## Preface

A Day Off
Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/15483579.

Rating:
  Explicit
Archive Warning:
  No Archive Warnings Apply
Category:
  M/M
Fandom:
  Critical Role (Web Series)
Relationship:
  Mollymauk Tealeaf/Caleb Widogast
Characters:
  Mollymauk Tealeaf, Caleb Widogast, Jester (Critical Role), Fjord (Critical Role), Beauregard (Critical Role), Nott (Critical Role)
Additional Tags:
  Dreams, joke title: a few awkward boners and a really good blowjob: a Mollymauk story, Illustrated
Language:
  English
Series:
  Part 1 of Dreams
Stats:
  Published: 2018-07-29 Words: 6,043 Chapters: 1/1

# A Day Off

by Neesi

Summary

> Mollymauk keeps having dreams about Caleb. It culminates on a day off from their travels and he must decide what to do about it.

> (NOTE: I started writing this series pre-ep. 26 and I'm committing to that so yeah)

> UPDATE 9/8/2021: Apologies to all readers that the images have continued to break off and on over the course of the last year or so. Image hosting is dumb. They should be working now. Thanks!

## A Day Off

It happened again, Mollymauk realized with a sigh as he opened his eyes that morning. It was barely after sunrise and only the faintest suggestion of daylight filtered in through the dusty, curtained window. He rubbed at his eyes with one hand.

That was the third dream in as many days.

With a groan, he rolled out of the bed in the inn room he shared with Fjord, as always. His bare feet hit the floor with a thump, and he let out a pained sound as he stretched, arms extended over his head and tail arched behind him. He took the empty space of the moment to think.

Molly had an...interesting relationship with dreams. Many were just that, but others he recognized as memories drifting in and out, unbidden, from the time before him . Those mornings he would wake with a sensation of detached discomfort, and he mostly just did his best not to think about them.

But lately...well, there was no way to mistake these dreams for memories of a person who no longer inhabited his body.

Each one was different, but they all held one sole constant: Caleb Widogast. His bedraggled hair as Molly ran reverent fingers through it. His lips, soft and warm and urgent. His skin, hot and intoxicating and bared for Molly to do as he pleased. His voice, low, raspy, urging him on.

“Fuck,” Molly muttered, running both hands over his face.

He must have said it too loudly because Fjord stirred in the bed across the room. He tried to roll over to face the sound but ended up tangled in the blanket.

“Molly? That you?” Fjord asked, untangling himself. He sounded groggy and the effect seemed to weaken his coastal accent, but perhaps that was just Molly's imagination.

“I'd be worried if it was anyone else, frankly,” Molly answered, wry smile audible in his words.

“...S’fair,” Fjord said with a wide yawn as he shifted upright on the mattress. Molly could just see the edge of one tusk starting to peek past his lower lip--it looked like Fjord really had stopped wearing them down. How cute.

“Everythin’ alright?” His drawl was back full force now that he'd woken more completely.

Molly remembered what had stirred his roommate in the first place. “Oh, you heard that?” He ran a tired hand through his hair. “Sorry to wake you up, I just…” He paused, thinking. “Woke up really hungry.”

Caleb’s cock in his mouth, the tang of salt on his tongue

Molly coughed awkwardly and Fjord gave him a strange look. He needed to escape quickly before the growing bulge in his colorful trousers made this morning any more uncomfortable.

“I-I'm gonna head downstairs and get breakfast,” Molly said, virtually stumbling over himself in his haste. He threw his loose-fitting shirt over his head, slipped on his boots, and tried not to run for the door.

---

The shot of liquor burned all the way down, taking some of his lingering imagination with it where it settled just below his sternum as the beginning of a day of heartburn.

It wasn't a solution, but by the nine hells it was a start.

There was minimal candlelight in the tavern portion of the inn, and with only the wan early morning light outside the place was dark. The sounds of cooking could be heard from somewhere in the back room, and something that smelled vaguely like what must be Molly’s breakfast mingled with a persistent tang of yeast on the air.

