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Body Worship (BG3) – Omorashi – Full-Body Bondage (TWST)
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The smell of something delicious hits you as soon as you push the door open, and you nearly drop your purse in your hurry to get into the kitchen. “What did you make, Halsin? It smells amazing.”
Halsin turns toward you with a spoon in hand, the apartment’s communal apron comically small across his massive pectorals. “Honey teriyaki salmon, wild rice pilaf, and sautéed spinach.” He gestures to a pot on the stove. “Taste that pilaf for me, will you? It’s missing something.”
Humming, you grab a teaspoon and blow on the rice before shoveling it into your mouth. “Hot! Mmm…” Halsin chuckles, pulling the oven open to nudge a thermometer into the fish as you chew. “Are these... cranberries?”
“Yes. And thyme, garlic, onion, a bay leaf…”
“More thyme,” you declare, reaching for the spice rack. “And a splash of lemon juice. It’s really good, though.”
He dips his head. “My thanks. But what brings you home so early? I thought you were going to be out for dinner tonight.”
“I was.” Huffing, you clamber onto one of the stools by the kitchen island and drop your head onto folded arms. “My blind date turned out to be a dick.”
“Rugan, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah. I got there and he was already half drunk and then informed me that he had forgotten his wallet so he’d pay me back with the best cock of my life a lass like me could ask for.” You scoff. “I may be going through a dry spell after Aradin, but I’m not that desperate. So I left.”
“Aradin was also a buffoon,” Halsin says serenely, turning back to the stove. You watch the setting sun glaze the dips and rises of his muscular arms revealed by the tank top.
… fuck. You need to get laid bad, if you’re letting yourself slip back into sexualizing your roommate. Didn’t you put this behind you, shove it deep down, within a week of meeting Halsin and agreeing to do this whole “sharing an apartment” thing?
“He was,” you agree. “But at least he tried to pay his own way and not mooch off me.” And even though he was a massive dick, he also had a massive dick, and mostly knew how to use it.
“Your standards are far too low, Tav,” your bear of a roommate says as he slides a plate with a generous stack of salmon and rice and veggies onto the table. “Anyone with the privilege of sharing time with you should be honored by their good fortune.”
“Tell that to my Charm matches,” you say, resolutely not thinking about the stack of unsolicited dick pics, awful grammar, and sheer arrogance as you sit. Your fork screeches against the plate as you cut into the salmon far harder than Halsin’s delicate cookery deserves. Fish melts in your mouth, buttery and tender, and just like that, your problems seem a little farther away. “Gods, Halsin, you’re magic. Tell me how you get the salmon so moist every time.”
“Instinct,” he says with a shrug. He takes his own forkful, utensil dwarfed by the breadth of his hand. The two of you eat in companionable silence until Halsin sets his fork down, sits back in his chair, and says, “so. There’s Goodberry sorbet in the freezer, animal videos to be watched, and a dog to pet if you’d like to stay in, or we could go for an evening walk.”
Scratch perks up from his spot near the windows, where he has been watching the squirrels with tilting, eager ears.
“I think my decision has been made for me. How could I turn my best boy down?” you coo at your dog; he stands, shakes, and comes to lay his muzzle on your knee to watch you with too-perceptive eyes. “Even if he’s judging me for my dating life, too.”
“No judgement,” Halsin says mildly, standing to put the leftovers away while you scrape the last grains of rice from the plates and load the dishwasher. “Just observation, and concern for a dear friend’s happiness.”
Scratch’s tail beats furiously against your legs as you clip his leash on and tie your hiking sneakers. After college, no longer tied to the university’s campus, you and Halsin decided to move a bit further out from the city center; the apartment complex is only a few minutes away from a network of trails through a patch of woods. In the summer evening warmth, a few insects call as the three of you head onto a path that will eventually take you by the dog’s favorite tree and into the fenced dog run on the other side.
As you walk, you risk a glance up at Halsin’s face. He’s meandering with his eyes closed and a gentle smile on his lips, keeping a few feet behind you and Scratch. “Uh, Halsin? Gonna watch where you’re going?”
“Apologies,” he says with a rumbling chuckle, blinking. “I was merely appreciating the song of the forest.”
“Sure, sure,” you say, bending down to examine the stick that Scratch is investigating. Behind you, Halsin makes a noise, and you turn to see him flushed beneath tanned skin, looking off-balance. “You okay? Did you walk into a dip in the trail?”
