliding the breastplate over her head so she’s left in her simple chain shirt and breeches. Nyssa’s hands ache to shrug off her doublet but she loathes to drop the leash. An idea– a little mean in the way she thinks Gale will like– sparks electric in her mind as she perches on the edge of the bed.
Gale stares down at her, eyes blown wide. He makes the move to kneel but Nyssa grins and shakes her head.
“We’ll get to that,” she says, wrapping the slack of the lead around her knuckles once, twice, until it’s taut between them. “You were quite excited to play the part, weren’t you? I think your role calls for far fewer clothes.”
Gale swallows, ducking his head to hide the way he’s blushing. It’s no use, with Nyssa staring up at him she can see it all. She suddenly falters at the way his hands shake as they come up to the ties of his robe. Has she asked too much?
“Oh, Gale, you don’t have to–”
He laughs at himself. “What a kindness. No, I don’t fear being at your whims, nor your commands. It’s only…” Gale pulls at his leash, right at the clasp, and slides his thumb up to the buckle. “Shall I divest myself of…everything?”
There’s a shy hopefulness in his voice as he looks down at her. It makes her want to yank him on to the bed and ride him into fucking oblivion. Before she can lose her composure, Shadowheart speaks up.
“You know, Gale, I am forbidden from any entanglements that do not serve Lady Shar,” she murmurs, snaking her arms around his waist. Nyssa sees Gale’s eyes go wide, and she peers around his broadness to see the other woman has stripped down to her waist to press her bare chest against his back. Shadowheart continues with a smile in her voice. “It’s best you keep your collar on. I think she’d rather approve of me bringing Mystra’s little chosen to heel.”
“Well, former chosen, but I’m sure your lady will enjoy the debasement all the same,” Gale says, eyes fluttering closed as Shadowheart draws feather light touches down his chest. “I was, ah, rather hoping to, anyway. Keep it.”
“I’m happy to hear it,” Shadowheart whispers against Gale’s neck, making him shudder. “You know, I could use some practice in knots, too. Maybe if you’re good.”
She steps around him. Then, hooking two fingers under his collar, pulls him in for their first kiss. Nyssa isn’t sure if she wants to look at the way she shoves her tongue down his throat, or the pinch of his skin under the collar, or Shadowheart’s bared skin pressed against Gale’s purple robes.
Ah, right. Robes. Nyssa crosses her legs, sitting prim on the edge of the bed. She tugs at the leash until Gale is torn out of the kiss, then flashes them both a pout at Gale’s state of overdress.
“I know you like to stroll around the point,” she teases. “But, maybe, we take the road more travelled, this time?”
“Of course, my lady.” Gale responds with a demure half-bow and begins to unlace the straps of his leather gauntlets. It shouldn’t be so godsdamn erotic, watching those clever fingers pluck the laces open down his forearms, but Nyssa’s always been entranced by the mage’s practiced hands.
Gale slides off his boots first. Then two leather gauntlets fall with a soft *pat, pat* on the marble floors. Deft fingers unpin the stays of his robe– at little quicker than Nyssa would like, but she’s too eager at the prospect of getting Gale into bed to reprimand him for it. He shrugs the robe off his shoulders, and, as if reading her mind, two pale hands join his from behind and slow him down.
“Give her a good show, wizard.”
Nyssa bites her lip as Shadowheart forces him to tease her a little. It pulls a horrible blush out the mage, splotched down every inch of skin that’s slowly revealed to her. Gale is left remarkably speechless as she guides his robe to hang down around his elbows.
Gods, he is beautiful. Dark whorls of hair spin around his chest, and trail down low enough to spark some worthwhile fantasies. Nyssa's mouth drops open when she sees a flicker of pink from his orb.
”Don’t stop,” she says, surprised at how husky her voice comes out. “He's glowing.”
Shadowheart obliges. She guides Gale’s hands down by his sides and, in doing so, lets his robe slip off completely. It pools in purple silk around his bare feet and Nyssa lets her eyes drag up his body in a way that is downright lecherous. His chest hair trails down the softness of his belly, tufting around the purple and gold smallclothes. Smallclothes that are looking on the side of too small, in fact, with his cock straining against their ties.
“Beautiful,” she murmurs. “I could write poetry about you, you know.”
Gale’s eyes slide off hers, blushing and bashful. Before Nyssa can tug at his leash, Shadowheart instead guides his gaze back with a firm grip on his chin. He stares back with such beautiful hunger.
