Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Shadowheart has a lot of time to think, it turns out. Even when she’s pretty sure she does want to try it out, there are some kinds of kinky sex you really shouldn’t have in a half-baked tent in the middle of the wilderness, even with an owlbear guarding your camp. And they can’t seem to find a minute of peace in any of the villages they stop at. 

The next town they hit after their talk has a rogue graverobbing necromancer, except whoever it is is so sneaky no one can figure out who , and half the town is ready to slit the other half’s throats by the time Karlach and Shadowheart wander up. It’s an entire week of casting Calm Emotions while Karlach lifts people up by the scruffs of their necks and Shadowheart gets pretty good at hiding behind tombstones. In the end, it turns out there’s three rogue necromancers, and only two of them are working together - the partners had no idea the third even existed, and the third thought she was auditioning for the first two. And then everyone is hailing Karlach and Shadowheart as heroes, and neither of them are actually all that interested in sitting around and reaping glory for just being decent people, so they hightail it out pretty fast afterwards.

“Buck up, soldier, next time’s the charm,” Karlach says encouragingly. “They can’t all be going through crises.” Shadowheart maintains this is what cursed them.

The next town has had all their livestock, from cows to hares, replaced with abyssal chickens - after some harried poultry battles and a well-laid trap, they find out it’s a lovers quarrel between a young man and his slighted fae beau. The hamlet they wind up in afterwards is hounded by worgs, which is simple enough at least, but not conducive to amorous dalliances. The less said about the town with the haunted shingles, the better. 

The village after has a mimic as a mayor, somehow, which would be really funny if it didn’t turn out that - surprisingly - the mimic isn’t actually laying down the law, there’s just a really talented ventriloquist conman who’s convinced the town they have the world’s smartest mimic leading them. This again would be really funny, if the ventriloquist wasn’t planning on having the mimic mayor ‘persuade’ the town to build a new music hall, and then taking all the donations and running off. When Shadowheart tells the town, she accidentally sets off the strangest chain of events that end with her officiating a star-crossed marriage between the conman and the local bard, the mimic being kept as a pet and local icon, and the music hall actually undergoing construction.

By the end of it all, Shadowheart is actually a little desperate to fuck Karlach, which is great for her anxiety but terrible for her concentration. Karlach thinks this is hilarious. They have plenty of time to lay out rules, discuss scenes, negotiate kinks and hard stops, but nothing is actually happening besides a quick kiss or two, and sharing a bedroll when they're not splitting watches. It’s driving Shadowheart mad. She doesn’t understand how Karlach is managing, until Karlach reminds her gleefully that she has about a decade of experience waiting.

It’s an honest-to-god city the road leads to next. At this point, Shadowheart is convinced she wouldn’t be surprised if another giant brain pops out of the cobblestones and rains terror down on the houses the second they walk through the gates.

Instead, she stops dead about a half-mile in, staring at a small sign with no words, just a little scratched symbol. 

“Shadowheart? What is it?” Karlach asks. “Wait. If it’s more haunted roof tiles, please just lie to me.”

“No,” Shadowheart murmurs. “No, I recognize that symbol, is all. The nine-tailed whip. I wouldn’t have thought - this is a fairly large city, but we’re so far from… Well.”

“You like being vague and mysterious, or do you wanna get to the point?” 

Shadowheart startles. “Oh! Sorry. That’s Loviatar’s sign. There must be a temple here.”

“Oh. … Oh!”

“They - well, they have rooms for rent, sometimes,” says Shadowheart. “The bigger temples, at least, especially these days. And um. Equipment, too.”

Karlach beams. “I knew our luck had to come in at some point.”

-

“I’m okay starting off slow, and with a shorter scene,” Karlach reminds Shadowheart, lightly cupping her face. “We have all the time in the world. Don’t feel pressured, remember? And you can call stop any time you need to.”

Shadowheart leans into Karlach’s offered kiss, enjoying the slow taste, the melting into the luxury of her lips. “Isn’t that supposed to be my line?”

“You’ve been reading too many trashy novels,” Karlach says, laughing lightly, the sweet-spiced breath of her warming Shadowheart. “It’s both of our lines.”

This is unlike any scene Shadowheart has ever been in. They’re sitting next to each other on the surprisingly soft bed, Shadowheart half curled in Karlach’s lap as they kiss. Karlach seems to be a little obsessed with Shadowheart’s hair, untying the cord holding her braid in place and gently coming out the tangled strands. It’s soothing, and strangely even more exciting entering a scene like this. Shadowheart is almost exclusively used to cold and professional experiences, and there’s certainly interesting and pleasurable things to be said about them, but this feels… better. All the curdled fear in her gut - anxiety that had stuck with her even through careful discussions on the road - has burned away, replaced with excitement, and something gentle Shadowheart is hesitant to call comfort. It’s wild, intoxicating , almost, how her dread has dissipated. She remembers why she loved this, only now it feels right, instead of just satisfactory, perfunctory.

