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The Other has been a concern for a while now. After his latest emergence nearly killed Frost, the concern became even more pressing.
The group had decided that they needed more information, although they were unsure how to go about that. Until Frost offered up his abilities.
Torbek was reluctant to agree, arguing that the Other would be more aggressive towards Frost than anyone else, for reasons he refused to elaborate on. He argued that if the Other were to take over, there’s a high chance that he could injure or even kill Frost.
Frost isn’t exactly eager to be ‘injured or even killed’, but he doesn’t see any other option.
“We’ll just have to take precautions,” he says.
“Like what? It’s not like we have bindings strong enough to hold Torbek, especially not with the witchlight! It’s too dangerous! Torbek won’t do it!”
Twig clears her throat, and they all turn to look at her. She wrings her hands, scuffing her toe on the bar counter. “Weeeell… I might have something...”
Torbek crosses his arms, looking doubtful. “Twig has bindings strong enough to hold back Torbek, while enhanced by witchlight and controlled by the Other?” he asks, although it sounds more like a sarcastic rhetorical question than anything genuine.
Twig crosses her arms back at him, “Don’t be rude to me, mister! You’re in my house, y’know, and I’m just tryin’ to help.”
Guilt flashes across Torbek’s face, and he holds up his hands, conceding, “Twig is right, Torbek is sorry. Torbek is just feeling a little testy, on account of Frost trying to commit suicide-by-Torbek.”
“I highly doubt–”
“Don’t even argue with him, Frost,” Kremy cuts in, “It’s not getting us anywhere.”
Frost sighs, annoyed, but Kremy does have a point. He turns to Twig, “What were you thinking?”
Twig scuffs her toe again, “Weeeell… It’s just an idea– but, I do have something that stops the person wearing it from hurting the person holding it, and they can’t break out of it or take it off of their own free will, someone else has to take it off for them.”
Frost perks up. “That sounds very useful. Is it a magical item?”
“Uh-huh! I got it from one of my guests! I’ve never used it, though, it’s not really my thing… but I know it works! I can sense it, y’know?”
“Yeah, suuure,” Torbek says, sounding doubtful. “It… It does sooound pretty useful... Twig would be willing to let us borrow it?”
“Sure! Although… Y’know, we could also trade for it. I don’t really want it.”
“... So, what is it?” Gricko asks, scratching his chin.
Frost nods, “Yes, good question, Gricko. If we’re going to trade I would like to know what it is first.”
Twig hums, looking off to the side. “Weeeell… I’ll just, uhm… I’ll just show you. Be right back!” With that, she flits away into another room.
“Huh, she’s being kinda evasive, don’t ya think?” Gricko asks.
“Yes, it concerns me,” Frost responds. “Perhaps it’s something indescribable? Something without a name?”
Gricko shrugs, “‘S possible, this is the Feywild.”
“Torbek doesn’t care what it is– if it works, and it can help protect Torbek’s friends, then Torbek is willing to use it.”
“That’s very brave of you, Torbek,” Frost crosses his arms, leaning against the bar, “It could be anything.”
“Torbek is determined,” Torbek replies, resolute. “Torbek wants answers too– just not at the cost of any of Torbek’s friends!”
“As long as you’re sure,” Frost says.
“Torbek is.”
Frost holds his gaze, seeing how much Torbek means that, his expression more serious then Frost has ever seen it. Frost nods at him, accepting his decision, feeling his admiration for him grow. Torbek is always putting the group’s well-being before his own, always so reluctant to do anything that might hurt someone. Frost likes that about him, even though it can be frustrating at times–
Frost’s ears perk up as he notices a strange… Jingling sound?
“Uh, fellas?” Kremy points towards where Twig left. Frost turns, seeing Twig flying back into the room, not able to determine what she’s holding until she lands on the bar and holds it up.
Oh.
His stomach swoops, heat crashing through him.
Gideon starts laughing.
That’s…
A collar and a leash.
Complete with a little silver bell.
Frost takes a deep breath, forcing all of the thoughts that just raced through his mind to the side.
Well… On the bright side, it’s not something he hasn’t used before.
Frost grimaces at the thought, pushing it aside as well. There is no bright side here. He’s going to be putting a collar on Torbek–
Fuck. Frost would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought of that before– stop thinking– he pushes that aside as well, taking another deep breath.
“See?” Twig asks, holding up the collar, “This part goes around someone’s neck, and then someone else holds this part,” she holds up the leash, “And the person wearing the collar can’t intentionally hurt ‘em!”
Frost has to hold the leash. The leash attached to the collar that’s going to be worn by Torbek. Don’t think about it–
“What’s the bell for?” Gideon asks, still laughing.
Twig shrugs. “They said it’s important, but I think it’s mostly for decoration.”
Decoration. Torbek decorated with a pretty little bell– don’t think about it–
“Y’alright, Frost? You look kinda sweaty,” Kremy comments.
“I’m fine,” Frost replies, perhaps a little too snappishly, “I’m... It’s just hot in here.”
Kremy shrugs. “I wouldn’t know.”
Gricko leans over the table and stage-whispers, “It’s really not.”
“You’re wearing a vest,” Frost points out, tail lashing.
Gricko glances at his sleeveless arms, then at Frost’s robes. He grins, sly. “Uh-huh, sure, that’s the problem.”
Sometimes Frost hates that Gricko knows him so well. Frost decides to ignore him, glancing at Torbek to gauge his reaction.
Torbek is just… Staring at the set of items, slack-jawed.
Frost clears his throat, “Still determined, Torbek?”
Torbek inhales sharply, eyes snapping towards Frost and– oh. He’s… Blushing. “Uhm, Tor– Torbek is still determined, but–” Torbek glances at the set of items again. “Uhm. Only if Frost is still okay with it.”
‘Okay with it’ is a major oversimplification of Frost’s feelings on the matter.
“... Yeah. I’m… Yeah, I’m okay with it. I just– I don’t want you to be uncomfortable, I understand that wearing this kind of item can be…” he swallows, “Embarrassing.”
Torbek grimaces, nodding. “Yeah, well… Torbek still wants to try. It’s worth a shot, if we can get information about the Other.”
“I agree,” Frost says, although he feels uneasy. He knows it’s wrong to think of this as anything more than a clinical interaction– Torbek doesn't know what Frost has done with other people, doesn't know that he’s thought of doing those things with Torbek. Frost has to be normal about this, has to focus solely on helping Torbek, implications be damned.
He can do that.
“Sooo…” Twig drawls, twirling her skirt innocently. “What’da’ya think about a trade?”
“Oh, I think Frosty is very interested–”
“Shut up, Gricko,” Frost snaps.
Gricko just laughs.
”Well, are you?” Twig asks, skipping over to him. “I’ve been thinking about those shiny gemstones of yours a lot…”
Frost tilts his head, considering the collar and leash set. They seem to be well-made; fine, black stained leather, pristine metal, no cracks or rust. The buckle and ring of the collar are a pretty silver colour that matches the dainty bell, and the snaphook of the leash matches the collar, silver, sturdy… The leash, Frost notes, is rather short, maybe two feet long at most… It’s a nice set, nicer than anything Frost has ever owned.
He hates to prove Gricko right, but…
“Which stone were you thinking of?”
Sure enough, Gricko laughs louder. Torbek gives Gricko a confused look, meanwhile Kremy and Gideon are elbowing each other and giggling.
Frost really hates being known.
“Weeeell… I like the blue one with the pretty pattern...” She blinks her big eyes at him, hands clasped behind her back.
Frost sighs. As useful as those stones are, he cannot deny that he’s interested. Normally Twig would make him guess what she wants, part of a Fey Pact, but if she’s bringing the gemstone up outright, then she must be determined to have it. He drops his pack off his back, fishing out the star sapphire. Twig squeals as he hands it to her.
“Oh, sure, Twig gets a stone,” Gideon mutters, still bitter that Frost refused to share.
“Twig didn’t throw rocks at me.”
“That was one time, man!”
Frost silently takes the collar and leash set, refusing to look at Gideon. He turns to Torbek, noticing the way he’s staring at the items in Frost’s hand, looking nervous.
“Tonight then?”
Torbek startles, eyes darting up to meet his. “O– oh? Uhm… Yeah, tonight. Torbek can… Does Torbek need to do anything to get ready?”
Frost goes to respond, but Twig cuts him off, “You”– she points an aggressive finger at him –“need a bath!”
Torbek’s ears pin back. “Whyyyy? Torbek isn’t even that dirty!”
“Not that–? Dust falls off of you with every step you take!”
“That’s just Torbek’s aura!”
Twig crosses her arms, “Well your aura stinks. If you’re gonna spend the night in my inn, you’re gonna do it clean! No arguments.”
Torbek whines. “But–”
“What did I just say?” Twig questions, deceptively calm.
With a defeated sigh, Torbek seems to accept his fate. “Okaaay…”
Twig claps her hands, grinning. “Yayy!! Don’t wait up, guys! This will probably take a few hours.”