There was a whisper of fine fabrics to his left as Beauregard effortlessly vaulted over the bench and sat down. “Whoa, starting a little early there, aren't you, Molly?”

Beau’s hair was haphazardly tied in a loose topknot on her head, which would have made her look as tired as Molly felt if that wasn't the way she always wore it.

Mollymauk coughed on the last of the shot and shook his head, the various jewels and decorations on his curled horns chiming softly. He set the shot glass down on the worn, marred table with a thud.

“It's not like it really matters,” came an accented female voice from his right. A pair of frilled, blue-skinned tiefling elbows hit the table before momentum carried Jester’s face into her waiting hands. She looked to Molly and Beau, dripping with her usual suffocating optimism and wagging a finger. Compared to them, her appearance was immaculate. “We're taking a day off before we head back out anyway.”

Beau shrugged. “I guess that's true, but still.”

“You two sure are up early,” Molly said with a forced smile, making an effort to keep any trace of irritation from his voice. Cheerful, Molly. It's just a normal morning.

Yeah, right.

“Speak for yourself,” Jester said as she poked the empty shot glass, testing how far she could tip it without it falling over. It fell over on the fourth try.

“Speaking of a day off,” Beau began, glancing around the dark, dingy tavern more in boredom than anything else, “ what are you guys gonna do today?”

“Oh, you know,” Jester replied, far too loudly and exuberantly, “I need to draw some things in my sketchboooook, talk to The Traveleeeer, maybe see if there's any shops that could use a little help with their merchandising if you know what I mean…” She counted the first two off on her fingers, then grinned over to the both of them on the third. “Nothing new, really.”

“Sounds like a full day,” Beau said, and Molly could never tell if she was being genuine or sarcastic. He decided to go with both.

The bartender came by and dropped a plate of food in front of Molly: some soggy-looking scrambled eggs and a piece of toast. Looking down at the plate, he realized belatedly that he wasn't actually all that hungry. He picked up the plain toast and nibbled on a corner.

Jester continued to babble and so Molly tuned it out as he scanned the room for something to look at. The tavern was empty, of course, so he ended up staring at a chair across the room for lack of a better target.

Caleb whimpered as Molly tweaked one hard nipple, nipping and dragging his teeth down down Caleb’s belly--

He realized too late the danger of letting his mind wander so soon and choked on a bite of toast.

“Oh, Molly!” Jester exclaimed over his coughing. “You are supposed to chew your food before you swallow it!” In an effort to be helpful she started pounding on his back, but with such brute force that it only made him cough harder. He slapped the table in surrender a few times and Jester eventually relented.

“You okay?” Beau asked when the worst of the choking had subsided.

“Yeah,” Molly forced out between final coughs, “Yeah.” He took a deep breath and wiped the tears from the corners of his eyes. “I’m fine.”

It wasn’t supposed to be this difficult.

A sudden, overwhelming desire to escape crawled up Molly's spine like an insect.

He stood up from the table. “Actually, I think I'm gonna go out back and run through some sword drills.” Remembering he’d left his weapons back in the room, he started making his way toward the stairs.

“You didn't finish your food!” Jester called out to him, pointing at the mostly untouched plate.

Molly waved a hand without turning back. “All yours!” The sound of his retreating footsteps echoed down the stairway.

Beau watched him go from over her shoulder, brow furrowed. Jester shrugged, grabbed the plate, and proceeded to shove a big forkful of eggs in her mouth. Looking to Beau, she gestured toward the stairs with the fork.

“Molly’s been acting sort of weird lately, don't you think?” she asked through a mouthful of eggs.

Molly reached the top of the stairs just as he heard familiar voices from down the hall and froze in place.

“You should go outside for at least a little bit today, Caleb. It's good for you.” Nott’s voice carried down the hall, scratchy and always sounding like it trembled a bit. The porcelain half-mask she wore in public was hanging from her neck.

“ Ja, ja, I hear you, okay?”

