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forgeofthenine · 5 months

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Here's the awaited post about some tieflings in rut, please enjoy my brainrot about getting dicked down by tieflings :)

Full NSFW under the cut

Poly Dammon and Rolan NSFW rut headcanons

Pre-rut

So while in pre-rut they guys are protective, irritable, and just on the cusp of being unbearably horny

The entire time you find yourself pulled between the two hormone filled tieflings, either into Dammons bed or onto Rolans lap

Sometimes both of those things at the same time

They originally didn't have their ruts at the same time, you'd have about a month or so generally between to recover

But as the three of you spent more time dating, and as the two helped each other more often during their ruts, soon you'd find them slipping into rut as soon as the other did

Now, you also have to deal with two pre-rut tieflings for three or so days, at the same time

Dammon is a bit more apologetic about his behaviour, but it's just barely, and it doesn't stop him from growling at the mere sight of any man other than him or Rolan looking at you

Rolan has no apologies, he's more than happy to pull you against him at any opportunity, snapping at anyone who tries to interrupt and that includes Dammon

It's not even worth it to try and leave the house at this point, with one tiefling hanging off you and the other acting as your own personal guard dog

It doesn't stop when you sleep either, they both need to be touching someone, and if they can't have you snuggled between them then you bet the two of them are snuggling each other

A common occurrence is waking up to the feeling of one or both kissing the bare skin on your neck, shoulders, and collarbones

They really can't get enough

By time you've gotten through a couple days of this, Dammon is already dragging you both to his bed finally

He's been watching Rolan grinding against you for the past two days, and the both of you just look so good right now

It's this impatience that sends them both into full rut right then, so I hope you're prepared

You might want to prep some water and snacks to put beside your bed

In rut

These two are surprisingly good at sharing you while in rut, and they definitely have a bit of a routine going so that everyone leaves satisfied

After what was essentially multiple days of foreplay, it's no surprise when both of them want to get straight to the point

Rolan will have you straddling him as you're sat in his lap, hard cock resting against your thigh as he captures your lips in a kiss

Dammon will be behind you, grinding against your ass as he litters kisses down your neck and shoulders

All three of you are breathless when Rolan lays back against the headboard, easing you down onto his cock with Dammons hands helping steady you by your hips

It takes all his will to not buck his hips up into yours immediately, Dammon being the one that leads the pace even during rut

The way Dammon grinds against you guides you to roll your own hips against the tiefling under you

The two of you revel in Rolans whines and moans as he tries to grab at your hips and Dammons hands that cover them

The entire time Dammon is praising the both of you, soon his breeding kink slips in as it turns to him teasing you both about how you're going to leave this room carrying one of their kids

The tieflings talk about knocking you up only spurs on Rolan, and soon you're dripping with his cum and pulled away so Dammon can have you

It's only then that Rolan finds his voice for something other than whining, caressing your face and making barbed remarks about you being a 'good little thing' for them both

His hands and tail easily soothe you as Dammon has his way with you, so overcone after waiting for so long to have you, worked up into a frenzy

Dammon himself is pulling your hips back against him with every thrust, ribbed cock stretching you out further despite having already taken Rolan

The two continue this dizzying treatment until Dammon finally stills within you, leaving you feeling filled and exhausted beyond belief

There's no need to worry though, after giving you water and making you comfortable, the two men are happy to give you a rest and take care of each other for a round

It's quite the sight watching as Dammon tops Rolan, easily bending the wizards body to his will as he takes him roughly

The two love it if you reach a hand over to wrap around Rolans ridged cock, you and Dammon pleasuring him until his cum litters his chest and stomach

It's only after they've both had their fill, rounds after rounds of you all switching positions, that they're finally ready to attempt to clean up before falling asleep

And every time they're in rut you know you're in for days of the undivided attention of your two favourite tieflings

And none of you would have it any other way

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 x reader #bg3 x reader #baldurs gate 3 dammon #bg3 dammon #dammon x reader #baldurs gate 3 rolan #bg3 rolan #rolan x reader #dammon x reader x rolan #dammon x rolan #bg3 smut #baldurs gate 3 smut #dammon smut #rolan smut

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rcehb-art · 3 months

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Don’t forget your morning kiss!

We love our local tsundere wizard 🫶💜

#Dammon x Rolan #thunderforge #bg3 Dammon #bg3 Rolan #baldur’s gate 3 Dammon #baldur’s gate 3 Rolan #baldur’s gate 3 #bg3 #baldur’s gate iii #baldur’s gate 3 fanart #bg3 fanart #baldur’s gate iii fanart #baldur’s gate iii Dammon #baldur’s gate iii Rolan

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marinsdoodles · 9 days

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Some reposts of my older dammon x rolan art

#Bg3 #bg3 rolan #bg3 dammon #dammon x rolan #baldur's gate 3 #tiefling #I still don't know the ship name lmao

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underdark-dreams · 5 months

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Hello my dear! Prompt for you, what Rolan and Dammon are like drunk, what kind of night they had at the tiefling party on their own, how they are with an interested Tav that night (Rolan x Tav, Dammon x Tav, how they are with an interested each other (dammon x rolan), and how they are with a poly for the celebration (dammon x Tav x rolan) long one I know but damn you feed us well

[bangs metal pots together] Rolan x Dammon polycule lovers, come collect your horny boys!

Please be aware this turned to shameless filth at the end. I cannot be trusted with either of them, and especially not both. 👀 Credits to @turquoiseoverthesea for the lap sitting mischief!

Rolan & Dammon drunk at the Tiefling party: solo + poly HCs with Tav

(Tav is gender-neutral) - (NSFW under the cut)

Rolan solo:

Rolan wasn’t even sure he wanted to come tonight…but he found himself in a generous mood and decided to bestow his company on these rubes

Plus he doesn’t trust Cal to moderate himself or Lia to keep Cal reined in (oldest siblings have to do everything around here)

Ends up tipsier than either of them, though he’s decent at hiding it

You can tell by the way his hand gestures get more and more animated throughout the night

When he’s drunk: actually loosens up a lot in general, smiles and laughs more freely

Drunk Rolan is somehow even more self-assured and cocky than usual, yet simultaneously much more charming about it

Doesn’t realize how handsome he looks when he’s genuinely enjoying himself

Also gets more free with his spellwork once you get a few glasses of wine in him

Fends off Cal and Lia’s requests for him to conjure a whole menagerie of animal illusions, but if Tav asks, he won’t be able to say no

Conjures an owlbear and a tiger and maybe even a dragon if he feels like really showing off to impress Tav, much to the delight of any Tiefling kids who might be sneaking around the party

Even if he spends the night on his own, Rolan ends up having a much nicer time than he wants to admit. He’s a pessimistic worrywort at heart—taking an evening to unwind is honestly good for this poor guy’s stress levels

Cal and Lia are having a great time, too, and that makes Rolan truly happy. Just to see them both enjoying themselves for a change

If Rolan can work up the courage to approach Gale, he’d talk to him for hours about the Weave and spellcasting over a bottle of wine

Takes delight in finding such a highly educated magical mind here in the middle of this godforsaken nowhere (tries to play it cool for the sake of his ego though)

Dammon solo:

Dammon didn’t plan to go but changed his mind at the last minute when it sank in that Tav would be there

Before the party, he definitely sneaks off to wash up in the nearby river. The smell of smoke and iron dust in his clothes is pretty permanent at this point, but he’d rather make a tidy impression tonight if possible

Arrives with his hair still damp but pulled back into its neat topknot

A bit like Zevlor, Dammon tends to hover around the edges holding his drink at first, just taking in everyone else’s good mood tonight

His drinks of choice are at the opposite ends of the spectrum: prefers a very fine brandy or a common ale, nothing in between

Would politely accept a glass of wine if it’s offered but only sips it

When he’s drunk: gets very sincere and kind of intense

He’s the type to sit down to share a bottle and have a long, intimate conversation with someone for several hours, preferably Tav or Rolan. Both is ideal

You can tell Dammon has had a few when he makes really sustained eye contact while you’re talking. Sits a bit closer than usual to show you’re his sole focus right now. Combined with his striking eyes, it’s kinda hot

Also when he’s drunk the tips of Dammon’s ears flush a bright, ruddy pink

Dammon spending the night on his own—I can imagine it going a few ways, depending on his mood

If he’s feeling more cheery and sociable, Dammon might sit near the campfire to hear Alfira’s music and listen to his fellow Tieflings talk about their plans when they reach the city, adding encouraging comments here and there

I could also see him taking his drink and heading out for a quieter spot near the water

Dammon’s a bit of a loner with this group, always seems to keep himself apart from the rest of his fellow travelers. Maybe he enjoys working with infernal iron a little too much to mention in mixed company

Rolan x Tav:

Maybe if Rolan was sober he’d pick up on Tav’s flirting faster

Then again, maybe he’s so wrapped up in trying to impress them with his accomplishments that he doesn’t realize how well it’s actually working

Rolan’s probably out of practice with romance, or pretty inexperienced, or some combination of the two

Dropping hints is just not enough for this guy. He enjoys the banter with Tav a lot more than he wants to admit, but he’s got a mental block against taking it further

It will definitely take something physical from Tav

Making an excuse to touch his hands, or “accidentally” bumping hips or shoulders several times

Then there’s the direct route of “is this seat taken?”