“Hours?!” Torbek yelps. Twig just flies up to him and starts bullying him out of the room.
“Poor fucker,” Gricko laughs, less than sympathetic. “See, Hootsie? That’s why you should always listen to me when I say it’s time for a bath. You don’t wanna end up like Uncle Torbek, do you?”
Hootsie just cocks her head at him and hoots.
“Exactly,” Gricko says.
While Gricko goes off on a parenting rant, Frost looks down at the items in his hands.
He runs his fingers over the length of the leash, feeling the softness of the leather. The inside of the collar is padded with an extra strip of leather, and the stitching is absolutely flawless. The leash hooks into the same ring the bell dangles from, and Frost cradles the bell between two of his fingertips, watching the way it catches the light.
The bell is round and shiny, and the sound it makes is delicate, sweet, filling the air with a joyous jingle as Frost lets it fall from his grip. The collar isn’t buckled shut, it dangles from the leash, either side draping downwards. It's fairly large, although it has about a dozen holes for the buckle to hook into, making it highly adjustable. There are two leather loops on the holeless side that can secure the excess length of the tongue to keep it nice and flush.
It’s a very nice collar.
Frost imagines it should fit Torbek well enough.
He promptly stops imagining that.
This is going to be a long night.
—
The hours pass slowly, agonizing and seemingly infinite. The guys have apparently decided that it’s ‘tease Frost night’, judging by the way they’re piling on his back like they’re getting paid for it.
Frost can’t even mention Torbek without Gricko giving him a devious look and making a joke. Kremy and Gideon won’t stop giggling and elbowing each other. Hootsie, his beautiful and precious niece, watches the whole thing with a confused tilt to her head, wearing a near constant set of earmuffs in the form of Gricko’s hands.
Frost wishes he were her.
“Oh, c’mon, Frosty! Lighten up!” Gricko says, playfully kicking his leg, “Just a bit of banter between lads! Don’t let it get to ya!”
Frost just sips his bean milk, glaring at the goblin.
“Ah,” Gricko rolls his eyes, “Act like you’re so innocent,” his grin widens, “I’ve heard the names you call–”
“Gricko,” Frost deadpans, scowling, “Must you?”
“What kinda names?” Kremy asks, leaning over the table with a grin.
Gricko’s eyes sparkle, his grin somehow getting wider. “Oh, something along the lines of–”
“Do we really need to be airing out my private affairs right now?” Frost sighs. “Gods forbid a man has hobbies.”
Gricko laughs uproariously. “I don’t think calling people ‘pretty puppy’ while you fuck them counts as a hobby!”
Gideon’s laugher joins the fray, Kremy chuckling along, “Pretty puppy?! Man, that is so fucking funny, Frost!”
Frost tries to keep his ears from pinning back. He doesn't think he’s very successful. He transfers his glare to Gideon, “I don’t think you have much room to judge; speaking as someone who’s overheard yours and Kremy’s fun.”
Gideon just keeps laughing, “Yeah, and? Kremy ain’t never called me puppy, that’s for sure.”
“Oh, and ‘Kremy Sniffing Truffle Pig’ is so much better?” Frost retorts.
Kremy narrows his eyes at him, “Frost.”
“Hmm? What’s wrong, Kremy? Is it not as fun when you’re the one subjected to it?” Frost asks, ear flicking in irritation.
“Oh, relax, Frosty! We’re just pullin’ your leg,” Gricko says, leaning on his palm. Hootsie shakes her feathers out, finally free of the earmuffs. “We’ll lay off ya. You have to admit though, this whole situation is very ironic.”
Frost turns his glare back to Gricko. “I think you and I have very different definitions of irony.”
Kremy slams his hand on the table, startling them. “Let’s play some cards, fellas.”
Frost nods, leaning back in his seat while the lizardfolk cuts the deck.
Things mellow out after that, the hours drifting by with round after round of the game. Unsurprisingly, Kremy wins the most– he cheats– but since they’re not playing for money, Frost is happy to sit back and let him claim his hollow victories.
Gricko is a lot more indignant about it, getting louder and more petty with each game Kremy ‘wins’, but overall the atmosphere is far more preferable to the relentless teasing Frost had been enduring.
Frost drums his claws on the table, tail ceaselessly lashing behind him. He’s trying very hard to not think about the items tucked into his pack, trying to pretend he can’t feel them burning a hole against his hip through three layers of fabric.
He’s not doing a very good job.
Kremy snaps his fingers, gaining his attention. “It’s your turn, Frost.”
Frost blinks down at his cards. “Oh…” he shakes his head, rubbing a hand over his face. “Actually, gentlemen, I think I need a bath. You can continue playing without me.”
Gricko grins, “How come, Frosty? Feeling hot and bo–”
Frost’s mind hand flicks him on the forehead, earning an ‘agh!’ and a shocked look. It was a childish move, but so was Gricko’s comment, so Frost doesn’t feel all that guilty over it.
“I’ll see you all in the morning.”
Kremy hums, “Unless the Other gives you a hard time?”
Frost considers him, trying to figure out if he’d meant that as an innuendo… Probably not? “Yes. I shall yell and scream should I require assistance.”
“We’ll keep an ear out,” Kremy says with a nod, “Goodnight, Frost.”
Frost nods, picking up his pack and hastily leaving the room, barely hearing the other two call out ‘goodnight’ before the door swings shut behind him.
—
The bathroom is already warm and humid when Frost gets there, wet towels and clumps of fur strewn haphazardly over the floor. Going off the disarray, Frost figures that Twig and Torbek had wrapped up fairly recently.
He carefully steps over a clump of damp fur, eyeing it with distaste. Twig must have gone at Torbek’s mats, there’s too much fur to account for regular shedding.
Frost once again tries not to think about Torbek without matted, dirty fur. Frost already has a hard enough time not thinking about Torbek with his dirt and mats.
He sighs, and turns on the faucet of the bathtub, watching water spill out and fresh steam gradually fill the room.
It’s not necessarily a… Lack of wanting to think about it that makes Frost hesitate. He wants to think about it, he has thought about it– extensively. It’s not that he thinks Torbek wouldn’t be interested in him– of course Torbek would, Frost has seen the way Torbek acts around him. Torbek is very interested, but obviously he’s too scared to make the first move, too afraid that Frost wouldn’t accept him, perhaps.
Frost has similar fears, although not exactly the same.
He’s afraid Torbek won’t like… Well. It’s more that he’s uncertain if Torbek would like what Frost likes… Frost draws his hand through the rising water, the warm liquid passing between his fingers, grounding him.
Perhaps Gricko is getting to him. It’s been a long while since Frost had the opportunity to find a partner, he tends not to stick with one person for too long, simply by merit of leading a migratory and criminal lifestyle. Yet when he does have a partner, he enjoys very particular things, things that not many people are interested in.
Frost has experienced his fair share of rejection, it comes with the territory of having… Unorthodox kinks. Should he ever tell Torbek about them, Frost doesn't think he could handle Torbek looking at him the way some of his previous partners have– with disgust, discomfort, shock. Frost has experienced many reactions, some of which seem less likely for Torbek to express; he very much doubts that Torbek would get angry or belittle him. It’s far more likely that Torbek awkwardly shuffles away and then proceeds to not look at Frost for the foreseeable future.
Which is almost worse, in a way. Frost quite likes being looked at by Torbek, it would be a shame for that to stop.
Frost shuts off the water, and starts to take off his clothes, still preoccupied by his thoughts.
He knows what he feels for Torbek goes beyond pure sexual desire– although that’s a large part of it. He also feels some… Affection, for lack of a better word. Frost has felt affection for past sexual partners, of course, but usually he isn’t all that cut up about them leaving him, or vice versa. The idea of losing Torbek, though… That unnerves him. He doesn't like it. He’d rather keep their relationship the way it is, keep the boat unrocked as it were, than fall into the murky and uncertain waters of rejection.
But… It’s tempting, the thought of rocking the boat. Frost has thought about it so many times, yet something holds him back. Frost isn’t usually so hesitant to go after what he wants, and it’s quite frustrating that he’s experiencing such hesitation now, in regards to Torbek.
Shaking his head, Frost steps into the tub, sinking into the warm, encompassing water. He takes a deep breath, inhaling the steam into his lungs, feeling the heat inside and out. It’s not nearly as grounding as cool air, and Frost finds himself still lost in thought.
It’s not like there’s any chance Torbek is interested in Frost’s kinks– Frost dunks his head under the water, resurfacing and letting the water run into his eyes, the stinging heat momentarily distracting him. He blinks, ears flicking away droplets, and reaches for the bar of soap. It’s… Frost turns it over, frowning at the blondish fur tacked onto the surface.
Torbek’s fur.
Frost brings the soap closer and uses a claw to scrape it off, dropping clumps of fur over the side of the tub. He ignores how soft it feels, even under the sticky residue of the soap.
