It's later; it's not much later, in the grand scheme of things, but it feels like they've already been through a lot. In terms of the calendar, it's maybe two weeks after that weird night, the one where a chain of events started that led to Molly accidentally leaving the carnival and taking up a different kind of wandering.
First watch has come and gone, sat by Fjord, Caleb, and Nott; by agreement, Nott doesn't keep watches, but she stays up with Caleb anyway. They've now been relieved by Molly and Jester, who have been keeping watch together more often lately. Molly suspects this is a plan on both their parts; Jester is conspiring to put Beau and Yasha on watch together, but his intent is a little more selfish.
It's working; Jester is seated quite close to him and looks comfortable to do it. He considers his opening as he watches her poke at the fire. Maybe her motives and his motives could dovetail, if he plays his cards right.
He is very good at cards.
"One tiefling to another," Molly says, sliding a little closer. "Think Beau and Yasha are ever gonna go for it?"
Jester looks over at their tents, where there is no movement. "Beau has been ready since the first day," she says, in a low, gossipy voice. "Yasha is the question."
He taps his lips, looking contemplative. He honestly has no idea; he's expert at reading people, but Yasha doesn't like being read. "Could be, could be," he says. "Beau wouldn't be the first who tried."
"Yasha is very unusual," she says. "People like the unusual."
"Like tieflings?" he says, seeing his opening.
"Tieflings are not so unusual," she replies, shrugging.
"But there's so much to like about tieflings," he says in Infernal; he keeps his voice low, because Fjord sometimes looks his way when he speaks it, like he understands but doesn't want Molly to know he does.
"Like what, for example?" she asks, also switching to Infernal. Her voice picks up a growl when she does it, which Molly finds both sexy and comforting, somehow.
"The heat," he says, daring to reach out with one hand. When she doesn't move away, he puts the backs of his fingers to her cheek; her skin is soft, warm against his hand, and she closes her eyes for a moment. "Everyone else feels so cold."
"You notice it too?" she says, with a look of excitement, and it cements his decision to do this. She's everything he wants in a mark, willing to do most of his work for him but interesting enough to make it worth his time.
"How could I not?" he says, surreptitiously putting his other hand on her knee. She's warm there too, through the fabric of her dress, missing the edge of chill he feels when getting this close to someone without a demonically-influenced body temperature.
"What else is good about tieflings?" Jester asks, making no move to pull away.
"The horns, of course," Molly says. He gives her a grin and lets it turn dirty. "For steering."
The skin of her cheeks shades just slightly towards purple, but she giggles. She puts a hand up and flicks one of the baubles hanging from his left horn. "But you put things all over yours."
"There's still plenty of room for a handhold," he says.
"And do you find many hands?" she says.
"Every last one of them willing and able," he says, gauging her reaction. This might not work out if he judged wrong, if she's insulted or feeling jealous; he's aiming more towards scandalized but intrigued.
She giggles again, and he knows he's getting close. "You must get such a headache," she says.
"It's worth it," he says. He leans closer. "None of these things is my favorite thing about tieflings."
"Which is?" she asks, rapt.
"You can have one in every color of the rainbow," he says in Common. Infernal has no word for rainbow, and he's going for an effect.
Jester shifts closer. "What about blue?" she says, more coquettish than shy, and Molly feels a deep sense of satisfaction at knowing he's got her.
"That depends on how you feel about lavender," he says with a grin, letting his hand slide a little higher up her thigh.
She gives him one of her own before looking around, scanning the campsite and the area around. Apparently content with what she sees or doesn't, she grabs his hand and stands up. "Come with me."
"I certainly will," he says, rising to meet her.
Jester leads him out into the woods, past the glow of the fire and into the moonlight. Molly judges the distance carefully, letting her get a little farther before pulling her to him. He bends down and kisses her, and she opens up for him, putting her arms around his neck, so eager that she might pull him off-balance. Molly can't help the noise of satisfaction that he makes, drawing her closer.
He lets his hands wander, one reaching down to cup her ass, and she jumps a little when he squeezes. He's been admiring it for a while, and it feels just as good in his hand as he hoped. The other hand finds her breast, and she pushes into it.
She wants this so badly that she might even think it was her idea, Molly thinks to himself.
After a few minutes, Molly backs her up, careful of the forest floor as he leads her to the nearest tree. The trees here have a soft, papery bark, so he doesn't feel bad about pinning her against it, leaning down for a few more kisses.
"Wait," she says; oh, how Molly hates that word, but he does, moving back an inch to give her space.
He's not expecting it when she hikes up her skirt, reaching under it to pull down her smallclothes, letting them fall to the forest floor.
"Now stop waiting," she says, and Molly laughs.
"I like you," he says before he hurriedly undoes his breeches and hoists her up, her legs around his waist.
She feels just right when he pushes into her, hot and so wet; he really does love sex with his fellow tieflings, a fire in it he doesn't get off a human or halfling. She groans, loud enough that he wonders if they hear it in camp. He also wonders if he cares, but he definitely doesn't care as much as he cares about getting more, making her make those lovely noises as he fucks her.
He presses his face to her shoulder, nipping at her skin, but he's caught off-guard when she grabs him by the horns, pulling him away. He's about to ask after her when she tilts his head back and bites his throat. He gasps, losing his rhythm for just a moment, thrown by surprise and pleasure. She laughs and does it again, harder now, and he fucks her faster in retaliation, making her moan against his skin.
They make a wonderful loop, and Molly savors it. He usually picks people he'll never see again, but he wonders if he might get in a little practice this time, see how good this gets. It's very good already, but he might just see where this takes him.
In the moment, it's taking him close to the edge. Jester still has him in her clutches, but she's panting against him, her breath hot on his sweat-slick skin. He works his hand under her skirt and between them, fingers moving fast on her clit. It's barely any time before she starts to come, clenching down on him as she shudders in his grip. Molly growls, moving faster, thrusting in quick and deep until he can't take it anymore. He pulls out just in time, groaning in satisfaction as he finishes on her thigh, marking her.
She pulls him to her by the horn, resting their foreheads together as they come down. He kisses her, languid this time, enjoying it without a sense of urgency. He holds her like that until his back complains, stealing one more kiss before helping her gain her feet again.
"Don't forget your underthings," Molly says, and Jester bends to scoop them up, stuffing them into the pocket of her skirt. He puts an arm around her waist as they stroll back towards the light of the fire.
"You know, you could have a dragonborn in every color too," she says.
"You can complete the set, but it won't make a rainbow," he says. Molly only needs green and bronze to round his out, but he doesn't mention it.
They don't appear to have been missed at camp, no threats having arisen during their tryst, and they take up their positions by the fire again. They spend what remains of their watch debating whether yellow tieflings are a thing- they are, though Molly has never bedded one- and Molly feels wholly content when he returns to his bedroll.
He falls asleep immediately and has the deep and easy sleep of the sated hedonist.
A tent over, Jester shakes Beau, who bats at her, making grumpy sounds.
"Get up," Jester says. "It's your turn."
Beau sits up, yawning, and she quickly takes in the lingering smile on Jester's face.
"You get some on watch?" Beau says.
Jester sighs happily. "Yes, finally. I was beginning to think he would never ask."
Beau raises her hand. "Up top." Jester completes the high five, lying down to sleep as Beau collects her staff and leaves the tent.
Yasha is already in her spot for watch, holding a fresh log, and she flips and catches it with one hand before adding it to the fire.
"Could you lift me over your head?" Beau asks, sitting down by the fire.
Yasha considers this for a moment. "Yes," she says.
"That is so cool," Beau says, sighing.