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Sparkling Sunrise

Zevlor x (f)Tav, NSFW

“GO!” he screamed, breaking his attention from his foe momentarily to focus on her. “Finish this! The Hellriders will hold the line for you; quickly now, there isn’t much time!” He spun out of the way as an intellect devourer lunged at his chest. As it fell, his sword came down with brutal accuracy, slicing the perverted grey matter in two. 

Tavalia paused another heartbeat, staring after the tiefling commander. Her chest swelled with longing, silently begging him to be safe, to be here when she returned. 

A hand caught her wrist and spun her around until she was face to face with Lae’zel. “Come, now, we must end this, lest we all become ghaik.” A final glance over her shoulder showed her lover in single combat with yet another mind flayer. Things would get worse if she did not act now, if they did not step through the portal NOW.

She steadied her shoulders and her heart and plunged into the portal, joining her comrades against the Netherbrain for the Battle of Baldur’s Gate.

Grasping at the side of the dock, Tav heaved herself out of the water of the harbor, arms aching and straining with the effort. Around her, her friends were doing the same. Water sluiced down and out of her armor, remained puddled in her boots, drenched the inside of her gauntlets. Carefully, she removed her protective pieces and set them aside, shaking them dry as she went. 

Down the dock, she saw Zevlor and the rest of the Hellriders emerging from the Chionthar. She dropped her chest pieces and raced towards them, dodging around her other party members. She screamed his name as she rapidly approached, and leaped into his soggy arms.

Warm tears trailed down her cooled face as she held onto him with all of her power. Zevlor’s arms wrapped around her waist, squeezing her until she did not think she would be able to breathe. Sobs escaped her lips as she forced her hand into his water-logged hair, pressing her face against his neck and breathing hotly against his flesh.

“Shh, shh,” he murmured against her cheek, his talons stroking her back through her sopping wet shirt.”We’re here, we made it. We’re okay, it’s all okay.”

She choked back a cry as she pulled her face back to stare at him, to drink him in, to savor his face and his emotions in this moment. Tav wiped the tears away with the back of a hand before bringing it to rest against the infernal ridges on his cheek.

“We have wounded to tend to, as do you. Meet me outside the Elfsong Tavern in an hour, yes? We’ll find some time for ourselves then.” He kissed her forehead and gently pulled away, motioning that she should rejoin her own crew and tend to her friends.

**********

Tavalia gathered her spent armor and picked her way through the streets on her way to their designated meeting place. Rounding the Basilisk Gate, she saw Zevlor standing just outside the tavern steps. He raised his hand in a small form of greeting upon seeing her. Once again, she raced to him and launched herself into his arms, so happy to be back to him once more. 

He took her by the hand and led her up the steps of the Elfsong. They wound through tables and wreckage and made their way upstairs. Thankfully, the tavern hadn’t been hit too hard by fallen debris, but it was still seemingly devoid of life as customers had rushed home to be with their loved ones and seek shelter.

They fell through the doorway of the suite in a wet tangle, both still dripping water. Zevlor’s mouth crushed onto hers so hard she could feel his teeth through her lips. He slammed the door behind him and began to wrest her clinging, damp shirt from her torso. With equal fervor, Tav tugged at his clothing, ripping the already damaged shirt down the center of his chest and pulling it off his arms like a woman starved.

Cold air hit her chest as her shirt came off, and her nipples rose to attention under the stark change in temperature. “I’m all wet,” she muttered into his mouth as a frigid line of harbor water trailed from her hair and down the length of her back. Zevlor kissed Tavalia harder, then licked his tongue against her bottom lip. “Hopefully in my favorite place,” he growled as he cupped her sex in his palm. Tav moaned.

“Good girl,” he purred. Her breath caught in her throat at the words, her center becoming even warmer. He kissed and nibbled at her neck and ears while dragging her pants to the floor; at his motion, she stepped out from them and was laid bare for him to see. 

Hot hands fondled her bottom as Zevlor delicately took one of her taut nipples into his mouth and suckled gently. At once, her body rose to his and she whimpered, reveling in the feel of his tongue and its warmth on her tender and soft buds. Tav clawed at his breeches, urging them off his hips and onto the wooden boards where they were promptly punted to the other side of the room. 

Tav’s arms rose and encircled Zevlor’s neck, pulling his mouth back to hers. He was only too happy to oblige, though one hand moved from her ass to the heretofore unmolested nub on her breast. 

They moved in tandem to the bed where they fell together, hungry. “Slow down,” he chuckled, pulling his face from hers, “let me show my appreciation to the Hero of Baldur’s Gate.” He moved behind her in a spooning position, snaked his arm over her hip and gently toyed with the soft tuft of hair surrounding her sex. She was already hot and wet for him, and he grinned.