It’s not like Torbek would be interested, really, Frost has met so few people who are, it's highly unlikely that the guy Frost just so happens to be interested in would… enjoy the things Frost enjoys.
And why would he? He knows Torbek doesn't have much experience– that much was clear from the Electrum Chef Incident, and… Frost shakes his head, scrubbing the soap over his chest. He will not think about that, he already thinks about that all the time. Thinking about that now is a bad idea, when Frost is trying not to think about– Frost scrubs harder, his claws scratching over his skin, not quite cutting but certainly painful.
The pain doesn’t help ease his mind. Usually it does, it should help– he’s never even kissed Torbek, and the fact that he’s had sex with him, even under extraordinary circumstances, is enough to make his head spin and heat stir in his gut–
Frost clenches his hand, takes a deep breath, and wills himself to not think about it.
Tries not to think about the intoxicating noises Torbek made, or the way his teeth sank into Frost’s flesh with the ease of a knife through butter.
Frost swallows. Enough of that. Now is not the time to indulge in such thoughts.
Very soon, he’s going to be putting a collar around Torbek’s neck, holding him on a leash– and trying to speak with the mysterious entity that lives in his mind. That should be his concern.
Yet Frost isn’t as worried about the Other as he is about hiding how much he enjoys putting someone on a leash. He hopes he can hide it.
The fur is convenient, it hides any sort of blush he might produce, but– Torbek has a strong nose, he might be able to smell the arousal on Frost in the same way Frost can smell it on other people.
Frost recalls how Torbek blushed when he first laid eyes on the leash and collar. It meant nothing, he’s sure. Embarrassment, if anything. Frost won’t allow himself to consider any other option, certainly not Torbek being interested–
Gods, enough– Frost scrubs a paw over his face, groaning. He needs to stop imagining this, it’s getting out of hand.
Frost takes a deep breath and tries to not think, tries to meditate, relax, but… the image of Torbek wearing that collar keeps drifting back to his mind. It’s a gorgeous collar, it would look good on anyone– Frost’s fantasies are coming back to bite him. He tries to think of something, anything other than Torbek wearing a collar, being on a leash, moaning as Frost tugs him closer–
Frost bangs his head against the wall. He needs to put this out of his mind entirely.
As if he hasn’t been trying. None of his usual methods are working–
His claws dig into the side of the tub as something becomes apparent to him.
He’s beginning to get aroused.
His sheath throbs with aching want, and Frost grimaces, clenching his hand until his claws nearly pierce his palm pad. He really shouldn’t…
Then again… Perhaps he’s just pent up, so to speak.
It has been a while since he’s had the luxury of privacy. Perhaps all he needs to do is take the edge off. Let off some steam. Other idioms.
Frost licks his lips, unclenching his hand. Perhaps the thought of Torbek being so inescapable is merely his body trying to tell him that he needs a release? Perhaps. And who is Frost to ignore such a thing?
Maybe it will make tonight easier to bear.
Frost drops the soap into its dish before rinsing the suds from his body, hands trailing over his skin, feeling the damp heat of his fur and wondering if Torbek would feel the same. He’s always damp and sweaty, ‘a condition’ Torbek says, but Frost suspects it has more to do with his lack of hygiene.
A shudder runs through him as he rises out of the tub, the air feeling chill despite the steam drifting off of the water. Frost is soaking wet, water streaming from his fur as he sits on the edge of the tub, hanging his tail over the rim. He feels heavy, like the embodiment of a wet towel, the water weighing him down.
The heat radiating from his nethers is far more noticeable above water, and Frost spends a moment simply considering his options. He can either touch himself and relieve some tension, or he can leave it and go into this meeting frustrated.
With a sigh, Frost traces a hand along his hip, scratching lightly as he goes, his damp fur sticking up at odd angles as his claws trail through it. He shudders as his claws pass over the sensitive skin of his inner thigh, running them through the white fur until his finger pads press against his groin.
He can’t imagine what he wants to imagine, not right now, that would be counterproductive… But he can imagine… Kissing Torbek, his chapped lips, warm and coarse as they slowly soften under the influence of Frost’s saliva…
He runs a finger pad along the edge of his sheath, feeling the slight bulge under the surface of the soft, sensitive skin, twitching at the sparks the touch sends through his body.
He wonders how Torbek would touch him– his long fingers, his clumsy nature… it may not feel like the best Frost has ever gotten, but the fact that it’s Torbek– He’s so eager to please, so easygoing, he wouldn’t even mind if Frost took his finger and guided it along, showing him how to do it. Torbek would pet his sheath under his guiding hand, shaking a little because of how excited he is, but that's fine, that just makes it more interesting for Frost.
With careful precision, sure to keep his claw out of the way, Torbek’s finger would rub over the soft skin of Frost’s sheath, slow and coaxing, sweet and steady, just like the way Frost is doing it. He’s guiding Torbek, telling him that he’s doing a good job– Torbek would like that. Frost knows he would.
When the tip of his dick slips out, Torbek would make a noise, as he’s known to do… One of surprise?
Frost– his brow furrows– he doesn't know bugbear anatomy. He thinks he recalls, from a time distant and yet recent, that Torbek also has an internal penis. He isn't sure… vexing.
He’ll just have to hope that he’s correct.
Frost would keep guiding him, have Torbek tease around the head before returning to the lips of his sheath, tracing around his emerging erection, touch light. Torbek would be such a good boy for him, would let Frost move his hand without a single ounce of resistance, watching the entire thing with wide eyes and blown pupils.
If he were to sit on Torbek’s lap, straddle him, that would be ideal. Frost could feel him shift and squirm, desperate to be touched as Frost uses his hand. If Torbek tried to touch himself before Frost was ready, he would take Torbek’s other hand and place it on his thigh, kiss Torbek harder, and tell him to be good. Torbek would whine and gripe about it, but Frost would just keep kissing him and rubbing his fingers against himself, and soon enough Torbek would quiet, too focused on kissing back to complain.
Frost sighs, rubbing his emerging cock between the gap of two fingers, feeling the dampness of his fur– he should do this with a wet hand more often– he’d let Torbek’s hand go and tell him to keep moving just like that, and Torbek would try his best, although he’d probably mess up the pace a bit– but that’s fine.
Frost would use his now-free hand to touch Torbek, running the pad of his finger over his sheath– or maybe Torbek would already be hard, just from touching him. Yes, that seems likely. Torbek would groan into his mouth as Frost’s hand wrapped around him, his pace on Frost slowing, and Frost would slow as well, would tell Torbek to focus, and Torbek would make some sort of pathetic whining noise– just like in Downfall– before his fingers sped up again. Frost would reward him by matching his pace, by kissing him, by squeezing the hand on his hip.
Once he’s fully hard, he‘d remove Torbek’s hand and scoot closer to him, rubbing his cock up against Torbek’s, who would whine again like the pathetic dog– No. Frost’s brow furrows. He’d whine because he’s Torbek and he always makes the most interesting noises.
If Frost were to touch him, rub their cocks together, Torbek would whine and groan– just like he always does, more breathless, more desperate, but nothing too out of the ordinary. If Frost let up on the kiss to focus on moving his hand, Torbek would whine Frost's name like a mantra.
Torbek would kiss him with clumsy vigour, his tusks getting in the way– but Frost wouldn’t mind. His teeth are such pretty things, despite the lack of care Torbek treats them with. He’d lick Torbek’s tusks, one by one, and then lick inside his mouth and scrape his tongue over his internal teeth, feeling each point and dip, each chip and gap, catalogue their location to easily find them later. Frost’s touch on their cocks would be unwavering, he’s good at multitasking.
Torbek would moan into the kiss as his hips pathetically jerk against him, he would keen and shudder as he came, Frost’s name on his lips
And Frost is certain that Torbek would come first– he would know– but Torbek still wouldn’t fight Frost when he takes Torbek’s hand and uses it to keep jerking off, he would delight in it, in being used, in being good, and Frost–
Frost gasps and shudders as he comes, tail lashing as he keeps stroking himself until he’s twitching and shaking.
He opens his eyes and sees the soiled bath water. He grimaces, legs still partially submerged within the filthy water. Quickly, he steps out of the tub, water still dripping off of him and onto the floor.
Well... Frost glances down at his retracting cock, feeling noticeably more relaxed than a few minutes ago. At least it worked.
He can do this.
All he needed to do was come, of course. Now that he’s not so pent-up, he can work with Torbek with a mind free of inconvenient thoughts. Such a simple solution, Frost is shocked it didn’t occur to him earlier.
With a clear mind, Frost is able to drain the tub, using his mind hand to avoid dirtying himself. He searches around for a clean towel and miraculously manages to find a couple that aren't damp and covered in bugbear fur.
He gets most of the water off with the towels and then spends a few extra minutes licking himself dry, smoothing out his fur, loosening any tangles. The dryer he gets, the warmer he becomes, and soon enough he finds himself feeling quite content and relaxed. He stretches out his limbs, flexes his back, digs his claws into the floorboards as he stretches out the kinks.
