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The One Where Percy Gets Sex-Pollened

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Anonymous: what if Keyleth and Pike were out of spellslots/too exhausted though and couldn't cast Greater Restoration?

(Context: TFW you’re vaguely pondering a sex pollen-ed Percy trope fic set in the Feywilds, and then you realize Pike or Keyleth could probably Greater Restoration him out of it and GDI logic!brain!!! Why can’t you just let yourself write the smut??? *pouts*)

I toyed with that, but according to the game mechanics, they’d (or rather Keyleth, since Pike’s gone now) get their spell slots back after a long rest, which is about 8 hours (and Matt has let them get away with 6-7). 

The thing is, there’s a lot of consent issues that can come along with the sex pollen trope, which I’m super sensitive about. I like the trope if it involves the person becoming unbearably aroused but still mostly in their right mind/able to give consent, rather than becoming a mindless, lust-ridden zombie. So if Percy still has his faculties at all and knows that there’s a solution in sight, he’d much rather hole up in his room and “take care of matters” himself until Keyleth regained her spells, because he’s Percy and suffering stoically and nobly is his thing. 

The only way I see this trope working is if it’s been like, 24 hours and Percy seems to be getting worse, rather than better, and then he might be more willing to be convinced, and that scenario doesn’t work if Greater Restoration is on the table because if that spell can get rid of curses, break mind control, cure blindness, and unpetrify a person, it can definitely cure sex pollen and that frustrates me deeply. *grumbles and shakes fist!* D:<

But like!! If that wasn’t a thing!! CONSIDER:

  • Garmili is like, “Welllll, the effects usually last a couple of days before wearing off. It goes faster if you work it off with someone else, but we don’t normally get humans here in the Feywilds, so who can know what might happen~~?” >:D >:D >:D (Garmili doesn’t really like any of them, but he especially has no love for Percy)
  • Percy insisting that he can ah…take care of himself. Before he heads to his room in the mansion, Grog is like, “You might need this.” Pulls out the jug and instructs it to make lube, and hands it over to Percy with a wink and a “Might help with the chafing.” (Grog doesn’t really see this situation as a problem.) 
  • Percy takes the jug with as much dignity as one can muster while sweating, flushed, and trying to ignore the terribly obvious tent in his pants (It’s a very respectable bulge, one might note ;p)
  • Someone knocks on Percy’s door every few hours to check on him and makes sure the servants deliver food and water on a regular basis to ensure he stays hydrated and keeps his strength er…up. Percy refuses to open the door and only communicates by yelling through it.
  • 24 hours later, just before the mansion spell is about to fade, everyone exits. Percy looks awful. Just haggard. He’s swaying, he’s got a fever, he’s got deep bruises under his eyes and obviously didn’t sleep much. And it’s clear the pollen hasn’t worked its way out of his system yet. 
  • Obviously he can’t travel like this, so it’s back into the mansion they go.
  • The rest of Vox Machina have a meeting while Percy holes back up in his room. They’re worried about what will happen to Percy if this fever continues. They also can’t afford to keep putting off their quest to retrieve the bow. In the end, they decide that, look: someone is going to have to take one for the team.
  • Garmili is OBVIOUSLY out.
  • So are Grog and Scanlan. They don’t swing that way and they like Percy, but they don’t like him that much. 
  • Keyleth is a no go for several reasons: 
    • She’s a virgin, and that wouldn’t be fair to her for that to be her first experience
    • She and Percy don’t think of each other that way and are more siblings than anything
    • Her weird thing with Vax
  • Vax also isn’t an option bc of his weird thing with Keyleth
  • Pike is gone :(
  • That leaves Vex. She’s the only one of them who is of the appropriate orientation, experience, and availability status.  
  • Vax is HORRIFIED when Vex very practically agrees that it has to be her and offers to do it himself. But he’s clearly uncomfortable with it bc his relationship with Percy is still a little awkward and he is very obviously trying not to look at Keyleth.
  • Anyway, Vex wins the argument and goes to talk to Percy. 
  • He’s still refusing to open the door for anyone and there’s a lot of yelling through doors, Vex ordering the servants to open it and Percy ordering them NOT to open it, until Vex finally picks the lock (she’s been learning from Vax)
  • Despite laying out what she feels are some very well-reasoned and objectively sound arguments, Percy is still determined to stick it out solo even though he looks even worse than before. 
  • Vex just. Doesn’t. Get it.
  • “Are you a virgin?”