The accouterments around the room are familiar, at least. Racks of whips and paddles, adjustable bars, collars, and muzzles, rows and rows of toys - all set in ordered places within neat opaque dark wood cabinets. The Whiplar who had guided them to the room had explained that while certainly Loviatar’s worshippers would accommodate personalized requests given warning, for those who did not have reservations ahead of time, they allowed renters to choose their own experiences for a hefty upcharge. He had stressed very firmly that anything taken out of a cabinet, or even simply touched, must not be put back, but placed aside for cleaning. His tone had brooked no argument, and even Shadowheart shivered at the implication of what a priest of Loviatar would do when crossed.

Aside from the two walls of cabinetry, suspension equipment hangs from the ceiling and walls, varying equipment is tucked away in shadows, and most invitingly, a large saltire cross looms in the corner that Shadowheart is itching to play with. All in all, it’s actually quite a lovely room, cunningly draped in velvet hangings and paneled with rich dark woods, seeming cozy despite its relatively large dimensions, a far cry from the dank dungeon Shadowheart had met Abdirak in. (Though, she would bet there are a number of those here as well, if she’d asked.) It doesn’t take long for Karlach to pick up on Shadowheart’s growing impatience, and, with a breathless grin, Karlach pulls back. 

“Ready?” Karlach asks. 

“Whenever you are,” she whispers, and just like that, something in Karlach shifts. It’s - it’s an honor to see, almost, and Shadowheart feels full already with the pleasure of it. It’s something in Karlach’s eyes, the way they flicker, and in the set of her shoulders. It’s trust. 

Trust, and arousal. 

“Take off your shirt for me, my love,” Shadowheart murmurs, and Karlach does so immediately, or tries to. She yanks so hastily that she gets caught for a moment, and Shadowheart is smiling as she assists, working the heavy muslin away from Karlach’s intact horn. “Oh, love, you really do need me, don’t you?”

“Maybe so,” Karlach says, and there’s something cheeky in her voice that Shadowheart revels in, because it gives her an excuse to grab Karlach’s jaw. She’s still half in Karlach’s lap, and it allows her the perfect angle to wrench Karlach’s face down and stare into her eyes. The sudden flare in Karlach’s expression has nothing to do with her engine, and Shadowheart basks in it. 

“None of that now,” Shadowheart coos. “When I ask a question, it’s yes, no, slow down, or stop, do you understand? Answer me.”
“Yes,” Karlach manages, strained with Shadowheart’s grip on her jaw still. 

“We never actually decided on a title for me, did we? Shadowheart will work for now, but we can figure something else out later. That’s one more word you’re allowed. I’m very generous, aren’t I?”

Oh, Shadowheart sees it before Karlach even says it, laughter in her voice as she gets, “No, Shadowheart,” out loud. Shadowheart has to bite down on her own laugh, keep a serious face, because the joy in Karlach has always been so infectious, and of course Karlach would be a brat. But Shadowheart also has a very attractive, muscular, half-dressed barbarian beneath her, and she’s going to need to keep the reins on this one. 

Her free hand creeps up to the back of Karlach’s head, fisting in her hair and tugging as a slow warning. “Do you want to repeat that, Karlach?”

“No, Shadowheart,” Karlach repeats, still grinning, and that's that. 

“Fifteen minutes,” Shadowheart says. Karlach cocks her head in momentary confusion, wincing at first with the tug on her hair, and then gratifyingly, widening her eyes. “To start. It was only going to be five, but then, well.” Shadowheart lets go of Karlach's face and reaches behind her without looking. The poi flogger she pulls out is beautifully simple - well-worked cowhide, cleaned and soaked to a deceptively soft texture with something that smells faintly fragrant and enticing.

She'd been admittedly a little nervous about using tools from this temple at first. While the cleric at the door had been gratified to learn she'd been a cleric of Shar (strangers wandering into a temple like this did not always bode well for the temple, especially when worship of Loviatar was so… controversial) and even more gratified to learn she was no longer a cleric of Shar (these days Shadowheart can fully admit Sharrans do not have the best concept of what boundaries and hard limits are), Shadowheart knows Sharrans and Loviatans on occasion have had rough histories. She had almost no idea what to expect.

But seeing the care in which they treated their tools, Shadowheart had relented. A simple spell would have worked to disinfect en masse, but someone had clearly taken time and love with everything in this room. 