“Something like that,” he says, clearing his throat. “So. Your date tonight clearly didn’t work out. Aradin didn’t guard your heart as a partner should. What lies ahead for my favorite roommate’s romantic prospects?”
You kick at the stick, sending Scratch bounding after it on the extendable leash. He returns, tail held high, and offers you the stick for a second throw. “Hold on, buddy, we’re almost to the park where you can be off-leash. And I don’t know,” you say, huffing. “Is it too much to ask for someone to both value me as a person and be good in bed?”
“It is not,” Halsin says firmly. “It is nothing less than you deserve, to be worshiped and supported and pleased.”
“Tell that to my next blind date, please,” you say with a wry laugh, and glance at Halsin to find him looking down at you thoughtfully.
“Should I? It would be no hardship.”
“Oh. Gods.” You feel yourself flush, imagining Halsin reclined casually on a couch with his deep voice instructing a faceless figure to worship you. “That’s not necessary.”
Something in Halsin’s mouth quirks. “But perhaps it would give you better results.”
Perhaps we should just cut out the middleman, your brain offers.
“Perhaps,” you allow, and thank all the gods that the dog park fence appears in sight. “Let’s go, Scratch!” The dog bounds alongside you as you break into a run, skidding through the gate and putting all lustful thoughts of climbing your too-muscular roommate like an oak tree.
—
“A package arrived for you today,” Halsin says mildly as you return home. “I put it on your bed.”
“Thanks,” you say, distracted, and then freeze as you crack open your door. Your favorite dildo is definitely still sitting on your bedside table, drying after you washed it clean.
Flushing, you grab it to shove it into the drawer and nearly topple the lamp on the table, cursing as you try to steady it. As you do so, your foot catches on one of the legs, and you slam against the wood floor in a tumble of limbs.
“Tav! Are you all right?” Halsin calls, appearing in your doorway and taking in the image before him:
You, clutching a large dildo, pink-faced and wincing with pain.
“Here, give me that,” he says, plucking the silicone free from your hand and tossing it onto the bed before bending down to look at your knee. “Mm. This will bruise. I’ll bring you some aloe and arnica balm I made.”
“Thanks,” you squeak, and wish that the floor would swallow you whole before he returns.
The floor is a cruel thing and remains firm beneath you. In moments, Halsin is kneeling with a repurposed jam jar full of home-brewed bruise ointment and smoothing it over your skin, and his hand is so large that it wraps nearly all the way around your leg. Heat shoots along your body at the warmth of his palm and the nearness of his bulk. Every motion is slow, gentle; he moves his hand along your tender knee like he’s anointing you with oil rather than a medicinal-smelling bruise paste.
“For the record,” he says conversationally, tilting his head to indicate the toy lying innocuously on the blankets, “I am impressed. It’s a large thing for a woman of your size to take.”
The noise you make is half laugh, half horrified squawk. Burying your face in your hands, you mutter, “thanks, I think.”
“Why are you embarrassed?” he asks. “I know well the challenge of taking a cock so large, both on my partners’ behalf and my own.”
And sure, you’ve seen Halsin nearly naked. (The man hates clothes. He’s shirtless more often than not.)
But you’ve never seen his dick. Haven’t let yourself think about it.
You let yourself think about it now, allowing your eyes to land on the shadows between his legs and stomach as he’s on one knee next to you, and bite your lip as the heat rises higher still. Between your own legs, your pussy spasms and clenches, yearning for the stretch.
And when you let yourself glance up at Halsin, he’s smiling softly at you. “I’ve thought about offering before,” he says, thick thumb still gently massaging the blooming bruise. “I didn’t want to make things awkward between us, didn’t want to risk so wonderful a friendship when you seemed so uninterested. But it pains me to see you so clearly unfulfilled as you have been these past months, and—”
“Don’t,” you rasp, suddenly hoarse and raw and vulnerable. “Don’t offer out of pity, Halsin. I didn’t think you could be so cruel.”
Stricken, he rocks back. “Pity? No. It was only that I didn’t think you interested in me at all. You never seemed to care when I brought lovers home. I figured you didn’t think of me that way.”
“Didn’t let myself think of you that way,” you manage. “Didn’t want to ruin things. Like you said, I value your friendship.”
