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My hedonist nature cleric took an NPC to bed at the end of the last sessions, so I wrote about his little 'side adventure'

The tavern's common room had finally, mercifully calmed down. It had been quite the afternoon. First, the specter who had given the bar its name had made an appearance, which was always an event. What she sang though was different, haunting (which, considering the source...), and even though I didn't speak Elvish, left me feeling like someone was staring at me. I didn't much care for it. So I was already on edge when the men came into the tavern. Pirates, by the look of them, demanding Tarina. I knew Tarina by reputation, but she never gave me the time of day. They weren't offering any reward for her or anything, so I kept my mouth shut and on the edge of my flagon.

There were some others though, who seemed keen on keeping the pirates away from Tarina. Three of them were wearing Order of the Manticore badges, but they didn't much look like guards. Outnumbered two-to-one, I thought I knew how this argument was going to turn out. I was wrong though. Once the fight started, it became clear that the Manticores had some spellcasters in their ranks. Tarina herself even shot a couple from the top of the stairs.

I didn't want to get involved, this wasn't my fight. I had backed out of the way once the spells started flying. When one of the pirates stuck a knife in my side though, it became my fight. Well, it became my fight for self-defense, I still didn't care about Tarina or the Manticores. With the numbers evened out, the priates didn't really stand a chance, and soon they were a memory. I sat back at my table, grunting from the wound in my side and being pissed that blood was going to ruin a good shirt.

When the elf came up to me, I was worried. I didn't want to get recruited in to the Manticores, no matter how much they saw in me from the fight. I didn't like my life as it was, but I wasn't about to go signing up with them. He said nothing, though, as he put a hand over my wound. A few muttered words later and a glow from his fingers, and I was feeling much better. I gently touched where the wound had been and found it healed.

The relief from pain, and a few pints of after-fight ale, had gotten my head spinning a bit. It was a victory, and so I should celebrate, I thought. I caught myself looking over at the elf from time-to-time as he made arrangements with the owner, and talked with Tarina, and finally settled in with his companions to drink and eat. As the night wound down, though, there were fewer and fewer of us in the common room. Soon, there was really only me and him from earlier, and a few drifters who had come in after the fight.

We were talking, and laughing, about what I can't remember, when he caught my eyes with his and asked, “So, you wanna go to bed?”

The question caught me off-guard. No one in Baldur's Gate was this straightforward. For a moment, I just kind of opened and closed my mouth, like words would just come out if my jaw kept moving. I hadn't been with a man in a while, and never with a male elf. It wasn't that the idea sickened me. The stories they told about Elven beauty seemed to work for their men as well as their women.

“Why me?” I finally stammered out. It was the least insulting reply I could manage.

The elf shrugged. “Why not? You helped me out in that fight, and I figure a night with someone is better than a night alone.”

There was a moment where I felt insulted. That's all that mattered, that I was here? That died quickly though. I didn't want to join the Manticores because I didn't want to be tied to a group. Maybe just being with someone tonight would be ok, even if that was all it would ever be.

I nodded finally, and the elf smiled at me. He kicked back his flagon, draining in a couple of gulps, and invited me to do the same. I followed suit, and before my mug even hit the table, his hand was on my wrist. We stood up, and he led me upstairs, tossing a gold piece on the bar for our drinks. One of the things I overheard him talking about was a room away from his companions. I wasn't going to pry, not then and certainly not now.

The rooms at the Elfsong tavern were comfortable enough to avoid too many complaints from the tenants, but not comfortable enough that people didn't want to leave them, or that they'd be too expensive to refurnish in the event of some wrecking them up. They were just like the Elfsong itself, fine.

Confident that we were alone after he locked the door, I gave myself a few seconds to admire what before I had only been glimpsing at. He was shorter than I was, most elves were. His hair was a bright red color I hadn't seen on people before, and his skin was tanned dark brown from the pair of suns overhead. His face was all sharp angles, his nose and chin matching the pointy ears that he had been given from his parents. His eyes were a bright shade of green, and they were wet with drink.

I felt his hand on my chest, and he pushed me until I was sitting on the bed. He started by removing his armor and weapons, casting them aside. Remembering that I was also armed, I followed his lead, setting my sword aside and out of reach, to show him that I trusted him as much as he seemed to trust me. Reduced to our underclothes, I could feel his eyes on me, but I was busy taking in his form. Without the bulk of his armor, he was rail-thin. I wondered for a moment how he was even able to wear that suit without it breaking it.