“Tell him. What would you write about?” She prompts, one nail coming down to trace lazily up and down his sternum.
“Oh, the silver of his hair in the sun. The way his magic reflects in his dark eyes, and the flex of his practiced hands against the weave,” Nyssa says, leaning back on her elbows. She drops her gaze pointedly between his legs and grins. “Then, once those pretty words lure him into a false sense of security, a few very bawdy tunes about the well-endowed wizard of waterdeep.”
“I– you flatter me,” Gale mumbles, shifting, shy in Shadowheart’s arms. Nyssa is sure he would cover himself if he had use of his arms– the praise seems to bloom all the way down his chest in such a pretty pink. “I think I should be the one singing your praises, though.”
“And I think we can find a better use for your mouth than that, Gale,” Shadowheart teases, pressing a kiss against his shoulder. Gale’s head drops down with a gasp, his hands clenched by his sides.
Shadowheart hooks a finger around the back of his collar and pulls him back up. She presses her other hand to the small of his back so he’s bared for Nyssa: chest out and on full display. It pulls a whine out of the mage as he looks at her down his nose with desperate eyes.
“Now. How do you want him?” She asks. The overtalk sends a thrill through them both– sinking hot in Nyssa’s stomach and making Gale shiver her arms.
She takes a deep, steadying breath. Nerves threaten to spill over– in the shake of her hands and the twist of her tongue– but the way they are both looking at her with such want keeps the lead firmly in her hand. Nyssa carefully uncrosses her legs at the edge of the bed, waiting for any signs of discomfort. When the only response is Gale’s mouth dropping open with a new needy whine she smiles.
“On his knees?” It comes out a little too hopeful to sound like the domineering priestess she’s supposed to play.
“Excellent idea,” Shadowheart grins and shoves Gale forward.
It shouldn’t be enough to make him stumble but it seems the mage is a little too far gone. Nyssa laughs and tugs his leash so he falls into her. Ever the gentleman, his hands fall on the mattress rather than upon her.
“Why, hello,” Nyssa teases, cupping his face in her hands. She plants a soft peck on his lips and Gale chases her as she draws away. She keeps him in place with a gentle hold on the back of his collar.
“Good evening. Have I wandered out of one lion’s den into another?” He laughs, ducking his head. His voice is wavering and a little wrecked already. “Or are you the sweet one, lavishing me with rather undeserved kindness?”
“I’m not sure yet. But I do know it’s never undeserved.” She brushes her thumb along his beard and hopes the way it makes his eyes flutter shut means he knows.
Her thumb grazes across his lips and he presses a gentle kiss to the pad of it. Hopeful.
“Then perhaps you’ll allow me to show my gratitude?” he murmurs, hands coming to rest around her waist.
Nyssa waves her hand as if to say go on. It’s all the assent he needs. Gale kisses down her neck, deft fingers working at the buttons of her doublet as he sinks to his knees. It seems with a task some of that initial shyness has melted away. The mage always needed to be doing something after all– always fiddling, always chewing on the blunt of his nails and the tips of his quills. Always hungry.
The bed dips behind her. Another familiar pair of hands help her shrug out of her jacket and Gale eagerly mouths against every inch of her newly exposed skin. Shadowheart brushes her curls off her shoulders so Gale can kiss down her shoulders and, with a flick of his eyes up for assent, mouth against her breasts. Nyssa can’t help but card her hands through his hair as she feels the heat of his tongue close around one nipple while his thumb draws soft little circles around the other.
Shadowheart settles in behind her. Nyssa can feel she’s bare now– feel the tautness of her belly and the soft curls between her legs pressed up against her back. She turns, desperate, and captures her lips in another kiss. Gods, it’s a delight to pull those surprised little huffs out of the cleric. Nyssa’s hand leaves Gale for a moment to stroke along the tip of her ear in earnest. They both moan as Shadowheart rolls against her with a shudder.
“My. That’s fun,” she murmurs into her mouth, grinning at pink dusting across the other woman’s face. “Are all elves like that?”
“Elven ears are a known erogenous zone,” Gale pipes up helpfully, working on the laces of her breeches. “In fact your piercings, dear Nyssa, would be quite the scandal in Evereska. You’d have lords and ladies fainting in the streets, I’d wager.”
Nyssa thumbs the rings of gold hoops up and bangles along the shell of her own ear and grins. “Oh really? Were these distracting you at this time? Don’t tell me I’ve been leading you to impure thoughts, priestess.”