Karlach's soft gasp pulls Shadowheart out of her musings, and while it would be so easy to mock Karlach for this - she’d helped Shadowheart pick which flogger they would use barely a half hour ago, she knew it was coming - Shadowheart decides to be kind.

Mostly. 

Shadowheart has always had an artistic touch, and she uses it now. Her fingers fit neatly into the loops of the flogger, and, turning carefully away from Karlach, one hand still grasping Karlach’s hair tightly, and tests the spin. It’s more for Karlach’s benefit than her own, impressing on Karlach the tight control she has over the toy. The mass of short straps tied to a long chain wheels through the air with a searing noise just as satisfying as any whip, and far more controlled. Shadowheart can feel Karlach thrust instinctively beneath her, and forces Karlach’s head a little closer to her own without looking to catch the slight moan that falls from her lips. 

“Louder, sweetheart,” Shadowheart urges, showing off a little with the flogger. She barely has to move her wrist for the toy to whistle in smooth figure eights. Karlach obliges, and Shadowheart is pleased to hear the rough edge already catching in her lovely voice. The flogger snaps back to Shadowheart’s hand, and in a controlled motion Shadowheart flips from curling in Karlach’s lap to straddling her. 

Karlach is thick and hot beneath her, just one of her thighs three times as large as Shadowheart’s own, and Shadowheart has to spread her own legs far more than she’d assumed to encompass Karlach. She takes a moment to enjoy the feeling, subtly rocking back and forth just for the pleasure of it. Karlach is already semi-erect, which is a delight, and it feels divine. 

“Just a taste of later,” Shadowheart assures as Karlach’s moan deepens, thickens like syrup. “We still have more to get to before I ride you, beloved.”

“Shadowheart-” Karlach gasps, and a clawed hand grasps at her shoulder. This alone would be fine. Shadowheart wouldn’t deny Karlach a scramble for balance. But after a few seconds, the hand slips down to her lower back as Karlach loses the battle not to urge Shadowheart further, grind harder against her.

“Ah-ah, no you don’t,” she murmurs, letting disapproval drip from her words. Karlach flushes, yanks her hand away. “Did I say you could touch me? Yes or no.”

“No,” Karlach whispers. “No, I didn’t mean-”

“Yes or no only, love, unless you need me to slow or stop. So. Yes or no?”

“No.” Oh, Karlach already looks debauched, the beauty. Shadowheart idly wonders if the bratting will pick back up again - she doesn’t mind either way. Karlach seems desperate enough for touch tonight that Shadowheart wouldn’t be surprised if it overrode any instinctive bratting, and she’s is reminded that outside of whatever kinks Karlach and Astarion got up to during their months all together, Karlach hasn’t had much room for sex in an awfully long time. She is very sensitive. Though, a few sessions to get her used to regular touch and sex again might bring up more leeway for her. How exciting - no, Shadowheart, don’t get ahead, she reminds herself. One thing at a time. 

“Good girl,” she praises, low and sibilant, and Karlach’s gasp sounds punched out of her. Well. Karlach hadn’t mentioned a praise kink, but it really isn’t surprising. Maybe Karlach doesn’t even realize she has one. Still, it’s a nice surprise, and one Shadowheart is absolutely going to use, especially on this first slower scene.

Shadowheart still halts her gentle rock, though, allowing herself a small smile as Karlach whines, the tense hold of Karlach’s rippling muscles distinct as she forces herself not to move. “I don’t want to have to restrain your hands right now, it would be such a pain when I'd have to undo them in just a minute, so you just stay still. I’m still going to have to add some time for that, but you did very well with a little reminding. It seems like you can be trained, at least.” 

Shadowheart swallows Karlach’s whine with a deep kiss, using the distraction of her own mouth to rip off Karlach’s undershirt. The material is thin and half-burnt as it is, and it tears almost noiselessly, revealing Karlach’s tits, deep crimson lit to an almost sunset pink with the rosy glow from her engine. Karlach has no time to react before Shadowheart follows the falling fabric with a gentle, breeze-light tough from the lashes of the flogger, teasing her with the rainlike fall of wide cowhide strips. It isn’t enough, given Karlach’s trembling beneath her, which is precisely the point. 

Still, she’d better get the cock ring out now before Karlach gets any harder. Shadowheart finally releases her grip on Karlach’s hair, seeking out the other toy she’d set aside nearby. The ring is simple, soft leather with snaps, and Shadowheart glances at the candle clock on the sconce to carefully note the time before trailing her fingers down Karlach’s chest and stomach to the lacing of her trousers. 

