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“Oh, Fjoooord,” Jester sing-songs, and Fjord gets that familiar mixed emotional cocktail of
oh damn she’s about to get me into some shit
and
she’s having fun
that she’s so good at evoking in him. Wariness mixed with fondness. “I have a surpriiiise for you!”
“Is this a good surprise we’re talking about?” he asks. “Or the ‘we are about to be attacked’ kind of surprise.” Or arrested. Or chased. Or banned from a town for life.
The Mighty Nein have a lot of skills, but keeping a low profile for longer than five minutes is not one of them, unfortunately.
“A good surprise, of course!” she says with all of the innocence of a woman who
hasn’t
thrown a squirming, struggling ferret at him without so much as a heads up multiple times now. She grins, all excitement and teeth, and his belly flops at the sight of it. “The Traveler taught me a new trick.”
“Is that so?” he asks, genuine interest perking. Magic is
cool,
okay, and the Mighty Nein being even more powerful is always a good thing. With how excited Jester seem to be with it, though, there’s good odds that it’s a spell mostly focused on committing a truly spectacular prank.
“Yup!” she says cheerfully, and then the lock behind her clicks shut with a casual wave of her hand. “Caduceus is sleeping with Beau tonight, by the way.”
“Um,” he says.
“And
I’m
sleeping with
you.”
“Ah, um,” he goes on, and proceeds to clear his throat for a long moment. His face feels hot.
Jester keeps grinning, and walks over towards him, swinging her hips, tail swaying like a cat who’s caught sight of a mouse. His brain feels like it’s overheating.
They
have
slept together before. Multiple times. But Jester has always had a talent for… flustering him. Among other things. Deft hands. He clears his throat again.
“You’re thinking about something dirty,” Jester accuses delightedly.
“I-- can you blame me?”
“For all you know, I’m just here for a friendly sleepover!” she says, nose going up in a faux haughty pose.
“Are you?”
She smirks, the impish expression spreading with slow luxuriousness across her face.
“Fuck
no.”
“Somehow,” he says, “I’m not surprised.”
And then Jester’s hands twist in the air with the elaborate motions of a spell, and she hisses something in Infernal and--
Something slips around his ankle. He yelps and yanks his foot away, but it follows, wraps around his ankle, his calf, like a great snake, and he summons his falchion in a splash of seawater and tries to get a good look at it--
More of it starts wrapping around his wrist as well. He tugs against it, but it holds him firm, his swordhand captured, neutralized. He looks.
It’s a tentacle, the exact shade of Jester’s blue skin. He stares at it, and then he stares at her, the obvious offender. She gives him a ‘who, me?’ look, which is clearly
bullshit.
She proves it by breaking out into giggles after only a moment of eye contact.
“Fjord, you are so cute!” she exclaims. “And it looks like my tentacles think so too! It’s so nice that you’re getting along, I’d hoped you would.”
The tentacles spread down his forearm, up to his thigh, squeezing him not too tight, but only just. He twists his neck, trying to look. “Where-- are they-- coming from?”
Jester shrugs. “Wherever magic stuff comes from?”
He struggles against them, as automatically as moving away from a tickle attack, or blinking when something lunges for your face. They tighten and move further up his limbs. There’s one for each arm and leg, now. They feel as cool as Jester’s skin normally does.
“Cool… attack, Jes,” he says, a little bit uneasy. “Very powerful. Maybe demonstrate it on an enemy next time, though?”
“Use it on an
enemy?”
she asks, scandalized. She pouts at him. “The Traveler told me that this spell was to only be used on
special friends.”
He flushes dark green at the way she says
special friends.
He knows that she’s fucking with him, with that mock innocence.
“Har har,” he says dutifully. “You’re hilarious, Jes. Great prank.”
“I am extremely hilarious,” she agrees, “but I’m totally serious right now, Fjord.”
One of the tentacles slips up underneath his shirt and he sucks in a breath, twitching and getting nowhere in the solid hold of the tentacles. Helpless like a fish on a hook.
“Dead serious.”
She is. He can see it on her face, the ways her gaze is glued to his fruitless movements. No laughter creeping around the edges of her mouth as she fights for her poker face, but an entirely different sort of enjoyment revealed by the light in her eyes.
