Diotima After Dark

Warning: Very NSFW. Contains sex, non-traditional relationships, and a tiefling girl with limited experience with men trying to like… write about a sexual encounter between her girlfriend and their friend. So uh. Yeah. That.

So, this is my first attempt at a) writing using an outline from someone else and b) writing about my girlfriend having the sex with someone else. It was more difficult than I expected, not because I found it weird, but because I wanted to do her justice. Like… I love her, right? So I wanted her to love the story and ‘see’ herself in what I wrote. I hope I did good, Vul!

Also… to all of you reading: Thank you very much! I really do appreciate it!

#writing #erotica #erotic #nsfw #sex #shortstory

“The stars are beautiful tonight.” Runar offers, quietly, the arm he has wrapped around his melancholy friend giving her a gentle squeeze. “They’re always so much clearer this time of year.”

Vul nods, silent, her thoughts on her wife. They’d just said a teary goodbye that morning, marking at least another six months until they saw each other again. This was always hardest… the days after the inevitable goodbye, the time until they’re together again at its longest. Suppressing the urge to cry… shivering in the cold… she shifts, snuggling closer to her ‘more than friend.’

“And… you’re shivering.” Runar says, setting his wine down. “Why don’t we head inside? This unseasonable weather is lovely, but we are still in the midst of winter.” Pausing, he adds “Unless you’d rather stay out here? I don’t want to rush you if you prefer-”

Vul, issuing a short laugh, slides out from under his arm. “No. I mean, yes, let’s go inside. I’m fucking freezing. And-” She says, raising her empty glass in way of emphasis “we’re out of wine anyway.” They’d polished off one bottle… an inexpensive dessert wine they’d picked up near the docks… and she was a little buzzed.

“So we are.” Runar agrees, rising to head inside, displaying no signs that the alcohol had affected him at all. “I have another bottle if you’d like, or we can try something different. Perhaps something dry, red…” By his tone, he is clearly teasing… he knows her well enough to know what she likes, and reds…

“Sure, if you want me to vom.” Vul replies, tapping him on the arm as she passes by. And as she enters his home, seeing it cluttered with her overnight bag, her shopping, the dishes left from dinner, the remnants of her… their… her… stay… Sorry, it’s minging in here. I just throw my shit everywhere, don’t I?” She issues a short laugh as she moves to tidy up the mess they’ve made.

“Vul, you don’t have to-” Runar starts. Come now. You’re my guest, not my maid. Sit with me?”

“In a minute.” Vul replies, her irritation evident in her tone… that anachronistic language she and Dio share slipping out. “It’s a shit tip in here, fuck, sorry…”

“Vul! It’s quite alright. The mess can wait. Let it be.” He’s gentle with his admonishment. He knows her well enough to understand, but he knows that if she gets spun up, she’ll be at it all night. “Please, sit.”

“Okay, in a minute, I’m just-” Vul starts, heading for his small dining table after she’s placed her bags in something less than disarray. Runar, however, has other plans, half rising to intercept her. Taking her by the arm, he pulls her into his lap in his favorite, albeit well-worn, armchair.

“As I said, you don’t need to do that.” He says, gently.

Vul sighs, defeated, settling into his lap. “I know. I know… but I need to do something to take my mind off of… everything.” A pause, a look of momentary anguish. “What if something happens? What if she’s hurt on the way back, what if she’s-”

“Nothing is going to happen.” He interrupts, stroking her hair. “And if it does, she is more than capable of handling herself.” Runar pulls her closer, an arm around her to both stabilize her in the seat and to prevent her running off to tidy. “We’ve both seen Dio when she’s angry; I pity anyone who ends up on the wrong side of her wrath.” He’s teasing, a little, trying to dispel the worry that she always gets after Dio departs.

“You don’t know that.” Vul replies, protesting. “She’s been hurt before, traveling, you know.” Dio had been flippant when describing that encounter, but Vul knew that it was a closer call than Dio had, perhaps, let on. “I’m fucking terrified something is going to happen to her. Don’t you ever worry?” She melts into him, half hiding her face as she asks.

Runar, still petting her hair, replies . “Yes, sometimes. I worry about both of you; your journey may be shorter but it isn’t without its perils. But I also trust you both enough to know that you’d ask for help if you needed it.” Kissing the top of her head, he pauses before adding “Perhaps you more than Dio. But Vul, If I didn’t think she was capable of protecting herself, I’d have offered to go with her.”