“Shadowheart-” manages Karlach, but Shadowheart just lets out a calming, cooing noise before a simple tug undoes the lacing. It’s a moment's work to free Karlach’s cock, though Shadowheart admittedly has to take a second to admire it before continuing. Karlach is gorgeous, down to every considerable inch of her, painted with all the glorious colors of the rising sun and etched with scars and creases like rippling tributaries. Her cock is no different. 

“Oh, you’re so pretty for me, aren’t you?” she murmurs, and when Karlach only moans, Shadowheart lets her tone get sharper. “I asked you a question, darling.”
“Yes,” gasps Karlach. “Yes, yeah, yes-”

“Good girl.” Karlach loses the battle not to jerk upward at that, but Shadowheart, kind as she is, will let it pass. The ring is well made, and Shadowheart barely has to touch Karlach to snap it around her. Her keen is satisfying, as is the rough texture of her cock, but Shadowheart has plans, and this isn’t at the top of her to-do list. “I’m going to tie up your tail now, can you keep it still for me?”

Karlach hums her agreement, so Shadowheart picks up the last implement she’d had ready on the bed. Tails are, though it can depend on the species, usually a no-go for impact play, and Shadowheart prefers to have them lashed up against her sub’s back and chest. Even the most disciplined sub tends to lose control of their tail when deep in subspace, and Shadowheart has no desire to risk hitting Karlach’s when aiming for her ass or thighs. It’s a smooth practiced motion to slip her tail into the restraint of the harness and then lock the harness into place around Karlach’s torso. Shadowheart has absolute confidence in her aim, so she does leave enough of a bend free in Karlach’s tail that harness won’t tug too hard at the tail’s base.

“Do you remember what we have planned next?” she asks, smiling gently as she pulls Karlach’s smallclothes back up and re-knots her trouser lacing. “You can use more words for this.”

“The, the cross,” Karlach says, and for all her denied frustration, Shadowheart could practically swim in the delicious anticipation swirling through her voice. “Right?”

“Yes, darling, good.” Shadowheart trails the flogger one last time across Karlach’s skin, giving her the lightest sting - not even enough to be called a smack, just a promise - across her breasts, before sliding off of Karlach. “Go get ready. Face the wall.”

Karlach blinks at the loss of contact for a startled minute before the command catches up to her and she nearly startles to her feet. Even in subspace, she is wildly graceful, and Shadowheart has never been shy about admiring Karlach’s body. It’s more than just the simple fact that Karlach is objectively beautiful, though she is. There’s just something in the way she moves, a controlled power that Shadowheart knows Karlach acquired by not simply native talent but years of hard work. 

Even then, Shadowheart has seen her fair share of skilled warriors over her time. Karlach stands out from all of them. It’s the elation that ripples through her, the humor, the - Shadowheart has spent too long immersed in the doctrines of Shar to have the right terms to describe Karlach. She doesn’t have enough words like joy, like glory, like grace, but she’s more than willing to learn.

Karlach stands facing the wall, her clawed fingers tracing the clean wood of the saltire cross. There are a few scrapes and gouges, but not unnervingly many, and the straps are cleverly designed to be unobtrusive and adjustable. Shadowheart admits to being a little disappointed this one is missing a turning axle, but spinning Karlach upside-down really is farther than she wants to risk going this first session. Maybe next time.

The low light does wonders for Karlach, making her glow all on her own. The flickers of fire that have danced across her skin for as long as Shadowheart has known her are still always there, though they’ve generally diminished in the time since her infernal engine was fixed. They’re back in full force now, rippling blue-white like sea-current, and Karlach’s skin is a watercolor painting of eventide shades, lapis and tyrian, carmine and coral. With her chest to the wall, the luminance of her engine is muted, but not gone - it reflects and backlights the edges of her, and if Shadowheart studies her closely, she can see the infernal light seep through the back of her ribcage, just barely, like the setting sun through crimson stained glass, the harness outlining the vision like window mullions.

Karlach is beautiful. Truly, genuinely beautiful, inside and out, and it takes away Shadowheart’s breath, grabs ahold of her breastbone and wrenches, because Karlach is standing there for Shadowheart. For Shadowheart. All this trust, all this care, all this love - Karlach has never shied away from the word love, and it pours through Shadowheart now - for her. 

This is it. This is why, this is the point. This is what she’d been looking for for so long, and though her doubts had been gone from before the scene even started, she’s reassured even more just standing here. There’s power in both of their hands now, a control she and Karlach had both had ripped from them for so long, and they’re taking it back themselves, here and now.