Rolan will look up in surprise but gesture to the bench next to him. Then Tav plops down directly on his lap, and Rolan’s surprise turns into actual panic

Kind of holds his hands hovering frozen out to either side for a second, not sure where to put them even though Tav’s hips are currently snuggled up on his thighs

Torn between everyone here including his siblings seeing this blatant display of public flirtation, and the feeling of how nice Tav’s weight in on top of his legs

When Tav leans in to curl an arm around his shoulders, Rolan’s done for. Any thoughts of shifting them off his lap go out the window and he clasps his hands politely around the side of their leg

Rolan will try to maintain the conversation, but his responses get short and distracted. All he can concentrate on is Tav’s scent and voice and their face so close to his

He’ll accept a few kisses while Tav’s on his lap, but only the shortest, softest lip touches

If they introduce the slightest hint of tongue, Rolan will pull them away and clear his throat maroon-faced and ask which tent is Tav’s, and demand that they both please go there right now

Rolan follows them while studiously avoiding eye contact with anyone he knows

If he realizes Tav is instead leading him farther away from camp, the implication makes his tail flick with excitement

He’d love nothing more than to find a nice soft patch of grass and make out with Tav for an hour

Rolan’s kisses are eager and a bit sloppy at first. But he’s very teachable, both a devoted student and a quick learner

With a little guidance, before long Rolan’s got Tav making some soft and breathless sounds of their own

Tav sitting with their legs straddling Rolan’s thighs would really test his patience—if Rolan wasn’t hard from them on his lap before, he’s definitely hard now

Might get so excited he doesn’t ask before sliding his tail up their hips or wrapping it around their waist

Once he realizes Tav’s equally worked up, Rolan would encourage them to grind down on his thigh however makes them feel good

Adores getting to see the hero of the night pleasuring themself on his leg while his tail squeezes and caresses around their middle

Dammon x Tav:

Dammon is difficult to pin down for a conversation at first, let alone anything more

He keeps circling along the perimeter of the party, chatting politely here and there but never settling for long

He catches Tav’s eye several times but needs some time to work up the courage to approach them—the last thing he wants to do is monopolize someone so popular (even though that’s exactly what he wants to do)

But after Tav returns his looks enough times across the campfire, Dammon has no problem making the first move

He’ll probably lead with a question (enjoying the evening, need another drink, etc)

It’s a polite move but also to gauge Tav’s interest. Dammon knows he’s into them at this point, but he’s still trying to suss out their exact feelings

Once Tav starts dropping a flirtatious remark here or there in conversation, sparks are flying

Dammon can be so smooth when he puts his mind to it, and it’s not long before he and Tav are touching in some way

When he rests a hand on the small of Tav’s back and asks if they’d like to get some air, it’s fucking on

Dammon knows the area pretty well by this point—leads them to a nice secluded clearing that he stumbled on last week and mentally filed away for this exact purpose

Once they’re alone, calloused hands on Tav’s hips are guiding them gently back against the nearest tree trunk and Dammon’s lips are on theirs

He’s a very deliberate kisser, slow and tender but hot at the same time

If it seems like Dammon’s lips are following a predetermined roadmap down Tav’s jaw and neck, that’s because they are

Man has a notoriously healthy imagination and has been thinking about where he’d like to kiss them for a while

He waits for Tav to do anything below the belt first, but once Dammon feels their hands graze there he’s pinning Tav into the tree behind them with his hips

Grinds into them while he sucks on Tav’s neck, drawing as many delicious sounds from their lips as he can

All the kissing and heavy petting is perfectly delightful on its own, but if Tav asked him to take them up against that tree, Dammon would in a heartbeat

Dammon x Rolan

It’s no coincidence that Rolan and his siblings end up lingering near Dammon’s tent back at the Grove

Dammon comes across as the strong silent type, and as the loud not-so-strong type, Rolan finds that very attractive

But Rolan’s also trying hard to keep to himself and not stare. He only stares maybe once every few minutes, and only because Dammon’s toned forearms flexing and the way he grunts with each hammer blow are very difficult to ignore

For Dammon’s part, he’s fascinated and a little impressed by Rolan. Sure he’s got a lot of bluster, but Dammon’s seen what he can do with the Weave, and it’s definitely made an impression

At the party—Dammon will 100% be the one who approaches first

Not afraid of making his intentions known, Dammon gets Lia’s advice on what wine to bring and takes a bottle with him to break the ice

If there’s one thing Rolan’s good at, it’s conversation

But he keeps talking around things—though Dammon appreciates the clever whirrings of Rolan’s mind, right now he’s more interested in his mouth for other reasons

Dammon shoots his shot by brushing a “hair” from Rolan’s cheekbone with his thumb

There’s nothing there, but Rolan is too dumbstruck at the contact to realize. It actually shuts him up for a moment as they both stare at each other

To Dammon’s surprise, maybe spurred on by the liquid courage, Rolan is the one who suggests they take a walk along the river

They’re both buzzing with too much anticipation to say more than a few short words to each other as they walk. When they settle near the river bank, they’re stretched out side by side with hands braced on the ground just inches from each other

Unable to bear the awkward silence, Rolan opens lips to say something just as Dammon tilts his head over to kiss him

The result is that they’re tongue kissing almost immediately

Rolan groans and shivers so hard Dammon has to gently grip his jaw with a hand, keeping Rolan’s mouth where he can explore it

Before long their tails are tangled up behind them, twining and tugging back and forth in a way that has them both panting into the kiss

Dammon x Rolan x Tav

At some point in the night, Rolan and Tav got into a debate about one of those little things that seems so goddamn important when you’re tipsy. Dammon walked past and was immediately dragged in as a neutral party

But Dammon had a separate third opinion, which only made Rolan turn his arguments on the other man with much wild gesticulating of his free hand

Tav burst into laughter between them, and Rolan and Dammon both found themselves too charmed by the sight to care about anything else

From there the wine and conversation both flowed freely

Little, casual touches followed: fingers brushing together over a passed bottle, Dammon clapping Rolan’s back with a friendly comment—a move that turned more than friendly as Dammon’s hand trailed down slightly, causing Rolan to glance his direction with a flush in his cheeks

Eventually Rolan got bold and tried his own luck, sliding an arm around Tav’s waist while they were grinning at something he said. Dammon’s eyes flicked to the gesture immediately

After a trio of shared glances, Dammon broke the rather excited silence by announcing that he knows a place where they could find a little privacy

As the three of them enter the forest clearing, any remaining hesitance melts when Dammon grabs the collar of Rolan’s robes to pull him into a kiss that traps Tav firmly in the middle

Being abruptly sandwiched between their chests pushes a gasp from Tav’s throat, which turns to an approving hum at the sight and sounds of Rolan and Dammon devouring each others’ mouths over their shoulder

Tav’s arms snake around the wizard in front, while behind they feel Dammon’s palms smoothing over the curves of their waist and hips

Dammon breaks the kiss before guiding Rolan’s chin gently toward Tav, and Rolan needs no more encouragement to capture their lips eagerly

Meanwhile, Dammon bends to place soft kisses at the juncture where Tav’s neck meets their shoulder. Dextrous fingers pull their shirt laces looser to expose more kissable skin

Periodically he’ll surface behind their ear to praise how lovely Tav looks between him and Rolan like this, and how good they’re going to make Tav feel. It sets off a chorus of moans passing from Tav to Rolan and back again as their lips slide together

Once Tav decides the wizard’s had more than his share, they break the wet kiss and tilt their head back to meet Dammon’s mouth. Rolan is panting and wiping saliva from his chin, instantly greedy for more

Dammon chuckles against Tav’s lips and suggests there are other ways Rolan can put his mouth to use—and doesn’t Tav deserve some gratitude after everything they’ve done for the two of them?