She pinches Shadowheart’s ear in earnest, stroking her thumb up to the point and rubbing tiny circles at the helix of it. Her blush deepens and she bites her lip, before shooting her a good-natured scowl.
“Ah– both of you know too much and somehow talk even more. I’ll have to kill you after this, you know.”
She pulls Nyssa into another kiss before she can tease any further. From the sudden muffled protest beneath her and the feeling of Gale’s lips working down her chest anew, she figures Shadowheart must have shut him up too.
Gale tugs her breeches off. Nyssa can’t help but laugh as she notices he folds them, placing them next to where Shadowheart had thrown off her doublet in a heap on the floor. The laugh turns into a gasp as he kisses along her inner thigh, deft fingers curling around her smallclothes, asking for permission. Nyssa lifts her hips and she is quickly bared before him. Suddenly she understands the shyness– the need to close her legs, to be free from the ravenous way Gale looks at her.
As if sensing it, Shadowheart’s hand curls around hers, reminding Nyssa of the lead in her palms.
“Guide him,” she whispers, pressing a kiss to the sweat at her temple.
Well. What a thing it would be to disobey their high priestess. Nyssa feels Shadowheart’s legs hook around her own, spreading her as she wraps the leash around her knuckles and pulls Gale between them. He doesn’t break eye contact as he goes– deep brown pools looking up at her is something that is so close to worship it makes her wild.
And what a worship it is, when she feels his tongue against her centre. He licks a long stripe upwards on the edge of almost too gentle. He teases her entrance at first, so far from where she wants him. Nyssa shudders as the calloused pads of his fingertips slide up her thighs and hold on to them like lifelines. Guide him, she reminds herself through the fog, and gives his leash a tug as if to say harder.
Gale’s tongue leaves her as he chokes out a moan. But he gets the message and gives her a fuller touch: eyes finally fluttering downwards as he draws long, indulging ovals up around her clit and back down.
“Very good,” Shadowheart murmurs from behind her. She isn’t sure who she’s talking to. All she knows is that it makes her whimper and has the blunt edges of Gale’s fingernails digging into her leg.
They stay like that for a moment, Gale blissful between her legs and the only sounds the three of them moaning in tandem. After some time, Nyssa bucks up into his mouth– experimentally at first, a little roll of her hips. When Shadowheart coos in her ear and rewards her with her lithe fingers soft against her nipples, Nyssa bucks a little harder.
“Is he treating you nicely?” the half-elf whispers in her ear. Her pale hand comes to rest at the crown of Gale’s head and holds it in place. Nyssa feels him shudder between her legs.
“Ah– he is. He wasn’t kidding about being good with his tongue,” she manages, abdomen flexing as Gale works diligently between her legs.
“Hm. Maybe the prodigy needs a little extra challenge then.” Nyssa can hear the grin in her voice.
Shadowheart slips off the bed and she nearly whines at the lost contact. Nyssa anchors her hands in Gale’s hair instead and rolls against him in earnest. The mage seems happy to just take it, lolling his tongue out for her to grind on. Gods. She could get drunk on this. She tries not to think about what they will be after this– for the idea of not being able to drag Gale to her tent to use that clever mouth after a battle hard won is nearly heartbreaking.
Just as she finds a rhythm, Gale gasps hot against her centre and knocks his forehead to her thigh. Nyssa nearly drags him back. She tightens the grip in his hair and looks down to see Shadowheart suddenly behind him. Oh. It’s certainly not hard to guess what she’s doing by the way her hand twists somewhere in the shadows of his lap. And it’s definitely not hard to guess she isn’t being kind about it– not with the way she has Gale breathing through grit teeth with a grin on her face.
“Are you distracted, mage?” Shadowheart asks, tilting her head in a faux innocence. “I’d think a mind like yours would be able to focus in any situation, no matter how dire.”
“One can’t– gh–” Gale rocks against her hand. He presses desperate kisses along Nyssa’s thigh. “Please. Even the greatest minds in Faerun cannot concentrate on two enchantments at once.”
“Ahh, greatest? I think the words you used for yourself were most extraordinary, weren't they?” Nyssa teases, scraping her nails through Gale’s hair. He leans into it so easily she can’t help but tug his gaze up to hers.
“Oh not you, too.” He grins, but looks wonderfully wrecked. Lips and beard still slick with her and eyes pleading and dark. “Here I thought you might be the one to grant me some clemency.”