Shadowheart slips behind Karlach, rests her hands on Karlach’s hips, flogger hanging loosely from the finger straps on her left hand. She’s not short, but she still has to raise to her tiptoes to press her lips to the vulnerable spot where Karlach’s neck meets her shoulder, a slow and tender kiss. Karlach leans into it, voicelessly but not noiselessly, a long contented sigh ruffling Shadowheart’s loose, pale hair. 

“Are you ready, my love?” Shadowheart asks softly, her left hand tracing the neat vents studded along Karlach’s shoulder, dancing along burn scars and divots, all the way to Karlach’s trembling wrist. “Remember, you can say no at any point, no matter what or why.”

“Yes,” whispers Karlach. “Yes, Shadowheart.”

The confirmation is all Shadowheart needed to grasp Karlach’s wrist, press a quick kiss to the inside of it, then carefully lock it into the strap. She takes her time with Karlach’s other wrist, murmuring softly, before stepping back. 

There are leg straps, but Shadowheart decides not to use them - this isn’t going to be a terribly long scene, and not only are Karlach’s wrists tied far enough over her head she could dangle and rest her weight on them for a safe few seconds, she also has the room to grab onto the edges of the cross for support. 

“Comfortable?” Shadowheart asks.

Karlach tests the restraints thoroughly, which Shadowheart appreciates. If Karlach really wanted to, Shadowheart is sure her rage would let her break out - or even a particularly determined pull, really. But it’s nice to see that it should hold decently well, and Karlach voices her agreement aloud. 

“Good girl. I’m going to start by going over your clothes. If you can take that, we’ll take them off, but I want to be sure first, understood? I know you said you’ve done this before, but I want a baseline.”

“Yeah - yes, Shadowheart,” Karlach says, and the sheer excitement running through her words reminds Shadowheart of Karlach ready to jump into battle, lit up like a bonfire and dancing with elation. 

Shadowheart tests the flogger one last time, whirring through a few forms, before without warning spinning it in a quick circle, the flogger cracking down on Karlach’s ass repeatedly on each downstroke, like a series of staccato fireworks. 

One of the reasons Shadowheart had suggested the flogger instead of the whip for their first time together is the varying levels of control a flogger offers - Shadowheart finds it much easier to control how slow and sensual versus how hard and fast to work a flogger, while her expertise with a whip tends more towards simply sharp, harsh, quick lashes. She has to count each whiplash, instead of being able to simply count the minutes and adjust flogging as needed, and without first-hand knowledge of Karlach’s limits, this is the safer option. 

Not to mention, in Shadowheart’s own opinion, more fun. 

The very first hit calls forth a back-arching moan from Karlach, one that hits Shadowheart right between the legs. She doesn’t let up for a minute, enjoying the way Karlach writhes beneath her ministrations, keeping the spinning lashes in a tight but not especially harsh circle. Eventually, she slows, gentling her spin and backing off until the leather is barely brushing Karlach, running it up and down Karlach’s back now that it won’t elicit even a sting.

“Keep going,” Karlach whines, shuddering. At that, Shadowheart pulls away entirely, though she keeps spinning so as not to lose momentum, letting only the barest breeze of displaced air hit Karlach. 

“Darling, are those your approved words?”

Karlach shivers. “No, Shadowheart, but-”

“Karlach.”

“No, Shadowheart.”

“Good girl,” Shadowheart murmurs, allowing herself a wide smile as Karlach twists in her bonds at the praise; it’s not as if Karlach can see her face. “Now, do you want me to keep going, love?”

“Yes, yes, y- ah- ” Karlach yelps as Shadowheart lays a heavier stripe across her ass, then two, harder than anything else yet, though still nothing hard enough to welt, especially under two layers of fabric. Karlach jolts, and Shadowheart realizes with mounting pleasure that Karlach is trying to rut against the x-cross, and clearly not getting what she’s looking for out of it. “Ah, ah, ah, fuck, yes, ah, Sha, Shadowheart- ” 

“There we go, keep making noise for me,” urges Shadowheart, keeping up her steady pace of hits, noting the way Karlach can’t decide whether to jerk into the leather smacks or away from them into the stiff wood to give her cock any kind of stimulation. “Let it out, beloved, just like that, there you go-” She keeps up a steady stream of words, all simple mindless encouragement, and finds to her surprise it’s a struggle not to slip her free hand into her own trousers. 

Karlach is a stunning, writhing mess, her tail straining against the leather of the harness, her arms twisting madly. She’s insanely sensitive already, as Shadowheart had expected, but Shadowheart hadn’t expected to be so immediately turned on by it. Sadism had always been a slow bloom of confidence for her, but here and now she’s nearly overcome with intense pleasure of her own, hearing Karlach cry out her name with such desperate arousal. But she’s not willing to let up on her careful devotion to Karlach right now, and decides to simply enjoy her own denial while it lasts.

