#character: cian | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

spyridonya · 5 months ago

Text

Lessons

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3 Rating: Mature Pairing: Zophus Emberbane (Tav OC) x Cian (@dmagedgoods's Dark Urge), background Raphael/Cian/Zophus Words: 1880 Trigger Warnings: No sex, but descriptions of body arousal. Light bondage. Summary: An orphan aches to ask for what he wants, but habits die hard.

The rooms given to Zophus in the House of Hope had been spacious, though it lacked the wash of maroon and the false glitter of gold. The expansive marble had been scrubbed clean, appearing the color of sunset due to the ever burning infernal skies of Arvenus coming from the balcony when the curtains were not drawn. However, unlike the other chambers of the Archdevil’s entourage, it was decidedly spartan.

The walls were bare of paintings, tapestries, or statues, save a modest sized portrait of Raphael. Rather, there were only mounted weapons that Zophus had saved during the campaign against the Absolutestists and the Dead Three. Weapons, Zophus felt, that he would never use again. They held memories of the days when the whispering of the tadpoles was far too common for pleasant company, though he did miss the sound of Cian’s voice when it broke through the din of voices.

The only pieces of furniture that Zophus’ room housed were a bookshelf, a chest, and a large bed. However, even the large bed - which could host far more people than just Zophus himself and another - lacked the sumptuous colored silk of Raphael’s quarters. Rather, Zophus had favored linen sheets and a woven blanket - durable and dependable in their structure and comfort. Eventually the linen would be washed and used enough to become as soft as cotton and the woven blanket was well spun. Compared to his bunk in the Barracks, it was luxurious enough and reminded him not to let his guard down.

However, Zophus never thought his bed sheets would be dependable enough to bind his wrists to the headboard of his own damn bed.

When the paladin had woken up to his current predicament of being bound and with a blindfold across his eyes, he mentally berated himself for several moments that the decades of training and fighting in the Harmonium, his guard had melted away in a matter of weeks. The nights on the trek to Baldur’s Gate or the horrors of the Shadowlands were short for him, he often woke at the slightest noise or rustle before settling to a restless sleep, but that had been over a month ago.

The paladin then considered that perhaps someone that he trusted had slipped into his room, and his self flagellation ceased long enough to center his senses. Betrayal was quickly rejected for the relative amount of comfort he found himself in. Though Zophus was laying down on his back, and his arms tied above his head, his muscular legs and his wings were still free and nothing had been placed around his throat. Pillows had been tucked under the paladin’s neck to avoid straining his wings and at the small of his back, exposing him to anyone passing, and he felt the stirring of a possible erection.

The air was comfortable, thanks to the arcane weavings of the House of Hope, and the air was fresh though there was no discernable wind. The aasimar licked his dry lips and took a deep breath through his nose. The smell he first expected - bourbon twined with cherries with the barest hint of sulfur - wasn’t there.

Rather, he smelled something floral, something dark like a forest, so very lush yet not overly sweet and Zophus took another deep breath. It was Cian’s smell. One that he knew well, one scent that he was afraid to linger on despite how much he enjoyed it.

Sometimes, Zophus thought, familiarity breeds contempt.

The drow’s whispering footsteps were much louder than Zophus expected, though he supposed that was due to the lack of… anything in his personal chambers.

"How long has it been since you joined us, Zophus?” The soft, sensual voice filled Zophus’ ears despite Cian being some distance away, “Not quite a month since you had this room and yet… it looks like you’ve turned this into an armory.” The mockery was softened by the playfulness in the drow’s voice. “The future corpse of my father forgive me... you kept Ketheric’s hammer, of all things?” The arched tone attempted not to laugh. "Yet, you have no whips or chains. Nothing made of leather - not even silk."

The growing stirring of his cock had become an ache and likely very visible.

Cian tsked and Zophus heard the sorcerer approach even closer, "Even your bedding is gray. Nothing lovely at all about it. Do you not like beautiful things?"

I love beautiful things, Zophus thought. Cian was one of the most beautiful people he knew. His mind’s eyes conjured the whipcord body colored like smoke paired with the contrast of night colored hair, the ebony and silver gaze, the ivory tattoo along the planes of his cheek to ear.

The growing stirring at Zophus’ cock had become an ache, and likely very visible. The aasimar swallowed and would have turned away if he could.

"Grey bedding means less work for the debtor." Zophus replied curtly as he took a deep breath, falling into the pattern that he believed Cian enjoyed so much, "So, that means more time for a doomed soul to wash your bedding."