Gingerly, he worked a finger between her folds and gently teased the bud of her sex until she gasped and began rocking her hips. “There,” he cooed, “just like that. This is perfection, you are perfection. I know you think you’re ready for me but let’s just make sure, hmm?” He flicked and rubbed her until her thighs clamped shut and she called out in pleasure. Zevlor rolled her to her back, and Tav spread her knees for him.

He pressed a light kiss to her forehead, and another along her neck. The kisses began to train down her chest and torso until they began landing on her thighs, the last punctuated by a small nip of his fangs. “Do not deny me the pleasure of your taste, my love, for I have been fixated on the sensation for days. Let me know perfection.”

His tongue, hot and wet, slid between the folds of her sex and found her most sensitive point. He licked and swirled, and reality faded in and out for Tav. She was both here and not here, maybe somewhere else entirely. All she knew was pleasure, and she ground her hips into it.

No sooner had she found a rhythm than she came undone again, gasping and crying out as her body seized around her. Her thighs slammed shut against his ears, and she swore she heard him begin to purr.

Zevlor came up for air, kissing her thighs and singing her praises as she tried to recover her breath and steady her heart rate. She tried to roll to her side and bury her face into a pillow as he swiped his mouth on the back of his taloned hand, but he held her hip with a firm grip and tutted his tongue at her. “Oh no, my love, I am not done with you yet. There will be time for rest later.”

Tav’s head swirled, trying to decipher his meaning, when she once again felt his tongue at her center. She thought about pushing him away, but then she felt his fingers, first one, then two. They entered her and reached for her, beckoning her to follow him again. Almost instantaneously, she found her release again, harder than the time before. She cried out and whined, desperate for respite, desperate for air.

She was silenced with his mouth on hers. She tasted herself on his tongue, soft and gentle and feminine. Her hands tangled into his hair before pushing him back against the bed.

He was grinning like the cat that had eaten the canary. A challenge.

She accepted. She licked at the sensitive cartilage along his fiendish ears, trailed her tongue down his neck, and began planting kisses on his chest. Her fingertips trailed over his nipples and he made a sharp intake of breath as contact was made with each.

Her hands moved to the inside of his thighs, careful not to touch his arousal. Not yet. Instead, they massaged and teased, inching ever so much closer to where he desperately wanted them to be. His hips rocked gently, longing to find purchase against her body. She bent her head and carefully licked a gem of arousal from the tip. He stiffened under her, arousal almost quaking and stretched to its limits. He needed her, and badly.

She licked his shaft from base to tip with the flat of her tongue before taking him in. All of his ridges were deliciously delightful against her tongue and cheeks. Her head bobbed as she slowly took more and more of him into her mouth, relaxing her throat to allow him to experience this pleasure to the full extent of her abilities.

He groaned and threaded his fingers through her loose hair, applying a small amount of pressure but nothing that would be construed as forceful. Her hand encircled his base, gently stroking up and down as her mouth and tongue continued on their quest to his exquisite release.

“You look so pretty when you do that, perfection, my love. But if you don’t stop now, the night ends far too soon for my liking. Come up here to me, please. Yes, beautiful.”

Tavalia joined Zevlor at the head of the bed, where he promptly flipped her onto her back again. He nudged her thighs apart with his knee, his tail caressing the inside of her leg while he did so. As he positioned himself, she jutted her hips up at him impatiently, and he laughed. “What, there hasn’t been enough for you yet?”

She grinned. “With you? Never. It’s never enough.” His mouth crashed onto her as he brought his sex to hers and slowly worked it within her. She cried out and grabbed his hips as he positioned her ankles on his shoulders.

He continued to enter her. “One more, my love, can you do one more?”

Tav bit her lip and nodded, bringing her hips to his in response.

He planted his full length and began rocking into her, moaning quietly as sweat beaded on his brow. As he found his rhythm, a careful thumb found her sex and began to once again to trace delicate designs against the soft and sensitive skin. She bucked and cried out, already walking the line between pleasure and release.

“This time, with me. Can you do that, with me? Of course you can, my perfect girl.”

His hips slammed into her again and again and again, and each time he hit a deeper part of her than she knew existed. Her hips moved in time with his, of their own accord. Pressure mounted in her belly, a spring tightening and preparing for release.

And then the spring was sprung. She cried out loudly, in a voice that walked the line between pleasure and pain, gasping for breath and exalting Zevlor’s body and stamina. Immediately, he found his own release with a guttural groan, driving himself into her soft flesh and unleashing his spend into her core.

They laid together on the bed, panting, with hearts racing and relaxation seeping into their muscles. Not even three hours ago they had been battling the Absolute to save Baldur’s Gate, and now… 

Well, now they were here, together. Zevlor cradled Tavalia in his arms, a deep baritone purr emanating from his chest. His tail laced through her legs, keeping her close and refusing to let her go. “You were perfect, my love. Just perfect.”