Vul, muffled, replies “Really?” She is admittedly a little shocked… Runar’s world experience begins and ends in Baldur’s Gate and the surrounding towns. He’s always expressed discomfort at the idea of traveling, so to hear him say he’d travel to protect them, well… it is unexpected to say the least. “You know she would say no, though.”

“She’d have more to say than no, I imagine.” Laughing, he adds “But yes. Honestly, yes. Oh, I would hate leaving the city,” he says, offering her a squeeze. “As uncomfortable and annoyed as she would be having me tag along.” Adopting a higher pitch… a passable impersonation of Dio… he says “Ugh, dude, like… I didn’t need your help, go home!”

Vul snorts. “Don’t be a dick. She’d love to have you along, you know she likes you.” Jokes aside, though, she appreciates the sentiment. Leaning up to kiss the side of his mouth, she says. “But thank you.”

In response he kisses her back, tilting her head gently to meet her lips directly. He’s said more than he intended to say, perhaps… suggested aloud something that they all knew to be true, but chose not to mention. “I... you’re welcome.” At a rare loss for words, he kisses her again.

Vul leans into his kiss, the ghost of the wine they’d had on his lips, his tongue. “….” She is quiet, as she often is in these situations, her heterochromatic eyes revealing her hunger in ways that she has never been able to put into words. Her hand glides along the hem of his shirt before finding its way under, fingertips tracing lines across the ridges of his ribs, his patchwork of scars…

Breaking away for a moment, he asks, a roughness coloring his words “You are sure?”

Vul, by way of answer, leans back into the kiss.

“That is a yes, then.” Runar growls, softly. He’s… this is not their first time together; Vul, he knows, communicates her assent through action, not words. A momentary spike of guilt… she’s lonely, she’s hurting… flits across his consciousness. But her delicate fingertips on his skin, her tongue’s tentative exploration of his mouth, push those thoughts out of his mind.

“You…” He begins, losing the thought almost as soon as it begins as Vul’s nails trail gently down his back. His hands, seemingly of their own volition, find their way under her shirt, lifting, Vul acquiescing by breaking away long enough to allow him to remove it, to run his fingers along her smooth olive skin, trailing lines along her ribs, hips, cupping her breasts… giving her a gentle squeeze as he leans in to kiss her again.

Vul, shivering and sighing, tugs at the hem of his shirt, wanting to feel his uncommonly warm skin on hers, to curtail the chill of the evening in his heat, to assuage the the hollow ache of her loneliness in the embrace of her friend and sometimes lover, this poorly kept secret she and her wife shared… had shared, in actuality. “…” She tugs again, more insistent this time, letting out a little growly whine.

Runar, breaking their kiss to respond, whispers “I have a better idea.” Standing slowly, giving her time to wrap her arms around his neck, legs around his hips, her carries her to his bed.

By unspoken pact, their remaining clothing is discarded, the embers of their mutual desire fanned by the anticipation of what they both know is to come… laying next to one another, lips pressed Runar’s fingers parting Vul, teasing, eliciting gasps of surprise, small protestations of pleasure.

Vul, half rolling to reach, bites, marking her lover’s shoulders, chest, collarbone with purplish bruises, the outline of her teeth, his growls of pleasure spurring her on, marking him as hers, if only in these moments. And when his teasing intensifies… when his finger slips into her, momentarily, his ministrations escalating…

“Wait.” Vul says breathlessly, taking his wrist in her hand, pulling him away. She’s not ready, not yet… she wants more, she wants this, but she wants… well, everything. And if she lets him tease her like this, she’ll… there won’t be… she won’t be able to… “Wait…” She repeats, kissing his mouth, his chest… the scars crisscrossing his stomach…

...and, after running an idle hand down his thigh, wraps a delicate, labor calloused hand around him, taking him into her mouth.

Vul’s eyes are half closed, as her hand and her mouth work in tandem… feeling his reactions, his shudders, adapting her technique to suit, her empathic, intuitive side understanding what he needs without the need for thought. And though she is submissive, shy even when she’s with a lover, this act… having him, this way… she is in control, and she likes it that way. Breaking away for a moment to catch her breath… Runar is, as she has discovered before, not a small man… she runs her tongue along the length of him, pleased when he exhales with an involuntary, breathless “Fuck, Vul…!”