He didn't spend much time in that grimy tunic, quickly peeling it off his frame. Except for the top of his head and his eyebrows, there wasn't another hair on his upper body. Unlike some others that I had seen, he was unscarred, his beauty untainted by wounds. Maybe it was the healing magic that let him close up injuries before they scarred over. Before I could really stop myself, my hands were out, touching his stomach and the bump of his hips. He smiled down at me, reaching for my own tunic and stripping it off me just as quickly as his own.

With both of us half-nude, he put his face close to mine. His hand, free of my shirt, found purchase in the tuft of black chest hair that I had, and he leaned in to kiss me softly. My last time with another man hadn't been entirely romantic, and this tenderness shocked me again, much as his frankness had. I pushed my lips against his, and when he opened his mouth I could taste as much as smell whatever he had just been drinking. I wanted more, so I pushed my tongue against and then inside his lips, tasting more of the elf that had healed my wounds.

His fingers curled against my skin, squeezing my pec lightly as we kissed. I don't know how long we sat there, kissing, but it wasn't long before he broke the kiss. His lips worked their way down my chin, across my stubble without pause, and down my neck. I shivered, as I had never been kissed by that before, and his lips on my neck was sending sparks to my ale-muddled brain. He continued downward though, his lips and tongue finding my collarbone and staying there for a second. He moved his hand, and his lips found the nipple that had been hiding under his palm. I shifted in the bed, grunting a bit. He must have taken that as a sign that I didn't like that, and with a muttered apology, moved on.

Small kisses marked my stomach until he followed the trail of dark hair to the waist of my pants. Only then did his lips leave my body, and his nimble Elven fingers made short work of the knot that kept my trousers on my hips. I started to lift my ass, trying to get the cloth from underneath, but he put his hands on my thighs and pushed me back down. Undoing enough of the knotwork, he reached in under my loincloth and wrapped his hand around the base of my penis.

It was already half-hard when he pulled it from my trousers. I had never been ashamed of my size before (well, nearly, there were a couple of times I saw some half-orcs coming out of the nearby bathhouse...), but having it in the hands of another man stirred up more than just the blood. From my view, all I could see was the top of his head, the point where his red hair seemed to sprout from in the center of the top, and nothing else. If he was smirking at it, or marveling in awe, I wouldn't be able to tell either way.

He started to stroke it firmly, bunching the skin up at the top and then working it back down. Then I felt what could only be his tongue, hot and wet, run across the very tip, and I let out a moan of pleasure. On the end of the next downstroke, his tongue once again grazed the tip of my cock, just behind the head. He was practiced at this, and I wasn't going to complain. Another slip of his tongue sent a bolt of fire up my length, making my hips shiver. He lifted his head for a moment, and I was about to say something before I felt a hot puff of breath wash over the tip.

Then I felt his lips descend, his hand keeping the skin pulled back so that I could feel as they made contact. Almost on instinct, I bucked my hips forward, pushing the head of my cock into his lips, sinking them into his warm, wet mouth. He didn't seem to mind, though, as he started to suckle on the tip, nursing at it before his lips slid lower.

I could feel the sensitive glans rub against the roof of his mouth, contrasting sharply with the soft and velvet-like tongue pushing up from underneath. Keeping his lips tight to the skin, he started to bob his head up and down the length of my cock. Wet slurping noises filled the room, but it felt so good I didn't care if any of the neighboring rooms could hear. At a loss for what else to do, I rested my hand on the crown of his head, not wanting to dare try and tell him how to do this wonderful job.

I grew to full hardness in his mouth, the moaning from beneath me becoming a bit more muffled as his mouth filled. I felt the urge to grab those pointed ears and just use that wonderful mouth of his like a sleeve, but I held back. He was clearly loving this, and I was loving that he was loving it. More of my shaft disappeared into his hungry mouth, and I could feel the back of his throat collide with the tip. After just a few minutes of tender mouth loving, I felt a small bit of fluid leak into the elf's mouth.