Once again in a spooning position, they faced the window. The world of Faerun was dark, but not silent. Much work would need to be done to rebuild Baldur’s Gate and bring it back to its former glory. However, for them, it was a problem for tomorrow. For now, they had only themselves to worry about, and they stayed close, reveling in each others’ warmth and gentle breathing: reveling in life.

masterlist

if you'd rather read on ao3, look no further!

METASTABLE. Ch. 1 Ch. 2

metastable: "(of a state of equilibrium) stable provided it is subjected to no more than small disturbances." Or, " theoretically unstable but so long-lived as to be stable for practical purposes." He's fine and cordial and perfectly polite. Of course, that's until he meets Rook.

THE BATTLE OF WORMWOOD. Ch. 1

"It has to be Bellara who snitched. With her penchant for knee jerks and quick answers. Thoughts from the heart. Secrets run through her and the truth gets strained and filtered, however lovely her smile may seem. She’s also the only one who knows about the two of them, and knows Mr. and Mrs. Mommy and Daddy." Or: Rook's parents now know she's seeing someone and demand she bring him to dinner.

DELIRIUM.

She's an angel, he's a dog. Or, the confessions of a white tenured male. Contains: smut, brief mentions of corpses.

MISDIRECTION. Ch. 1 Ch. 2

He's a hopeless romantic and she's just hopeless. Or, the sugar daddy au you've been waiting for.

TOMORROW IS HALLOWEEN!!!

Emmrich Volkarin would be such a disruptive presence to the local online dating app pools. An innocuous hookup with a handsome Vincent Price looking older guy. He's unsinister. Clearly takes care of himself. One of his profile pictures is from the day he got his doctorate. He shows up to the agreed-upon location and he's brought flowers. Okay...whatever. Some decent food (UberEats? The Chinese place on the corner? Maybe he cooks?) and some crazy hot sex later and the subject of his very soft hands just so happens to come up. Oh, he says. It's the embalming fluid. EMBALMING FLUID? OKAY. Dude's a mortician. Sure.

He gets up and puts on his clothes. He stares out the window for a few moments. Just long enough to be a little awkward.

"Do you have an uncle who recently passed?" he says. "By the name of Gerard. Gerry?"

WHAT.

"I'm so sorry," he sighs, dragging a hand through his hair. "He wants to tell you that your mother hid something from you underneath the floorboards of the blue bedroom. Does that make sense?"

Unfortunately, yes.

"Right," says Emmrich Volkarin. His hair is still sticking up from being clutched into by ecstatic hands. He is ten minutes post-orgasm and looks so, so annoyed. He only brightens a little when he says, "Thank you for a lovely night. You were wonderful."

Then he leaves in an almost-silent swish of expensive trousers and a plume of even more expensive cologne.

The only further contact from him is a message that says Your uncle spoke to me before we retired to your bedroom. I assure you his spirit was not present or aware of our sexual encounter.

I'm gonna need you to lose my number Emmrich, is the response from most people

There is a sadness about him.

He's sweet, considerate. He can do crazy things with his tongue. He also needs someone who can match his freak on a molecular level.

Understood, he responds.

At some point he pops up on the TV because he's become a regular on a well-loved YouTube channel. One of those phenomenally popular longform documentary-style series about ghosts or true crime. He's apparently the expert medium. The host of the show, some thirty-something named after a chess piece, looks at him like he hung the stars while he monologues about demons who imitate children. Or something.

Good for him.

I love Nevarra. They have a whole mini-city just to store their dead, where the aesthetic is to cover everything in skeleton motifs and then say ‘hm, not enough bones.’ Need to make a magic bridge? It’s bones, for absolutely no reason other than the vibes. They’ve got mummification down to an art form. Their best known king reportedly lived to be 127, sparred with his grandson on the day of his death, kicked his grandson’s ass, then went to take a nap and died. And you know they mummified him and gave him the fanciest room in the whole Necropolis, as you do.

They historically go ham about dragons, to the point they have winter balls to celebrate dragon hunts and would display dragon parts at the party (they used to use real dragon bits, but rotting dragon smells awful, so now they do replicas of dragon heads and hearts and stuff.) They have fast paced regional dances inspired by how fucking cool dragons are.

They’ve got the biggest and most important mage school that runs the whole dang Circle of Magi (suck it, Orlais.) They have a whole annual event where people just get together to argue philosophy and drink tea. They’re big on historical reenactments. They like ice skating. They’re a bunch of foodies who thinks aesthetics are as important as taste. They invented flatbread (possibly their most important historical contribution.) They love beetles and consider them good luck, and sometimes keep them as pets.

I just think it’s neat!!

Rook: What do you call a fish with no eye?

Emmrich: Myxine Circifrons.

Rook:

Rook: fsh

One of my all time favourite tweets from Taliesin, reach out to your support system <3

I'm so mentally stable you can park a horse in my brain

I'm gonna be real, guys / gals / nb pals. I have played ZERO Dragon Age games and know next to nothing about the lore. I want to play a fun game but I will also be using this as a dating simulator because I can't get enough of that 👏 old 👏 man 👏