“Is this okay, Fjord?” she asks breathlessly.
He’d give her the moon and the stars if he could. Who’s he to deny her the right to hold him down and-- he flushes at even the thought about what’s to come. He nods tightly, embarrassed to even be agreeing to this. But there’s heat growing in the pit of his belly and he
wants,
and Jester wants to give, to take, so-- so it has to be fine to say yes. Lovers can share anything, if they’re strong enough. Vandren had said that once.
“Yeah,” he croaks. “It’s fine.”
“Are you sure?” she asks, taking a step closer, anxious with genuine care. His heart melts. “Because it’s just you’re not sounding very excited about it right now and I don’t want to make you do something you don’t want to just because I want to--”
“It’s good, it’s great--
fuck,
Jester, what d’you want me to say?” He squirms, embarrassment swirling and somehow magnifying the warmth in him. The tentacles squeeze. “I want this, I want you, I really do. Do--” He stutters, clears his throat, gathers his courage. “Do whatever you want to me. Please.”
She stares at him, as if she can see the truth of his words if she just looks hard enough. Apparently, she does, because a wide smile that makes Fjord shiver spreads across her face. Like a dragon who’s just spotted a mound of gold free for the taking.
“Please
huh,” she says, practically glowing with smug delight. “Wellll I
am
pretty nice, but… I’m gonna need more than just
one
please to ravage you, Fjord.”
Ravage.
Such a ridiculous bodice-ripper-esque word. He’d never thought to apply it to himself before. A small sound escapes his grit teeth, and he prays that Jester didn’t notice.
Her grin gets sharper. The odds are not in his favor.
“Please, Jester,” he repeats.
“Come again?” she asks, hand cupping one of her ears, teasing and gleeful. He huffs a sigh and opens his mouth to ask a little louder--
The tentacle that slithered its way up underneath his shirt had, while he wasn’t paying attention, slowly crept its way upwards, and now it circles around one of his nipples, abruptly noticeable once more. He squeaks, a distinctly unmanly sound. His legs move to do a little kick out of pure surprise, and the tentacles wrapped around them don’t even budge as they hold him in place a few inches off the floor. He groans with desperate frustration. Every time his body tries to move and fails it feels like more tension and energy that he can’t dispel, piling up trapped inside of his body. He normally does
not
get riled up this easily, this quickly, but he can feel himself already growing hard.
“I can’t hear you,” Jester says, less playful and more coaxing now. Excited, breathy, intent. Invested. “Say it.”
She can’t be
serious.
“Say it, or else you’re not gonna get to get off for a
long
time, and I’m going to keep touching you the
whole
time,” she threatens him. The tentacle tightens around his nipple in demonstration, a movement that makes his breath stutter but isn’t anywhere near enough to satisfy the rapidly growing need inside of him that feels like static electricity across his skin.
“Jes,
plea--”
he gets interrupted by his own near silent gasp as one of the tentacles strokes along the bulge in his pants, a heavy and firm and long stroke. He tries to lean his hips into it desperately, automatically, and gets
nowhere.
He will get exactly as much as she deigns to give him, no more and no less. A groan escapes him. The tentacles are still stroking and teasing and holding him still, curling with fond possessiveness around his limbs, but he still manages to push the words that he needs to say out of his mouth, embarrassment forgotten in the face of how he needs to be touched more
right now.
“Please, Jester!”
Jester snaps her fingers along with a hushed whisper of,
“Thaumaturgy.”
For a moment, he doesn’t notice what’s changed, and then another tentacle slips underneath his shirt from the top, sliding over his collarbone down to his other nipple, joining the other one in teasing all composure out of his fucking head and he twitches and jumps like a startled horse, mortifying noises squeezed out of him, and as he twitches as much as he’s able (as much as he’s
allowed to)
he feels it. Slickness, inside of him.
The tentacle between his legs presses in harder against his straining cock, sliding thick and heavy, and he fucking
whimpers.