Halsin shakes his head. “My friend. Getting to share your body would be a deepening of our care for each other, not a disruption of it. Besides…” and here his mouth tilts, smiling. “You once told me that the only good thing about Aradin was the size of his cock, and my time in the gym showers reassures me that I would be more pleasant for you still.”
Fuck. The blunt, easy acknowledgement of his size slams into you. “If I promise things won’t get weird between us… can I see?”
“Certainly,” he says softly, and stands. The comfortable cotton lounge pants drop, and of course Halsin has foregone underwear in favor of leaving himself clad in nothing but what nature blessed him with beneath his clothes. Blessed, indeed. Thick as your wrist and long enough to nearly brush his navel, pink head peeking behind the foreskin and beginning to bead with precome under your gaze, his cock is a beautiful monster of a thing and you want it inside you yesterday.
“Gods be good,” you mutter, reaching for it as if in a trance. “Halsin. How do you have enough blood in your body to sustain thought when this thing is hard?”
He laughs, easy and kind. “The body provides for whatever is natural. Would you let me see you?”
Hands trembling with want, you grasp the edge of your top and lift it free over your head; by the time you’ve got it clear and tossed it into your hamper, Halsin has a hand wrapped loosely around his fully hard cock.
“The world did well when it formed you,” he says, eyes nearly glowing gold. “May I?” And he lets go of his length and holds out a hand to pull you to your feet.
Slipping your fingers into his, you marvel at the heavy weight of the tendons and muscle. With an effortless pull, he tugs you up and slides his other hand to your bra clasp, unhooking it easily and tossing it to the floor like a falling leaf.
His mouth descends onto your breasts, wildfire-hot and river-wet, and you almost sob at the lightning that rockets along every limb. “Halsin! Fuck, that’s good, more!”
“Yes,” he rumbles, and his hands find your thighs. The heat of his palms and the strength of his fingers pay homage to every inch of your skin as he strokes down, slow and worshipful, and drags his hands back up to cup at your ass. “May I lift you?”
“Please.” You wrap your legs around his waist as he boosts you up, clinging like a koala to the firm tree of his body. That it conveniently rubs your liquid-hot core against his honed abdomen is an entirely delicious bonus. “Gods, you’re so big. Halsin. Going to ruin me.”
“I shall satisfy you,” he corrects, voice dropping into something bestial and hungry. “You have a type.”
So what if you turned Astarion Ancunín’s advances down in college because his slender grace didn’t do it for you? So what if your brief romance with gallant Wyll Ravengard fizzled at least partially because he tried to lift you during a dance and nearly dropped you? Both men are delightful friends in their own way now, but certainly there was something undefinable missing from your interactions with them physically. A negative modifier on one attribute that somehow bled over into all their other positive qualities.
But Halsin… Halsin is your best friend. The only person you could imagine living with, sometimes. And he’s right: he’s everything you could ever dream up during your lonely nights in bed, fantasizing about a muscular body attached to that enormous toy. The complete package.
He shifts you to grind more firmly against his length and squeezes you against his body. Gently, his nose skims the curve of your throat. “Tell me how you like it, Tav.”
“Hard,” you pant. “Slow. Make me feel every inch of you.”
And Halsin groans, dropping a scarred forehead onto your shoulder. “You will. Oak Father preserve me, but you will. Do I need a barrier?”
You cannot imagine free-loving Halsin being anything less than scrupulous with his many partners, but you have to ask. “You know I’ve got my IUD.” (He was the one who picked you up after the appointment, cramps and all, and brought you back. The one who laid a lavender-scented warm rice bag on your tummy and refilled your herbal tea while you recovered on the crappy college futon standing in as a couch.) “So if your last tests are still good…?” you meet gold-glazed eyes and he nods firmly. “Then no. Raw. Fill me, Halsin, like nature intended.” You slide your hands onto his biceps, feeling the muscle below your fingers with an anticipatory shudder, and pull yourself to his mouth for another ravenous, long-awaited kiss.
Halsin exhales before he meets your mouth. “Gods be good, Tav.” In two quick strides, he has you pressed up against the wall. That you have a perfectly good bed right behind him is irrelevant when brawny arms are hauling you into position, one leg coming up to let you half-sit against his body so he can work two thick fingers into your slick and yearning pussy.
“Mmh!” Shoving your hips against his hand, you buck against the stretch. He’s so tall, so broad, that you cannot reach the floor, and you cling to any bit of his body that you can reach to run loving fingers over the spread of muscle. “Yes, yes, yes!”