“Me?” She meets eyes with Shadowheart across his shoulders. There’s a wonderful spark there– one that guides her fingers to hook under the slack of Gale’s collar. Electric. Nyssa drags him a little higher, forcing him to rock against Shadowheart’s hand. “I’m the one who slapped you, remember? Our priestess has been nothing but kind.”
“What a truth. As kindness is– is–” Gale’s eyes roll back and he drops his head against her stomach, muffling a moan against her skin. Nyssa pets his hair as he squirms beneath her. “Altruistic service, asking for nothing in return. I’m afraid if this continues I certainly won’t have much…much to give either of you. This is spectacularly unfair, you know.”
Nyssa revels in the heat of his breath against her skin, punched out in little huffs with each stroke. How sweet the wizard sounds from his knees. She nearly takes pity on him before Shadowheart speaks up.
“What are you two whispering about now?” Shadowheart asks, tossing her braid over her shoulder with playful annoyance. Her hand in Gale’s lap doesn’t slow down.
“Oh. He says you’re being horribly cruel to him,” Nyssa says, brushing a stray lock of hair off Gale’s forehead.
Gale’s mouth drops open in genuine offense. “I most certainly was not–”
“Oh was he?”
Shadowheart tilts her head with mischievous intent. She gives Gale a moment of respite, hand leaving his cock to trail up his belly and chest. Her fingers thread up the back hair and pull, forcing him to look fully up. She leans in to whisper in his ear but those green eyes never leave Nyssa’s own.
“Would you like to repeat yourself, Gale?”
Gale shoots Nyssa a soulful-eyed look that sits somewhere between begging and adoration. She just out her lip in teasing pity. Poor thing. When he turns, best he can, to look at Shadowheart, it seems her smirk gives away the game.
Gale’s eyes flick down to her lips in a sudden, curious understanding. Nyssa can practically see the gears turning away in his head.
“My apologies. I meant to say horribly cruel does not begin to cover whatever dark slaughter I’m sure you have in mind for me. Perhaps devilish? Sadistic? Sharran?” He ducks down to steal a kiss from her, eyes glinting with all the possibilities of where such insolence might lead. “I’d say it’s a wonder you taste of divinity and not sulphur. Although…”
Gale kisses her once more, like he’s testing a theory. Nyssa can only watch as their lips collide– can picture the way his beard feels and shudder at the memory of her soft lips. She isn’t sure if she wants to push them together or take one of their places. She doesn’t have much time to fantasize about it. There’s a playful challenge in Gale’s eyes as they break. Shadowheart wrenches him back by the roots of his hair.
She holds him steady when she slaps him. It’s not hard: just a kiss from the flat of her fingertips, enough to crack against his skin and leave his mouth a little pink. Gale’s mouth drops open, breath heaving and cock heavy between his legs. He works his lip between his teeth, chasing the sting. When his fingers come absentmindedly up to push at the little mark Nyssa’s own breath catches.
“Aw. Is that what you wanted?” She teases, wrapping his leash around her knuckles. “If you want us to rough you up a little you don’t need to be so coy about it.”
“I...Ah. Perhaps,” Gale murmurs, somewhere a little far away. How sweet it is to leave him speechless.
Nyssa exchanges a pleased glance with Shadowheart. But as lovely as the two of them are, she’s aching between her legs, and the interruption has done her no favours. It’s time for the mage to earn his keep.
“Good boy. Bed, now. Preferably five seconds ago, actually, but since I’m the sweet one, I’ll forgive you.”
She grins and pushes herself back up to the threadbare pillows, yanking Gale’s leash so he’s forced to climb up after her as well. Shadowheart is not far behind– a commanding hand settling between Gale’s shoulderblades like a reminder he shouldn’t get too comfortable on top.
When she kisses him and tastes the salt of herself on his tongue, it lights up something feral in Nyssa’s brain. Something that howls at the idea of Gale’s tongue and beard soaked through until he can think of nothing but her. She breaks the kiss and hooks a leg around his hip. She tries to flip him effortlessly, but Gale is both heavier than her and in such an endearing stupor that he just blinks down at her in adoration. Nyssa can’t help but cup his cheeks and lavish kisses all over his face– gods, he’s so perfect and pliant and theirs.
It’s Shadowheart that reminds her of their goals. As always. Nyssa feels the sudden chill of the underdark settled into the pores of her bare skin when Gale is yanked back by the short of his leash. The old bed creaks underneath them as the mage falls down shoulder-to-shoulder with her. When he bucks up against her touch they both laugh.
“A little presumptuous, aren’t we?” Shadowheart teases as she straddles him, sliding over his cock with his leash taut around her palm.