He pulled away after that. I started to stammer out an apology, but he just held a finger up and put it to my lips. Then he stood, and started to remove his own pants. He could see something tenting the front of his trousers, and knew that he was going to have a hard time removing them on his own. I moved to help him, but he took hold of my wrist again. He motioned for me to fully remove my own clothes. After some wriggling around on the bed, I managed to do just that.

By the time I had worked the last of the fabric free from my hips, he had finished removing his clothing. He stood like a bronze statue in the lamplight. His thighs and legs were as hairless as his torso, and that only made the erection that he was sporting look larger. Again, not being around too many penises other than mine, I couldn't say if it was larger than average or not. I could only compare it to my own, standing up from my own hips, glistening from spit and pre.

Before I could utter another word, he was pushing on my chest again, up and unto the bed fully, his legs on either side of my hips. He pushed me onto my back, then, in a kind of kneeling, kind of standing position, loomed over me. I wasn't sure what was going to happen at this point, but after the start, I didn't much care. I wanted his body, and my dick was twitching with every beat of my heart. It needed to be in something, it needed to be in him.

Fortunately, he obliged. Reaching two fingers into his mouth, which he hadn't opened since his tongue bath of my shaft, he rooted around for a moment before putting them out. I could see thin strands, like spider web thread, connecting his fingertips to his lips. Reaching behind him with his 'clean' hand, he spread one of the bronze cheeks, and pushed his fluid covered fingers between them. After a few seconds of grunting and twisting, I realized what he was doing.

I wished that I could see. I wished that I could see him preparing the entrance that he was about to wrap around my dick. I could only imagine what those fingers looked like, what they felt like, pushing warm gel around his ring, preparing to take my cock. Reaching up, I started to run my hands on his hips, tracing the little lines that pointed to his own throbbing shaft with my thumbs. He bucked a little bit into my hands, but finally smiled at me with the grin of a cat.

Grabbing my dick with the fingers that had moments before been inside him, were still warm from his internal body heat, he pulled it into position. I was surprised, but figured that since he was so good at the blowjobs, this too must be something he practiced. He didn't give me any answer as he pointed my dick straight up in the air.

I stopped looking at his eyes, and instead stared down my own body, hairy and primal by comparison, as the elf sank. The head of my dick went between his taut buttchecks, resting against some resistance. With a grunt, he kept pushing, and the pressure kept building on my glans until I was sure it was going to snap. Something snapped, but it wasn't my dick. I felt the pressure suddenly ease up as I entered him, penetrated him.

If his mouth was good, his ass was divine. The ring settled around my head like it was made to fit, like a key to a lock. Slowly, the elf began to sit down, and I watched as my python was fed inside. The widest part disappeared into him, and I could feel the muscles clench. The tip of my dick rubbed against something, a small, hard nub inside. Whatever it was, the elf let out a little yelp of pleasure as they collided.

Then, he started riding. Slowly working his way up and down my shaft, more of it going in with each downstroke, I pushed against and then past the nub. I moaned and bucked my hips, wanting to drive more of it inside. Maybe he had sensed that about me. Maybe he thought I would be too rough of a lover, and he wanted control. Maybe he just wanted to thank me.

Whatever the reason, I lay, moan and writhing under the elf as his ass absorbed and massaged my cock. For such a lithe thing, I was half-expecting to see an outline of my shaft in his stomach, but he took it like a champ. In almost no time at all, he was leaning his hands against my chest, pushing up with his arms as much as he was pulling.

His tunnel grabbed and tugged, snagged at my dick as it spread him. No matter how much he tried to control it, no matter how much he had prepared himself, my dick was skewering his insides, and his muscled tunnel was holding onto it tight. The friction felt so good, sparks of light were hitting my hips, causing me to quiver and shake.

He was shaking too, his fingers trembling in my tuft of chest hair as he rode me into the bed. Whatever I had thought about him being concerned about my roughness were wrong. He was treating me like a steak, like a piece of meat. He was using me to pound himself stupid.

I didn't last long. I would blame it on the liquor, I would blame it on the stress, but the truth is that I was horny, and he felt too good. I came inside that elf's ass, and I came hard. As soon as the heat of my spunk entered his guts, his ass clamped down upon my cock. He continued to ride, milking my orgasm dry as my balls fed him everything he seemed to want.

It wasn't the first time I came that night, and he got off a couple of good shots as well, but after that first blast my mind was gone. He was right. Spending the night with someone was so much better than spending it alone.