“Wetter than a waterfall,” he murmurs, twisting his fingers in search of something. “Might not need additional lubricant, even.”
One of his knuckles brushes against a spot, deep and hidden, that makes you go boneless against the wall. “Oh gods,” you gasp. “Again. Now.”
“Of course.” He claims your mouth, licks the moans from your tongue like honey dripping from the comb, and pushes the strength of his fingers against your g-spot until you are shaking with the oncoming storm of approaching climax. “You’ll need to come a few times before you’re ready to take me, I think,” he rumbles, and smiles when you make a huffy little protesting noise and shove your hips harder against his hand. “You’re tight, Tav. I want you to groan with pleasure, all slick and soft and yearning. Not pain.”
“Right, sure,” you say, tongue thick with his taste. “I can get behind that.”
And when he curls his fingers, just a bit harder, you shove a hand between your bodies to brush against your clit. That single touch swirls around the pleasure from his hand, and you slam your head back against the wall as the pleasure crests. Your other hand digs into Halsin’s arm, leaving crescent-moon impressions of your nails as you clutch and gasp and quake through the rolling waves of orgasm, and he merely hitches you a fraction of an inch higher and redoubles his efforts.
“Fuck, gods, Hals—” but the rest of his name is lost as he eases a third finger into your core. The stretch, the size: you’ve always noticed the scale of his hands wrapped around a wooden spoon or a pen or his potting tools, but now all of that brawn is inside you, preparing your body for the veritable log between his legs. “B—big.”
“Yes,” he agrees, unnecessary. “Come again, love. I can feel your body’s call to mine, and I would answer.”
The very tip of his little finger strokes along your stretched-tight folds, and, impossibly, nudges itself in. Somewhere, your body finds the strength to force out a gasp that somehow still contains a word. “Harder.”
“My pleasure,” Halsin says, “but we’ll need to move, I think.”
“Bed,” you plead, and he gets his arm more firmly underneath your ass and spins to land on the bed, a landslide of a man coming to bear on your poor mattress.
The bedframe creaks ominously in time with the slow, pounding thrust and withdrawal of his fingers. “If my bed doesn’t survive this, I’m making you — hells, yes, yes — carry up my replacement,” you threaten in between the rising crescendo of your body’s song.
“I’d carry a whole house’s worth of furniture for you upon request, my friend,” he says, eyes soft and fond. As your muscles spasm and curl beneath your skin, back arching as the second orgasm begins to gather like starlight in your vision, he climbs fully onto the bed. “If this one cannot survive our coupling, it merely means we must find a sturdier piece for you.”
“Deal,” you wheeze. “I’m gonna— now, now, fuck!”
Halsin moans along with you, feeling the clamp and squeeze of your stuffed-full cunt along his fingers as you shatter once more. “Gods. Beautiful.” His other hand rubs firmly up your stomach, along your shoulder and neck, and he follows it with a tongue like he can taste your pleasure rising from your skin like morning fog. You’ve never had a partner touch your body with so much care, never felt so boneless and beautiful.
A thumb rubs at the back of your hand as he lifts your limp fingers to his mouth, kissing each and every one with golden desire blazing from his mouth. “What do you think, Tav, is this ready to take me?” He strokes a thumb along the twitching rim where his other hand is still buried three fingers deep.
Having something so large and firm within you lets your entire world narrow to the pulse of your muscles, the stretch, the grinding pleasure as you rock against him, but somehow you manage to find enough brainpower to respond.
“More than,” you say, whimpering with the loss as he pulls his fingers free and strokes a sodden hand along his length. “Let me feel you, Halsin.”
“However you want.” His voice goes rough toward the end, animalistic.
Carefully, you turn onto your hands and knees. It’s the least convenient position to fuck yourself in, the one you’ve been missing while you squatted over a dildo or shoved a toy inside yourself while laying on your back — that sensation of being covered, of being speared open down to your very core. Dropping onto your elbows, you splay your thighs wide. “Like this.”
One of Halsin’s broad palms lands on your ass, too gentle to be a spank but firm enough that the impact reverberates along your bones, and he moves the flesh wide to spread you open before him. With your face buried in a pillow, you can’t see the look in his eyes, but the way his fingers tighten on your ass cheek and the deep inhale tell you enough.
“Don’t make me beg for it,” you say softly, face burning bright.