“You’re doing very good for me, Karlach,” Shadowheart says, giving her a brief respite. “Do you want me to take off the rest of your clothes?”

Karlach pants for a second in the lull, catching her breath, and Shadowheart allows her the space. “Yes,” she manages eventually. “Yes, please.”

Please hadn’t been on Shadowheart’s list, but Karlach looks so lovely, fuzzy-eyed and trembling, and it’s hardly a word Shadowheart minds, so she lets it go. “Alright then, love.” She’s a far cry now from Sharran Shadowheart, she thinks with wry amusement, curling her hands around Karlach’s hips and unlacing her pants once more, letting them drop to her ankles and helping Karlach step out of them with her shaky legs. Her smallclothes are fast behind, and Karlach’s cock springs free. Shadowheart runs the lightest of touches against it, watching with interest as Karlach sobs and tries to push herself more firmly into Shadowheart’s hands, her length straining against the leather of the cock ring. Actually, speaking of-

“Karlach, it’s been about twenty-five minutes since we put this on,” Shadowheart says. “We can leave it on for a little while longer, or I can take it off now. Which do you prefer? You can say now or later.”

Karlach blinks, clearly trying to catch her brain, before, “Now.”

As soon as she says so, Shadowheart unclasps the leather, letting it hit the ground near Karlach’s travel-worn clothes,  Karlach twitches, her wrists flexing on some basic instinct to reach for her cock, and whines in low frustration.

“If you can promise me you won’t come while tied up here,” Shadowheart murmurs into Karlach’s ear, once more on tiptoes, “I promise you can come inside me after.”

“Fuck, fuck fuck, ” Karlach gasps out, “Yes, yes, yes, Shadowheart, yes-”

“Mmm, good girl, I believe in you,” Shadowheart says, soft and slow, tracing the shell of Karlach’s ear with one finger before backing off again. The first crack of the flogger against Karlach’s ass is music, and Karlach’s aborted scream even more so, the bang of her clenched fists against the wood as much a part of the rhythm as the flogging itself. Shadowheart keeps a careful ear out for a shift in Karlach’s screams, making sure pain never outweighs pleasure, and checks in every few minutes for a more composed yes from Karlach. She continues to vary the power between her strikes as well, occasionally running light touches up and down Karlach's back, faint enough to drive her mad.

“You’re so beautiful like this, for me, darling,” Shadowheart praises, hoping her honesty comes through her words. “Good girl, keep screaming for me, just like that-”

Karlach does, and when Shadowheart notices mean welts beginning to rise and crisscross across the meat of Karlach’s ass, she switches to Karlach’s upper thighs, enjoying the way Karlach shrieks, lost in the feeling of it all, at the leather on fresh skin. Karlach had said before they got started she wouldn’t mind blood drawn, but Shadowheart had considered it and explained she’d rather avoid it during the flogging for this first time. Still, despite Shadowheart’s restraint, she knows the blooming stripes across Karlach’s skin are stinging well enough. Karlach’s cries get stronger, more desperate, more excited every second it continues, and the jerking of her hips gets faster and faster. The fire that ripples across her skin sometimes almost seems to glide up the leather of the flogger itself, and Shadowheart swears it even reaches her fingers once or twice.

Shadowheart’s attention is still rapt when Karlach stutters out a, “Shadowheart, I - slow, slow down, I, please-” and instantly she reigns back the lashes. She’s careful to keep the now much lighter circles mildly brushing against Karlach - Karlach said slow, not stop, and Shadowheart doesn’t want to yank her out of the scene too hard if she doesn’t want it. 

“Good girl,” Shadowheart says firmly, infusing the praise with genuine warmth. “What do you need? Use whatever words you need to.”

Karlach’s breath stammers for a moment as her mind catches up, and then she says, “I need, I need this, just, for a second, I - if you hadn’t slowed, ah, hadn’t slowed down, I would have, would have come.” 

Shadowheart’s mind goes blank for a minute, though she keeps her control tight on the flogger. It takes a millisecond to realize arousal so sharp it is painful is racking her body, desire curling its fingers into her cunt strong enough it is almost as good as actual fucking. It takes her longer than she wants to admit to gather herself together again to manage a voice unshaken by lust. “I’m proud of you for telling me what you need. Thank you. Do you want to take more time to breathe and then pick this up again, or would you rather we unstrap you and be done with impact play for the night?”

“Can we stay like this for a few more minutes? And then unstrap me.”

“Anything you want, darling,” Shadowheart says, and means it. Karlach, streaked with sweat and hanging onto the wood with weary fingertips, is the most magnificent thing Shadowheart has ever seen. 