He feels a purr building in his chest as he lets himself sit in the heavy air for a few moments longer. He needs to move, needs to see if Torbek is ready for their meeting, but it takes a little while of self-convincing for him to stand, wanting nothing more than to crawl into bed and sleep.
Alas, duty calls. He has another couple of hours before he can let himself sleep.
With a sigh, Frost dresses himself, fur dry enough that the fabric doesn't even stick to him. He surveys the chaos of the bathroom one last time before picking up his pack and making his way to the door, stepping out into the much cooler and less humid air of the hallway.
“About time!”
Frost jumps, whirling around and finding Twig looking up at him with her big eyes, arms crossed.
“You were in there forever, man!”
Frost blinks, quickly readjusting. “Hello, Twig. I apologize, I simply… Needed a moment alone.”
Twig harrumphs and shrugs her shoulders, “Well, that’s fine, at least you’re done now. Come on, Torbek is ready for you!”
Frost’s ears ring a little– what a thought– he shakes it off and gestures for Twig to lead the way. She grins at him before skipping off, and Frost follows at a more sedate pace, a horrible feeling twisting in his chest.
He may have spoken too soon. The thoughts rush back to his mind like they’d never left. Torbek in a collar with a pretty little bell–
Frost shakes his head. He can do this. It will be fine.
—
Frost asks to drop his pack off in his room before they see Torbek, and Twig reluctantly agrees to the detour. He takes the collar and leash out of the bag before rejoining Twig in the hallway, and they make their way over to one of the many guest rooms.
Twig talks about this and that as they walk, but Frost finds himself not paying attention, his focus almost entirely laid on the set of items clenched in his hand.
Before he knows it, they’re facing the door, and Twig is wishing him luck and telling him to “Scream real loud!” if he needs help. Frost nods at her, thanks her, and tells her to keep an ear out.
She playfully salutes him before skipping off, humming to herself.
Frost watches Twig leave, squeezing the leash in his hands, feeling how solid it is, the leather smooth and soft. He isn’t nervous.
Well.
Maybe a little.
He takes a deep breath and looks at the door. All he has to do is keep a level head. He’s good at that. This will be easy.
He eyes the handle, feeling his fingers twitch. He should just reach out and open it, why hesitate? He’s committed to this, he does want to help Torbek, he does want to talk to the Other.
His whiskers twitch as he sniffs the air. The scent of old wood, of scented cleaning products, of lavender, of metal… But no… No scent of Torbek, oddly enough. Perhaps that’s for the best, perhaps it’s for worse. Frost has no way of knowing.
He’s stalling.
Frost frowns, annoyed at himself.
All will be well. He has impeccable self-control, he trained for this– well. Not this exact scenario, of course, but he trained thought repression, he trained emotional distance. He can handle putting a man he’s been pining after on a leash–
His whole body twitches, and he shakes his head, dispelling the thought.
He can handle it. All will be well.
Frost raises his hand and knocks.
“Torbek?” he calls, ears perking up as he waits for a response.
“... Come in, Froooost,” Torbek whines. He sounds… Reluctant?
Strange.
Frost opens the door and steps inside.
He freezes.
The room reeks of lavender, the scent tickling his sensitive nose in an entirely unpleasant way. Torbek is sitting on the bed, hunched over with his elbows on his knees, for all intents and purposes, pouting.
Frost assumes his mood has something to do with the, hmm… Four dozen or so bows in his fur? They’re tied haphazardly around any spare patch of exposed fur, all manner of different colours, most of which clash egregiously with their neighbours. Torbek absently picks at one, eyeing Frost like he expects ridicule.
Frost’s tail flicks.
The whole scene is rather cute.
Frost can’t help but notice how clean Torbek is, his normally drab, matted, dirt-encrusted fur having been scrubbed and laboured over until it was a silky, shiny dark blond. There were highlights mixed in around the slightly curled edges of his fur, almost golden with the way the candlelight reflects off of it. It seems that Twig had largely dematted him, although there are patches here and there where it looks like she had to cut through his fur, the matting too severe to break. Frost imagines it must have been uncomfortable to sit through.
The more he breathes in the sickly sweet air, the quicker the realization that the lavender scent is coming from Torbek dawns. Twig must have absolutely slathered him in her scented soaps to get it to be so potent. It’s beginning to give Frost a headache– he can only imagine how poor Torbek feels.
Perhaps it’s for the best, though. The scent may keep Frost distracted and may also prevent Torbek from smelling anything Frost would prefer he didn’t.
He watches Torbek’s ear flick, sees the way he grimaces and– oh–
He’s been staring.
Frost clears his throat and shuts the door behind him. The click of the latch sliding into place causing his hand to clench around the leash.
He sees Torbek’s eyes flick to his hand, just briefly, and Frost almost thinks he can hear Torbek’s breath hitch– but it must just be his imagination.
Frost clears his throat, “Good evening, Torbek. Did you… Enjoy your bath?”
Torbek winces, “Enjoy is a strong word. Torbek tolerated his bath.”
Frost hums, once again finding himself scanning Torbek’s form. His usual tattered trench coat and straightjacket were nowhere to be seen, instead he was wearing a sleeveless cotton undershirt that looked to be just a little too small for him. His trousers are the same ones he’d been wearing for who knows how long, but they’re a much brighter colour and the stains appear to have been scrubbed away– as if they’d been washed, perhaps a few times. All in all he looked comfortable, clean.
Frost breathes in the scent of lavender and lets the throbbing behind his eyes distract him.
“I see.” Frost steps closer, and Torbek straightens up as he approaches, eyes once again darting to the objects held in Frost’s hand. Up close, Frost notices a faint flush to Torbek’s cheeks. That’s strange… Perhaps he’s still embarrassed by this whole scenario. Frost can’t blame him.
Frost looks around the room, feeling extremely awkward. He wishes Twig had chosen a less intimate location for this meeting, the presence of a bed certainly isn’t helping to keep Frost distracted. He meets Torbek’s eyes.
“Did Twig feed you, at least?”
“Yeaaah, Torbek ate,” he says, ear flicking again, hand reaching up to scratch his jaw. “Did Frost?”
Frost frowns, tail swishing. “I… Forgot.”
“Oh,” Torbek says, eyes widening. “Does Frost wanna go eat something before we staaart?”
Frost feels his insides twist at the thought, and he shakes his head, “It’s alright. I can wait until after.”
Torbek swallows. This close, Frost can hear it, the way his throat clicks, the pause in his breathing. ”Uhm. Okaaay… Should we just…” Torbek gestures vaguely, “How does Frost want Torbek?”
The twisting grows harsher, hotter. Frost clenches his hand, leather biting into his skin. It’s a good question, though.
Frost hums, looking around the room, thinking about the most optimal position, for want of a better word. “Well…”
Oh.
That’s… Unfortunate.
“I think–” Frost clears his throat, “It seems to me, since the… leash is so short, and you’re quite a bit taller than me, that the best way to do this is for you to be on your knees.”
Torbek’s eyes widen, and oh– that flush isn’t so faint anymore. He’s probably just embarrassed– “Frost wants Torbek–? On his knees?”
“That’s what I said, yes,” Frost confirms. “I’ll sit on the edge of the bed and you’ll kneel in front of me. I think that’ll be the most comfortable position for both of us…” Frost trails off, hand clenching again. He clears his throat. “Of course, we can try something else if you disagree.”
Torbek shakes his head, “N– nooo, it’s okaaay, Torbek… Torbek is fine with that. If that’s what Froooost thinks is best...”
Frost nods and takes a seat next to Torbek, who hesitates for a moment before sliding onto the floor. Frost blinks, “Oh, no– hold on a moment, Torbek.”
Torbek makes a confused noise, but his eyes widen again when Frost’s mind hand tosses a couple of pillows on the floor. Frost quickly arranges them in what he estimates would be a comfortable distance for Torbek’s long legs.
“You’ll hurt your knees if you kneel on the hardwood floor,” Frost explains, gesturing at the pillows, “I’m not sure how long this will take. Please, use these.”
With a silent nod, Torbek kneels on the pillows, shifting around for a moment as he gets comfortable. Unfortunately, this feels very familiar to Frost, their position bringing up inconvenient memories. He clenches his hand and breathes in the lavender…
Is it starting to fade? Already?
Frost breathes in again. He swears he can smell some of Torbek’s signature… stink underneath the strong floral notes.
Perhaps he’s just imagining things..?
It doesn’t matter.
Focus.
“Are you comfortable?” Frost asks, bringing the set of items into his lap, fiddling with the hardware– just to have something to do with his hands.
“Yeees, Torbek is comfortable,” Torbek responds, although his ears are pinned back and his face is still quite flush. Embarrassment, Frost once again figures. He’d probably be feeling such a thing in Torbek’s position.
… Probably.
