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“Wait, wait— Tav, please.”
Gale entreats as much Tav as there is left in the creature presented before him. Perhaps, they’d all been right. Mystra. Elminster. Gale’s mentors back in the academy. His peers. All those sneers and backhanded remarks at his hubris— his hunger . His hunger led him to Tav, and his desires for companionship, for love, made him ignore far too much. He should have stopped him sooner, acted as a voice of reason before the man succumbed to the call of his blood.
A shiver runs through him. It pricks at the hairs on the nape of his neck, swells his gut with sickening anxiety. Gale, for once, is scared of Tav.
And, this creature… this power of Bhaal which has taken over his lover’s body.
Or, has it?
Gale remains intact. His limbs attached, blood unspilled, body unspoiled. Is there recognition left in those dark eyes? Can he trust that Tav will do him no harm? The creature towers over him— mandibles twitching, chittering softly, wet with a mixture of saliva and blood. A heavy clawed hand lands next to him.
There is no life left in the Shadow-Cursed Lands. It is eerily silent, the rest of camp surely asleep by now. In another timeline, Gale would have been grateful. He’s thought of conjuring up some romantic escape in the midst of their unknowable, yet likely final , mission. It never seemed like the right time. Now, it will never be.
Gale chokes on a breath. It knots in his throat. His lungs ache. The orb, too.
“You will not hurt me,” he says to convince the monster as much as himself. It’s murderous urge he knows. He’s consoled the man beneath the Slayer’s form through the nightmares, woke up with a hand upon his neck. The broken expression of the one he loves always melted away the horror into sympathy. “I know you won’t.”
Tav hasn’t. He’s come close. Many, many times. Perhaps, Gale is stupid. He is certain Tara would agree, but he’s not ready to give up. Not yet.
“Come closer,” he beckons, gently. His hand outreached. “You are not the monster this world desires you to be. I know this better than anyone.”
(That Gale can say this, even as the gift of Bhaal has been bestowed upon the man. Even as it screams to prove him wrong.)
The Slayer burns. It’s body hot from the vicious violence which brought it to being. Sticky blood clings to its limbs. Tav’s own from when his own skin was shed to reveal what lies beneath. Gale reaches towards it, through the gore, for a touch. Something so simple. So human. The spines along its arms are sharp to the touch. One pricks his finger, and Gale gasps. Ruby red blood beads from the tip. He recoils and instinctually raises it to his lips.
But, it is too late.
The creature stiffens. A low rumble resonates from its chest. Hunger. Pleasure. Something in between.
“Apologies. I did not realize you would be so sharp .” Gale chuckles to himself, but it is quickly cut short by a sudden and unsightly yelp. His own. The Slayer takes his leg, pulls him off balance, and unceremoniously, Gale meets the ground.
Not a star can be seen in the cursed night sky. Only the flicker of firelight gives details to the monster’s— no, Tav’s — face. Fangs sharp enough to rend flesh from bone. A maw strong enough to split it in two. One set of the creature's arms cage him in place upon the ground. The others snare around his ankles. There is no escape.
It’s cold. Gale’s heart hammers. Tav can hear it. Can smell every ounce of fear, of horror, in his prey. No, his eyes squeeze shut, and he takes a deep, controlled breath. He is not prey.
They are lovers. Surely, that knowledge remains, despite the corruption of Tav’s blood.
Hot breath warms his cheek. At one time, Gale would have thought it as tempting him to a kiss. Now, it is far too humid and far too acrid with the lingering stench of blood. A thick glob of spit falls to Gale’s shoulder. Tav could eat him, could kill him, so very, very easily. Gale is vulnerable here, weak in close combat.
But, Tav doesn’t. Gale trusts him not to give in this time.
The creature savors the essence of him. The scent of his blood, his fear, and then, something else entirely. The kind of impulsive, biological reaction Gale would blame on his lack of, er, experience. He read about it in a book once. The constant threat of death has done wonders for his libido.
And, it earns him a growl. A deep, dark one which resonates with his core. Starved. Impatient. Possessive.
Gale squirms back, unable to stop the moan falling from his lips. His cock twitches, and it is with a horrifying clarity that he realizes exactly what Tav wants.
Sex. Gods.
There is no amount of prayer or divine favor that could ever cleanse Gale of this. Nor is he eager to ask for it. He loves a Bhaalspawn, and before that an infected. The thought of his lover shedding his mortal form for that of a mindflayer has crossed his mind, and he decided that as long as Tav retained himself, Gale would stay. How is this any different?
It is real. Not a thought experiment made to ponder the depths of his devotion. Gale is living this moment, as the creature his lover has become tears at his trousers, the buckles of his boots, and then, nudges him over, his robes rucked over his waist.
Gale feels shameless— daring, even— as he grows hot with nervous arousal. The potent undercurrent of danger does nothing but swell his cock to an insatiable ache.
“Hurry,” he murmurs, tucking his head into the crook of his arms. Before he can change his mind. Before any of the other’s wake. Before Tav loses himself.
(No, he can’t think of that. Tav has control. He’s stronger than this.)
Sharp claws kiss over his thighs, his belly, shockingly delicate from something that could tear him in two. Still, they hurt. Gale hisses at each swipe that nicks him with thin strips of blood. The heat of his lover’s tongue washes over each cut. A taste. Of him. Tav wants him. And, that admission alone is enough to push Gale overboard.
“Please. Quickly now, my love.”
Tav is Tav. Monster, or not. Inhumanly long tongue, or—
Oh.