It wouldn’t work coming from anyone else, but at Dammon’s sultry baritone, Rolan doesn’t hesitate as he slips to place a trail of kisses down Tav’s belly to their waist and lands on his knees in front of them

He impatiently works off Tav’s shoes and pants, tugging with such enthusiasm that only Dammon’s firm grip over their torso keeps Tav balanced. Then Rolan’s mouth abruptly closes between Tav’s legs, licking and sucking as if he intends to make up for every thank you left unspoken

Thankfully Dammon’s mouth stops up their moans, or Tav might worry about the sounds carrying back to camp. Instead only the filthy, wet sounds of Rolan’s mouth against their sex fills the clearing

Dammon’s hands guide Tav’s to each of Rolan’s curving horns, encouraging Tav to ride his face. Rolan moans between their legs at the new sensation of Tav’s grip tugging him, the vibration sending a shudder up their spine

At that Dammon pulls out of the kiss with a groan. One of his hands leaves their hip to tug the linen shirt up and over Tav’s head, leaving them standing completely bare in the dark woods between the two Tieflings. There’s another rustling movement before Dammon’s hard length unfurls against the small of Tav’s back

He’s hot and ridged, and before Tav can release one of Rolan’s horns to reach back for him, Dammon is grinding with a low grunt into the bare skin of their back

Each rhythmic roll of his hips pushes Tav harder against Rolan’s mouth. As if the increased pressure wasn't enough, a tail Tav suspects belongs to Dammon coils firmly up their leg to force their stance plenty open for Rolan’s mouth

As pleasure rapidly coils in their belly, Tav manages to glance down to see Rolan frantically palming himself through his trousers, his other hand joining his lips at working Tav’s orgasm from between their legs

The sight pushes Tav over the edge—just in time, a calloused hand closes over their mouth to catch the loud, keening sounds of their climax

Tav grinds out the waves against Rolan’s mouth, gripping his horns desperately, feeling him whimper and shake between their legs as he himself releases against his own hand

Just a few seconds later, Dammon’s teeth close bluntly over Tav’s shoulder—and in the next moment, hot liquid spurts in trailing paths over the skin of their back

Dammon goes down first on wobbling legs; the tail still wrapped around Tav’s own leg drags them down after him

The three of them lie in a panting pile on the mossy forest floor. Tav’s clothes are somewhere around here, but in the meantime two sets of limbs lay sprawled from either side across Tav’s body, with two ridged tails caressing over Tav’s bare skin as if in loving praise

And that’s just the beginning of the night

#spicy #bg3 smut #rolan x tav #dammon x tav #rolan x dammon #dammon x rolan #rolan x dammon x tav #bg3 rolan #bg3 dammon #rolan bg3 #dammon bg3 #bg3 headcanons #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic

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russica · 1 month

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A friendly reminder this blog is run by a queer nonbinary person. Love is Love. Trans rights. Lil Goobers are NOT for the intolerant!

Will clean up later lol

#mythings #russica #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #doodles #lil goobers #gay rights #trans rights #thunderforge #dammon #rolan #tieflings #dammon x rolan

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cozybossi · 1 month

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Have some thunderforge for the evening 🫰🔥

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 fanart #bg3 rolan #bg3 dammon #dammon x rolan #rolan x dammon #thunderforge

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whimzeee · 3 months

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Audaciously Yours,

Ramazith tower has ten billion stairs.

At least that’s how it feels to a pair of drunk fools leaning on one another while trying to climb them.

It’s late evening, perhaps a bit too late to be proper. Dinner lasted into the night and was served with one glass too many of the finest wine Dammon had ever tasted. At the hands of the three siblings he had been hosted like royalty that night. After Cal and Lia had called it a night, Rolan and Dammon stayed a bit longer. To have a conversation they could no longer pretend wasn’t needed.

They had both needed a drink or several to get through those nerves. One more so than the other. And the effect shows plainly; Dammon’s fingertips are a bit numb, but the entirety of Rolan’s legs seem to be that way.

He has Rolan’s arm hooked around his shoulders in the dimlit staircase. His warmth slumped against him. Arm around his waist, hand on hip. He’s not sure if the purple blush on Rolan’s face comes from the wine, or from the words they’d exchanged at long last. It’s no less pretty either way.

“Nearly there,” he encourages gently.

Rolan pauses, huffs an annoyed breath. “I am going to figure out portals…if it kills me.”

“Before these stairs do?”

“Mm.” Rolan glowers, but from the way his eyes blink, it seems less a glare of frustration and more just that he’s trying to see clearly. Were Dammon sober, he’d have stifled the snicker that bubbles up. He’s too tipsy to catch it in time.

Rolan’s sharp gaze is blunted and slow as he turns the glare on him. Maybe it would have been scary if he hadn’t started laughing too.

“Alright,” he slurs, gesturing loosely forward. “Laugh at me all you’d like, if you get us up these…damned steps.”

“I’m sorry,” Dammon giggles. “You’re just so...intimidating when you’re sober. It seems silly now.”

“Am I?” Is he…pouting?

“No,” Dammon corrects quickly. “Perhaps not after all.”

Rolan’s arm has begun to slip from his shoulders, so he hefts him higher—closer. Rolan's body curves to fit into his own and Dammon feels his face warming.

“I was the one intimidated,” Rolan mutters quietly. “You won’t believe how nervous I was. Still am, honestly.”

This is a brand new side of him. Rolan’s never been so honest. It’s always pomp and face, lace and ruffle when he talks. Always so concerned with decorum. Never just…real. Real like the friction between them as they lean drunken on each other in the small hours of night.

“No need for that,” he soothes, and pulls him up one more step. “It doesn’t need to be scary.”

Many missed steps and poorly stifled giggles later, they finally pour through the door to Rolan’s room. Dammon looks about with a mix of giddiness and trepidation. It feels like he’s not supposed to be here, somehow. But he is. For the first time.

It’s sparser than he’d expected. Cozy, but minimal. Organized so neatly it barely feels like a bedroom at all. But for a few books and two standing picture frames on the nightstand, one would hardly know whose room it was at all. A standing three-pronged candelabra next to the purple-quilted bed holds three perfectly un-melted lit candles, even though they must have been burning all night. Ah, right: Archmage Rolan. Downstairs he has a chandelier whose crystals lit up in different colors with a wave of his hand.

Dammon hauls the Master of Ramzith Tower's ragdoll body over to the bed and eases him down to sit. He takes this opportunity to get a closer look at the portraits. One is of Rolan and his siblings—gods help them trying to get Cal to sit still for that long. The second is quite older, faded and creased in some places. It depicts an older tiefling woman he doesn’t know, with a baby in her arms and a very young girl at her side, her hand resting on top of the child’s head. He recognizes the girl's horn shape, shared by the woman.

In the state Rolan’s in now, Dammon knows that if he asked he’d easily get an answer. So he doesn’t. It feels wrong. Like cheating at chess.

Rolan’s staring blearily at nothing, his head drooping. Dammon can’t help but smirk, biting his lip to keep from laughing at him any further. “Here,” he says gently, kneeling in front of him. “Let me help.”

Rolan’s eyes focus as he watches the blacksmith take his boots off for him. Unlaces them neatly and slides them off one by one with painstaking gentleness. When he’s finished, he’s a bit startled to see how big Rolan’s eyes have gotten, how he stares at him in…well, shock, really.

“Um… Was that okay?”

“I.” Rolan shivers, breaking the gaze as he feels suddenly self conscious. “Yes.”