“No,” he says, reverent. “I merely wanted a moment to appreciate such a feast laid before me.”
And while that sparks a whole new set of very delicious images, of Halsin sinking to his knees before you (and still having to lift you to get your cunt against his mouth)… “eat later. Fuck now,” you insist.
“Patience,” Halsin murmurs with a chuckle. And then, blessed gods, he sets the blunt head against your folds and swirls it in the silky heat before leaning, oh-so-slowly forward.
The tip splits you wide enough to force a gasp out despite the two orgasms and the preparatory stretch. “Oh!”
Thus seated, he plants his hands on either side of your head and waits as you pulse around the cock. “Oak Father preserve me,” he mutters. “Tav. Does it hurt?”
“No. Gods no. More.”
His fingers clench deep into the sheets. “Tell me if it does.”
Rather than trying to reason with him, you rock gently against the bludgeoning weapon he calls his dick, working yourself open in tiny wriggles and moans. Each infinitesimal movement shifts him a bit deeper, but you need more. “Halsin. Please. I can take it, I promise.”
His pause hangs in the air for a long moment as you circle your hips, and then he snarls and rewards you with a punishing shove against your back-thrust. A choked gasp sputters past your lips, but you can’t let Halsin think he’s hurt you. “Yes!”
His mouth lands on your shoulder, nipping, sucking, trailing a tongue up to the sensitive patch behind your ear. “Gods above and devils below, but you’re perfect. Nngh. Taking all of me so easily.”
It’s a club inside you, stretching you so tight that you can feel every throb of his heartbeat. Deliberately, you find the tiniest bit of strength you can to squeeze and ripple against the heavy weight of him, and Halsin tosses his head back with a gutteral noise that lands straight at where the end of his cock is crowded up against your cervix, at the deepest, neediest part of your body.
“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” you chant, thrusting yourself against him in the only movements you can make while so blanketed by his bulk.
“Impatient little nymph, aren’t you?” Halsin murmurs, but he does finally take pity on you, straightening a bit and moving his hands to your hips.
He pulls. Your ass collides with his pelvis so strongly that you’re suddenly sure you’ve broken the bed from the echoes of the impact alone. When he slides back, a needy whimper rips free. The plunge back in splits you deeper still. You’d swear you can feel Halsin somewhere in the vicinity of your lungs - or is that just his scent, green and musky and masculine, seeping into every nook and cranny of your body?
Eyes rolling, you cry out your pleasure into the muffling softness of the pillow, stifling yourself until Halsin’s thick fingers find their way into your hair and he hauls you up mid-moan. The slight pain and reminder of how very large he is do nothing to quiet your needy noises that spill free with every thrust; instead, you try to clap a hand over your mouth only to have it wrenched away and slammed back onto the mattress. “Let me hear you,” Halsin demands as his pounding speeds up, dragging your encroaching orgasm along with his own. “I want to hear every noise you make. Don’t even think about hiding those from me. They’re — gods — they’re beautiful and natural and—”
He breaks off with a huff and groan so deep that you can feel it through his cock, losing his rhythm and spilling into you in frantic, gushing jets.
The heat slams across your limbic system like a wildfire ripping through a forest, blazing bright enough to blot out the sun. With a howl, you convulse around the width inside you, clutching it tight as Halsin shudders and you shake apart.
—
When you come to, Halsin is wrapped around your midsection like a particularly affectionate strangler fig, legs hanging partially off the bed. “Hey,” you murmur, tracing fingers along his scarred face and up along his ear. Your voice sounds wrecked and raw and all you can think about is making it worse by shoving Halsin’s dick so far down your throat that you’ll taste him in your dreams, but he ruins your plans by making a murmuring, shushing noise and shifting upward to curl you against a broad chest.
“I’ll get you some tea with honey soon,” he says softly, gentle wind of his breath stirring your hair, “but for now, I’d just like to hold you.”
Face nestled in the valley of his pectorals, you nod. “I hope you know that you’ve ruined that dildo for me.”
He chuckles. “My apologies. I shall make myself available to substitute for your toys whenever you feel the need, in exchange.”
“Don’t say that,” you murmur. “We’ll never leave the apartment.”
“Not even for our camping trip next week? Or will you let me spread you open on my tongue after a swim in the Chionthar? Give you a massage after a day’s hike?”
A shudder runs through you. “Definitely ruined.”
He brushes a kiss against your forehead and squeezes you tighter in response.