    “What?? No. I might not have had time for relationships, but I certainly haven’t lived like a monk!”

    “I’m just trying to figure out where the objection is, darling! So it’s not because you’re inexperienced and you’re nervous about it. So…is it…do you prefer men? Shall I go fetch Vax for you?”

    Percy pinches the bridge of his nose. “No, I don’t want–wait, I thought–but Vax and Keyleth?? Never mind, don’t get your brother, that’s not the issue. I mean, I’m not opposed to–to men on principle, I just. Oh balls. What I mean to say is that I like women just fine.”

    “…so it’s me then, is what you’re saying. You like women, but you just don’t…find me attractive.” Vex…doesn’t expect that to hurt as much as it does.

    Percy covers his face with his hands and gives a slightly hysterical, if brittle laugh. “Vex’ahlia…finding you attractive is not the problem, I promise you.”

    Well that’s…flattering and good to know but also doesn’t make things any clearer.

    “Well then what the fuck is it, Percival?! You’re not a virgin, you’re attracted to women, you apparently do think I’m attractive…what is the hold up??”

  • Oh.
  • Oh.
  • Percy. Has thought about this.
  • Has wanted this.
  • To say Vex is poleaxed would be an understatement.
  • Meanwhile, Percy’s expression has run the gamut from “SHIT, DID I JUST SAY THAT??” to “I’M PRETTY SURE I JUST SAID THAT” and has settled into a fairly grim, fatalistic, “FUCK, I SAID THAT. HELLO DARKNESS, MY OLD FRIEND.”
  • “Wha–what are you saying, Percy?”

    He closes his eyes. Sighs. Resigned to his fate. “You know what I’m saying, Vex’ahlia.”

    “…for how long?”

    He winces. “I’d rather not say. I’ve incriminated myself enough today, I think.”

    “Why didn’t you say anything?? Were you ever…?”

    “I never said anything…because I didn’t think I could have it. At first there was Orthax and vengeance to think of and I couldn’t afford to think of anything beyond defeating the Briarwoods. And then once they’d been dealt with there was rebuilding Whitestone. And just when things seemed to be calming down, Emon was destroyed and now we’re off to fight fucking dragons and save the world. And then worst of all–” he pauses. Swallows hard. Seems to struggle with finding words. Finally:

    “The worst thing is…I killed you.”

    “Oh, Percy…”

    “I killed you, Vex. And I knew then that I could never…I don’t know that I’ll ever be done atoning for it. I dared not…” He pauses. “You must understand that I don’t expect anything from you, Vex. I’ve never truly thought that we’d…that anything could happen. But the heart is a foolish thing and when the despair draws too near, a man can’t help but–but imagine something warmer, sweeter, to chase away the chill and the darkness. To imagine a world where you might, perhaps, look fondly upon me. Where if we went to bed together it would be because you felt the same and not…not a pity fuck to spare me from my own misery.”
  • He looks at her then, his face as raw and as vulnerable as she’s ever seen it. This is it–his most closely held secret.
  • Vex’s head is swirling as she re-examines all of their past interactions in light of this knowledge, and suddenly every memory is suffused with new meaning. 
    • The way he’s always just handed over his money to her because it makes her happier that way
    • Every arrow and gift he’s made for her
    • The way he so sincerely finds what some would call her worst qualities “endearing”
    • “I’ve known a lot of people with money, and they are definitely not worth you.”
    • He gave her a title. He tries to qualify it, downplay it, but none of that matters. There may not be a manor anymore, but they can build one. There may not be any money, but she can make that. But Vex can’t even begin to describe what it means to be given a home, someplace to call her own and put down roots, a place to belong, legitimacy in the eyes of her father’s home.
    • “Never forget that you are my favorite…” 
  • “So you must understand why I have to say, ‘Thank you, but no thank you.’ I’d much rather endure this alone than…than to get what I wanted, but not at all the way I wanted it.” 
  • Oh Percival. Always so certain that things won’t work out for him, so convinced that he was never meant to be happy.
  • She’s not sure where the courage comes from, but she licks her dry lips and asks:

    “…and how did you want it to happen? When we went to bed together?”