Shadowheart keeps time in her head, gives Karlach exactly three minutes of the gentle, lightly stinging flogs, and then, as tenderly as she can manage, simply draws the now sweat-soaked leather across Karlach’s back. “You did so well for me, Karlach,” Shadowheart repeats.

The first thing she unstraps is Karlach’s tail, leaving the harness still on Karlach’s torso - sue her, it looks good - and gently massages the base of it, ensuring it hasn’t kinked too badly. Karlach had asked to save any non-immediate aftercare and healing until after the scene was fully over, but Shadowheart has heard strapping a tail up like this for more than half an hour can leave it painfully twisted for days if not taken care of soon after release.

Once she’s positive, she releases both wrist straps, easily catching Karlach as she stumbles. Karlach is large and heavy, but Shadowheart is more than strong enough for this, and it’s a pleasure to have her in Shadowheart’s arms. Karlach shoots Shadowheart a muzzy smile, and Shadowheart has to bite back a laugh, trying to keep her dom persona up. She’s never felt like this before during a scene, powerful and elated and so fucking turned on.

“Come on, love, the bed isn’t far,” Shadowheart encourages, and the two make their way to the bed and its cool sheets. Karlach sprawls spread-eagle, and Shadowheart eyes her carefully for more than anything than a wince of pain, but even that barely crosses her face. Karlach looks high, almost, debauched and defiled, her skin shining with sweat illuminated by the tidal fire that rips across her.

“Can I kiss you?” Karlach asks, and in response, Shadowheart straddles her torso, cupping her face in Shadowheart’s hands and kissing her forcefully. Karlach leans into it with a growled moan, but when Shadowheart pushes her firmly back down onto the bed, she allows it. Shadowheart pulls her tunic off, freeing her tits to press against Karlach’s as she kisses her again. They stay like that for a while, Shadowheart slowly rocking against Karlach’s wide stomach, enjoying the friction of her trousers against her cunt, but after a while Karlach’s own whines become so desperate Shadowheart takes pity.

Well. Some of it is pity, and some of it is a need so strong it makes Shadowheart dizzy to finally get that cock into her. Six of one, and so on.

“I’m going to ride you now,” Shadowheart informs Karlach in a voice so soft it’s nearly imperceptible, but Karlach’s hazy eyes snap to attention and she nearly weeps with relief. Shadowheart shoots her a sharp grin, and rolls off the bed to yank off the rest of her clothes as elegantly as she can manage, then once more straddles Karlach, so the tip of Karlach’s cock is just barely pressing against her ass. Karlach’s gaze travels desperately up and down Shadowheart’s body, but they finally rest on the dark patch of curls between her legs. Shadowheart wonders if, with Karlach’s darkvision and in the low light Karlach herself gives off, she can see how wet Shadowheart is. 

Just in case she can’t, Shadowheart holds three of her fingers to Karlach’s lips. Karlach doesn’t even need a command, easily taking them into her mouth and laving her tongue across the digits. When Shadowheart pulls them out with a pop, Karlach looks almost disappointed, but she says, “Don’t give me that face, sweetheart. You’ll get them again in a moment.” 

Shadowheart trails her wet fingers around her tits, down her chest, but she’s too turned on to truly tease. When she finally, finally gets her fingers in her cunt, she can’t hold back a moan of her own, rocking her fingers deep inside her and rutting her clit against her palm. She could come like this, but where would the fun be in that - well, Karlach’s wide-eyed stuttering awe is lovely, and it would be fun to make her watch Shadowheart come again and again without Karlach being touched, but that’s a scene for another day. Shadowheart made a promise. 

She lets out a small noise she swears isn’t a sob when she pulls her dripping fingers out, but Karlach is more than eager to take them back into her mouth, which makes up for it. “Are you ready, my love?” She doesn’t even wait for Karlach’s response - before the words finish leaving her mouth, she’s already lowering herself onto Karlach’s straining cock.

Hells. Fucking hells, Lady Selûne above, thank Loviatar, fucking gods. It takes everything she has to keep desperate prayer from spilling past her lips at the feeling of Karlach inside her, throwing her head back and enjoying the stretch of her muscles. Karlach has no such restrictions, though Shadowheart can’t make out whatever it is she’s crying out like a chant. Is that - Infernal? It must be. 

Forget everything Shadowheart had said about Karlach cooling down. Karlach’s cock is ridged fire inside of her, achingly huge, and under different circumstances Shadowheart might have stretched herself more before taking the heft of Karlach in but gods does the ache feel better than anything else she’s ever known. 