Even if he hadn't been looking directly at them, Molly would have known that Zemnian accented voice anywhere: quiet and rough and perfect.

“Please, Molly,” Caleb begged as Molly dragged a slow, teasing finger up the length of his erection.

“Oh,” Nott said, looking toward the stairs. “Good morning, Molly.”

Caleb noticed him a moment later and gave a nod in his direction, a couple reddish-brown curls falling over his forehead. “ Hallo , Mollymauk.”

Molly licked the bead of moisture off the tip of Caleb’s cock before taking the length into his mouth. Caleb cried out, the sound achingly sweet--

Molly bolted for the door to his and Fjord’s room.

The door slammed open a little harder than Molly had intended. Fjord looked up, startled. It looked like he had just finished putting his leather armor back on, hand still adjusting a bracer on the other arm.

“Whoa, Molly. I thought you went downstairs for breakfast,” he said, yellow eyes following Molly as he dashed across the room.

“Changed my mind, not hungry,” Molly forced out as he practically lunged for his scimitars where they lay at the foot of the bed. He swept them into his arms and retreated as frantically as he'd entered, nearly shutting the door on his tail in his haste.

Fjord blinked slowly as the door slammed shut once more and footsteps vanished down the hall. The air in the room hung with the kind of stillness that comes after a storm sweeps through.

“What the…”

---

Sweat streamed from Molly’s pores in rivulets, darkening parts of his shirt, as he sliced down, finished with a wrist-snap flourish, and slew the thin air before him for about the billionth time that day. His arms ached, and he'd removed his boots an hour ago to avoid blisters.

Maybe if he physically exhausted himself, it would stop. If he was too tired to think, then maybe Caleb would stop writhing beneath him in his mind's eye and he could relax.

He stood in place for several long seconds, chest heaving. Dappled afternoon sunlight filtered in through the canopy of the trees where he'd chosen to perform his drills. It was just along the edge of a nearby wood, maybe two hundred feet from the back wall of the inn, and, beyond some local wildlife, deserted.

Breathe in, breathe out. Focus.

It wasn't supposed to be this difficult.

Molly had never had any trouble getting what he wanted before. A smile here, lay on a little charm there, and if for some reason that didn't work, well then he'd just move on to the next thing. It was so effortless, he didn't even think about it.

But Caleb Widogast was different. When it came to Caleb, every option felt terrifying. He didn't want to just move on to the next warm body. He didn’t want to fail; to try and be rejected. But--and this was the part that scared him the most--he didn't want to succeed, either. What if he got what he wanted, but it was an empty victory? What if it didn't mean anything? Why did it need to mean something?

Which is why Molly had been doing a fine job of just ignoring the entire thing altogether until the fucking dreams had started.

Would it mean something to Caleb, too?

Molly took a deep breath. Held it. Exhaled. Then started over from the beginning, getting a good spin going on the blade before shifting his weight into a turn.

He misjudged, probably from exhaustion, and felt his foot slip. His tail lashed out for balance and he caught himself in time, but the scimitar went flying from his hand and tumbled end over end into the trees where he lost sight of it. Trying to catch his breath, he stared in the direction the sword had gone for a long moment. Nothing. His shoulders slumped in defeat.

Stupid. What was he even doing?

He heard a muttered incantation from somewhere behind him and an orb of light flew off into the woods. Caleb walked up next to Molly, fraying edges of his old, brown coat swishing around his calves, and gave him a peripheral glance. “It went somewhere over there, ja?”

Molly looked at Caleb for several dumbfounded seconds, still panting from exertion. When he couldn't find his voice, he just nodded weakly and together they walked in the direction of Caleb’s spell.

The scimitar had landed several dozen feet away at the base of a tree much larger than the others. Molly carefully toed the tip with his bare foot and kicked it up into the air, catching it by the hilt with his main hand.

At least he wasn't so tired as to fuck everything up.

