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pliablehead · 6 years ago

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SECOND WATCH - perc’ahlia, NC-17, 4900w

My first het smut in absolute yonks and my first Crit Role fic ever, so be gentle my darlings ♥♥♥ Also on my AO3 account, if you prefer (my username there is also threepwillow)!

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"Mmmh, it's been quite some while since we had to rough it out here under the stars instead of cozied up in a mansion," comments Vex, rummaging into the bag of holding in search of the last few pieces of their tent.

"Oh, yes, I'm so sorry about that," Scanlan says, acidly, as he sets up another. "My apologies for expending all of my arcane energies making sure that my wife and your husband didn't keel over dead in the middle of the woods," (Vex and said wife share an unimpressed look,) "and get their corpses flung off irretrievably to some dark nefarious corner of the underbrush by some kind of living hurricane - "

"Ah, stuff yer melodrama and save it for someone who hasn't heard it all before and actually gives a shite," says Kaylie. She and Pike take the tentpoles from Scanlan's hands - Pike gently, Kaylie much more snatchingly - and make quick work of it themselves, instead.

"You know, I didn't even know wolves could become liches," says Percy, conversationally.

"Well," says Vex, "when they're corrupted archdruids who can no longer revert back to their humanoid forms, I suppose it turns out they can."

"Indeed."

"How's your shoulder?"

"Well, it was the ah. The newer arm," says Percy, with a bit of a grimace, "so the healing always takes a little funny, comparatively speaking. But between it and the ribs I suppose I'd rate myself about a mansion's worth of patched up." The edge of his mouth ticks up in the slightest of smirks that Scanlan, still pontificating about his spell slot generosity a dozen or so feet away, absolutely misses, but Vex relishes in, winking in rejoinder.

They go out like this, every so often. One or another of them will get the itch, the pins-and-needles restlessness in the soles of their feet or the pits of their chests, the little tug-nag that says yes, the quiet life post-Saving The Whole World is nice and comfortable and all, but you've been sitting still at home for rather a long stretch now, and wouldn't you like to just be doing something? They'll whisper to each other, through spells and stones and earrings, and whoever wants to, whoever can, will rally to each other's sides and strike out on any venture, any quest they've caught even the slightest wind of. It's rarely all of them - it's never all of them, Vex thinks, fingertips finding entirely of their own accord a dark feather nestled in her hair - but it's always some of them, and even some more of them, these days. There's delight in it, every time, to see the people you've spent most of your lives fighting alongside in action again. It is its own kind of comfortable, like seeing a bullet slot perfect-fit into the chamber of a gun; ah, yes, that's what that's for.

Although admittedly it usually goes a little better than tonight.

"I gotta say, I'm pretty tapped too, guys," says Pike. "In the morning I really should have a better look at you, Percy, or the scarring's going to be a lot worse."

"Wouldn't be the first time," he says with an affable shrug; but as he shrugs, he winces ever so faintly, and though she doubts any of the gnomes notice, Vex certainly does.

"I think I've got one little cure-wounds left in me that I could squeak out," she tells him. "Why don't you and I take first watch, in case there's any more wolves loitering around these parts that're stupid enough to stick their noses in our business, and I can sit up with you and lay on a bit of TLC."

"Well that's hardly an offer I can refuse," says Percy. "Goodnight, Shorthalts, if you're amenable to that."

"I need to sleep," Kaylie agrees, and she barrels into the now fully-erected tent, wrangling her father in with her, Pike bringing up the rear.

"Alone at last," Vex purrs, grinning cheesily, alighting on the ground next to their crackling campfire. Only the five of them have come out on this little escapade - Grog, fascinatingly, seems to have recently fallen in love, and declined the invitation in favor of pursuing this object of his affections; Cassandra remains in Whitestone, because bless her, someone has to babysit Julia when her parents get restless and wander off into the woods. Keyleth...well, Keyleth's every so often is the least often among them, these days.

"That we are," says Percy, sitting down next to her.

"Right then, Freddie, shirt's off."