“Please what, Fjord?” Jester asks, and when he opens his eyes that he’d squeezed shut he seet that she’s drawn closer, close enough for him to see how blown her pupils are, how she keeps shifting with her thighs pressed tight against each other, her hard nipples through her shirt. Her breathing isn’t entirely steady.
Seeing him like this, pinned and restrained and teased and begging, is doing that to her. Just the sight of him. A groan from deep in his chest leaves him.
“I’m not going to
give it to you
if you don’t ask nicely for it.” As she says ‘give it to you’ one of the tentacles teases at the hem of his pants. A promise, for if he’s good and plays along. Fjord has never come close to imagining anything like this, pinned by strong but small and sweet Jester, Jester
inside
of him. That, that’s not how it’s supposed to--
He is rock fucking hard, struggling and straining desperately against the firm hold of the tentacles. God, his abdominal muscles are already burning from how much he’s trying to thrust his hips into the pressure. He wants this. He wants to be
good,
he wants for her to
give it to him.
“Please, Jester, please,
fuck me,”
he begs, dignity and composure abandoned for more
important
things right now.
Jester’s breath shudders, and she starts lifting her poofy skirt to get a hand down her underwear. It’s a
perfect
view. “Okay,” she says. “Okay, okay, okay, since you asked so nice and pretty, Fjord.”
The tentacles drag his pants down his thighs, and he sighs at the relief of his erection not being held down like that no more. And then he sharply inhales once the tip of one of them starts entering his-- his ass. It’s tapered and thin, slowly getting thicker, and he’s slick as fuck inside, but. It’s not anything he’s used to.
But it’s Jester. He’ll enjoy most things if it’s just Jester doing it to him.
“Oh,”
Jester says, eyes wide on him as he sucks in a breath, shudders it out, and then sucks back in another once he remembers he has to, you know,
breathe.
“Oh, you look so good like this, Fjord. You’re always so handsome, technically, but
especially
like this.”
“Glad to--
please.”
Every word is an effort, every comprehensible sentence a near impossibility. It’s hard to keep his focus for that long, with the way the tentacles keep moving on him. The tentacle in his ass, its slowly going further in, gently stretching him out. The slow friction of it is slowly seeping his ability to string words together away. Two others are still playing with his nipples. He can’t move his legs or his arms an inch. His dick
isn’t getting touched.
“Jester,” he moans. “Jessie, please, my, touch me.”
“Hmmm,” she hums, half considering half plain pleasure as her deft hands moves inside of herself. He can’t look away from her, except for when he has to squeeze his eyes shut in overwhelmed pleasure. This is
too much.
He loves it, but if he could move at all he’d probably be moving
away
from it. He’s so grateful that she’s making him endure this, giving him no choice but to feel so good that he can’t stand it. And now he’s asking for
more.
He wants to climax so much he feels like it’s the only thing he can think about. “Only if you take a bigger one.”
“Okay,” he rushes to agree without even thinking about what he’s agreeing too. “Okay, yes, that’s good, I’ll do that.”
The tentacle in his ass slips out and he groans at the loss of it, can’t do anything to stop it, but then pretty soon there’s another teasing at his entrance, slipping in, and-- it’s
bigger.
Way bigger.
“Jess,” he says, wide eyed.
“Shh,” she says. “It’ll be okay.”
The larger tentacles slides in and, and, it’s
not like before.
It
drags.
A long, loud, helpless noise leaves him as it moves ceaselessly, mercilessly.
“Good,” Jester coos shakily, touching herself. She’s bitten her lip swollen, and she’s run her free hand through her hair so much that it looks tousled now, messy. “You’re doing so good, Fjord.”
A muscle in his stomach jumps and twitches painfully, mixing with the too-much pleasure and becoming one more part of the
overwhelming
that he’s feeling in general right now. He feels like his brain’s been boiled out of his skull. Jester thinks he’s doing good, god. He can’t take this, he doesn’t know what to do. Not that the tentacles will
let
him do anything. It’s a relief, to just let them take charge. Let
her.
He doesn’t have to think, just… survive this. Survive this boulder equivalent of pleasure. He feels like he’s going to be a well worked over smear on the ground once she’s done with him.
The tentacle in his ass reaches a
spot,
and suddenly his brain has no say in how he moves, what he says, whether or not he even breathes.