No one has ever done something like that for him. So small but…just. Taking his shoes off for him. No one has ever.

“Are you. Sure?”

Rolan covers his face with his hands and falls backward onto the bed, flopping like a limp fish.

Dammon’s eyes peep over the side of the bed before he rises up onto his knees, leaning on the bed with his elbows. He observes Rolan quietly, waiting, but he doesn’t say any more.

"You've gone very quiet very quickly. Are you alright?" His smile fades to the touch of concern. "Not feeling sick are you?"

Rolan stares up at him like a first-time stargazer. His wide, shining eyes striving to focus.

"Rolan?"

"Mm. Mnyes."

"Did you hear the question?"

“Hn. 'F course."

Dammon waits, then huffs a laugh. "Would you care to answer it?"

"...I'm not sure."

"You're not sure what? ...Not sure you're going to answer or not sure if you're sick?"

"Right. Yes. You understand."

Dammon chuckles again, hanging his head. "Ohh, I wish I did."

Rolan catches his laugh, humming a lazy giggle as his sharp teeth flash in a manner he'd never allow sober.

Dammon takes a moment to admire it until it fades, Rolan's eyes slipping closed and his breath falling into rhythm. There is the faintest tug of disappointment in his heart, like when the top edge of the sun dips out of sight. He pulls himself to his feet and reaches down to lift Rolan’s legs, turning him rightways on the bed. He carefully places his head onto a pillow--fine downfeathers. Rolan must have been miserable on the road. While pulling a blanket over him, Dammon has the quite sudden thought that he wouldn’t mind doing this every night for the rest of his life.

For a moment, he waits there, staring at the gentle peace in Rolan's sleeping face. A thousand daydreams float through his buzzing mind. His hand twitches with the impulse to reach out and brush that stray lock of hair out of his face, but he's just sober enough to hold it back.

He'd better leave while he still has that much self control.

Before he can move two steps, he hears a short gasp, and Rolan snatches his wrist with surprising speed.

"W-what—"

"I am, actually," Rolan's voice tumbles over itself; he's more drunk than Dammon thought.

"Am...what?"

"I—yes, I'm. Feeling ill, actually, yes."

Dammon may have been concerned, had he not recently learned that Rolan is a terrible liar. His smile spreads slowly, like a new candle wick that must melt before it lights.

He sinks to his knees by the bedside, leaning on his crossed arms on the mattress. Rolan’s grip moves to his bicep and won’t let go. "Quite stricken, are you?"

Rolan swallows. "Terribly."

Dammon leans closer. His eyes glow in the candlelight. "Then I can hardly leave you all alone, can I?"

He can practically hear the perfectly fitted clockwork gears that power Rolan's mind grind to a halt. He looks for a moment as if he really is ill, the way his face pales and breath quickens.

"St…you must stay with me."

"Mm. Seems I must."

Despite having just insisted on it five seconds ago, Rolan shakes his head and covers his face with his hands. "No, no, of course not. It wouldn't be proper. Not proper at all."

Dammon's mild eyes sweep over Rolan as if he's never held such fondness before.

"Never much cared for what's proper," he smirks, gently prying Rolan's hands away from his face. "Unless you do."

"..."

"Would you like me to stay, Rolan?"

"Well...but. It wouldn't be..."

"But would you like it?"

"...Yes."

He smiles. So bright Rolan's eyes close against it. The hand that grips his is heavy and solid. The heat it stokes in Rolan’s chest going to make cinders of him. Once the fire hits him he’ll change shape—and does he want that? He won’t survive the night. Morning will see him darken again, made brittle by cold water. It’s not going to turn out. He’s sharp and thin and riddled with impurities. No matter how careful the hands that strike him, he will break beneath the hammer.

He jumps at the sound of Dammon’s voice. "Can you sit up a moment?"

Rolan opens his eyes just enough to glare. "Nn. Why."

"So I can take your hair down for you."

Rolan's squinted eyes go wide an soft. How is he going to say no to that? He tries to sit on his own, but because he is never one to miss an opportunity, he begins to roll and tilt toward the edge of the bed.

"Oh--gods, don't fall." Dammon catches him quickly, arm around shoulders. Rolan's entire body freezes. His face is buried in the crook of Dammon's arm, he can smell warm steelsmoke and hearth. And...rosemary. Has he used cologne?

It's too soon that Dammon pulls him back to balance, sitting him up properly. Rolan sways in place, hoping the cover of being drunk is enough to explain the starstruck glaze in his eyes.

Rolan must bite his tongue to stop himself making an absolutely unacceptable sound when he feels Dammon's fingers thread through his hair. Sharp, careful nails scrape the base of his neck and drag upward along his scalp. The violent shiver that overtakes his body is about as controllable as a sudden rainstorm in summer.

"Sorry," Dammon laughs, and begins to pull away.

"Oh don't you dare stop."

A pause, another small breath of laughter. Rolan wishes he was sober, so that he could memorize that beautiful sound in vivid detail, be sure that he could recall it at any moment he chose for the rest of his days.

With a touch so delicate as to belay fear, Dammon carefully pulls his hairtie free and shakes loose the wiry, tangled locks. With no comb nearby, he uses his claws. It's not the touch of a smith, but rather a jeweler, precise and delicate and no more than needed. So gentle. So unbearably delicate. Torture.

He wishes he’d grab a fistful and pull.

Rolan sucks in a breath and even he is surprised at the volume of the smack that comes from his hands against his own face. He's gone mad. He’s out of his godsdamn mind. He's terrible.

Dammon instantly lets go, flinching back. “What!” he pulls on Rolan’s shoulder, trying to get a look to see if he’s hurt himself. “Are you—wh-why—”

Rolan groans and flops back onto the bed, burying his face into the pillow instead. “T-thank you, that’s quite enough!” he panics.

Completely bewildered, Dammon reaches toward him, but hesitates.

He said it didn't need to be scary, but. It is. It’s still so new between them. Fragile and uncertain without structure. A seedling too delicate to bear weight just yet. It's only ten minutes ago they've confessed to feeling something more. Dammon wants this, he’s sure, but he’s painfully aware that he has no idea what he’s doing. How fast to move. And Rolan…deserves the best, after all of it. He deserves joy. Dammon wants to abandon caution and explore this newness, but more than the thrill of it all he wants this—the idea of them—to give Rolan something safe. It needn’t be painful, uncomfortable. It needn’t intimidate either of them.

“Wait here a moment,” Dammon says, his voice calm and soft. He pulls the blanket back to Rolan’s shoulders then steps softly away.

Rolan stays frozen in place, listening over the sound of his own pounding heart as Dammon leaves the room. Once he hears him on the stairs, Rolan sighs, cursing himself under his breath. The mess this man has made of him…shameful. Shameful, the way he’s acting. Drunk. Ridiculous. He’s driven him away now.

No. He said wait. Rolan does. He listens for the creak of the stairs, inexplicably desperate. He's felt this way before, hasn't he. He almost forgot being six. Listening for footsteps on the stairs.

“You won’t come back, will you.”

Out loud, he’s said that. Gods. How pathetic is he going to show himself?

Rolan opens his eyes, staring listlessly at the empty doorway. If he focuses hard enough, he can still feel the ghost of careful hands on his shoulders. If he concentrates, he can remember the warmth and weight of their sides pressed together, that hand gripping his hip ever tighter. Rolan wanted more. Still does. But it wouldn’t be…proper.

Gods. Who cares?

He doesn’t want to care. About appearance. About pretense, impression, fronts. How things are supposed to be done. Dammon doesn’t seem to. He loves that about him, admires it. The most genuine person he’s ever known. Never pretentious, never a liar. Like himself. How can he claim to care for him and yet lie to him—posture in front of him with lavish gifts and braggart peacocking in his big fuckoff tower?

It’s all he’s ever known: display. No one cares for you as you are. No one looks twice at you. No one ever gave one fuck. They struggled for so long. So long. The people most important to him in the world went hungry and abused, all the time, because he wasn't anyone. Couldn't do a damn thing for anyone. He’s better now. He pulled them out of the gutter. He’s worth something now. Isn’t he?

So why isn’t he coming back?

Rolan stares at the photos on his bedside table. He feels his eyes stinging.