To his credit, he doesn't completely sputter like a fish, but only just - Vex thrills, a little, that they can be married with a child and she can still catch him off guard so easily. "Come again?"

"I need to look at your wounds, love," she tells him, plucking at the placket of his shirt. "Pike's right, especially with your wonky arm they're going to heal weird. They're going to heal ugly."

"My arm is not wonky," he protests faintly, but he very gamely allows her to tug open his waistcoat (ornate, expensively-embroidered outside; thick and supple leather armor inside) and even helps shrug out of his shirt, too, until she can see where he took the brunt of the finger of death (paw of death?? Vex still isn't sure how that works, with a wolf) seared across his skin, like a fire's burn but greener, somehow, a sickly pall across his chest and shoulder and bicep. She wasn't totally kidding - it's pretty ugly.

"What's the verdict, doctor?" he says, absolutely Not Smiling. "Am I gonna pull through?"

In lieu of an answer, Vex rubs her hands together as if seeking warmth on a brisk day, then places her palms both flat to his body, humming out the incantation under her breath. She does it in elvish; it feels better, superstitiously. When she's done, the skin looks no less burned, but significantly less discolored, and that satisfies her, at least until Pike can take a serious gander at it.

"I think you'll make it," she teases. The spell finished, she lifts her hands back away.

Or, she tries to - the one resting on his shoulder comes up easily, but the one she's lain to the top curve of his pectoral stays flush to him, and it's because he's stopped it with his own hand, flattened out over hers, pressing it into his skin. Vex looks up from Percy's wounds to his face; in the firelight, the contours of him are more pronounced, his sharp cheekbones in deep relief, the frames of his glasses gleaming gold. Sweet Pelor's Light, but that is her husband.

"Alone at last," he parrots back, his voice low and decidedly less casual. The hairs on her arms stand straight up with it, and she shuffles a bit closer to him on the hard-packed ground where they're sat, facing opposite directions from each other but nearly hip-to-hip. His hand gripping hers strokes a thumb slow, deliberate, into the softer bit at the dip of her thumb and forefinger.

"Lord Percival, goodness me," Vex murmurs, her gaze fluttering skyward, her best faux-scandalized moue. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were - "

He kisses her - not least of all to shut her the fuck up, she's sure, and it leaves her grinning into it, licking into his mouth. The firelight has warmed the skin of his face just enough that it stands out in contrast to the skin of his back, where her free hand settles into place along the back of his bum shoulder. Percy's other hand finds itself high, high on the inside curve of her closest thigh, just under the hem of her long tunic, his long, deft fingers already venturing into downright dangerous territory. Vex whines out a low, intrigued little moan, mostly through her nose, as Percy is pretty much fully occupying her mouth, tilting his face to find the best angle that lets him devour her without also shoving his glasses into her cheek. He's sporting two days' worth of stubble at this point and it drags hyper-sensitive along her upper lip, her nerves tingling brightly with it, sending her fingers to groping where they still lie snug on the tight muscle of his chest.

After a few more moments, a few more breathy groans, they break the kiss with a wet noise that frankly is almost worth being genuinelyscandalized over. "Near-death experiences do always put you in the mood, don't they," she says. "Pervert."

His hand hasn't left her thigh in the slightest. "That's me: Your pervert husband."

"You're both perverts," wails Kaylie from inside the tent. "Shut the fuck up and pay attention so the rest of us can sleep."

Vex presses her forehead into Percy's shoulder with a cringe and a giggle, and he follows the motion a bit, leaning back on his other hand and sighing a little up at the night sky. "Possibly the worst part about not having the mansion," she relents. "You know I've got no problem sleeping out under the stars, but at least our room in that place is soundproof...."

"Has that girl always been such a light sleeper?" says Percy. "I feel as though having a child may have permanently distorted my metric for that sort of thing."

"Or you pervs are just really loud," Scanlan chimes in. "And just like - think about that sentence, coming from me."

"Go to bed, Scanlan."

"I'm trying!"

(Pike, to her credit, gives out the sweetest and most melodic little snore.)