“I’d say yearning is more– more of an apt word, hm?” He shoots back, eyes pleading to her uncaring smirk.
Gale casts those big eyes over to her, but Nyssa is too entranced by the way Shadowheart pins his wrists above his head to help him. Instead she skates her hand down her sternum and shoots him a faux-pitying look as her fingers dip between her own legs. It feels good– gods does it feel like relief– but not as good as his tongue.
She sits up to catch Shadowheart’s gaze. The cleric raises a challenging brow towards her as she gently rocks across his already wrecked length– gliding up it so beautifully it has his cock leaking down to the patch of hair on his stomach.
“He’s a mess,” she teases, swiping a thumb through it. “I think we’ve teased him enough.”
The request behind her words is so abrupt and sordid Nyssa nearly takes it back. Or, at least coaches it with a question– something that softens the blow of the image of the two of them joined, of Shadowheart’s nails digging into Gale’s chest as she rides him until he’s whimpering.
“My. If I had known how well you’d both take to this I wouldn’t have wasted that finer collar on Scratch.” Shadowheart lays the leach across Nyssa’s waist so the skin-warmed leather sits against her skin. “You’re right.”
Gale sips in gasps, jaw clenched tight and hands begging for release in her grip. Nyssa can see in the way his fingers flex that he so wants to perform. She traces a nail up and down his pinned forearms until he shudders, conscience stilling.
“That’s our good boy. Just let her use you for a bit, yes?” She murmurs, stroking his temple. Gale manages a tight nod, eyes screwed shut as he shudders under the praise.
Shadowheart starts to sink down on him as Nyssa keeps whispering praise in her ear. Still, as she watches her, she’s not sure if she should be offering it to him: he is a lot to take, and from the furrow in the cleric’s brow she seems to be struggling.
Nyssa shifts on the bed, coming to kneel behind Shadowheart. She releases Gale’s wrists in favour of leaning back against her. She watches Gale’s hands coming to rest hesitantly at her hips as she sinks down on him inch by inch– almost hesitant, like he’s afraid he’ll be swatted away in favour of her concentration. Nyssa trails her palms up her waist until they come to rest at the back of Shadowheart’s ears. She traces them up from lobe to tip with a kiss to the dip of her shoulders.
“Don’t hurt yourself,” she teases. “You can’t drag around our pet wizard if you can’t walk."
“Sometimes a little pain is needed– mhm– necessary.” Her voice goes a little reedy when Nyssa mouths at her ear, nipping at the soft of her lobe with the tiniest amount of teeth. They both let out a gasp when it seems to be what she needs to sink down those last few inches.
Gale’s grip on her hips is nearly white knuckled. He’s staring up at them with wide eyed reverence and he doesn’t dare move. “Gods above. You deserve parishioners, Shadowheart. A thousand acolytes to worship you in all your divine glory. I should be so lucky to be..one of them..”
He trembles beneath her, rolling up despite himself and casting them an apologetic look. A glare from Shadowheart is all it takes for him to still his hips. She rests a hand on his chest and rocks experimentally on him– just grinding on him, chasing her own pleasure without much care for his. Gale doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, his fingers drift across her spread thighs and come to splay across her belly– silently asking permission to dip lower. When she leans back he carefully comes down to circle her clit.
It’s entrancing, watching those fingers work. Fingers she had had many a late night thought about after watching Gale’s spellwork. Nyssa is almost jealous. When she watches Shadowheart’s thighs clench tight around Gale’s hips she decides she’s not content with just watching.
With a kiss to Shadowheart’s temple, she tumbles back on to the bed next to Gale.
“Hello again,” she murmurs, hooking a finger under his collar to get his attention.
“Hello. Have we reached the part of the evening where you sacrifice me to Lolth?” He jokes, breathlessly. To his credit his fingers don’t slow.
Nyssa moves to straddle his face, intentions clear. “Maybe. Do you still have that scroll of resurrection?”
“Of course I do.” Nyssa can see he tries to keep his breathing steady as Shadowheart picks up the pace, lost in chasing her own pleasure. “But were it not for the orb I’d ask you to let me rest in peace, as I’ll have died a happy man.”
“Your bantering is very cute, but I think you're keeping her wanting, Gale.” Shadowheart gasps, her eyes fluttering closed. She grabs the hand between her legs and guides it to Nyssa’s thigh.