Frost nods, pleased with Torbek’s answer. The more comfortable Torbek is, the better. Frost knows that the Other stresses him out– the Other stresses everyone out of course, but Torbek is the one who has to endure him the most. Anything that can mediate Torbek’s anxiety is good.
It’s a shame that they have to use such a humiliating tool for the sake of caution. But… Frost wonders if Torbek would still be embarrassed, if he knew what Frost was feeling–
Stupid thought. Frost is getting distracted again.
He clears his throat, holding up the collar, “May I?”
Torbek eyes the collar, ears perking up as the bell jingles with the motion– oh. Torbek’s ears are flushed as well. That’s very… uninteresting, not at all something Frost is taking note of.
Instead of responding verbally, Torbek leans his head back and bears his throat.
Exposed, vulnerable, trusting– Frost inhales sharply, blinking hard.
Frost focuses on his hands. He unlatches the leash from the collar and sets it aside. With practiced motions, he slides the collar around the back of Torbek’s neck– his fur feels as soft as it looks, a little coarse from the soap but still nice– Frost brings the ends together, threading the tongue through the buckle and tightening it– but he doesn't latch it yet. He sticks a finger under it, just to test how much give it has, “Is that too tight?” he asks Torbek.
“Nn– nooo.” Torbek stutters, throat bobbing against Frost’s finger as he swallows. Torbek is very warm, Frost can’t help but notice, and very good at sitting still–
Irrelevant.
Frost hums, removing his finger, ignoring the slide of fur against fur. He latches the collar and feeds the tongue under those lovely leather loops to keep it flush; and though his touch lingers a moment too long, it’s just because he’s admiring the craftsmanship. He pulls his hands away, reaching for the leash, “Still comfortable?”
He hears Torbek swallow. The bell jingles, just a bit, as he lowers his head, “Yeees.”
Frost hums, “Good. I’m going to put on the leash now.”
“Okaaay.” Torbek says.
Frost presses down on the snaphook, lines it up with the ring, and lets it click shut.
The bell jingles a little as it’s jostled.
It’s a beautiful sound. Frost has never used a collar with a bell before. It’s an interesting layer of sensory input, ringing at the slightest motion. And it looks nice, hanging daintily in place, the silver contrasting with the black leather and the blond of Torbek’s fur in a way that makes Frost want to stare, in a way that makes him– not important.
Frost focuses on the throbbing behind his eyes, inhaling more of the lavender scent (It’s definitely fading, that’s less than ideal) as he grips the length of the leash, thumbing the stitching.
He looks at Torbek, noting how his breathing is a bit faster than normal, how his face is still flushed. Frost can hear the pounding of his heart, can see how wide his eyes are. It concerns him. Perhaps Torbek isn’t as comfortable as he says? Frost wouldn’t be surprised if he’d been collared during his captivity– maybe he’s experiencing a moment of panic?
“Torbek,” he says, catching the bugbear’s attention. “Are you alright? Your breathing is quite harsh.”
Torbek seems to force his breaths to even out, trembling slightly. “Tor– Torbek is fine, can we– can Frost just huuuury? Torbek doesn't want to be here all niiiight.”
Frost feels one of his ears flick. “Are you sure? We don’t have to do this if you’re uncomfortable. We can find another way.”
Torbek whines, and he seems to be getting annoyed, going off the way he frowns, “Torbek is fine, Frost– don’t worry about Torbek! Just do your mind thing so we can get this oveeer with!”
Frost hesitates for a moment, but Torbek does seem quite impatient. “Hm. Alright. Are you ready?”
Torbek nods, the bell jingling, “Torbek is ready.”
Frost nods back, adjusting his grip on the leash and pressing his fingers against Torbek’s temples. “Just relax.” Torbek hums, and Frost can feel some of the tension drain as he presses his finger pads into Torbek’s skin. Frost closes his eyes, breathes in lavender, and pushes his mind into Torbek’s.
It’s an easy push, Torbek offers no resistance. Frost tries to keep his focus split between the physical world and their mental connection– which is not easy, but he has enough practice to make it possible.
He finds himself in darkness.
He can hear voices all around him, some are distinct, others less so. They say things that Frost cannot understand, in languages he doesn't speak– oh. He understood that one, something about pain? It’s too faint to be certain.
What he doesn't hear is the Other.
Frost pokes around, nothing here, nothing there– not to say that Torbek’s mind is empty– on the contrary, it is stuffed to the gills, cluttered and messy and full of pockets of misery and dispair.
It’s amazing the bugbear manages anything done with the amount of tangled up, knotted, unsorted darkness. Frost finds himself wanting to help, to spool the threads, to sweep up the mess, to quiet the voices.
It’s very loud in Torbek’s head.
Yet the one voice Frost is looking for is nowhere to be found.
Frost decides to send out a mental signal, a little flare of presence. “I am here. Find me.”
Frost didn’t notice how warm it was, until it’s suddenly cold, didn’t notice how loud it was, until it‘s suddenly silent.
“What do you want, cat?” A deep voice calls out from beyond the dark. Frost feels his fur stand on end, a primal sort of fear momentarily overtaking him.
He looks around, but there is no manifestation, merely a presence, a weight. It’s cold, quiet, dark, and something lurks just around the corner. Frost can’t help but feel on edge.
“I’ve come seeking answers,” he replies, hoping his voice doesn’t betray his nerves. “You live inside my friend’s head. I’d like to know more.”
Laughter all around him, Frost feels his tail puff up and his hackles raise. “Oh, I’m sure you do. Curiosity, isn’t it? Well… You’ve heard the saying, I’m sure.”
Frost takes a deep breath, smells lavender, and tries to remain calm. “Of course… You’ve heard the continuation, I’m sure.”
A hum, a deep, rumbling thing. “My, my, aren’t you bold... So sure that your satisfaction will save you.”
Frost focuses his eyes, trying to remain in concentration but needing a visual on Torbek. Torbek is stiff, and his eyes are unusually wide, darting around erratically. He seems to be himself, though, the collar’s bell is… Glowing, faintly, a cheery yellow.
“Among other things.”
“Yes, the collar,” The Other says, voice dripping with contempt. “Of course Torbek would let you decorate him like some pretty little pet…”
Frost frowns. The Other spits Torbek’s name like a curse, his every word laced with venom. He looks around at the darkness, unsure where to direct his gaze. The voice seems to be coming from everywhere and nowhere, all at once. It’s frustrating.
“Torbek is determined to speak with you. He would like to know a few things as well.”
That laugh again, both grating and chilling, the way it cuts off abruptly and is clearly fake. “Oh, I’m sure he does! ‘Determined’ he said, as if he was so reluctant to be put on a leash”– what? –“It does make me curious, though.”
Torbek’s body lurches, and Frost instinctively jerks the leash upward– but Torbek doesn’t even get close to Frost before his body suddenly stops moving, the bell glowing an ominous fire red.
Heart pounding, Frost struggles to concentrate on both of them at once. He hears the Other tsk.
“Hm. Seems like the collar does work. Such a shame…” Frost feels hot breath at the back of his neck, “I’d love to sink my claws into you, little kitty.”
He spins around, but there’s no one behind him. There’s that damn laugh again. The Other is playing with him, taunting him. Frost cannot let himself be bated.
He takes another breath, smells lavender, and tries to think of a response, wracking his brain. He needs a question, that’s why he came here.
“Who are you? You say you’re not Torbek, so what is your name?” he questions, trying to smooth his fur down.
“Oh,” the voice sounds so amused, another laugh just barely bubbling forward. “That’s adorable. I don’t think you need to know, darling.”
Frost’s fur puffs right back up at the pet name. “Why not? Would you rather I call you ‘the Other’ this whole time?”
A hum. “Call me what you wish, cat. It won’t matter, in the end. A name holds power, don’t you know?” another laugh, “Yet you and your… Hm, friends? You lot seem rather committed to giving your names to the whole Feywild. It’s very fitting, for Torbek to align himself with people of equal wisdom.”
His tail lashes. The Other may have a point there, as much as Frost resents the personal dig. “In that case–”
“Holding him a bit harshly, aren’t you?” the Other interrupts. “I don’t particularly care for that oaf, but I would prefer you leave my body unscathed.”
Frost blinks, looking through his physical eyes– oh.
He’s practically choking Torbek, the angle of the leash harshly forcing the collar up into his jaw. Frost comes back to himself a bit more, an apology on his lips–
Torbek whimpers.
Frost stops thinking.
That…
That was not an anxious whimper.
Frost's concentration breaks, his mind retreating out of Torbek’s as his eyes train on the bugbear in front of him, his throat exposed, collar pressed up against his jaw. His eyes are wide, and there’s a deep red flush that paints his cheeks and ears.
The soapy floral scent in the air is all but drown out by something far darker, more musky, almost like–
Frost glances down, surprised to see that Torbek is aroused, an erection straining against his freshly washed trousers.
Oh.
Frost feels something stir as the thoughts he’d fought so hard to push aside flood back to him in a rush of heat.