Zophus had seen Cian’s bedding, the sumptuous tastes for a sumptuous man, though they spent more time in the Boudoir in comparison. It was common enough grounds to them and others in Raphael’s entourage, though Zophus never felt he could speak freely. Haarlep had sharp ears and would give even sharper words to Mephistopheles. The solution to speaking freely with his lovers was simply to arrive upon the drow’s doorstep more often but…

Zophus was not Raphael. Zophus was scarred and rumpled, lacking in grace in exchange for his size and power.

"Such a precious remark, no doubt you have some concerns for the help," The drow purred, his voice closer but not close enough. The soft caress of fabric against fabric entered Zophus’ ears, and he adjusted his imagination of the drow wearing pants, though he indulged the idea of muscular arms and chest being exposed, "I've heard that the Harmonium don’t have a creative bone in their body.”

The footsteps stopped, and Zophus’ heart pounded rapidly and fully in his chest. His body shifted and he stretched his wings while he tipped his head back slightly. He could dismiss his wings, he often did when he laid on his back. However, last night he had the luxury of curling on his stomach for sleep after returning to the House from a mission in the early hours. The habits of hard narrow beds that his faction used were dissipating quickly and he likely hadn’t thought about dismissing his wings.

Zophus knew Cian liked his wings… and his wings were sensitive. The memory of the last time someone teased along his feathers brought Zophus’s cock to full hardness.

“However,” Cian echoed once more, right at the edge of the bed, “I have to say, I do like the bookshelf. True wood.” The faint slippery sound of fingers against polished wood might have been in his imagination, but the steps that paused two arm lengths away from Zophus were real. For a long moment there was silence, likely the drow studying the books that were lining the shelves while making the aasimar wait. Most of the books that Zophus owned were collected from their journey together, and the ones that didn’t diverge from magic had been split equally between them. Cian had taken most of the ones related to magic

The silence passed for another heart beat and he felt the shift in his bed.. Zophus' stomach knotted at the unfamiliar sensation before he spoke. "And what little imp has been telling you these things about Harmoniums? Most Imps don’t leave Avernus and saw even less when they were living souls in Faerun."

Cian laughed. The sound was rich and warm and it made Zophus smile, though the smile lasted only for a moment. The aasimar could hear the mastress shift, and felt the resulting dip of additional weight on his bed. "My, my, have we found a nerve?"

Zophus took a deep breath, and felt his face and muscles grow tense, despite how wonderful Cian smelled, “I find it’s hard to decorate when you have so little at hand.”

The clothes on his back, the armor culled from the dead, the weapons dragged from victory, and all the trinkets that could fit in his pocket. When the last battle been fought, it was all he had. Zophus could never go back to Sigil, back to the little bunk and locker that had been for all intents and purposes his 'home'.

More often than not, he had been living like he had during the journey to Baldur's Gate. The only thing he missed in that bunker was a little journal book about the sea. He didn’t even miss his red steel armor that had been stripped from him by the Illithids. Losing that had been worth meeting Raphael. Losing that was worth meeting Cian.

The drow’s voice was silent, though the soft whisper of fabric was loud in Zopheus’ ears, the shift of Cian’s full weight on his bed and knees and limbs dragging against fabric made his mouth dry.

The aasimar jumped when fingers caressed down the scared side of his face, soft and tender, before a smooth hand cradled against his jaw and sharp cheekbone. The scent of Cian that filled his senses wasn’t overwhelming, it was welcoming, as was the soft rhythm of the drow’s breath on Zophus’ headed face and neck. The growing need of his body couldn’t be hidden with Cian so close.. Not that it could have been hidden when Cian arranged Zophus’ body to be perfectly displayed.

Zophus licked his lips, "I feel it is wrong to ask for things I may want. I am… I am all right with that, I’m used to working for what I want… or to get by.”

The aasimar could feel the warmth of Cian’s body pressed to him, the subtle adjustment of torso and limbs, and soon felt the weight of the drow’s body and the urgent press of his cock against his own.

“You can have anything you want, everything you want," Cian murmured in his ear, softly, lovingly, and causing a fine shiver to go down Zophus' spine, "All you need to do is ask."

"I'm afraid that's a prospect I'm not used to," The aasimar replied, his tone akin to stone as heat pooled down his spine. The full contact of smooth fabric and the weight pressing against his lower stomach and cock likely had brought a flush to his cheeks and stomach though, it wasn’t from shame. Zophus often flushed due to arousal.

"Then it sounds like I have to teach you to," Cian murmured as both his hands held Zophus face and the sweetest breath teased against his mouth.

Zophus doesn’t see Cian tip his head, but he feels the flush, hungry slant of his mouth against his and Zophus bends his neck forward to accept the heat of the kiss, the pressure fierce yet sweet, and yet too shy to part his lips despite … everything.

And that was how the drow began to teach the assimar how to ask.

#tav x dark urge #oc kiss week #character: zophus #character: cian

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