Gale makes a little noise somewhere between agreement and a groan at the teasing. He urges Nyssa down with a kind of desperation that washes away any self-consciousness. When his tongue slides between her folds, eager and a little clumsy, she nearly doubles over.
Shadowheart is starting to lose her icy composure: nose scrunched up and thighs tight and trembling around Gale’s hips. Her movements grow erratic and the wizard, ever the gentleman, picks up the slack with slow, rhythmic thrusts upwards. Not quite fucking, just rolling her upwards so he stays deep enough to make her eyes flutter back. Nyssa is already head-spinningly close, but as he dutifully circles her clit with the flat of his tongue alongside the gentle roll of his hips she feels it spark through her entire body. He’s perfect like this. Made for it. She’s never taking the collar off, polite society be damned.
What little composure she has left goes to watching Shadowheart. With Gale’s fingers now hooked around her own thighs, she has her lithe fingers between her own legs and her eyes screwed shut. Nyssa grins and breathlessly reaches for the discarded leash. When she places it in Shadowheart’s free hand, she’s met with a gasp and a flash of pretty green eyes.
“In case you need something to– ah– hold on to. I’m sure he won’t mind.”
“He’d better not.”
Shadowheart pulls the leash hard as she rides him in earnest. Nyssa feels the way he moans vibrate through her. It’s nearly overwhelming– even as he starts to lose his finesse to the heady pressure of being tugged around like a dog, it just spurs her on further. She drops what little weight she had been holding back directly across his mouth and earns an appreciative groan in response. When she rocks against his pliant tongue, she notices he matches her frantic pace with his hips upwards into Shadowheart. It’s something to be put to song and goddamn story.
When Shadowheart completes the measure by dragging her into a kiss, Nyssa can see– feel– the way it sends her over the edge. The other woman bites down hard on her lip as she comes with a full body shudder. She goes completely boneless above Gale as he dutifully fucks her through it; every thrust pulling a new soft, pretty whimper from her parted lips. He gets sloppy between her legs but Nyssa forgives him, for he’s responsible for giving her the sight of their priestess flushed pink and being roughly bounced up until she’s pinning his hips down. Nyssa trails kisses down her neck and up to her ears again until she’s dragged away by her hair.
Hm. Maybe she does have a mean streak.
Shadowheart pulls up off him, chest heaving. Wordlessly, she drags Nyssa into another kiss and– rudely, she might add– up off his mouth.
“Your turn,” she rasps. It’s not really a question. It doesn’t need to be. Although, sparing a glance down to where Gale is hard and leaking against his belly, she has some doubts on how much torture would really turn them into his cruel owners.
Nyssa rolls off him, buzzing with anticipation. Gale whines a little at the lost contact. His lips and beard are slick, and as he goes to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand Nyssa’s body works faster than her mind. She darts out and grabs his wrist with a stern shake of her head.
“Leave it,” she says, possessiveness flaring hot between her fingers. Gale’s eyes widen and he nods obediently, letting her bring his hand back down. Somewhere behind her, she hears Shadowheart’s familiar, knowing laugh.
“Where…how do you want me?” He murmurs, eyes huge and blown wide. It’s a look of pure adoration– no smarmy verbosity, no babbling. He’d do whatever I asked of him, she thinks, and nearly laughs that the idea had her feeling guilty only hours before.
“Up on your knees,” Shadowheart answers for her with a tug of the leash, pointing at the very end of the bed.
Nyssa is more than fine with her playing maestro. She settles up against the headboard as Gale scrambles to obey, his limbs clumsy with lust and his own unique enthusiasm. He kneels in position and gods what a sight to see: him knocking up his chin to show off his collar and the mark on his neck. Shadowheart takes both of his wrists and crosses them behind his back. There’s a collective gasp when she produces Nyssa’s own belt and cinches it around them.
“Ah, I take it I’ve been good then? You’re more virtuous than you give yourself credit for my dear, keeping your promises of reward,” Gale murmurs, testing the hold and shuddering a little.
“Oh, you might change your mind about that in a moment,” Shadowheart kisses his cheek as she gives a tug to the bindings to test them. Shadowheart threads a hand through his hair and tugs him backwards so she can whisper in his ear. “Make her come first,” she growls. “Since you’re such a prodigy already, I don’t think you need your hands to do that. Do you?”
Gale wriggles in the bonds a little. Whatever he’s testing, he’s pleased with it– Nyssa recognizes the self-satisfied smirk anywhere. Her skin still feels like it’s on fire and she’s horribly curious what it could mean.