“Dammon,” he calls, because he’s drunk, because it’s not fucking fair that he’s alone again. There’s a sob in his voice, anger. No dignity whatsoever. He doesn’t care. “Dammon!”

There are hurried steps in the hall, and Rolan regrets it instantly. Dammon appears in the doorway, alert, a steaming mug in his hand and a small towel draped over his forearm.

“Just here,” he assures, all soft worry and attention. “What’s wrong?” When Rolan doesn’t answer, he comes to sit on the edge of the bed, smiling gently. “Did you think I’d left?”

“No,” he lies. Because that’s all he fucking knows how to do. He groans at himself, shaking his head so that it starts to spin again. “Maybe…”

“I won’t.” He drapes the damp cloth over the back of Rolan’s neck. It’s cool but not cold and feels wonderful. “Not until you want me to.”

Rolan pouts up at him, disgruntled. “Where did you go?”

“To borrow Cal’s kitchen. Apologies to him.” Dammon reaches for the cup, little white steam rising from inside it. “Here.”

He helps Rolan rise, not really sitting up but at least leaning on an elbow so that he can take the cup. Inside is a light amber liquid which he only questions after he’s had a sip. “…Bitter. What issit?”

“Hangover killer. Smiths don’t get the next morning off. Dad set me up with the recipe; never failed him once.”

Rolan takes sleepy sips of the draught, grimacing throughout but refusing to put it aside. In the softness of the scene, Dammon sits by his side with his elbows on his knees and gazes at him.

“What are you smiling at,” grumbles Rolan, his face going darker again.

Dammon laughs softly, his eyes going shy as he turns them downward. “Only thinking.”

“…I don’t suppose you’d be kind enough to share what about.”

“I’d answer anything you asked me.”

Rolan’s heartbeat is doing all sorts of wacky little tricks today. Before he can get hold of himself, Dammon continues, “Thinking how I’ve never had someone to make tea for. It’s nice.”

Rolan wants to tell him he’s the same, that there’s never been anyone in his life he’d wanted to care for so tenderly. To take off their shoes for them, carry them up the stairs, sit by their bedside until they feel safe enough to sleep again. He wants to. Instead, he says, “You’ve got a…unique idea of what tea is.”

Dammon smiles. The picture of patience.

“Thank you,” Rolan adds, so low it’s barely audible.

Dammon takes the empty cup from him, leaning across toward the nightstand to do so. It brings him quite close to Rolan. And when he begins to move away, something in him ignites—cold fire, frightened and desperate. He strikes out and snatches a handful of Dammon’s shirt collar.

Dammon’s startled, but his voice is slow, steady. Hardly a whisper. "...I meant it. I won't leave."

He's...not just talking about right now. Is he. Rolan feels himself start to tremble. So does Dammon.

“Are you alright?”

Rolan shakes his head, dismissive. “I’m fine, just. Feel a bit…dizzy, suddenly.”

“Mm…I might know the feeling.”

Their faces are so close together now, he can smell the sweetness of Dammon’s breath washing down over him. Peach and white wine. Moonlight from the window wages quiet war with the candles inside and their graceful clash drapes the room in flowing shadow. Rolan’s head spins trying to make sense of it all. He feels like they’re in another realm. A dream. Where maybe it’s not as frightening to reach out and touch whatever is hidden from light.

He does. His fingers are clumsy as they tilt Dammon’s chin and turn upward his eyes. Bluegold, like the sun breaking through a long winter’s frost.

"Did you mean what you said to me," he murmurs, his eyes flaring brightly with ache. "Would you take it back?"

Dammon holds his stare. "There's still time, you're saying?"

Rolan feels himself about to cry. He’s so afraid. So exposed. It’s here where they cut away the lifeline, or follow it back to safe ground. His voice shakes, only a whisper. "Still time. Should you have doubts."

Slow, gentle, Dammon slides his fingers beneath the palm of Rolan's hand. You'd think it was carved of precious stone, the way he cradles it so carefully. He raises it to his own face, presses it against his cheek and holds it there. Firm enough to impress his feelings, loose enough that Rolan could pull away.

"No there isn't," Dammon says, and turns his face into Rolan's palm. His lips press the softest kiss into it, a fragile thing, a clockwork butterfly that flutters so small and vulnerable inside the cage of his fingers. And then Dammon folds his hand into a fist.

"And no I wouldn't." His gaze is that of a prisoner looking out from between bars. He repeats what he’s said, nails shut his last window of escape. “Rolan. I care for you in a way I’ve never felt before. I don't know what it is exactly, yet. But I'd like to find out. And what I do know...is I want to feel like something special to you. Something you can use. I want to be for you what I’ve never been for anyone. No one has ever known me that way. I want it to be you.”

Rolan’s breath has abandoned him. He’s whimpering to get it back. His every nerve alight and shimmering like the weave. When he strikes out to grab the back of Dammon’s neck, electric tendrils spark out from his fingertips, unbidden. His eyes are glowing with white light. How swiftly, how easily he surrenders the run of himself.

Before reason can stop him, before sanity can intervene, Rolan wrenches Dammon close and crashes their lips together like tide on shore. What’s left of the wavebreak spills from his eyes, shut tight, brows arched and desperate. He feels Dammon tense, hesitate…then curl toward him. His mouth opens to his tongue and his head rocks in rhythm with the sudden seastorm.

Rolan feels as though he may faint. And like he'll never rest again. He feels awful, and ecstatic, and pathetic and happy and free. He could drink the ocean Dry.

Dammon’s hand snakes around his side and rests in the small of his back. Rolan arcs up toward him, his hands curling around the curve of his skull where it meets his work-tensed neck. Rolan lets himself explore the finely chiseled curves borne of every hammerswing he’d ever struck. The muscles so hard, sinew like braided iron cords—and yet the skin above so delicate soft.

Dammon breaks for breath.

“Rolan,” he mutters, keening, urgent. “S…stop.”

It takes a painful few moments, but Rolan does. He rips himself away with a delirious moan and buries his face instead into Dammon’s neck. His breath rasping hot and ragged. "I'm. Ngh. Sorry."

“It’s just…” Dammon sounds just as overcome. “Not that I don’t…but. You’re drunk, is why. I can’t.”

“Yes,” he whispers, teeth grinding together so tightly that they squeak. “I. Forgive me…I-I don’t know what…I.”

“It’s alright.” His hand grips the back of Rolan’s shirt, the other cupped behind his head. “Shh. Nothing’s wrong.” Dammon laughs, incredulous, giddy and tearful. He plants a kiss into Rolan’s hair, just between his horns. “Far, far from it.”

He clings to Rolan while a thousand fireflies buzz inside the hollow of his chest. He’s never been so happy, he thinks, not in all his life. Rolan is shaking, shrinking into him to try and hide. Though he’s more than a little worried, Dammon is nevertheless glad for the chance to be his haven. Honored. And he doesn’t aim to fall short of the role.

He lays the two of them down in the soft quilts, holds him against his chest. Rolan is beyond speech. For long minutes that stretch into hours, Dammon hushes him softly, repeats assurance and affirmation of safety and peace. Whether because of this, or simply from being so overwhelmed, Rolan eventually sinks below the still pond of sleep.

For a long time, Dammon stares at thin air in a wide-eyed daze. He can hardly believe…it plays over and over in his mind. He keeps still, daring not to move a muscle. He fears to wake him. Fears to shatter the wild dream they’ve fallen into. Gods above. All the fucking hardship. All the loneliness. Done. All of it behind them now. Rolan…

Rolan.

He loves him.

…Oh, gods. He needs to process this. Calm down. But his mind is spinning and he’s so emotionally exhausted, but there’s no chance in six hells he’ll get any sleep tonight. Maybe that’ just as well. He'd been invited for dinner. It would be a wild disrespect to sleep off Rolan’s wine, in Rolan’s house, in Rolan’s bed. On his first proper visit to Rolan’s home. A measure of guilt creeps into the bliss. He's always so concerned with appearances. What would his siblings think? …What would he think, more importantly, if he woke and found Dammon beside him?