    Until this point, Percy has been studiously avoiding her gaze, but now his head whips up and he stares at her, speechless, expression stricken. 

    “Why would you…how can you ask that of me?” he asks finally, voice hoarse and shaking.

    “It’s a fair question, I think. You seem so certain you can’t have what you want, but I don’t even know what that is.” She’s moving towards him now and he’s stumbling back, trying to maintain the distance between them. She approaches him as if he were a spooked horse–carefully, so carefully–and he certainly reminds her of a high-strung Thoroughbred. His eyes are wide, he’s trembling all over, she can see the sweat at his temples, the pulse fluttering at his neck, and his chest puffs like a bellows. 

    His back hits the wall and he stares at her, frightened and looking betrayed. “You are many things, Vex’ahlia.” He swallows with an audible click, before continuing, voice barely more than a whisper. “But until this moment, I never thought you cruel.”

    There’s nowhere he can hide from her now and she slides carefully into his space, reaching up to cup his face in her hands the way she has so many times before. His skin is burning and he’s radiating so much heat, she feels like she’s standing in front of the forge in his workshop. He grabs her wrists and she thinks he means to push her away, but his fingers wrap around and stay there. He stares at her, seemingly frozen. 

    “It’s only cruel if I ask and then I don’t give you what you want.”

    His fingers tighten reflexively on her wrists and his face twists, anguished. “Please, Vex. Please, you mustn’t…you mustn’t say things like that. Not when I know you don’t feel–”

    “And are you suddenly a mind-reader now, Percival? Are you so sure you know what I’m feeling?”

    “You didn’t know,” he whispers, eyes screwed tightly closed. “When you realized that I…you were shocked and you didn’t know and I knew that you never–it never occurred to you that you could–”

    Percy,” she interrupts, voice sharp. He startles and his eyes fly open. She rubs her thumbs over his cheekbones, under his eyes, soothing, gentling her voice now. “I won’t lie to you and tell you that I…that I feel as deeply as you do. But, my darling, you must know that I care about you so much–”

    “–as a friend–”

    “Do I treat Grog the way I treat you? What about Scanlan? Answer me,” she commands, when he doesn’t respond. He shakes his head, mutely, miserably.
  • And the thing is, as she’s saying this, she’s realizing–she’s never treated Percy the way she’s treated any other man in her life, aside from her brother. She flirts easily and shamelessly, but she doesn’t gift anyone else with as many kisses as she has Percy. She doesn’t spend nearly as much time alone with Scanlan and Grog as she does with him, whether it’s in his workshop, or out practicing trick shots, or strolling around Vassalheim’s temple district in complete silence (which would be awkward with anyone else).

    And she knows him too–he’s frequently difficult to read, but somehow she knows when something is wrong–really wrong–with him. She knew it when they were fighting the Briarwoods and then Orthax. She knew when he’d made that late night trip to the Raven Queen’s temple. Percy needs so much and he’ll never ask for help until he doesn’t have a choice or someone makes him and so it makes sense to keep an eye on him all the time. For all that he acts so much older than his years, he’s the youngest of them all, and it’s so easy to forget that. 

    She trusts him too. Trusts him enough to show him her deepest insecurities, the fears she didn’t dare to show even her twin brother. He could have lied to her (he’s an excellent liar) and told her what she wanted to hear. Instead he told her what she’d needed to hear. He didn’t let her brush it off as so much silliness. He’d heard her and he’d made her feel validated, precious. 

  • “You know my brother talked to me about you,” she says. He blinks at her, confused at the sudden change in topic. “He told me you were ‘charming’ but that I should keep both my eyes open. When I told him I didn’t know what he was talking about, he didn’t believe me. He saw something, maybe, that I didn’t realize about myself.”

    Percy stills, barely breathing.