He has Torbek on his knees, in a collar, on a leash… And Torbek is clearly aware of the implications.
Frost shifts in place, finding Torbek’s eyes again, seeing the embarrassment on his face, seeing him grimace as he leans away from the pull of the leash, hands moving to cover his crotch–
Oh.
That’s…
Frost swallows and licks his lips, thinking.
Obviously Torbek is interested, but clearly he doesn't think Frost is. Obviously this isn’t what they’re supposed to be doing, obviously the Other is more pressing, but…
Torbek does look very pretty on his knees. Especially right now, aroused, blushing, visibly humiliated.
Like the Other said, a pretty little pet.
Frost would be lying if he said he wasn’t tempted.
Torbek whines, which isn’t helping his temptation, but the sound does make Frost realize that he’s still holding him at a harsh angle. Frost lowers his arm.
The bell jingles.
Also not helping.
Torbek slumps into a more comfortable position, the collar no longer flush against his jaw, but he’s still leaning away from the leash, as if trying to escape.
Frost glances at Torbek’s crotch again, disappointed to find that Torbek is still hiding himself behind his hands. Frost can smell his arousal, though, drinking it in with every breath.
He inhales deeply, not surprised to find his own aroused scent mixing with Torbek’s, nor to feel heat under his robes and his sheath throbbin.
… Frost hesitates.
Torbek seems to give up trying to escape, the magic of the leash and collar clearly able to withstand his strength. Frost barely even felt the strain. With tears in his eyes, Torbek slumps forward with a pathetic whine.
The bell jingles again.
Torbek’s breaths are coming far too fast, and when he starts to speak his voice is strained and distressed, “Torbek is sooo sorry, Frost– Torbek– just let Torbek go and we can forget about this! Torbek didn’t mean to! It’s just– Torbek is so sorry–”
Maybe…
Maybe. He could be wrong– but what if he’s right?
Frost feels the soft leather of the leash brush against his pads as he winds it around his fingers, adjusting his grip. He tugs Torbek closer– not hard, merely a suggestion. Torbek follows the pull with very little resistance, brows furrowed in confusion.
Frost tilts his head, stealing his nerve. “How about we try talking to him another time?”
Torbek blinks up at him, silently nodding– that lovely little bell jingling with the motion– a look of absolute confusion on his face.
Frost tightens his grip on the leash, pulling Torbek a little closer. Torbek whimpers again, and Frost feels his dick twitch in its sheath. He licks his lips, unsure for a moment what to say– but… Hm. How to ask…
“You look like you’re struggling, Torbek… Would you like some help with that?”
Torbek’s eyes widen, “D–does Frost mean, uhm…” he gestures vaguely at his crotch.
“Yes, sex.” Emboldened, Frost steps a foot onto Torbek’s thigh, urging him to open his legs further, pleased with how easily Torbek complies.
“Uh– uhm– yes, mhm, yeah, pleeease,” Torbek nods again, the bell jingling, and he just keeps nodding, eyes pleading. Gods…
Frost feels a smile overtake his face, trailing his foot up Torbek’s leg until it rests against his hip. He hears Torbek swallow.
This isn't so hard. Frost has done things like this before. He knows exactly what to say.
”Put your hands on your knees, and don’t move them unless I say so.”
Torbek’s hands fly to his knees, fingers clenching around them. Frost’s tail flicks, his smile widening. “Hmm, you’re a good listener.”
Torbek whimpers again, such a desperate, pathetic sound. It makes Frost’s head spin, and he diligently notes the reaction.
Frost reaches out, carefully drawing a claw along Torbek’s jaw, feeling the bugbear shudder under his touch. He decides to be bolder, “How about you help me first, and then I’ll let you hump my leg like a good little dog?” he sees Torbek’s eyes widen, hears him make a sort of choking sound as he somehow flushes an even deeper shade of red.
Fuck– He’s pretty when he blushes.
“Ye– yes. Torbek can– can do that.”
Frost hums, delighted to hear that, tugging Torbek a bit closer. He follows so easily, so obediently, it’s like he was born to be put on a leash. Frost has a lot of ideas running though his mind, but one in particular appeals to him at the moment. He smiles at Torbek, flicking his thumb over his bottom lip. “Pull my pants down and use your tongue on my cock.”
Torbek is quick to comply, fingers slipping under Frost’s waist band. Frost has to remove his hand from Torbek’s face to lift himself up, but Torbek is quick about it, pulling Frost’s pants down in one swift motion. Frost laughs, tail swishing behind him as he settles on the edge of the bed, “Aren’t you eager? Good boy.”
Torbek whines– predictable, but Frost enjoys being right. Frost tugs him closer, close enough that he can feel his breath on his sheath. He notices that Torbek had placed his hands back on his knees, feeling a spark of pleasure travel through his brain. A very, very good listener... Frost wraps the leash around his palm, making the already short length even shorter.
Torbek doesn’t move, he just looks up at Frost, hands clenching on his knees. Frost feels him trembling slightly where his foot is pressed against his hip, hears the clicking of his throat as he swallows. It’s almost like he’s waiting for something.
Frost arches an eyebrow, giving the leash a playful little tug.
“Come on, puppy. Lick me.”
Torbek whimpers again, Frost is quickly becoming addicted to that sound. Torbek opens his mouth, his unusually long tongue sliding out to lap a stripe over Frost’s sheath. Frost twitches, the touch light and teasing and so much better than his fingers. Frost groans, encouraging him, his hand sliding into the fur on top of Torbek’s head. Torbek seems to take the encouragement well, his next lick coming faster, more firm, followed by another, and another.
Frost fights the urge to squirm, clenching his fingers in Torbek’s fur– Torbek whines against him, his tongue pressing more firmly over his sheath. Huh.
“Is this… an enjoyable sensation for you?” Frost inquires, lightly tugging Torbek’s fur. Torbek jerks and moans, nodding into Frost’s crotch. Frost hums. “Noted… Keep going, Torbek. You’re doing so well.”
Torbek makes a noise, garbled and indistinct– it seems positive, though. He keeps licking, hot breaths passing over Frost’s skin– Frost gasps as the tip of his cock emerges, Torbek lapping over it again and again, too fast– he clenches Torbek’s fur, pulling him back a bit. Torbek whines, and Frost shushes him.
“Ease up, slow down,” Frost says, shaking. Torbek nods, and Frost lets him get close again. Torbek licks him, slower, his eyes flicking up to meet Frost’s– seeking approval? Gods… “Yes, much better. Good job, puppy.”
Torbek– shakes? What? Frost scans him, confused over the vibrations he can feel near his foot. He looks over Torbek’s back, nothing seems amiss with his witchlight apparatus– oh.
His tail is wagging.
That’s… there’s no other word for it.
That’s really fucking cute.
His focus snaps back to Torbek as the bugbear swirls his tongue around Frost’s emerging cock, still a bit too fast, teeth a bit too close– Fuck. Frost was right, he is pretty bad at this, but Frost isn’t complaining. It will be fun to see how he improves, should this become a regular occurrence…
Frost hopes it does.
“Slower, Torbek,” Frost instructs, petting through his fur. Torbek slows down, nuzzles closer and changes his pace from long laps to shorter, slower licks, coaxing Frost’s cock out fraction by fraction. Frost clenches his hand on the leash, trying to stay focused, “Good boy.”
Torbek’s tail speeds up, but his pace remains steady. Frost pets through his hair, pleased. He really is such a good listener, such a good boy.
It doesn’t take much longer until Frost is fully erect, until Torbek is licking stripes up his cock, nuzzling his nose against it– he almost seems to be scenting Frost, which is enough to make his hand clench in Torbek’s fur, longing to return the favour. As soon as he can, he’s going to bury his nose in Torbek’s neck, breathe him in like he’s the last hint of oxygen. Frost can smell him in the air, his arousal, his personal scent, the lavender that undercuts them, but it isn’t enough.
Soon. Focus.
Frost tugs at the leash, the bell jingling. Torbek looks up at him, tongue pressed against his cock. Fuck… Frost clears his throat, “You can go a little faster, now.”
Torbek hums, one of his interested hums– his lapping speeds up, and his long tongue begins to curl around his length with each pass, Frost moans, arching into the feeling– the heat of Torbek’s breaths seem to come quicker, and the dark scent in the air thickens–
Oh. Torbek seems to be enjoying this quite a bit.
He pulls on Torbek’s fur, hears and feels him moan, can taste the scent of his arousal, and yet– he checks Torbek’s hands, finding that they have yet to move off of his knees.
Frost feels a pleased rumble form in his throat, “That’s a good puppy… Hm… But I think you can lick me better than that, your tongue is rather long.”
Torbek glances up at him briefly, then he wraps his tongue around Frost’s length, the enormity of the muscle nearly covering it entirely, nearly engulfing it in hot, wet pressure. Frost can’t help the noise he makes, watching the tongue writhe against him– it would almost be unsettling if it didn’t feel so fucking good.