Caleb gestured upward with one hand and the globe of light floated higher into the branches of the large tree. The light diffused through the leaves and, no longer a searchlight, became glowing shades of green that illuminated the area in a dazzling emerald display.

Molly’s breathing began to return to normal, but as the adrenaline left his system his arms started to tremble. Damn it. This whole thing had been such a stupid idea.

“I…” Molly started, then stopped with a sigh. “Thank you. For the help,” he finally said, shifting the sword in his hand for a more comfortable grip. He felt the start of a blister wearing on the edge of his palm and winced. Just how long had he been practicing?

“ Gern geschehen. That is, you are welcome ,” Caleb nodded. A gentle breeze passed through the tree boughs and sent myriad shapes of green light dancing across Caleb’s tattered, stained coat and scarf.

“M-more, ah! Please…” Caleb moaned, urging him on--

Caleb shifted his weight from one foot to the other and glanced around a little awkwardly, his fingers worrying at a worn spot on his coat hem. There was something adorable about the action and Molly’s heart lurched in his chest.

“You know,” Caleb began carefully, “if something is bothering you, you can always talk about it.” He stared at the dirt and leaves underfoot and refused to make eye contact, as if that was where the boundary of his courage lay.

“Hm?” Molly replied. “O-oh.” He shook his head with a brisk jangle of metal. “I. It's nothing. Just some, ah--”

Caleb whimpered, hands gripping Molly like a lifeline. One hand found a horn and grasped it tightly, and Molly had never told anyone how much he liked that--

“--some weird dreams.”

Fuck.

“Oh.” Concern passed over Caleb’s face briefly. “From, um...‘before’?” He stumbled a little over his choice of words, as if he were unsure what to call it.

It took a moment for the meaning to sink in. “Oh, no, and thank whoever's fault it is for that,” Molly said, letting the relief come through in his voice because that at least was true.

“But they are frustrating?”

Molly gave Caleb's cock a long, languid suck before relenting with a swirl of tongue over the head. His efforts were rewarded with a weak cry and a twitch in his mouth. Caleb was close; Molly could feel the tension in his body--

Molly shuddered. “ Yes.” He could feel his own growing erection press against his pants again and damn it, why the fuck hadn't he put on more clothes this morning?

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Caleb watched Molly for several seconds, then something dawned on his face. “Oh. You are...sexually frustrated.”

Molly froze, and his lavender skin paled by several shades. The scimitar slipped from his off hand and buried itself blade-down in the dirt inches away from his bare foot. He hadn't even realized he was still holding them--he looked down at it dumbly, then threw the other to lodge into the ground with it.

“ Ach , careful,” Caleb started, but any other words died on his lips.

Mollymauk stood in mortified silence, staring at the ground.

It's not supposed to be this difficult.

“ Sheisse ,” Caleb muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “I...said the wrong thing...?” His inflection turned up in a question at the end, leaving space for Molly to respond.

Yes. No. Molly heaved a great sigh.

“Fine, yes. You're right, okay? Yes.” It came off stronger than he'd intended, but Molly was too flustered to care. And that just made it worse: Mollymauk Tealeaf didn't get flustered.

If it bothered Caleb then he didn't show it. He nodded thoughtfully. “Well, that is okay. That is normal.”

Molly couldn't help himself--he just stared.

“Normal?” he demanded, gesturing broadly with his hands. “Normal. Normal is waking up with a hard-on because you dreamed about that attractive person you chatted with at the tavern the other night.” He was raising his voice, but he didn't care. “There's nothing normal about it when it's about someone you’re close to every day and you know you can't--”

Shit. He shut up, but too late.

Shit, shit, shit.

Too late, and no way to take it back. Molly felt a tiny ball of anxiety begin clawing at the base of his stomach. Surprising himself, he looked to Caleb, eyes pleading.

But pleading for what? For him to ignore everything and pretend it never happened? To laugh it off like it's nothing?

To understand? To grasp what he so desperately wanted to say that apparently his stupid mouth wouldn't listen to him and leave well enough alone?