As much as he'd like to get lost in the pretty dream of waking up at his side every single day to smiles and sleepsoft kisses...perhaps this time, it’ll be kindest to spare him the morning after. The last thing he wants is to imperil this…this miracle he’s just been given. He’ll wait a while longer, make sure Rolan won’t wake in the night and feel abandoned, and be gone by tomorrow. Tomorrow he will rise and run straight to the tabernacle to thank Tymora. Hells, tomorrow he will sing praise to every god he’s ever heard the name of. But tonight belongs only to himself and Rolan. To him…and the one with whom he is fully, irredeemably, fervently in love.

Audaciously.

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commander-krios · 2 months

Text

Everything

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3 Pairing: Rolan/Dammon Rating: Teen Summary: Rolan's had little time to himself since becoming the Master of Ramazith's Tower. Thankfully, he has friends willing to help him get a break. Words: 3924 Additional Tags: Gift Exchange, Tieflings, Romance, Love, Valentine's Day, Fluff, Post-Canon

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Elturel Tiefling Camp Discord Server Exchange treat for a few Dammon/Rolan lovers!

Rolan had begun taking his midafternoon meal breaks at the Elfsong Tavern, away from the bustle of Sorcerous Sundries. The first reason being it was quieter in the tavern during that time of the day, the majority of the inn’s guests sleeping off their nightly overindulgences while the rest made day trips into the city. The second reason was it made it more difficult for Cal to seek him out with questions about the mundane things, those things that could’ve waited the hour he took to eat and catch up on some reading. This was easier, simpler, and he could sit and ponder his own thoughts before trudging back to some disaster or another at the store.

When someone slipped into the unoccupied chair at his table, however, he was beginning to think that the Gods themselves were plotting against him.

“You look bored.”

Lakrissa watched him with a grin, pushing a glass of wine towards him. He eyed the drink suspiciously before glancing up at her, taking in the perfectly groomed ponytail that tumbled over her right shoulder, her chin propped in her hand, elbow on the table in an undisciplined manner.

“I didn’t order that.” Rolan said instead, ignoring her probing gaze to bury his nose in the book again. She didn’t take the hint, only nudged the glass closer to him. It was a bribe, he realized. For what, he had no idea. “What do you want, Lakrissa?”

She raised her eyebrows before a laugh escaped her lips. “Want? There’s nothing I want from you, mage-boy.”

“Then why-”

“Think of it as a thank you.” She reached into the little pouch on her side, pulling out a scroll, setting it on the table between them.

Rolan stared at it, immediately recognizing the fancy calligraphy and stamp on the document. Swallowing nervously, he lifted the glass and drank deeply, refusing to be baited into the conversation. She had no proof it was him. The silence between them was tense, but when he finally returned the half finished wine to the table, he cleared his throat, glancing away from her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m not stupid. You’re one of the only people who knew about the bard school. I figured it would be denied. Anti-tiefling sentiment is still high after all of this time, especially so soon after Elturel.” Lakrissa returned the scroll to her bag and replaced it with a hastily scribbled letter. Rolan knew Wyll Ravengard’s handwriting mainly from their recent correspondence. There was no mistaking it. “Wyll said you made a convincing argument about opening a school in a letter. His father approved it because of you.”

“I-”

“You don’t have to say anything, Rolan.” Lakrissa told him, securing the letter with the scroll once more. “You owed us nothing, but you helped anyway. So thank you.”

Rolan blushed, fingers trailing over the page of the tome in front of him. He liked Lakrissa, she was one of the only people who saw the reality of their situation from the start. Elturel, goblins, the shadow-cursed lands… and she continued on despite it all. Perhaps because of it all. Rolan had only made everyone’s lives more difficult with his ranting. But they’d still traveled with him and now he had the means to help everyone. He intended to use it.

But one thing he wasn’t expecting was sincere gratitude.

Rubbing the back of his neck, his claws got caught in the strands of the hair loosened from his bun. “Uh, don’t mention it. Please, don’t tell anyone.”

At the pleading in his voice, Lakrissa grinned like a cat who caught the canary. Uh oh. “Oh, I won’t tell anybody. For a price.”

A groan slipped out and he buried his face in his hands. “Hells, what is it now?”

Lakrissa laughed, pouring another glass of Arabellan Dry. Then he watched through his fingers as she stood, tucking the chair back beneath the table. She glanced down at him thoughtfully, as if trying to best articulate what she wished to say. Or maybe she was trying to torture him more, he wouldn’t put that past her.

After a moment more, she sighed, waving towards the exit in the direction of Sorcerous Sundries. “Lia and Cal are worried about you.”

That was unexpected.

“Whatever for?” His hands dropped to the table and he had to resist the urge to grab the wine glass as a barrier against the uncomfortable thoughts that spun at the back of his mind. Worried? About him? All he ever did was worry about them, and now, they had everything they could’ve dreamed for. What was there to worry about?

“When was the last time you went out?”

Scrunching his nose in confusion, Rolan waved to their surroundings sarcastically. “What do you call this?”

“Hiding.”

He scoffed in offense, but didn’t deny it. Because it was true in a way. He was hiding, mostly from Cal’s questions about the Sundries. “I was busy doing work before you so rudely interrupted me.”

“Oh, so rude of me to bring you wine.”

He rolled his eyes, noting her sarcasm but refusing to argue about something so stupid. She was being unusually nice today, but he figured she was as bored as he was, sitting here in the quiet tavern. If she wished to speak to him about something to alleviate that boredom, he’d gladly discuss wine, the latest novel, hells even the Gazette’s more recent gossip, but his personal life was not one of those things.

“How about this then?” She lifted the glass of wine and took a deep drink of it herself. Must’ve been a really slow day. “When was the last time you went out with Dammon?”

His blush deepened at the mention of the man who was… well, not quite his boyfriend, but something close enough. Digging his claws into the wood of the table, he caught the satisfied expression on Lakrissa’s face. She’d gotten under his skin and she knew it. “That’s none of your business.”

She let out a snort, refilling the wine one final time before setting it directly in front of him.

“Don’t you fret, mage-boy. Since you refuse to admit to doing something nice and taking the ‘thank you’ that comes with it, I’m going to find a way to thank you that you can’t refuse.”

“Why does that sound like a threat?”

“Think of it as a promise.” Ruffling his hair like he was one of the tiefling children, Lakrissa laughed when he reached up to knock her hands away in irritation. “And try to be less grumpy, Rolan. As much as it pains me to admit, you’re actually cute when you smile.”