“It’s as endearing as it is incorrect that you think my talents cannot be contained by some mere mortal bindings,” Gale replies, leaning into her touch.
“Gale. Do you need another lesson in how to speak to your priestess?”
Gale’s mouth drops open in mock-offence. “Are you implying my predisposition as a quick study might be failing me for the first time? How dare you.”
It’s bait, but none of them care. Shadowheart slaps him again and it pulls a growl out of him this time. Nyssa can see his cock twitch between his legs and she can’t help but come forward to wrap her fingers around it, to feel the way he jumps from the rough treatment. Gale breathes heavily through his nose, curls hanging in his face. When he looks up it seems he’s softened from his momentary lapse in judgement, eyes glazed over and mouth open and pliant.
Nyssa wastes no time in settling in on all fours in front of him while he’s still reeling. She grinds back on him to the sound of a lovely, fucked-out gasp. While she considers teasing him further by making him struggle to fuck her in his bindings, she’s too keyed up for it– aching and close enough she doubts he’ll have much trouble following his charge. Instead she guides the tip of his cock between her legs and lets the leash do the rest: tugging him steadily forward. She’s dripping wet but it’s still a heady, hedonistic stretch as he fills her. She breathes deep as she adjusts– suddenly very aware of how long it’s been and so glad it’s with him now.
Shadowheart pads around him to sit in front of them, watching the show with a smirk and a flick of her braid. She takes the leash for just a moment, pulling Gale forward as if urging him to move, before offering it back to her. Nyssa settles down on her elbows with a happy sigh and pulls it taut.
“Enjoy him. You’ve earned it,” she murmurs, tucking Nyssa’s hair behind her ear as Gale trembles behind her.
He starts slow, almost stuttering. It must be torture for him. The thought shouldn’t excite Nyssa as much as it does. She lets him set the tempo for a moment before pulling on his leash with a laugh.
“Pick up the fucking pace, mage,” she commands, eyes on Shadowheart for approval. Gods, her voice sounds wrecked. The other woman gives her a nod, tongue flicking across her lips.
Gale groans in protest but obeys. Even from behind she can tell he’s wavering in his balance and control. Gale, always so prim and gentlemanly, tied up and rutting up against her like a man starved. The power alone is enough to settle warm and molten down her spine. It feels heavenly. And he’s trying so hard to be good but Nyssa can tell from his stuttering little whines he’s painfully close.
When he slows down again, she yanks his leash and he speeds up with a gasp so broken it sounds very close to tears.
Nyssa is teetering close enough to the edge that she nearly wants to be nice to him. She’s about to stop tugging at his leash whenever he slows when she feels a strange touch between them. Something liquid-soft and ethereal, pouring over her clit like running water. She gasps as the sudden contact, cheek falling down against Shadowheart’s open thighs. Worship and penance in the same hot, wordless breaths upon her skin.
“Mage hand? Clever boy. Though some might call that cheating,” Shadowheart teases somewhere far above her.
“Cheating? I’d call it–” Nyssa pulls once more just to hear his voice break. “Gods– ingenuity, if anything.”
“That’s what we get for bedding a wizard.” Nyssa feels her long nails scraped through her hair– a softness that drives her wild against Gale’s obedient, unrelenting work between her legs. “Nyssa, what do you think?”
Nyssa can barely string together words, let alone think.
“...‘s good,” she mumbles, rocking back against it. It’s more than good. It’s fucking pure bliss– it’s enough to make her forget where they are, forget the awful straw mattress beneath them and what dwells just beyond the door. It’s like he’s made it just for her– the pressure, the touch, it’s perfect– and maybe he did. A quick study indeed.
Shadowheart takes the leash from her already slack palms. With a commanding hand, she pushes down on her shoulderblades until her head is fully cradled in her lap. Nyssa nearly sees stars in her embrace.
“I’ll make sure he takes good care of you,” she murmurs, wrapping the leash around her knuckles and shooting a warning glare upwards that makes Gale moan behind her. “Let go.”
“Please,” Gale whispers behind her. She’s not sure what he’s begging for, but the desperation in his voice is enough to settle like pure heat between her legs.
It’s all too much. She’s surrounded by them both, so taken and utterly loved. Shadowheart holds her tight as that molten feeling curls tight around her thighs. It spills over her, so full and feverish as she comes with a silent prayer against the woman’s thighs. She sees her yank the leash, true to her word, and hears Gale’s near broken babbling as he keeps his pace. It goes on forever, like that, until Nyssa thinks she might burn up between the two of them.