Torbek’s movements are somewhat clumsy, uncoordinated, but the way his tongue moves, the way it flicks and writhes, is unlike anything Frost has ever felt– and Torbek is absolutely eager, Frost was certainly right about that.
Frost loves being right.
Frost moans, “Yes– Good boy.”
Torbek groans, his long, dexterous tongue unwinding from around Frost’s shaft before he starts to lap at him again, his cock is absolutely soaked in saliva– Torbek feels so good, and he’s been so well behaved… He deserves a treat.
Frost opens his legs up a bit more and moves his foot from Torbek’s thigh onto his groin. Torbek jumps, groaning as Frost rubs his erection through his pants, pressing down with gentle pressure, hearing Torbek whimper and feeling his hips jerk up to meet his touch.
Torbek’s tongue stutters, his pace slows, distraction getting the best of him. Frost tsks, removing his foot. Torbek pulls back a bit and whines, looking up at him with questioning eyes. Frost gives the leash a gentle tug. “Ah-ah, stay focused. Be good and I'll touch you.”
Torbek keeps looking at him for a moment longer before his tongue starts sliding against him again. Frost moans as he winds his tongue around his cock– lapping, drooling, panting, hot breath against his skin, hot pressure gliding across his length– fuck.
Frost sighs, petting through Torbek’s fur, “Oh, puppy… Look at you.” Torbek groans, keeping up his pace, being a good boy. Frost scratches behind his ears, saying between pants and moans, “So obedient. Such a good listener, you’re being so good for me.”
Torbek whines, and Frost feels him twitch, his tail going a mile a minute. He shushes him, “Good boy, you’re alright. I’m going to put my foot back on your dick now. Don’t stop licking me again.”
Torbek doesn’t respond, he just keeps licking, being so very good, and so Frost does as he promised. He presses his foot against Torbek’s erection, pleased when Torbek only stutters for a moment. Frost rubs up and down, breathless noises falling from his lips, unable to hold them back– although they seem to encourage Torbek, so maybe that’s not such a bad thing. “Good, yes… Just like– just like that, puppy.”
Torbek’s hips jerk against his foot, and– there’s that whimper again. Frost shakes a little, his excitement getting the better of him– he rarely finds someone who responds so well to that pet name, and the fact that Torbek seems to be enamoured with it makes his head spin. Frost has never felt luckier, has never been so pleasantly surprised. Never thought– never allowed himself to think that Torbek would actually be into this.
And gods, Torbek may not be elegant, may have an inconsistent pattern and pace, but he’s so good, so eager to please, so pretty on his knees– Frost kneads his claws into Torbek’s fur, feeling him jerk and moan– he makes such pretty noises, too. Frost wants to hear them all the time, wants to spend hour after hour pulling every variation and tone from his lips.
That tongue is fucking incredible– Frost twitches as it swirls around the head of his cock, as it laps along the lips of his sheath– fuck–
Frost tugs him off, smiling at the pathetic whine that Torbek makes, seemingly disappointed to be removed. Frost watches a bit of drool trail down Torbek’s chin, he’s absolutely soaked in his own saliva, and Frost fights with the desire to lick it off.
“Torbek, I’m going to come soon,” he tells him, delighting in the way his eyes widen and his hips jerk. Frost licks his lips. “Can you be a good boy and do me a favour?”
Torbek, despite the grip Frost has on his fur, manages a little nod.
Frost hums. “Words, please.”
Torbek’s brow furrows, clearing his throat, “Uh… Ye– yeees… Torbek caaan…” Frost waits a moment, expectant. Torbek whines, “Uhm… Wha– what was Frost thiiinking?”
Good enough. Frost leans forward a bit, “I know I said you could hump my leg, but how about we save that for later? I want to see you make a mess of those nice clean pants.” He watches Torbek’s pupils dilate, his breathing growing even harsher. Frost’s tail flicks, pleased, “Can you do that for me, puppy?”
Torbek whimpers, nodding. Frost waits, tilting his head with a tsk. “Oh, uh– yeees, Torbek can do that.”
“Good boy,” Frost praises, a bit surprised to see the grin that alights across Torbek’s face. He doesn't think he’s ever seen Torbek smile that wide… It looks good on him. Frost strokes his hand through Torbek’s fur, and Torbek arches into the touch, like a common house cat receiving affection. “So pretty.”
Torbek blinks his eyes open, looking confused. “What?”
Frost pulls the leash, bringing Torbek’s head back into alignment with his crotch, “I called you pretty.”
“But–”
“But? Are you arguing with me?” Frost cocks his head, easing the pressure against Torbek’s erection.
“N– no,” Torbek stutters, eyes widening.
“Good,” Frost hums, petting him. He presses his foot down again and rubs him, drinking in Torbek’s moan. With a gentle tug on his leash, he guides Torbek back to his cock, “Pretty puppy, so good for me… Keep licking.”
Torbek shudders and groans, hips meeting Frost’s movements. With no further coaxing, he leans in and lavishes his tongue over Frost, licking him from base to tip, flicking the pointed end of his tongue over the slit– Frost gaps, fingers clenching in his fur as sparks race through him. The brief break had calmed him somewhat, but with the way Torbek is licking him, it won’t take him long to reach his climax.
He tries to focus on the movement of his foot, on the way that Torbek meets him with little thrusts of his hips, desperately chasing the sensation. Frost wishes he could bite him, wishes he could sink his claws in deep, but he settles for digging them into Torbek’s scalp, satisfied with the pathetic moan the action pulls from Torbek.
He eases up his claws, petting him, lightly scratching behind his ear. Torbek whines, arching into the feeling, but his pace remains steady, once again wrapping his tongue around Frost’s cock, the muscle squeezing around him– fuck that feels so good– Frost pulls him a bit closer by his leash, hearing his bell jingle. Such a pretty sound. “So good, Torbek–” He gasps, “Fuck– so good– so… Gods, I'm going to– ah, come soon… Come all over that– that pretty tongue of yours.”
Torbek’s hips jerk against him as he groans, seeming to redouble his efforts with his tongue, his pace speeding up. Frost moans, unable to do much else, his tongue heavy and words jumbled, his concentration stretched between the movement of his foot and the way Torbek is licking him.
Frost watches Torbek, enamored, he’s so pretty, drooling all over himself and whining, so pathetic the way he humps Frost’s foot like it’s the best thing he’s ever felt. Fuck, Frost wants to kiss him, he’s going to kiss him after this, going to come all over his tongue and taste himself on Torbek’s breath, lick him and bite him, call him pretty until he believes it.
Torbek’s pace is growing more frantic, his hips pressing more firmly against Frost’s foot, and Frost blinks, tries to focus on his words– “Getting… Getting close, puppy?”
Torbek’s only response is to press against Frost’s foot with a whine. His tongue keeps up its efforts, winding, lapping, pressing against him– he’s drooling all over Frost, like the pathetic fucking dog he is, getting him all wet. Frost moans, hand clutching in his fur, hearing the sweet jingle of Torbek’s bell as he uses his limited motion to lick and lap all around Frost’s cock.
“Good– good boy– so close–” he groans, keeping his pace on Torbek’s cock as best as he can, grinning in satisfaction when he feels Torbek shudder and groan, his pace slowing, “Yes… There you go– good boy.”
Torbek keeps licking him, whining, drooling– he looks like such a fucking wreck, with his bows all mused, face spit-soaked, his hands clenched on his knees, right where Frost told him to keep them– Torbek wraps his tongue around him again, squeezing, sending sparks of pleasure dancing up his spine, and he’s so close and Torbek is such a good dog–
Frost moans, arching into his tongue, hand tugging at his fur, pulling him closer, “Torbek,” he gasps, and Torbek moans, tongue undulating, shit–
Frost shudders as he comes, eyes squeezing shut– he forces them open and wow– he really does come all over Torbek’s pretty tongue…
Torbek keeps lapping at him, licks all of his come up without even being told, licks Frost over and over and over– fuck! Frost pulls his leash up, forcing him off his cock.
Torbek whines, pathetic, face coated in saliva that trails all the way down his chest, soaking his shirt. Frost pants for a moment, taking in the sight, still reeling from all of that– he takes a moment to gather his composure, clears his throat, and lets the leash fall slack.
He removes his hand from Torbek’s fur and brings it down to wipe the drool off of his face.
Frost smiles at him, cupping his cheek. “You did such a good job, Torbek.”
Torbek looks at him with slightly dazed eyes, and Frost hums, stroking his cheek. He glances down, seeing that Torbek, did, in fact get his nice clean pants all dirty.
He files that mental image away for later. He uses prestidigitation to clean up the wet spot on Torbek’s trousers and the rest of the drool that’s covering his front. Loathe as Frost is to see it go, he does care about Torbek’s comfort.