Lakrissa waved before swiping the rest of the wine bottle from the table, leaving with his wild thoughts and burning cheeks. With one final look at the full wine glass beside his book, he pushed his chair back and made a quick exit, intending to put as much distance between him and the Elfsong as possible.

~~~~

“Alfira was here earlier.”

The next day immediately started off on the wrong foot. From the moment he’d woken up, a mischievous specter followed him, creating chaos everywhere he went. First, the lava elemental broke free of its compulsion, wandering outside and nearly setting a house on fire. Then, his projection started malfunctioning, and he had to stand at the desk for hours before Cal came down to relieve him. He’d also had to toss a few troublemaking kids out of the store for trying to steal one of Tolna’s books as a prank.

Gods, he still had a headache from the tongue lashing he’d gotten after.

And now he had to deal with this? It appeared Lakrissa wasn’t simply teasing him, after all.

Rolan glanced up from his accounting books, furrowing his brow at Cal’s words. There were very few reasons as to why the bard would show up at his store and he figured they all had to do with her girlfriend’s threat. “And? Did she say why she was here?”

“Yes.” Cal sauntered over to his desk before dropping a sealed envelope on top of his paperwork. “She left this.”

Rolan stared at the flowery pink paper envelope in concern. “And what is that?”

“Maybe you should open it and read it. It’s addressed to the ‘Master of the Tower’.” Cal sat beside the desk, putting his feet up on the edge. With a glare aimed in his brother’s direction, it only took a moment for Cal to get the hint and drop his feet back to the ground, a sheepish grin on his face. “Sorry.”

He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his thumb. “I’m sure you already know what it says so please, enlighten me.”

Cal nodded, sitting up straighter and smoothing the wrinkles out of his shirt. “They’re throwing a party. For the bard school’s opening. Alfira said it would be a huge favor to her if you came.”

Of course she did. It’d been weeks since he’d done much else besides sit at this desk and update the ledgers for the store: the vault inventory, the supply inventory, the accounting. Lorroakan hadn’t kept any sort of organization for the entirety of his time as Master of the Tower. Rolan didn’t even know if he turned a profit or steadily lost money.

“I have so much left to do-”

“Come on, Rolan. You helped them get the deed to the building. The least you can do is show up and celebrate with them.” Cal dropped his voice, his expression softening significantly. “You should go, have some fun.”

“Does everyone know about that?” Rolan sighed, feeling the fight leave him at Cal’s grin. He never did things for himself, but Cal and Lia… if it meant that much to them, he’d do it even if he hated every second. “Fine. But the moment somebody decides that I need to give a toast because I helped, I’m leaving.”

“I don’t think you need to worry about that. No one is willing to stroke your ego. It’s big enough as it is.”

Rolan coughed to cover the laugh that threatened to expose him. “I think you need to spend time with someone who isn’t Lia.”

“You’re just mad because she’s right.”

Ignoring the barb, Rolan realized he hadn’t seen his sister all week. She hadn’t lived in the Tower for a few months now. The Flaming Fist barracks were comfortable enough and Lia refused to spend every quiet moment with her brothers (or so she said), but she at least visited on occasion. Strange.

“Where is Lia, anyway?”

“Oh, uh…” Cal rubbed the back of his neck and averted his eyes to the floor, pretending to study the intricate tiles. Rolan didn’t need to spell detect thoughts to know that his brother was running through a hundred different excuses for their sister, before choosing what was most believable. Whatever was next out of his mouth was going to be a lie. “She’s… working?”

“Are you asking me or is that your answer?” Rolan tapped his feather pen against the envelope, tempted to open it to see the words for himself. “Because last I remember, Lia works the overnight shift.”

“She’s picked up some extra work.” Cal rushed to explain, standing as if that would stop the interrogation. “Alfira mentioned Dammon would be there. If that changes things.”

“Oh?” He tried not to sound interested, but gods dammit, it’d been too long since they’d seen each other. Maybe a public appearance among drunken bards wouldn’t be as awful as he thought. If he managed to avoid the singing. “I might be able to squeeze in a quick word with everyone.”

He almost missed the smile on Cal’s face as he slipped out of the door. “Whatever you say, Rolan.”

~~~~

The Elfsong Tavern was in chaos when he set foot inside. Drinks were poured freely, multiple bards were singing off key between hiccups, and others were guffawing and cheering along with the song. Or perhaps it was songs. None of the tunes were the same. Rolan spied Lakrissa near the bar, a glass of wine in each hand. She weaved through the crowd, a bright smile on her face as she watched the revelry. It was all a bit much for him, but he’d promised Lia that he’d make an effort to connect with the rest of the Elturel survivors.

He could do this.

“Rolan!”

He turned as Alfira appeared at his side, and without warning, she threw her arms around his waist, hugging him tightly against her smaller form. Using her lute must’ve given her a set of strong biceps because for a brief moment, Rolan struggled for air.

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you!”

She smelled suspiciously like a fruity wine and when she glanced up at him, Rolan immediately noticed her flushed cheeks. “Already drunk, hmm?”

Alfira giggled, nudging his arm as soon as she released her hold on him. “No, silly. I’m having fun. You do know what that is, correct?”

Lakrissa slid up next to them, holding out one of the glasses of wine towards him expectantly. When he only stared back, she raised an eyebrow before thrusting it into his hand. “Take it, dumbass.”

“Uh, thanks.”

“It’s your favorite.” Lakrissa said, handing the second glass to Alfira who took it happily. He slanted his eyes at her, immediately suspicious. “Drink up. Enjoy yourself. There are plenty of drinks to go around.”

He briefly considered asking her what her ploy was. She was definitely up to something, but decided an argument was a worse choice than simply drinking the wine. So, with a forced smile, he took a long sip, waiting for the inevitable hammer fall.

Rolan wanted to leave, these types of events always made him anxious about performing well enough to be considered ‘polite and stimulating company’, but this was their party and celebration. Even if he didn’t particularly enjoy being around all of these people, it wouldn’t be proper for him to rush off. The wine hit his tongue with its familiar woodsy flavor, the berry lingering as he swallowed it down. Lakrissa watched him intently, her mouth twitching into a smirk as if she knew exactly what he was thinking.

“If the crowd is a bit much, there are some fabulous views from the roof.”

“Why would I-”

Slipping her arm around Alfira’s waist, she turned back to the party, glancing over her shoulder at him with a conspiratorial look. “You can thank me later.”

Once Alfira and Lakrissa blended into the crowd, the sudden desire to flee tickled his mind. It would be so easy to disappear, to return to the Tower and forget this entire night happened. He figured no one would even notice, too drunk and invested in the party to realize that a guest was missing.

But he hadn’t seen Dammon yet.

And despite everything he’d thought earlier, he really did want to see him tonight.