Caleb raised his eyebrows. There was a long, long pause, at the end of which he simply said, “Oh.”

“...Yeah.”

Caleb briefly glanced around himself, as if looking for someone else. When no one volunteered, he gestured toward his chest. “Me?”

Molly held his breath. No turning back now. He exhaled. “Yeah.”

“ Oh,” was all Caleb said.

More awkward silence.

“And, ah, in these dreams--what do we do ?”

Molly scrubbed a hand over his face. It all came back too easily, replaying on the backs of his eyelids. “Everything.”

Caleb didn't seem perturbed, but then again he was tricky to read beyond a pervasive aura of “generally uncomfortable”.

The surrounding woods were peaceful, and Molly desperately wished there were any noise around them to fill the silence.

“And these things--” Caleb continued, “--you want to do them with me?”

And that was a question, wasn't it? The answer was a resounding yes, of course, but that didn't really mean anything in the end.

The knot of anxiety got a little bigger, and Molly tried to push against it. He crossed his arms and adopted a noncommittal posture, but the nervous way his tail twitched back and forth betrayed him. He jerked his chin upward. “And if I say yes?”

Caleb was quiet while he thought about it. Gods above, he actually thought about it, and that honestly meant more to Molly than any answer he might give.

Twigs and leaves crunched under Caleb’s feet as he walked over to the large tree behind them. He leaned against the trunk and recast the light spell above him with a mutter and a wave of his hand, almost automatic. He rubbed at the stubble on his chin.

Molly shifted in place as his feet began to ache. He'd just started to catalogue all the different parts that were probably going to hurt tomorrow when Caleb spoke again and interrupted his thoughts.

“Mollymauk.”

Molly met his eyes.

“I admit I am a bit confused. You are very charismatic.” Caleb motioned toward Molly. “Very handsome.” He spoke slowly, taking his time to choose his words. He then gestured to himself, a little frown on his face. “And me? Why I am a dirty hobo. Broken. A bad person.”

Wait, what?

Molly blinked.

Then he laughed, and Caleb’s frown deepened just a bit.

Of all the answers Caleb could have given, Molly certainly wasn't expecting that one.

His laughter tapered off quickly and he looked to Caleb, shaking his head. “You know what, that's actually appropriate,” he said, smiling. “Of course you would have no idea.”

Caleb gave him a glare, but it was as confused as it was vitriolic and ended up just being harmless.

Honestly? Molly had no idea either. He had no idea what it was about this scruffy, socially awkward wizard that made him care so much. Made him want him so much.

One foot in front of the other, Molly approached Caleb. Slowly, as if he were worried about spooking an animal. And he was, truthfully, whether it was a valid concern or not. Caleb watched him approach but otherwise made no reaction.

He stopped when their bodies were only inches apart. Slowly--so, so slowly--Molly raised a hand. He gave Caleb all the time in the world to resist, to turn away.

Molly placed his hand on Caleb's cheek, felt the rasp of stubble against his palm. Caleb didn't flinch or move away, just closed his eyes. Molly leaned over the couple inches of difference in height between them and kissed him.

Nothing complicated--just lips pressed together for the space of a breath.

When Molly pulled away, he noticed Caleb's cheeks were a little more flushed than they had been before. And also how long his eyelashes were. The dappled green light danced over his eyelids, complementing the red in his hair.

Caleb opened his eyes again and exhaled. He looked up at Molly.

“There is no convincing you of otherwise, I suppose,” he rasped.

Molly’s mouth turned up in a half-smile. “You're certainly welcome to try.” And as lighthearted as the statement was, he meant it.

I won't touch another single hair on your head if you don't want me to.

Caleb closed his eyes again and leaned into Molly’s hand. It was the smallest of movements, but Molly felt the shift against his palm and his chest clenched painfully.

He kissed Caleb again. Still gentle, ever so gently. He carefully slid his hand to the back of Caleb’s neck and twined his fingers in his hair. The gesture was nervous, almost afraid.