Frost pets Torbek’s face, and the way Torbek leans into the touch, the way his eyes drift shut as though he’s perfectly content to stay there forever, makes Frost feel warm inside. Frost smiles at him, stroking his cheek, “Why don’t you come and lay on the bed? I’m sure your knees are tired by now.”
Torbek’s only response is a grunt, but he puts up no resistance, letting Frost maneuver him into standing up and lying down on the bed. Unfortunately, Torbek can’t lay on his back, so Frost coaxes him into the middle of the mattress so that there’s still room for him to sit.
Frost uses prestidigitation to clean the saliva from his own crotch, beginning to grow uncomfortable with the temperature even with his cock having retracted.
Once dry, Frost pulls his pants up and joins Torbek on the bed, crawling close to him and sitting near his chest. Torbek’s eyes are half-closed, as though he’s so tired he can barely keep them open. Frost strokes his face, and Torbek hums, leaning into the touch.
He checks Torbek over, petting his fur, carefully untangling the bows from it, most of which are mussed and on the verge of falling out anyway. He carelessly flicks them off the bed, fairly certain that Torbek doesn’t care about their well being.
Once the final bow is disposed of, Frost hums, petting Torbek’s face, “How do you feel?”
Torbek blinks at him, his eyes seeming a bit more focused, “Torbek… Torbek feels good.”
Frost smiles, leaning down to nuzzle his cheek. “That escalated pretty quickly. Did I do anything that made you uncomfortable?”
“N– nooo, Torbek was very comfortable.” Torbek touches Frost’s arm, fingers stroking over his robe. Hm. Frost casually takes his robe and long sleeve shirt off, leaving him in his undershirt. Torbek stares for a moment before cautiously touching Frost’s bare arm. Frost smiles, tail flicking in approval, “Frost is soft… And, uhm, it’s okaaay… Torbek liked the escalation… Torbek really liked… Uhm…”
Frost tilts his head, “Yes?”
Torbek swallows, face flushing red, “Torbek liked Frost calling him those things…”
Frost chuckles, “Yes… I thought you might have, going by your reactions. But it’s good to confirm.” Frost tilts his head closer, leaning down on his elbow. “Can I kiss you?”
Torbek‘s ears perks up, “Yes.”
Frost licks his lips, leaning in and pressing their lips together. It's very chaste and sweet, which feels a bit ironic after their recent activities, but he’s been wanting to kiss Torbek for far longer than he’s wanted to put him on a leash. Although, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t delight in the taste of his come on Torbek’s lips. Frost pulls away and strokes Torbek’s cheek again, “Usually I kiss people before I put them in a collar. I suppose I got the order mixed up, my apologies.”
Torbek grins, that bright, unbelievably happy expression from earlier, his tail slapping against the mattress as it wags uncontrollably, “Torbek doesn’t mind! At least Frost got around to kissing Torbek eventually!”
Frost hums, tail flicking, “That’s true… Speaking of the collar, would you like me to take it off now?”
“Uhm, ah… Well…” Torbek hems and haws, blushing, his eyes darting off to the side. “Torbek… Torbek kind of likes it...”
Frost feels himself perk up, heart swelling. Torbek likes it? Could he get any more perfect? “Well… Hmm, so do I... It looks good on you. I’m glad I traded something with Twig for it... How about I let you keep it?”
“Frost wants Torbek to keep it?” Torbek repeats, his eyes wide and disbelieving.
Frost hums, tracing the collar with a thumb, feeling Torbek shudder against him, “Well, of course… It’s not entirely selfless, though. I would like to do this again sometime.”
Torbek beams, “Torbek feels the same!”
Frost laughs, leaning in to kiss him again. Torbek kisses back– it’s clumsy and inelegant, yet it’s so very him and it makes Frost’s chest spasm. Frost pulls away and rubs their noses together, “Hmm, that’s good, I’m very pleased to hear that. I will take off the leash, though. It’s going to get uncomfortable laying down with it on.”
Torbek grumbles a bit, as if disappointed to part with it– which makes Frost unreasonably happy, “Okaaay. If Frost insists.”
Frost unhooks the leash and drapes it over the headboard. He taps his fingers on his leg, thinking. “Are you thirsty?”
Torbek hums, “A little bit, yeah.”
Frost nods, ducking down to kiss his forehead. “I’ll go get you some water.”
“You don’t have to…” Torbek mumbles.
“I want to. I’ll be quick.”
“... Okaaay…”
Frost doesn’t have to go far before Twig pops around the corner, asking how it went. Frost carefully steps around her questions, asking her for some water. Twig gives him a quizzical look but quickly shrugs it off, zooming off and coming back with two glasses of water.
“Thank you, Twig,” Frost says, already turning around.
“Wait! What did you learn, Frost?” Twig asks, trotting after him.
Frost clears his throat. “I learned… A few things. I’ll tell you in the morning, I’m very tired.”
That should give him enough time to think of something. He’ll have to speak with Torbek about how much he’s willing to divulge. Frost would prefer to keep this entire thing private; not because he’s ashamed, but simply because he values privacy. He’ll do whatever Torbek wishes, though. If Torbek wants the others to know, then Frost will tell them.
Twig sighs, “Fine. Goodnight.”
Frost smiles at her, “Goodnight.”
He returns to the guest room, finding Torbek laying in the same position he left him, fingers idly tracing his collar. Frost stares for a moment, watching him. Torbek meets his eyes, and Frost clears his throat, crossing the room quickly, reclaiming his spot on the bed.
“Sit up for me,” he requests, and Torbek complies, propping himself up on his elbow. Frost hands him one of the glasses, and Torbek just about chugs the whole thing. Frost takes a smaller sip from his glass, watching the way Torbek’s throat moves under his collar. Torbek drains the glass and licks his lips before looking at Frost, as if seeking approval. Frost’s tail flicks, amused. “Good boy.”
Torbek grins, ears perking up as he blushes. Goodness…
That’s very cute.
He takes Torbeks glass and sets it aside on the bedside table, taking a few more sips from his water before placing it next to the empty glass.
He glances at Torbek, who’s just staring at him with a dopy sort of smile on his face. Frost pets his cheek, returning the smile. “You can lay back down, now.”
Torbek nods, lowering himself down, laying on his stomach. Frost eyes the witchlight tubes, feeling a pang of sympathy, knowing they must be uncomfortable to lay down with.
With a pleased sigh, Frost lays down next to Torbek, using his mind hand to pull a blanket over to them. He looks at Torbek, who’s just staring at Frost with an awed sort of look in his eyes. Frost smiles at him again, helpless. He opens his arms, “Come here.”
Torbek startles a bit, but doesn’t hesitate to shift over and lay on Frost’s chest, nuzzling into his shirt. Frost wraps an arm around him and pets his back, careful to avoid the canisters.
He drapes the blanket over them, making sure it covers Torbek’s feet.
Torbek is warm, and he smells like lavender and sex and leather, and Frost can’t help but nuzzle his cheek into his forehead, spreading his own scent onto him. The urge to lick him is powerful, and Frost quickly gives in, rasping his tongue through Torbek’s fur, his scent even stronger as it hits the roof of his mouth.
Frost feels a purr building in his chest, which isn’t surprising– what is surprising is the purr he feels coming from Torbek. It’s raspy and uneven, more akin to a wheeze than a purr, but it’s clearly meant to be a purr.
Frost has never heard Torbek make a sound like it, and the thought that Torbek is making it because of him makes him feel all warm and fuzzy inside, makes his purr ramp up in intensity. He kisses Torbek’s forehead, smiling into his fur.
“This is nice,” Torbek mumbles into his chest.
Frost hums, kissing him again. He wants to kiss Torbek over and over, wants to drown him in affection, wants to make up for the fact that it took him this long. He settles for one more forehead kiss, for a few scratches behind his ears, telling himself that he can make up for it tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that. “Yes. Yes, it is.”
He listens to Torbek purr, pleased when their purrs sync up, when their rumbling hums in just the right way to create a harmony, a duet of contentment. It is nice. Very nice.
Frost listens to Torbek’s even breaths, kissing him, licking him, petting him. He listens as Torbek’s breaths slow, as his mumbles become more incoherent, as his purr softens into something almost inaudible. Frost kisses the sleeping bugbear’s temple, hoping that his dreams are sweet.
He leans his head back and stares at the ceiling. Torbek is drooling on him, soaking his shirt, but that’s okay. As long as he’s comfortable.
Frost isn’t sure how Torbek can stand to sleep in a collar, but he’s not complaining. His hand drifts up to trace along the edge of the collar, feeling the soft leather, feeling the smoothness of the buckle.
He never thought Torbek would actually let Frost put him in a collar, let alone enjoy it, but for once, Frost is happy to be wrong.
He never thought he would build up the courage to kiss Torbek, either.
Perhaps he should thank Twig for pushing them in the right direction. Even though Frost got the order wrong, it’s like Torbek said: at least he kissed him eventually.
Frost smiles to himself.
Tonight did not go as planned, but Frost can’t help but feel very pleased with how it ended up going.