There’s a deluge of broken moans and pants and begging leaving his mouth that he distantly knows that he’s going to be mortified about once this is over and he gets a few hours to scrape back up his higher thinking processes, but then there’s a tentacles in his mouth, sliding in like a tongue looking for a makeout.
“Hmmph,”
he grunts, the tentacle sliding along his tongue. It’s thick, like the one in his ass, his mouth stretching, forced open.
“Shh, shh,” Jester says comfortingly, and he refocuses on her to see that she’s leaning heavily against the wall, still working herself over, face flushed. “You don’t want to bother the neighbours, right, Fjord? It would
suck
to be kicked out
now.”
If anyone stops Fjord from coming he’s going to Eldritch Blast them straight to hell. Not that he can even incantate now. Fuck, he’s
helpless.
Only for Jester. Only for Jester does he agree, does he
love,
to get held down like this, to get fucked, to be stuffed full in his mouth and his ass while his nipples are abused and
fuck fuck it’s happening she’s touching his dick.
One of the tentacles slides around his dick like climbing ivy on wall, and he moans thickly around the tentacle in his mouth as the tip of it strokes at the head of his dick.
“So pretty,” Jester moans. “Fjord, I love your thighs, they’re
trembling.
Your face is so flushed. I love your mouth and your stomach and your dick and your
noises…”
God, the picture he must paint right now. She’s probably going to sketch him later, proudly show him off to Fjord and her god.
Fuck.
He can’t stop moaning, his jaw aching, the tentacle moving across his tongue like the world’s most perverted kiss, squeezing and teasing his nipples, moving in and out of his ass,
wrecking
him, squeezing and stroking his dick in long fluid motions. He’s sore in his arms and legs from pulling against his restraints the entire goddamned time. He’s going to bruise tomorrow, long shackles and lines of bruises up along his arms and legs, reminding him. Jester’s either going to heal him or
love
it, depending on how enthusiastic and flustered he’s going to be about them.
“Fjord,” she moans, and he watches her fall to her knees and utter tiny gasps as she curls up around her own hand. She’s coming, coming from touching herself to the sight of him getting wrecked and reduced to mindless begging and then muffled moans. She looks beautiful and the tentacles inside of him are huge and the ones on his dick and nipples won’t stop and his eyes roll back into his head as he’s finally, finally shoved over the edge. It’s the single most overwhelming orgasm of his life for the fact that they don’t stop moving over and on and inside of him as he shudders to pieces. Helpless, can’t move to much as twitch away, can only endure and survive what she deigns to inflict on him, hers. Enough pleasure to drive all thought out of his head, overwhelmed tears in his eyes.
“Oh,” Jester says, voice rough. “Oh, oh, Fjord, let me get that for you, there, there.”
The tentacles slowly slip out of his ass leaving him feeling empty and sore, out of his mouth leaving it hanging open and panting, his jaw aching, leaving his overstimulated dick and nipples alone to his relief, slowly lowering him to his knees and unwinding from his limbs, leaving him to support himself for the first time since they appeared, silently vanishing. Fjord, without a word, topples over. Jester squeaks and rushes over to catch him before he clumsily hits the floor.
“Are you okay?” she asks, all concern. “Was that too much, Fjord? Did you have fun? Did--”
“Jess,” he says, a slur in his words. “That was amazing. Now lemme’ sleep for ten years.”
“We both need a long rest, probably,” she agrees, smiling. She helps him up onto his feet to stumble towards the bed as he clumsily pulls his clothes off to hit the floor as he goes, her grip strong and sure and reliable. “You were
great.”
He collapses onto the bed. “You were the best,” he mumbles, eyes closed.
She giggles, her clothes rustling as she presumably undresses herself as well. “Then I guess we’re both pretty awesome!”
“Agreed.” God, he’s going to be
sore
in the morning. In the best way possible, of course.
Jester slips under the covers next to him, and with a whisper she puts out the candles in the room. In the darkness, she holds him. With how tired and worked over he feels, it feels just as all encompassing as the tentacles hold had been. He smiles, and he falls asleep in her arms.