The slick appendage slides between his cheeks, merely teasing over his hole. Gale huffs, distracted. It is a rather nice tongue— longer, thicker than his imagination could ever conjure. It wraps around his balls, slinking up his cock until it can get a taste of the seed beading from the tip. Tav always has been eager to get his mouth on him.
“Gods, Mystra, fuck.”
Invocating his once goddess is a dangerous game. Would she be so disgusted to see how her prodigy and Chosen has fallen? Fallen to debauchery, to pleasures of the flesh, and into the arms of a child of one of the most reviled divine?
Tav wouldn’t care. Tav would tell his goddess to fuck off. Point blank. It’s one of his charms.
(The sex, also, has always been good. Even now. Even when it's… weird. )
His tongue slithers over him— licking incessantly. Gale drips in the stuff. Monster spit. His own drooling pre. A pitiful sight for sure, and come tomorrow morning, he will be in proper need of a bath, accompanied by the man who put him in this position. Optimistically.
Gale’s erection kicks towards his stomach at the thought, just as impatient as the creature behind him. It’s tongue retracts with a pleased purr. Happy, contented, warm. It stirs his gut. He’s been good for Tav. A perfect match. A perfect fit. Or so, he deludes himself. Those delusions are swiftly washed away when it is not the width of a tongue that attempts to take him, but something much, much, larger.
Big monster. Big cock.
It’s not complex math, but in the delirium of arousal, Gale managed to overlook that glaring detail. He is but a human. Smaller, softer, and oh-so-very breakable.
A nervous laugh shakes through him. The weight alone makes him balk, as it rests along the curve of his spine. Thick. Heavy. Hot. And, the size of his damned thigh! The last detail is enough to make his eyes roll back, fingers scraping at his mouth, as he dribbles more spend to the soil beneath.
“Tav, you cannot possibly think I can take it. It is… it’s too big. ”
Cut and dry. Plain and simple. A rational response.
Gale forgets Tav is not a rational man on a good day, and as a hulking beast of Bhaal? He has no chance. In his mind, he imagines a chuckle. One that is deep and sultry. Perhaps, a quippy remark or a slap to his ass. All in the grand, self-serving reassurance that, ‘Yes. Yes, Gale, you can take it. I promise.’
Could he? It’s so… so…
Instinctually, Gale juts his hips back. He gnaws the soft of his cheek, dropping his head forward. What’s one more bad decision? Just one. At least the only person this one could hurt is himself. The regret he’ll leave for the next day. Perhaps, the one after as well. However long it takes for him to recover from this stupid, stupid decision.
The blunt intrusion of initial penetration chokes the air straight from his lungs. Wordlessly, he gapes— then, stuffs his mouth full of his sleeves so their companions do not wake. The copious spit is little balm to the sheer difference in size between them both.
He’s never… gods , Gale has never done something like this. He’s far too old for it. Meant to be sipping fine wine fireside wrapped in the arms of his lover. Instead, he’s on the cusp of a cursed battlefield, taken in the dirt by the monstrous form of the man he’s devoted himself to.
His knees ache. One clawed hand sweeps beneath his stomach, lifting him so that his hole is presented in such an obscene way. Tav would tease him for it. Whore. Slut. Filthy words to make his knees weak and his dick hard. Gale would complain, blush a little, but in the end, he is the only one whom Gale puts his complete and utter trust.
(Like now.)
For no one else would he risk so much. Tav has a miraculous way with, well, everything. He strings Gale along the edge of consciousness. Of pleasure. Of pain. He doesn’t force it, even if it wants to. Otherwise, there would be one less wizard in the battles ahead, and one less trump card were things with the Absolute to go south.
The stretch alone is mind numbing, nauseating. It punches through the fiber of his being. If he thought Tav was big before, it is nothing compared to the monstrosity inside him now. It is not human, nor like any mortal species he knows.
Spiny protrusions catch along his rim, slipping into him one by one. They anchor into his gut, trapping him on the creature’s cock until it is spent and satisfied. The Slayer noses up to his nape, affectionately. It chirps— mandibles and teeth clicking together, as it thrusts inside.
It hits deep, so deep that Gale is convinced he will choke on its cock. Have his throat and lungs filled with seed, leaving him a sputtering and delirious mess. He is delirious. Make no mistake of that.
A balmy layer of fog dulls his senses. A blessing truly, lest he be overwhelmed by this total onslaught. With each thrust, Gale whines. The noises coming from him are incoherent and unfamiliar. His cock twitches up against his belly. It’s ache nothing more than background noise to the monster rending him apart.
It’s too big. Too—
Ah. Gale’s hand hovers from where he once cradled the tender flesh of his stomach. Beneath his palm is the clear indent of Tav’s cock, pushing it out in a sickening display. Gale was right. He was, but…
It…
It’s not completely unbearable.
A part of him is pleased— pleased that they can be joined like this. That he alone can tame the beast. The urge of a Bhaalspawn. In a way, it is… romantic. Sweet, he thinks, in stark contrast to his reality. The reality in which Gale is being pumped full of monster cum in the middle of camp.
It sweeps through him, heat filling his belly. Gale sputters from the shock, and then, from his own release as it claims him. Semen drips in puddles on the soil. His own, but mostly Tav’s. Gods, there’s so much of it. It squelches from him, dribbling down the back of his thighs once he can hold no more.
A tiredness takes him, but Tav does not grow any softer. If he truly thinks Gale can go again—
“Once. One more orgasm. That is all I will allow.”
They’re stuck anyways— stuck together until morning. Until the cock inside him softens and those pesky little spines finally decide to let him go. Gale will only pretend to be annoyed by it when Tav wakes up in his own skin, still nestled in the heat of his lover’s body.