Caleb shifted slightly against the tree trunk. Molly shifted away, almost imperceptibly, but gracefully like a dance, so that their bodies remained the same distance apart. Caleb shifted again, and when Molly broke the kiss this time Caleb chuckled under his breath.

“You are being so careful,” he breathed. “I did not expect the sensual Mr. Mollymauk to be as timid as eine kleine maus.”

Molly stared, dumbfounded, once again.

“What?”

“You know,” Caleb smiled, holding his hands apart from each other to suggest something palm-sized, “like you find in the walls some places.”

One blink. “No, I don't mean--” Then two. “But you never said--” He groaned loudly and buried his face in Caleb's neck, mindful of his horns.

“You needed an invitation?”

Molly gaped from his spot in the collar of Caleb's coat, his voice muffled when he spoke. “An invitation?” He shook his head. “I didn’t even know if--” But he stopped himself. “No, forget it, never mind.”

He buried his face a little further into Caleb’s shoulder, and it was probably at least half a nuzzle at this point. “Mr. Caleb, you are impossible.”

“I will take that as a compliment?” Caleb laughed.

Molly huffed out a breath and lifted his head again. “Fine, then.” He shifted in a little closer and kissed Caleb again, but any prior caution was gone. He worked his mouth over Caleb’s, letting one fang graze his lips. Not enough to hurt, and it got the reaction he wanted--Caleb gasped, and Molly took the opportunity to run his tongue along the inner edge of Caleb’s lower lip.

He tangled his fingers in Caleb’s mussed red hair once more, which had the added advantage of steadying his tired, shaking arms. In response, a tentative hand smoothed its way up the side of Molly’s neck, tracing the multiple thin scars that crisscrossed the flesh there. Caleb’s fingers grazed over the spot of crimson so carefully concealed within the peacock feathers of Molly’s tattoos and it sent a tingle like static electricity down Molly’s spine, momentarily taking his breath away.

When he tried Caleb’s mouth with his tongue again Molly met no resistance. Caleb moaned softly when their tongues met, and the sound made Molly dizzy. He slipped a hand inside Caleb’s coat and pressed it against the small of his back, pulling their bodies flush together.

From there, Molly’s hand found its way up and under the side of Caleb’s tunic and deftly untucked part of his shirt. His fingers found skin at last and he trailed them along in victorious shapes while he nibbled on Caleb’s lower lip.

“This is, ah,” Caleb exhaled with a shiver, “more like what I was expecting.”

Molly grinned against his mouth. “You haven't seen anything yet.” He nipped along the line of Caleb's jaw, and Caleb graciously tipped his head for easier access.

Moving his hand to rest on Caleb’s hip, Molly shifted a thigh between Caleb’s legs--a thrill ran through him when he felt the hard length there press against his leg.

The breath left Caleb’s lungs all at once and the light in the tree boughs promptly went out.

Molly laughed. His tail flicked with delight and snaked around Caleb’s leg as he leaned his knee in again. Caleb moaned against his lips.

Graceful fingers trailed along the waist of Caleb’s pants before coming to rest in the front. A casual flick and the button came undone, and he ran one finger up the length of the shaft now exposed to the cooling air. A little cry escaped Caleb’s throat that sent a tingle down through Molly’s gut and straight to his groin.

Molly gratefully dropped to his knees and moved the tunic hem out of the way to admire the sight of Caleb's cock before him: flushed skin and soft curves that stood out from a patch of fine hair as red as the ones on his head. Molly licked his lips in anticipation.

“Ahh, a fine specimen,” he grinned. “A cock as nice as this one deserves to be treated with reverence.”

“ Arschloch,” Caleb muttered with minimal venom, ears turning pink; he braced his hands on Molly’s shoulders for support nevertheless.

With reverence he would treat it, though--Molly had every intention of worshipping the treasure in front of him before he was finished. The warm pressure of Caleb's hands on his shoulders was comforting: a reminder that this wasn't another dream, that it was real and happening and right now. He leaned forward and lapped at the tip with his tongue. Just a taste. Caleb inhaled sharply and his erection jerked in response. Empowered, Molly leaned back in for seconds.

