tagSci-Fi & FantasyPlanescape: The Strangest Pairing

Planescape: The Strangest Pairing

byThe_Chromatic_One©

The inn door squeaked as Mevar opened it, stepping inside with a silent step. What a day. Still, he supposed he was glad that the gnoll had been too cheap to spring for six rooms instead of three. No, for once Mevar didn't mind the mercenary's miserliness at all.

The reason for that sat on the bed. The pose Osoron adopted was one familiar to any practitioner of magic, legs crossed, arms linked, head thrown back as the genasi's mind searched for the elemental power of the Plane. Of course, two things would strike most people as strange about the situation. The first was that Osoron was not actually on the bed, hovering rather six inches above it. The second, was that he was nude, to better free himself from constraints.

Mevar had to admire the view, whatever the reason for it. The druid's body was a startling blue, a light, airy color that would remind most people of the sky and reminded Mevar of nothing. Gehenna had no blue sky. Perhaps that was the reason for the tiefling's fascination.

More likely, he was willing to admit, it was the body itself, the beautiful, magnificent body. Looks like a Celestial's sculpture. The arms were long and elegant, the legs taut with muscles in their druidic pose, possessed of surprisingly broad shoulders for such a slender frame, and with a face like an angel's, narrow, delicate features framed by unruly white hair. Mevar had always wanted to fuck an angel. He smiled slightly, a smug smirk that seemed utterly at home on the tiefling's angular face. He'd be getting his wish.

"Ysgard to Osoron, Ysgard to Osoron, wake up."

The closed eyes flipped open, and Osoron settled down onto the bed as he untangled himself from his meditation, a process Mevar watched with satisfaction.

"So what did they say?"

"Nothing much. The warrior still makes strange jokes, the gnoll is getting crazier by the hour, and your two companions said maybe three words all evening. We'll set out in the morning."

The genasi's silvery eyes flickered for a moment at the warrioress' name, but he kept it to himself. "Anything else?"

"They're almost ready to accept you. I think Drachmir still wants to kill you out of general distrust, but the others are coming around. You should thank me, I was very persuasive."

Osoron grinned, a smile of genuine pleasure. "Oh...? And how would I do that?" He tried to change his expression to one of confusion, but the curve of his lips gave it away.

Mevar strode covered the small room in only two steps and placed his fingers on the genasi's bare chest. "I'm sure you can think of something." He pushed Osoron back onto the bed. The genasi squirmed on the sheets for a moment, laughing.

The tiefling looked at his lover's body again. It does look a little like a statue. The druid wasn't as muscular as Mevar was, but every limb was perfect and unblemished. Of course, one limb wasn't being very statue-like just now.

With a sweep of the hand to keep his coat out of the way, Mevar sat down at the foot of the bed. He reached out and closed his hand around the genasi's stiffening penis. Osoron let out a slight sigh at the tiefling's warm touch. He could smell the strange musky scent that accompanied the tiefling, a mixture of incense and spices, animal musk and brimstone, faint but growing stronger. The druid melted back into the sheets of the bed.

Pulling himself up a little, Mevar began to stroke the druid with slow but deft movements. He grinned to himself. Just like picking a lock. Just be sure and steady and it'll give you everything you want. His long fingers teased the tip, and then with another change in position, he began to play with Osoron's balls with his other hand. Light, quick movements flickered over the ever more engorged genasi's cock, as Osoron gripped the sheets and moaned slightly. The tiefling's eyes began to glitter in the twilight.

After a few minutes, Mevar judged his victim ready. Pulling himself up a final time, he lowered his head to the tip of the druid's member. With cat like movements of the tongue, he teased the swollen penis, before taking the tip very gently between his teeth. He began to move his lips across the shaft with maddening slowness, bringing the genasi to ever greater arousal. The tiefling's hair fell forward, its light, raven black strands adding a new sensation to the heady mix.

Osoron could take it no more. From beneath the fog of pleasure, he untangled his hands from the sheets and reached out to place his hands on the rogue's lush hair, to push him further down. No sooner then he had touched the surprisingly soft hair though, then Mevar's other hand moved away from the druid's genitals and gently, but firmly move the hands away. Mevar lifted his head slightly, brushing a strand of dark hair away to grin at Osoron, the tip of the genasi's cock still between the former's lips. A very slight shake of the head followed, and the bright-eyed tiefling returned to his task. Osoron sighed a little sadly. He didn't really know his lover. Then a new paroxysm of ecstasy shunted the thought off to the side.

Finally, Mevar took more then the tip of the penis inside, moving his mouth down along the shaft, teasing his tongue along the swollen member. With ever greater abandon and speed, he moved his head up and down, bringing the druid ever closer to climax.

And eventually to it. With a heart-felt shudder, Osoron spent himself, sending his warm seed straight into Mevar's mouth. At this the tiefling lifted his head, brushing his hair away as he grinned at the happily sated druid. A small trickle of cum down the side of his mouth gave Mevar a closer resemblance to the cat that got into the cream then mere expression.

"Seems I've two things to thank you for now. Where should I start...?" Osoron pulled himself up from his tangled state, a somewhat silly smile plastered on his features, and leaned over to kiss the tiefling on the mouth, his tongue forcing the others lips open and tasting the warm seed and letting the spicy musk envelope him.

After a long moment, the two pulled apart, and Osoron sat back on the bed, feet tucked underneath himself, his cock still stiff but with a satisfied feeling. He moved his hands over to Mevar's collar.

"Let's get you out of these things. Wouldn't want to get them all mussed, now would we?"