Buttoning her lips shut tight, Vex gives Percy a sheepish grin and a what can you do? sort of shrug, but says nothing. He nods to her in kind, adjusting his glasses and tugging his shirt back closed a little, and seems to sort of settle in for their watch proper, staring off over her shoulder and past the fire into the surrounding wilderness. She nudges her body companionably into his, steels her ranger's gaze, and does the same.

And then he finally moves his hand.

They pass their handful of hours in unawkward silence, keeping watch like professionals, letting the fire slowly smolder itself out. It's easy to fall into well-practiced rhythms under such familiar circumstances - settling in quietly to maintain a stealth advantage, but remembering to get up and stretch every once in a while, shift vantage positions, rely on each other's breathing and heartbeats. And no dangers come to pass that night under Vex'ahlia and Percival's careful eye. Though - a wide-antlered deer does stumble into their campsite at a mild sprint just after midnight, looking as alarmed to see them as they are to see him, hooves skittering on the earth as he makes a rapid change in trajectory and scampers off. It makes Vex smile, at home in her wilderness, her husband beside her and the last lingering warmth of the campfire at her back.

Still, even vigilant Vex is prone to small distractions, and one has certainly caught her in the form of the ghost of Percy's merciless palm, still a warm brand burned into her leg even hours later. Gods, but he is far too clever; he knew exactly what he was doing when he left it lie so long. He knew she'd still be thinking of it, feeling it in the pleasantly cool night air, and that when time came to wake Pike for her shift on watch, an evening's rest would be the furthest thing from Vex's mind.

He knew - he knows, her preoccupation and intimate familiarity with those hands, his fingers long and unerringly steady, elegant dexterous bone structure honed to iron under a smith's calluses, coarse, precise, tireless, and so good at what he does....

They have to stoop nearly to all fours to enter their tent, and Vex maneuvers so that Percy crawls in ahead of her, taking the opportunity to grab a solid handful of his ass as she ducks in behind him.

He's too perceptive not to have seen it coming, but he squirms deliciously at the contact nevertheless. "You are absolutely incorrigible," he tells her, over his shoulder.

"That's funny," she says, "I was going to say the exact same thing about you." Once he's settled in and Vex is sure he's watching, she makes a point of stroking just once against her own thigh, right where she can still feel him.

"Ah," he says, "the difference there being that I have not once pretended to be otherwise."

"Well neither have I, darling," she says, winking. The air in their tent is tight and humid with both of their bodies to fill it, and Percy begins to strip down for sleep, tugging his shirt fully off again in a manner so casual, all bashfulness aside when it's just the two of them alone; Vex can't help but watch him undress, the smooth grey planes of his body in her low-light elven vision, years of lean, ropy muscle under scars from as recently as mere hours ago, and she wants, so suddenly and so ardently, her body magnet-tugged toward him to whisper in his ear.

"Please," she breathes, letting the tease seep out of her voice in favor of twilit candor. "Let me have you."

She feels him prickle and grow stiff as her lower lip brushes the shell of his ear. Still -- "There is little I'd like more, but I'm afraid the younger Ms. Shorthalt has proven that it is perhaps - ill-advised, at this time," he says. "Given the circumstances."

"Well, then, you'll just have to make sure you keep yourself extra quiet, won't you."

His eyes flash like a blade-edge behind his spectacles. "Me?" he hisses - and just like that, two hands, those damnable hands, have snatched her around the waist and wheeled her around to straddle his lap, where she can feel the bulge of his cock already straining his trousers, hard and brand-hot even through both their clothes. The sudden heat elicits a high, whining gasp from Vex's throat before she can even realize that the sound means she's fallen precisely into his trap. "I'll have to keep quiet, Lady Vex'ahlia?"

"Bastard," she murmurs, and seals her mouth to his.