She’s not even embarrassed to admit she comes almost immediately. Her orgasm crashes into her, screaming its supernova into her cunt, and she rides Karlach through and past it, just cognizant enough to take bright satisfaction in the way Karlach’s moans turn to wails of pleasure as Shadowheart tightens and pulses around her. 

Karlach’s self-control is stunning beyond belief, and Shadowheart loses track of all time as she ruts against Karlach, moaning when Karlach’s nails scrabble against her back. She thinks Karlach draws blood, and the sting feels like kisses, urging her on. 

“Shadowheart-” is the only word of Karlach’s she can understand, and when she hears her name repeated more and more often, Karlach’s thrusts growing more and more fierce and off-beat, she grins.

“Do you want to come for me, Karlach?” Shadowheart whispers, just audible over the sounds of their fucking. “Want to be good for me and come?”
“Please,” Karlach begs. “Please, please, fuck, ah, ah, Shadowheart, please-”

“Do it,” Shadowheart demands, and as she finishes the command, Karlach does. Her scream is the loudest Shadowheart has heard all night, even louder than her roar when she begins her raging, and Shadowheart almost hopes that the walls here aren’t completely soundproof, so everyone can hear how beautiful Karlach sounds when she comes. 

At the feeling of Karlach’s release inside of her, pumping furiously, Shadowheart is surprised to find her own, second orgasm tipping, punching her breathless, too aroused to even shout, her eyes trapped on the glory of Karlach beneath her. 

Finally, finally, finally Shadowheart collapses on top of Karlach, and the two of them lie together for a long, interminable moment, half in each other's arms, still joined, too weary to move. Shadowheart has never felt so content in her entire fucking life.

When Shadowheart’s muscles allow her, she leverages herself up with her arms over Karlach, her now-tangled hair like a white sheet blocking off the rest of the room. 

“Hello, Karlach,” she says, light in a way that spreads like a bubble from her chest all the way to the whorls of her fingertips. “How are you feeling?”

“I think,” Karlach murmurs, sleepy and satisfied as a big cat after a meal, “you are my favorite person in the entire world.”

Shadowheart laughs, finally, reckless and delighted. Karlach’s answering smile is beautiful, of course, just like every other godsdamned part of her, and Shadowheart can’t hold herself back from kissing it. 

“You’re gorgeous,” she says when she’s covered Karlach’s entire face with kisses. She may be embarrassed about her uncharacteristic effusiveness in the morning, but right now it feels right. “You’re perfect. You were amazing. You are amazing.” She manages to maneuver herself up with effort. Both women let out a slightly pained ah when Shadowheart finally pulls Karlach out.
“You had a good time then, I take it?” Karlach asks, folding her arms beneath her head lazily. 

“A good - Better than good, Karlach,” Shadowheart says, feeling her smile soften into something small and earnest. “Truly, I… Thank you.”

“It was my pleasure,” Karlach says, drawing a thumb across Shadowheart’s cheek, “literally and figuratively.” Shadowheart is confused at the gesture, until Karlach shows Shadowheart her thumb is wet with salt. 

“Oh,” Shadowheart says, her skin flaming. “Oh, I don’t know why - I’m so sorry, I promise it doesn’t mean-”

“I know, darling,” Karlach soothes, and she means it, Shadowheart can tell. “It’s normal. More than normal. And - thank you.” She tucks Shadowheart’s wave of hair behind her ear. “I know this was hard for you. I’m glad you took the leap. It was wonderful.”

“It wasn’t hard at all,” Shadowheart whispers, honestly.

“Well, something was hard,” Karlach says, and her wicked grin takes Shadowheart’s breath away for just a second until the joke hits her.

She stares, and then, “I’m grabbing the ointment. Flip over.”
“You’re laughing. I can hear it in your voice, soldier, you can’t hide it from me.”

“Flip.”

“You think I’m funny-”

“I think I am going to take care of you, and you have the worst jokes I’ve ever heard.”

Karlach is giggling still as she flips over. “They are the worst, and you love them anyway.”

Shadowheart is grateful Karlach can barely see her from where her cheek rests against the pillow, because Shadowheart is still smiling, red cheeks and all. “Shut the fuck up.”

Karlach does, for a brief moment only, as Shadowheart carefully inspects the damage she’s done to Karlach. Exactly as much as intended, and nothing more. Still, the ointment will help, and she’s gratified to hear Karlach’s deep sigh of contentment as the cool healing balm is spread across her aching skin.

The silence is nice, until Karlach breaks it again. “Next time, can I eat you out?”

Shadowheart nearly drops the container of balm. “You’re going to be the godsdamned death of me.”

Karlach’s pleased laugh rings like bells in her ears for weeks.