He let his tongue linger this time, tracing a circle before sliding his mouth over the head and giving it a gentle suck. Caleb whimpered, hands reflexively gripping Molly's shoulders. He took in a little more, savoring it. Caleb smelled like earth and musk and a hint of singed wood and the entire experience was so much more than any of Molly’s dreams had been, like an intoxicated head rush.

When he drew back a little, the edge of one fang dragged along the shaft. Caleb yelped. Molly detected just enough distress in the sound that he pulled away completely, glancing up. He almost wished he hadn’t--the sight of Caleb from this angle, flushed and trembling, made his own cock swell almost painfully against his trousers.

“You alright?” he asked, pushing through it.

Caleb took a moment to steady himself. “I just…” he panted, “did not think it would involve…” He gestured uselessly with one hand.

“Hm? Oh.” Molly idly ran his tongue along the fang in recognition, then let out a little chuckle. He met Caleb’s eyes and smirked. “I promise you I know what I’m doing.”

Caleb said nothing for the space of two beats, breathing hard.

“ Ja.” A quick nod of his head. “ Ja, okay.”

Molly returned to his work, more mindful of his fangs this time for Caleb’s sake. A couple teasing strokes with his lips before retreating. His free hand slithered up to grasp the base of Caleb’s erection to hold it steady. Using just his tongue, he rolled the foreskin the rest of the way back to tuck behind the head, eliciting a long string of what Molly could only assume were Zemnian curses from Caleb. It could have been an incantation meant to stop his heart for all he cared--he would have died happy.

Caleb tangled his hands in Molly’s violet hair, head thrown back and generally making Molly feel really proud of his performance so far. Deciding he’d probably teased enough, he got to work in earnest with long, slow strokes. A swirl of tongue, then back in. This time when he intentionally grazed a fang along his length, Caleb cried out loudly enough that his hand flew to his mouth in surprise. He kept the back of his hand pressed to his lips to muffle future cries, and while Molly was a little disappointed he would miss the rest of those beautiful sounds, there was something almost more erotic about the way they sounded when muffled.

Caleb’s other hand sought purchase on Molly’s head and came to rest on the ridges of one horn, gripping tight. Molly shivered and made a sound in the back of his throat.

He took as much of Caleb into his mouth as he dared.

“Mm...Mollym--ah!” Caleb cried from behind his hand. Molly’s head swam and he felt dizzy.

He couldn’t take any more. With a growl, Molly’s free hand flew to the front of his pants, practically ripping buttons in his haste to unfasten them. He took his own cock in his hand and groaned with relief, the vibrations in his throat making Caleb squirm. Shifting the other hand that still held Caleb’s clothing so that he could get a steadying grip on Caleb’s hip, he began stroking himself off in time with his mouth’s efforts.

Just like in his dream, he could feel the tension beginning to build in Caleb’s body. Caleb whimpered and bucked his hips forward; Molly’s tail twitched in response to his own building pleasure.

Almost there. Almost…

“M...Molly--,” Caleb gasped, “I-I do not--”

That was all the warning Molly got--any remaining words Caleb might have had dissolved into mewling cries as he came into Molly's mouth.

Molly had to make a split-second decision as pleasure began to overwhelm him--he swallowed hard, nearly choking on it as his own orgasm wracked his body only a few moments later. He pulled away and bit back a stifled shout, spilling onto the ground beneath him; Caleb held on tight and didn't let go.

Several breathless, shuddering moments passed. Caleb's legs finally gave out from under him and he sank to the ground with a dull thud of impact and crunch of leaves. Molly flopped bonelessly into his lap.

Caleb carefully buttoned his pants and leaned his head back against the tree trunk. Molly would worry about that later, he decided: he couldn't feel his arms anymore anyway.