With those words, the genasi untied the cravat and tossed it aside, the hard onyx giving a little clink as it hit the metal foot of a lamp. Mevar grinned as he tilted his head back, letting the druid kiss his neck. It was simple truth, really. The best lovers were the ones that cared. Mevar didn't, but experience also has its uses.

The coat would've been the next to be thrown by the wayside, but just as Osoron made to toss to the floor, his hand was caught by Mevar's. The coat was hung gently on the bedpost. The vest-jacket was the third to go, joining the cravat on the floor.

Osoron continued his undressing, carefully unbuttoning the white ruffled shirt, pausing after every moment to kiss the tiefling's smooth chest, and further distracted by his lovers roving hands and burning eyes. It took concentration to not simply rip the shirt away, but after all too long a while, Osoron leaned back against the tiefling's arms to look at what he'd uncovered.

One could teach anatomy using Mevar as a guide. His skin was a delicious golden color, and every single muscle stood in sharp relief. Osoron let his hand rest against the taut stomach, and with an impish smile, let it move southward against the straining bulge in the tiefling's pants. He paused again to place his lips against Mevar's left nipple, teasing it with his tongue, and was rewarded with it stiffening, and with the swelling in the tiefling's trousers becoming ever more imperative. The tenseness in the rogue relaxed, not going away, but lessening. Osoron considered this a success.

The ornate belt was the next to go, its silver buckle clanking to a rest beside the floor lamp with the rest of the clothing, and Osoron kissed his lovers flat stomach as the tiefling's hands ran through the druids unruly white hair. Then, with a grand flourish, Osoron pulled the rogue's breeches down.

The tiefling's phallus sprang from its confinement like an unleashed arrow. Yes... Osoron thought with approval, brushing the shaft with his lips as Mevar brought his hands along the druid's spine, cupping his buttocks. Yes indeed....thought Osoron, he knew what the rogue wanted.

With a reluctant sigh, the genasi twisted away from Mevar's embrace. With a few movements, he leaned against the headboard of the bed, and looked over his shoulder at the rogue, a look of invitation writ large on his pleasant, beautiful face.

Mevar did not need to be told twice. He crossed the bed quickly, and measured himself against the genasi's length. He let his fingers brush against the tight, cerulean buttocks of the druid, but the need was too great for much more foreplay. Steadying himself against the bedstead with a single hand, he positioned himself, and with one swift movement, sheathed himself to the hilt in the genasi.

Osoron let out a gasp at the sensation, and then a series of shudders as Mevar drilled his penis into the druid's ass time after time. Of its own accord, one hand fell to his own member, and he began to massage it as Mevar grasped his hips with both hands and rammed himself again and again, picking up tempo with each thrust.

In not very long, Mevar reached his own climax, pulling out of Osoron and spurting the white, glistening semen all across the genasi's azure back. A moment later, Osoron ejaculated a second time, and the two collapsed in mutual exhaustion on the bed.

For a long moment, they rested, tangled in each others limbs and the by now somewhat stained linens. Mevar brushed a stray lock of hair from his face. "Not very druid-y of you, is this?"

"Oh, I don't know, there are druids and then there are druids," replied the genasi, a lazy smile on his face as he ran his hand across the black pelt on his lover's back, "And I don't notice you complaining."

Mevar chuckled, a low sound that seemed of a piece with the night still. "That I'm not."

They lay together for a minute more, and then Mevar twisted slightly, and reached slim fingers into one of the pockets of the dark leather greatcoat, and pulled out the lancet. He threaded his fingers into the weapons hilt and ran a single finger across the razor-edged blade, the cold metal gleaming slightly in the reflected light of his gleaming eyes. He turned his head and cocked one eyebrow at the genasi, an invitation for a more exotic activity.

Osoron shuddered. "Put that evil thing away." Mevar shrugged and did so, the druid watching with fascination at the interplay of muscles and skin on the tiefling's chest. He roused himself slightly. "I've a better idea."

Shaking off some of his lethargy, the genasi crawled down the bed and let a rest a hand on the tiefling's phallus. He began to kiss the tip and shaft, letting his lips run over ever inch of skin, as Mevar rapidly rose to the occasion. Slowly, gently, the genasi flirted his lips and tongue across the tiefling's penis,

Mevar leaned back in the bed and crossed his arms behind his head, enjoying the sensation. It took only a short time for the rogue to orgasm, the sticky semen covering Osoron's face and hair. With a feeling of satisfaction, the genasi wiped it away, and fell into a drowse with his head on Mevar's stomach. With a few minutes, he was asleep.

Mevar watched him as he slept, noting the slow heave of the chest and the quiet breathing. It was verging on midnight, and only the hellfire glow of the rogue's eyes illuminated the gloom. After a while, he lifted himself up, and with exquisite care, moved Osoron from his stomach to the waiting pillow. The druid stirred slightly at the lost heat, but soon fell into a yet deeper slumber.

The tiefling waited for that, and then swung his legs over the side of the bed and rose to his feet. He paused at the window, and took the single rose from the night table. It was such a beautiful flower, the vibrant crimson, the color of life, and of blood. And yet, it had such sharp thorns, wicked, black curving things, symbols of death. It promised life and death, beauty and danger, blood and steel. Mevar smiled at his thoughts. He pricked a single, callused finger on a thorn, and watched as the blood pooled and then ran down his finger. Mevar liked death as much as he liked life.

He looked over at his lover, embracing the linen sheets for want of his companion. What would that perfect cerulean skin look like with crimson blood pouring out of it? Would that angelic face lose its serene beauty in death? Mevar couldn't help but wonder.

Perhaps he'd get a chance to find out. He rather hoped he would, actually. But it wouldn't be tonight. Tonight he was sated, content and at peace with the world. He could wait for what the morrow would bring.

Mevar went back to bed.

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