His lips part easily beneath her devouring tongue, and she tangles it with his, their breaths mingling in heavy, panting clutches, their hips beginning a slow gyrating rhythm against each other in the dark. But Percy soon leaves her mouth behind in favor of dragging first lips, then teeth down the column of her neck, nosing as far down toward her breasts as her shirt collar will allow; the razor scrape of them on her sensitive skin draws her blood singing to the surface, and she gasps again, though she manages to choke down the accompanying sigh this time - just barely. His hands are still heavy at Vex's waist, and hers find their place now to steady herself, one braced on his burned shoulder, the other buried into the shock of his hair. On a dirty, competitive impulse, she tightens her grasp against his scalp, tugging taut and sharp, and he quakes beneath her, groaning not exactly quietly into her cleavage. Her heart soars, ecstatic in the perfect union of her two favorite things: Percival, and petty victories.

Also wickedly good sex. A close third that goes so conveniently hand-in-hand with number one.

Vex pulls his hair again, just to feel his cock twitch against her through their clothes. She can feel the frustration radiating off him at having slipped up like that, and he doubles down, his mouth and his hands even more ruthless against her, which is frankly exactly what she wanted in the first place. She loves him like this, hungry and hard-edged, eager to wreck her even though he knows full well it will wreck him, too. She loves to watch his work-honed body work for it. Percy isn't the burliest, most well-muscled of their adventuring family; no one can hold a candle to Grog's goliath form, of course, but dear Jarrett trumps him easily too, and even tiny Kima could doubtless wipe the floor with him hand-to-hand. But Percy is just shaped so deliciously, the breadth his shoulders and upper arms have built up from his pastimes so starkly contrasted with the natural noble-born slimness of his waist, his narrow hips, a dramatically pronounced ratio that's all the more enticing for the novelty of it - everyone else in all of Vox Machina, Vex thinks, has seen each other naked more times than any of them have probably seen Percy except for her. She gets to have this beautiful tapered thing without his seventeen layers of poncy clothing, and she gets to have every lithe inch of him striving to get her off.

And, fuck, usually succeeding - she lets out another breathy gasp as he tugs the neckline of her shirt down even further so he can sink his mouth into a bruising, sucking kiss right along the uppermost curve of her breast. He's always had a bit of a thing for her tits, and Vex knows it, and damn if that doesn't seem like as good an advantage to exploit right now as any. She drags her heavy, yearning right hand all the way down his left arm until her fingers tangle with his, and she guides him up under the hem of her shirt until she can cup his hand around the curve of her breast. The span of his broad hand is so wide it easily encompasses the whole thing, and gives a desperate, delicious, indulgent squeeze. The blunt gracelessness of it is hotter, rougher than Vex was expecting, and it leaves her positively reeling with arousal; she heaves up, both to drive her breast further into Percy's relentless grasp and to better grind his trapped erection against her slick, aching core. Through their clothes is suddenly nowhere near enough.

"Percival," she whispers. "Naked? Now?"

"I can't hear you," he sing-songs, low and sinister against her throat. He rolls his palm harder against her breast, squashing it up and toward the other, and for a second, her stiff nipple catches against the smooth gold of his wedding band. They both gasp, bodies tensing and craning ravenously into each other. Vex feels the brush of Percy's hair bristle against her throat as he suddenly nods his agreement. "All right. Naked."

They peel apart just long enough to disrobe, casting trousers and underclothes aside until they can fold back into each other's arms, Vex kneeling up now between Percy's loose-spread legs, his tight hips rolling his long, rose-flushed cock up toward where she's wet and open, sliding briefly but not close enough to slip in, electricity quicking up her skin, coiling in her gut. She kisses him again, raking her nails less than gently through the shortest hairs at the base of his neck, pressing his hand back into her breast a little harder with the other hand, leaning into the full spread of him. Her gorgeous, pervert husband. She grins into his mouth.

With his own free hand, without preamble, Percy sinks two long, calloused fingers straight into Vex's dripping cunt.

She drops her forehead hard to his wounded shoulder, all the air punching out of her lungs on a desperate "fuck!"

Outside the tent, there's a faint but audible clinking sound as Pike, armored up for her shift on watch, tenses up, trying to place the sound in the night air around her. Vex spares the split second to sit up and look Percy in the eye before she freezes, holding her breath, feeling him do the same even with his fingers crooked all the way into her, damn him. Time stretches long and impossibly stressful as they all wait for the moment to pass. Percival, the absolute bastard, looks entirely too pleased with himself, and then slowly, slowly, begins to move his fingers inside of her again, deeming them in the clear.