When he finally felt like he could speak again, Molly twisted his head away so his face was no longer buried in Caleb’s thigh.

“So,” he breathed, grinning, “I guess that means you're interested, too?”

Caleb didn't take the bait. Instead, he placed one warm hand on the back of Molly's neck, feeling the ridges of scar tissue under his fingertips.

“Do you feel better now?” Caleb asked, the ghost of a teasing smile in his words. Molly huffed out a laugh.

“Quiet, you. But yes.” He was simply too tired to feel self-conscious anymore.

They sat in comfortable, sated silence for a little while, listening to chirping birds and rustling leaves. Molly adjusted his head in Caleb’s lap again to find a better position.

“You know, I have never thought about this before,” Caleb remarked, watching Molly, “but do your horns make sleeping difficult?”

Molly’s chest warmed at being asked such a mundane yet personal question. “Really, I just sleep on my back a lot,” he replied. “But if I want to sleep on my side, I just stuff a pillow in there to kind of even things out.” He gestured toward his head a little lamely.

Caleb made a nondescript noise. After a moment, Molly felt shifting beneath him as Caleb grabbed some of his long, tattered coat, sort of wadded it together, and tucked it through Molly's horn and under his cheek.

It was hard to breathe all of a sudden. Caleb’s hand returned to its place on the back of Molly's neck where idle fingers started stroking the curls they could reach.

For just a heartbeat, Molly wondered if maybe it had all been just another dream after all. But no, he could just feel the throbbing of the blister on his hand, and he knew he hadn't dreamed that.

Molly snuggled into the coat pillow a little, tail curling to drape over his hip, and tried his hardest to take a mental snapshot of this moment to save for later. The thick fabric against his nose smelled like dirt and Caleb, and he loved that he could recognize Caleb’s smell now.

“You are wrong, you know,” Caleb said, his voice quiet, hesitant. “It is also normal to dream about those who are close to you.”

Molly grunted. “Know that from experience, do you?”

Caleb didn't answer because of course he didn't, but Molly genuinely appreciated the sentiment anyway.

“Well, you're wrong, too,” Molly said through a haze of drowsiness.

“Hm?”

“I don't know what you think you did, but you're not a bad person.”

Caleb’s fingers stilled in mid-combing, body going rigid. One heartbeat passed, then two, but after three he seemed to recover and his fingers resumed their stroking.

As he dozed off, Molly made a mental note to, when he woke up, start trying to figure out what he could do to help Caleb heal from whatever had hurt him.

Then he fell asleep in Caleb’s lap, and it wasn't difficult at all.

---

Once Molly's breathing had slowed to an even, steady pace and Caleb was sure he was asleep, he withdrew his hand from Molly's neck, reached into one of his pockets, and pulled out a small length of copper wire. He twisted the wire in a practiced manner and whispered an incantation, channeling a little bit of energy into the spell. The wire came alive with a faint yellow glow. He cleared his throat and spoke quietly into it.

“I have found a nice, quiet spot over by a big tree out behind the inn and I think I will sit and do some reading. You do not have to worry about me.”

A moment passed, then Nott’s familiar voice echoed in his mind. Alright, Caleb. Did you happen to see Molly while you've been out? Jester just said no one has seen him in a few hours.

The corners of Caleb’s mouth turned up in the faintest of smiles. “You know, it looks like Mollymauk fell asleep not far from here in the shade. If he is still sleeping when I leave then I will nudge him awake.”

Okay, then. Let me know if you need anything.

“Of course. Bis später. ”

He let the spell fizzle in his hand before replacing the wire in his pocket, careful not to move too much. With a fluid motion, Caleb snapped his fingers and his orange tabby cat familiar appeared on his shoulder. He gestured toward his lap with an encouraging noise and Frumpkin hopped down to burrow his way between Caleb and Molly’s bodies, purring loudly.

Satisfied, Caleb fished a book from one of his shoulder holsters, propped it open on his other leg, and began to read, stroking Molly’s hair once more.

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The next morning:

## Afterword

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