Pleased, a small smile on her face, she returns to her task… the fingers of her free hand brushing his thighs, taking him into her mouth more fully, her tongue rippling, teasing. Runar’s hand is gently stroking her hair… his other, is trailing along her thigh, wanting to please her too. Vul shivering, deflects him. “Not yet.” She thinks, though she’s warring with herself. On one hand, she wants to finish him, wants the satisfaction of finishing him. On the other… she wants to have him inside of her, needs to have him inside of her. Her hand, breaking away, the tip of her tongue sliding down the length of him and lower, kissing… contemplating, resisting the urge to climb onto him, straddle him, have him and be had…

“Nngh.” Runar growls, incoherently. He has other lovers, of course, but none quite as… talented at this as Vul. And he’s close, and by the subtle shifts in her, he thinks she knows it, too. “No, not yet...” He gasps, shuddering, pulling away. “Come here.”

Vul, compliant, does as he asks, their lips meeting, the taste of her lover on her lips as they kiss, slowly grinding against him, Runar’s hand, sliding down her hip, eliciting an involuntary sigh. “I can tell you enjoy that...” He teases, quietly, his lips moving to kiss her neck, shoulder, collarbone. “I enjoy it as well. But… I wanted more.”

“More?” Vul asks, breathlessly, not quite following. She’s not sure if he means more of what she’s been doing… more as in, what she’s been fighting herself to resist, having him inside her… or, something else.

“Yes.” Runar replies, kissing her once more on the lips, rolling her off of his chest, onto her back. “More, Vul.” Planting another kiss on the swell of her breast. “More.” Her navel. “I want to taste you, too.”

His hands, gently parting her legs, kissing her where her thigh and hip meet… fingers brushing her, barely touching. “I think you want this, too, Vul.” He murmurs as he strokes her, teasing, bringing a finger to his lips to taste.

Vul whines, covering her face with an arm, shy, embarrassed but nonetheless enjoying herself. She’s… she cannot speak… never has been able to speak, while she’s with a lover, not really… but she does want this. Her hips, involuntarily rising as he touches her, gasping as his fingers play, feathery touches that has her breathing ragged, her legs trembling… her free hand rising to her mouth, Vul biting the edge of her hand as he touches her, feeling his breath on her there, and as his lips touch her, as she feels his tongue touch her, a breathless little scream, the arm once covering her face now at her side, fingernails digging into the sheets, her eyes squeezed closed, her hips rocking, subtly, subconsciously.

Runar’s fingers stroking her as his tongue continues its exploration, subtle adjustments as he senses the changes in her breathing, the trembling of her legs... Vul, dizzy with desire, arm that once covered her face indecisive in its actions… playing across his shoulders, brushing across his hair, briefly gripping one of his horns… reaching for his headboard… returning to his horn, finally, holding on… “haa… haa haa…” she laughs, breathlessly, unable to stop herself… her ‘evil laugh,’ she has joked before… a sign, she has explained, that she is truly lost in the moment, as she is right now. Again biting her hand, another breathless laugh… tensing her legs, bracing her feet on the bed, lifting her hips… breathing ragged now, small screams building into louder cries… back arching, gripping the sheets, his shoulder… entire body shuddering… close… close… and, as his finger enters her… release.

No words are exchanged as he moves to kiss her, the taste of her still on his lips, the aftershocks of her climax running through her body. He’s on top of her now, inside her, needing to have her, to fill her… the act almost sending him over the edge, immediately. Gentle, methodical, exchanging kisses, wanting to make this last. Vul, breathing again ragged, wanting more… legs wrapped around his hips, her small screams testing his willpower…

“I’m close…” he growls “But I want this to-”

But, he never gets to finish his statement, as Vul’s hips rise and her legs tense, wanting to feel him fill her… her breathless laugh again escaping her lips as he gasps her name, unable to hold on a moment more.

-—

“Was it okay?” Vul asks from where she is snuggled into Runar’s chest basking in the warmth of her lover. As many inroads as she has made building her confidence in other areas, she’s still… unsure of herself, sometimes.

Runar, kissing the top of her head, replies simply. “It was incredible, as it always is. Did you enjoy yourself as well?” He asks… not because he does not know, but because he feels it polite to ask.

Vul, squirming, replies with a mixture of embarrassment and amusement “Obviously.” She’s not… not sad, now, but her sadness is a little less immediate, less real.

“Good.” He replies, giving her a squeeze. “Will you let me draw you a bath? I know you well enough to know that you’ll want one, and that you’ll-

“-you don’t have to-” Vul attempts to interrupt.

“-protest and tell me that I don’t have to.” He finishes, laughing., extricating himself from the tangle of his bedding and his lover. I’ll even wash your hair, if you like.

(And here, I leave them to their evening… whatever intimacies remain, that is for them alone.)