The best course of action would be to go to the rooftop where it would luckily be quieter and wait until Dammon either appeared or he didn’t. Then, he could slink off into the night with no one the wiser.

~~~~

The roof of the Elfsong was much quieter, though the rumble of the party could be heard beneath his feet. With a quick sweep of his gaze, he noted the cushions set up beneath a pergola and a small table with chairs off to the side. The air smelled strongly of flowers: roses, lavender, and fuchsia, a tantalizing combination that helped to ease the anxiety in his chest.

He breathed deeply of the cool night air, not cold enough to need additional layers, but enough to make him shiver slightly as a breeze loosened his hair from his bun. With a disgruntled sound, he attempted to gather the hair in his hands but the wind made it impossible.

“Leave it. I like it down.”

His hands froze, the strands slipping from his fingers, and he turned, his darkvision making it easy to see what he’d missed during his first sweep of the area. A pair of piercing blue eyes ringed in gold, golden hair pulled into a bun over an undercut, and a set of familiar horns.

His breath caught at the sight. “Dammon.”

The tiefling blacksmith slipped his hands into the pockets of his slacks, smiling up at him. He wasn’t wearing his usual garb, the things he wore in his day to day work. No, tonight he looked comfortable in a pair of dark slacks and a loose tunic, tucked into his waistband. Simple, but effective and Rolan couldn’t stop from staring.

“Fancy seeing you at one of these parties. I didn’t think you ever left that Tower anymore.”

Rolan flushed, grateful for the darkness and the wind blowing the hair in front of his face, if only to hide his embarrassment. “Yes, well, things have been busy. Swamped, really.”

Dammon’s gaze trailed over his robes, one of the dressier ones from Facemaker’s, bought at a price that he’d balked at before Lia forced him to hand the coin over. But with how the other tiefling’s eyes flitted across his chest at the gleaming gemstones and down the length of the sleeves at the elaborate embroidering, Rolan knew it was worth it. If only to be admired by him.

“Glad you could pull yourself away.”

There was no judgment, no anger or disappointment, just Dammon being… Dammon. Kind, understanding, accepting. He turned to walk to the edge of the balcony, his face hidden in the shadows.

Rolan followed without even realizing it. They stood, side by side, so close that Rolan could feel the warmth of his skin on his own. It wouldn’t take much to reach out, take his hand, perhaps press a kiss to the inside of his wrist.

“Lia’s been helping out at the forge.” Dammon’s admission pulled him from his thoughts. The blacksmith glanced down at the street below, watching as the people milled about, laughing and drinking and singing. The party was in full swing, yet here they were standing above it all, watching the city shed inhibitions and find joy in the mundane. They were safe, they were happy, and they were free. “She’s been trying to lighten my load so we could… have this.”

“Some time to ourselves without the crushing weight of responsibility?”

Dammon chuckled, leaning an arm against the banister, eyes on a fixed point in the distance. For a man who worked with weapons most of the day, there was something so soft about him. It’d taken Rolan too long to figure out what it was. His eyes. When Dammon looked at a person, he saw many things but the first and foremost was that he saw their soul. Not the facade they put up, but who they were beneath. At one time, it scared Rolan to be seen so deeply but now… now he craved the horrifying ordeal of being known by another person.

Of being known by this man in particular.

Rolan sighed as Cal’s sudden onslaught of questions, all in regards to the running of Sorcerous Sundries, began to make more sense. “It seems Cal was trying to do the same.”

The sounds of a lute and a lyre floated out of the windows of the Elfsong and people on the streets began to spin in a dance of wild limbs and stumbling feet, too drunk to do much else besides rocking back and forth or falling. The rest of the city stretched out ahead, lights flickering against a velvety black backdrop, the stars above burning as brightly as the streetlamps.

He didn’t know what possessed him. Maybe it was the Arabellan Dry still tingling on his tongue. Perhaps it was the beautiful sounds of Alfira’s lute from below. Or it could’ve very well been the fact that his family, his friends, the people who cared about him, had done so much to give him this peace.

Rolan’s hand slipped into Dammon’s, noting how easily their fingers slotted together.

He’d always wanted somewhere to call home. For years, it had been Cal and Lia and the little family they’d built out of the ashes of their lives. But the upheaval by the descent into Avernus, the difficult road traveled to Baldur’s Gate, Lorroakan and everything with the Netherbrain… he didn’t think he’d find happiness again, only pain.

He was grateful to be completely wrong.

“What are you-”

“Shh.” Rolan tilted his head to the side, nodding to the dancers below, a smile curling his lips. “Do you hear that?”

Dammon raised his eyebrows, amusement flitting across his features. “The music? It’s kind of difficult not to.”

“And what do people do when they hear music, Dammon?”

The blacksmith rolled his eyes, but his face softened more than Rolan thought was possible. He straightened, turning towards Rolan with expectation. “Why don’t you tell me? So I don’t get it wrong?”

Butterflies went to war in his stomach, but the challenge in Dammon’s eyes was intoxicating. He was going to make him say the words. Despite his intelligence, his knack for learning and doing things his own way, Rolan struggled with the right words. But action, that was easier.

His free hand slid along Dammon’s waist, their entwined hands turned into proper position. When Dammon met his gaze again, his eyes burned like blue fire ringed in gold. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth, his heart pounded out like a war drum in his chest, but he managed to force a single question out before he lost his nerve.

“Dance with me?”

Dammon’s eyes widened slightly before a grin spread across his face. His hand tangled in Rolan’s loose hair, strands sliding his fingers. Then he leaned in, lips brushing softly against Rolan’s, the contact a shock but a welcome one. His mouth was warm in the cool night, and he drank him in like a man who hadn’t touched a drop of water in days. His skin burned, his heart threatened to dance right out of his damned chest, and still, it wasn’t enough.

Rolan shifted closer, wrapping both arms around Dammon’s waist, deepening the kiss with a swipe of tongues and teeth. Everywhere their bodies touched, Rolan felt like he was on fire, flames beneath his skin threatening to burn him to ash. And it would be a good way to go, he thought, as the kiss finally broke.

Because with the way Dammon was staring up at him, smiling like he was nothing more than a drunken fool, Rolan understood. What they had was important, as important as anything else in his life. And he was going to fight like hell for more nights like this.

“I thought we were supposed to be dancing.” Dammon whispered, breath ghosting against Rolan’s cheek as a laugh left his mouth.

“Do you want to?” He asked, hoping he didn’t sound as breathless as he felt. “Dance, I mean.”

Dammon ran his hand through his hair again, but his gaze never slanted away. Chills ran down Rolan’s spine at the intensity of his eyes that he almost didn’t hear the words. “It was your idea, but I like this too.” His lips brushed against Rolan’s briefly before he pulled back, nothing but tenderness on his face.

And Rolan couldn’t help but agree.

This was nice.

It was everything.

#my writing #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanfic #bg3 rolan #bg3 dammon #bg3 lakrissa #bg3 alfira #rolan x dammon #dammon x rolan #gift exchange

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cactusnymph · 24 days

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hugs #4 for dammon x rolan ?

Rolan feels like the air itself is choking him.

His mouth tastes like blood and his entire body hurts, screaming at him to lie down an rest. But he can't rest. He can't stop—shouldn't stop, shouldn't—

He can't breathe.

Lia and Cal are gone and he can't do a godsdamned thing to get them back. Rolan curses the rudimentary magical powers he never really got to develop and no matter how proud he is of what he already accomplished his magic didn't do anything to help him when his siblings got dragged away from him.

They're gone. They could be tortured and killed right now and Rolan is kneeling on the ground, his fingers digging into the dirt below him as he tries to count the seconds.

Breathe in. Hold. Breathe out.

Breathe in. Hold—Lia and Cal screaming his name, Cal's wide eyes, Lia's defiant shouts—

"Hey, do you need help?"

It takes Rolan's brain a few long, agonizing seconds to register that someone is speaking to him. His robes are bloody and covered in dust and soot and he feels as if he hasn't breathed fresh air in years.

What if they're dead? What if Rolan is all alone now, his entire world shattered—

"Alright there. It's Rolan, right? We can breathe together, see if that helps. One, two, three—"

Warm, strong hands covered in callouses wrap around his wrists. Rolan's senses narrow in on the voice and the feeling of skin on skin as he slowly follows the melody of the numbers, trying his best to get his breathing back under control.

When he finally looks up Dammon's face swims into view, his eyebrows pulled together in worry and his head tilted.

Rolan swallows.

"I'm alright", he croaks, realizing how idiotic that sounds. His face is bloody, bruised and streaked with tears. But he was never one to confide in others or accept help easily. The fact that Dammon has seen him like this burns shamefully in his stomach as if someone dropped coals down his throat.

"It's okay if you're not", Dammon says softly and releases Rolan's wrists. "Would you like some water?"

Rolan nods silently and awkwardly gets up from the ground. His legs are still shaking and his head is swimming, but he refuses to kneel and cower in front of a virtual stranger any longer than he already has.

He didn't even realize that he broke down in the shadows of the inn close to Dammon's workshop, but now that he looks around he can see the tools and weapons and smell oils and leathers.

If Lia and Cal were here they would tease him for ending up here of all places. Rolan swallows and keeps concentrating on his breathing.

"Here you go. Have a seat. Pardon my language, but you look like hell."

Rolan doesn't answer. He doesn't know what to say. He must reek of sweat and dirt and shadow creature innards. There's a long silence as Rolan forces himself to sip the water Dammon handed him while he does his best to look anywhere but at Dammon who hovers close by as if Rolan might topple over any second.

"I'm sorry about your siblings", Dammon finally says, his voice soft and way too gentle.

Rolan doesn't need gentle. He needs the steel reserve to go and get them back.

Fuck.

"I tried to get them back, but I barely made it out of the bubble before—"

His words die in his throat as he grabs the glass so tight that it shakes in his fingers.

Dammon takes the glass out of his hands, probably to stop it from breaking in his grip. Rolan feels the overwhelming urge to curse the stranger who went to save the kidnapped people, just like they busted in and convinced him to stay with the refugees, to help fight.

The truth is that they would have to cross these lands alone otherwise. Rolan isn't stupid. But he needs to hold into his anger, or else he fears that he might simply break down.

"Trust others to help", Dammon says and grabs Rolan's shoulders. "I know we're used to try and solve all our own problems, but they're one of us, right? They'll do their best and your siblings will be safe. But you also need to stay safe so they have someone to come home to."

Rolan stares at Dammon.

In another situation he would have called this talk of hope and trust stupid and ridiculous but his throat is burning with more unshed tears and this is all he has. The hope that someone else will do what he couldn't.

"I—I can't lose them", Rolan finally whispers, the terrible truth that grips his heart with an iron fist.

"You won't. It'll be alright", Dammon says again with a small smile and Rolan has no idea if he's so naive to actually believe it or if he just says it to humor Rolan. He has no time to ponder this further, because Dammon kneels down in front of the log Rolan is seated on before he pulls Rolan forward and right into a warm, tight hug.

Rolan's thoughts grind to a halt and his entire body tenses before collapsing into itself and the hug.

Fuck.

"We'll make it. We're all going to make it."

And in this steady embrace Rolan can almost believe it.

feel free to send me one of these <3

#bg3 rolan #bg3 dammon #dammon #rolan #dammon x rolan #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #bg3 fic #mi writes #bless you for indulging my weird rarepair tastes anon <3333 #i wuv them

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