Gods, but his hands though. Right at the lowest, inside knuckle of his forefinger, tucked in the L-crook where it curves down to his thumb, there is a gorgeously coarse callus from every device he constantly handles resting against his skin, his tinkerer's tools, the hammer of his gun; with his first two fingers seated fully inside her, twisting deftly along her slick inner walls, the knob of it is pressed deliciously into her clit, and Vex thrusts herself against it, humming more vibration than noise into the scarred skin of his shoulder. She spreads wider for him, granting him the full range of his infernal dexterity - she wants his long, blunt cock inside her, of course she does, but there's so much to be said for his brilliant, brillianthands. The two fingers scissor and stretch inside of her, his thumb working the outer edges and the bright nerves just above, and she has to sink her teeth tight into the thin skin of his clavicle to keep from moaning out, again. Percival is infuriatingly quiet, just his hot breath panting out softly along her back.

"How," she dares to breathe. "How are you so fucking good at this."

She can't see his devilish grin, but she hears it in his response. "You grew up with one tenacious, miserably competitive sibling." He drags his fingers up and out, every inch of them coasting along her clit before he dives back in. "I grew up with six."

Damn him. Vex has to stop getting so distracted (oh, but he is distracting; he is destroying her, her every nerve aflame, the walls of her cunt throbbing against his expert hand, the muscles in her thighs trembling on every pass with shocks of heat). She rides herself harder along his fingers, really putting her hips into it, clenching against him, and at the same time begins dragging her mouth wet and sloppy up and over his shoulder, then a little bit further down his arm, tasting, seeking. She knows the place, even in the dark -

"Nn-nnh," Percy whines out, louder than either of them were expecting. There, in the hard-divot curve of his bicep into his shoulder, one stretch of skin and muscle sits perpetually bruised - the spot where Bad News kicks back, and he takes the recoil of it, nestled into the crook of his bracing arm. Vex fixes her lips to it and sucks, deepening the ache, devouring his tenderness. He responds with a churlish nip to the upper point of her ear. Their heat feeds into each other, trapped in the close quarters of their camping tent, the soft sounds of their harsh breathing and the forest night around them. For a few moments, Vex puts the silent competition aside, riding the waves of pleasure from her husband's talented hands and sweet, kissable mouth, pressing their lips together once more as she shuffles her knees for better leverage, riding Percy's fingers and twining her tongue with his, a slow, deliberate hunger she's happy to get lost in.

For a few moments. Then, ever conniving for the upper hand, she slides two of her own slender fingers against herself and then inside right along Percy's, the stretch of it burning just a little but absolutely startling him out of his similar reverie, a surprised and aroused little gasp bursting out of him. "Good god, Vex'ahlia," he mouths against her in the dark.

She wants to whine theatrically, get him even more worked up, but she still has her wits at least partly about her, and she settles for rolling her head back, showing off the long line of her throat down to her heavy, bobbing breasts, and the dip of her stomach into her mound and her cunt, where all four of their fingers are spreading her wide now, holding mostly still as she grinds down onto their blunt tangle. It's a blissful stretch, her body wet and open, but at this point it is absolutely just a precursor for the main event. Vex gives her hips a few more deep, languid rolls, and then tugs both their hands out of herself, holding them up and aside as she repositions to straddle Percy's hips again. With her other hand, she strokes his rock-hard shaft once, twice, and then lines it up with her entrance and sits herself down onto it in his lap, eyes rolling back at the familiar, incredible heat and thickness of him, ploughing deeper than even his delectable hands could reach, stuffed full to bursting.

Percy, she mouths, voiceless, grinning, so fabulously in love.

Vex, he agrees, moving to kiss her again.

Before he can get his lips to hers, she tugs their joined hands to her mouth instead, swallowing up first his fingers and then her own, still slick with her own juices.