As she comes down, Gale slows to soft, steady thrusts behind her. When she feels the enchantment flicker and fade between her legs, she knows he’s too far gone. And, oh, he’s been so good to them. It would be a crime to tease him anymore.
“I’m sorry, I–” Gale mumbles, delirious, “I can’t. Please, I’m begging you, let me–”
Nyssa blinks up, happy and sleepy, at Shadowheart.
“I think our pet wants something,” she murmurs. “Mm. Shall we be kind to him?”
“I can’t say I put much faith in kindness,” Shadowheart replies, peering over her with sharp, dark eyes. “But we certainly can be just. And I think our little mage deserves it.”
All it takes is one final yank of his leash and a terse nod of assent from Shadowheart. Nyssa grits through the oversensitive feeling as he chases his release with a few sloppy thrusts upwards. It’s a miracle he still has the mind to grit out a thank you– he has learned his lesson– as he pulls out and leaves her wanting. And it’s a miracle still she has the mind to watch over her shoulder as he comes. Another image to commit to song: Gale’s head thrown back, collar tight and eyes screwed shut as he’s finally allowed his release, warm across her back.
For a moment there is just the sound of the three of them catching their breaths. Just bliss as they ride out the last of their pleasure. But as they come down, there’s a sick drop in Nyssa’s stomach– they sound out of time with each other, now– with Gale’s shuddering, sobbing breaths so different than the steady rise and fall of Shadowheart’s chest. Reality begins to come back to her.
But then she hears the unmistakable zap of magic behind her and suddenly feels decidedly less sticky. Shadowheart laughs– warm and genuine, hands coming to idly stroke through her hair once more.
“Next time I’ll tie you tight enough you really can’t use those clever spells of yours,” she teases.
“Ah, to render me utterly helpless? You’ll have to gag me as well, I’m afraid,” Gale jokes back, voice rough with sex.
“That can be arranged.”
Nyssa takes a shuddering breath and rises to her feet. The tile floor is pleasantly cold on the soles of her feet as she walks on shaky legs, to untie Gale. Well. To untie him after she cups his cheeks with both hands and drinks in those dark, adoring eyes once more. He ducks into the touch, head heavy in her grasp.
“Beautiful,” she murmurs. She keeps his cheek cupped in her palm as she reaches behind him to unloop the belt.
When his arms are free, Gale rubs his wrists in a way that shouldn’t be so distracting but is. Suddenly Shadowheart is next to her, taking his palace. She presses a kiss to Gale’s wrist in a way that looks nearly like a thank you, and Nyssa sees a shimmer of healing in it; silver magic against his olive skin.
The cleric reaches up and unhooks the leash, deft fingers curling it up to a loop that she hangs on the bedpost. Wordlessly, she takes both of their hands and guides them back against the headboard. Nyssa feels like she’s moving through water– slow and sex-drunk, every part of her skin still so alive and sparkling.
Gale is the same way. Eyes hooded and uncharacteristically quiet, with his mouth twisted in a sleepy, content smile. He ends up in the middle, for how could he not? Nyssa curls around him, pressing every inch of herself against him like she’s afraid he’ll run.
“Can dark priestesses cuddle?” She teases, hand idly raking through the whorls of hair on Gale’s chest.
“No,” Shadowheart replies flatly. “But seeing as there is no room on this bed, and how Gale will be useless tomorrow if we make him sleep on the floor… I suppose I can make an exception.”
She smirks and clamours in next to them, draping herself over Gale’s side. He’s nearly hesitant to bring her in, eyes flickering with questions. When she presses a kiss to his cheek, he curls an arm around her back with a happy sigh.
“We’ll leave this on for now, hm?” she murmurs, tapping at his collar right over the apple of his throat. “You wouldn’t want to raise suspicions.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Gale replies, somewhere sleepy and far away. “Consider this an invitation to leave it on as long as you like.”
Nyssa laughs. Shadowheart’s hand joins her own– tracing incantations and poetry into Gale’s skin and brushing back his hair with soft nails against his scalp. When his pleased little whimpers turn into steady, deep breathing, she feels Shadowheart fingers entwine with her own and still her wandering hand. With a flash of green over dark bangs, she immediately understands.
They join hands over Gale’s chest, covering the orb mark completely. Pale skin again tan– lyre calloused fingers against sword calloused palms. Gale hums, half awake, and they both feel the reverb of it through their palms. A song without words that says I’m yours and is answered in kind when they both press down with a resounding yes.