"Oh, fuck you," he barks aloud.

Vex crows, but the sound cuts short as Percy flips her to her back and slams into her, the blistering throb of his generous cock absolutely spearing her open, both his hands tangling in hers and pinning them above her head. Or no, wait - one hand stays in hers, and one stretches further, furtherbeyond her, his whole torso flattening down against her, her sensitive breasts squashed achingly against his tight, tapered chest, the pale expanse of his throat so bitably close, and what on earth is he -

The world around them falls crisply, unsettlingly silent. Magically silent.

Percy sits back up above her and in his left hand he's dangling his Diplomacy gauntlet.

Vex absolutely cackles, the sheer delight of it wracking her whole body even in the utter silence, and she stays laughing all through the rest of it. As Percy's pinpoint-perfect cock pistons elegantly inside her, filling her to the brim, dragging slickly along her trembling walls; as their tangled fingers (Pelor bless his hands) find her clit again, wet and wanting, sparks dancing along every nerve of her; as that tic in the tight, thin muscle of his arm picks up anew, bruises on burns on scars of old, on her husband, the only person Vex'ahlia would ever want to be making snarky, scorchingly hot love to in a tent in the middle of the fucking woods.

He comes copiously, every stretch of his body seizing up gloriously tight, and then kisses her lush and heavy through her own equally messy orgasm mere moments later. They roll apart, Percy flopping first to his back and then over onto his stomach, fumbling around for wherever his glasses ended up, buffing them clean on a corner of some bit of their bedrolls and slipping them back onto his face, the better to look at her, Vex can only assume.

Besottedly, she thinks, Well, she's got a great view, too.

(NICE ASS, she yells at the top of her lungs, swatting at it, the words and the smack! alike disappearing entirely into the blanket of the spell.)

-----

True to her word, Pike examines Percy's necrotic wounds with a careful cleric's eye in the morning, and with a higher-level, more nuanced spell in her wheelhouse after their night's rest, the scarring will fade almost completely. Vex of course will still love her husband and his body no matter what happens to it, but it is nice to have the power of Sarenrae on their side, even if it's just to prolong the inevitable as long as possible.

She doesn't miss a wink, though, is the thing. "Hang on, Percy, what's this bruise?" she asks, prodding at the misshapen, purple thing Vex has left against his upper arm. "Oh, I hope it hasn't gotten worse in the night - "

"Oh! Oh," sputters Percy, caught a bit off guard. Vex stifles a giggle into her breakfast. "Oh, no, Pike, it's - from the gun, the kickback always strikes me there, I have some padding built into my armor for it but often it ah, if I'm firing too swiftly back-to-back, or if we're in a hurry and I can't get it aligned as - as carefully as I'd like - "

"Then your pervert wife has to kiss it better?" The transformation that washes over Pike's face - clueless and angelic to downright devious in the blink of an eye - is something to behold, every time. In this moment it's second only to Percival's own face going starkly, impossibly whiter in mortified terror. This giggle Vex doesn't even bother to stifle.

"It's - that is to say - "

"Don't worry, m'lord," Pike says loftily, grinning. "I'm very discreet." But for good measure, she chucks him in the arm, right on the purple spot. Percy chokes out a gnah! and recoils just a bit, but gives her a profoundly grateful nod and a murmur of thanks. Vex and Pike exchange a wink, which Vex accompanies with a shrug. What can you do?

Kaylie stumbles, yawning, out of the tent, with her father right on her heels, each of them half-dressed and blinking into the crisp morning air of the forest. "Right, what's for breakfast then?" says Kaylie, before immediately answering her own question by claiming the rest of Pike's half-eaten bowl of oatmeal as her own.

Scanlan yawns much more theatrically, stretching his arms up above his head and then readjusting his hat. "You know, I gotta say, I'm not gonna skip the mansion on purpose any time soon, but this wasn't so bad," he says. "I slept great."

#critical role #critrolefic #perc'ahlia #percahlia #fanfic #help idk what to tag this bc i'm not Really in this fandom #i just love percy so much ; ; k bye #cr

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