    “I’ve never…I’ve never been in love before.” Her voice is trembling–until now, neither of them has dared to name what lies between them. His fingers flex on her wrists in response. “I don’t know what it’s like. I just know…I just know that what I feel for you is something I’ve never felt for anyone else. Ever. 

    You’ve given me so much, darling. Your gold. Arrows and gifts. Broom modifications. You’ve given me a title and a home in your home. And now, it seems, you’ve given me your heart.” She lets one hand slide down to his chest, where his heartbeat thunders under skin and muscle and bone and sinew. They’re both shaking now. 

    “I know I’ve given you precious little in comparison–” she covers his mouth with the fingers of her other hand when he tries to protest ”–let me finish. If I promise you–if I swear to you on my mother’s grave that what this is is so far from pity, will that be enough? Will you tell me what you want and let me give it to you?”

    She could cry from the naked emotion on his face, every thought and feeling laid bare. He’s normally so controlled, her Percival. But now she can see the desperate yearning, the dawning hope, but she can see too the doubt–how much he wants to but doesn’t quite dare to believe. 

    She digs her nails into the skin of his chest–not clawing, just enough to startle. “Is this mine, Percival?” He groans and curls into her, one hand coming up to press her palm over his heart and hold it there, while she slides her other hand to the back of his neck. “Are you mine?” she prompts, when he doesn’t answer. 

    “Yes. Gods help me, yes, it’s yours. I’m yours.”

    Their faces are so close now, both sharing the same breath.

    “And do you trust my greed?” 

    She feels the huff of his laughter as he answers, “I would be a fool not to.” 

    She uses the hand on his neck to bring their foreheads together. Letting her eyes drift half-closed she says, “Then trust that I will never give up what’s mine without a fight. Can you do that?”

    Yes,” he breathes. “Yes, yes…”

    And maybe she moves, or he moves, or they both do, but finally–finally–his lips are on hers and it’s–it’s soft and it’s tender and it’s wondering. And then perhaps she’s pushed him far enough or the pollen has decided to remind them that it’s still there in his system but suddenly Percy’s swept her up against him and the kiss turns desperate, devouring, demanding. He’s hard and so hot against her. She feels set aflame, like he’s lighting her up from the inside out. 

    She pulls herself away to breathe, dizzy and exhilarated. “So you’ll tell me now, then,” she pants, “how you imagined this happening?”

    He takes her mouth in another bruising kiss. “Why don’t I show you instead?” he responds, voice a rumbling purr that sends shivers down her spine. 
  • And he does. Repeatedly and at length. :P 
  • (Once the 24 hours of Scanlan’s spell are up, they come out of Percy’s room at last, covered in hickeys and looking thoroughly debauched and satisfied. Garmili has made dozens of obscene cartoons. Grog gives them a lewd wink and makes inelegant innuendoes. Scanlan teases them with slightly more sophisticated innuendoes (but not that much more sophisticated). Neither Vax nor Keyleth can look them in the eye)


Nah, I’m kidding, I wouldn’t deny you a teensy bit of smut :P

  • He comes too quickly the first time, after only a few strokes of her hand. After everything she put him through, she doesn’t blame him, the poor dear. He makes it up to her though by showing her exactly how dexterous those hands of his are and how clever his tongue. 
  • The gratifying thing about the pollen is that it means he’s ready to go again in mere minutes after he finishes. Short refractory periods FTW \0/
  • She gets to see Percy in all kinds of moods and she’s not sure which one she prefers more
    • He fucks her like an animal on her hands and knees, hard and relentless as he moans helplessly and rubs his scruff-roughened cheek against her shoulder blades. She can hardly breathe for how good he feels, filling her up like this; the way he’s driving her inexorably to her peak. Vex normally likes to call the shots but there’s something to be said for the pleasure in submission–to knowing that if she just waits, they’ll both be rewarded. 
    • She loves the reverence with which he looks up at her while she rides him, eyes blown wide and dark and hungry, limned with the thinnest ring of pale blue. He touches her like he can’t get enough of her, calloused hands weighing and shaping her breasts, twisting her nipples the way she likes best, sliding up and down her flanks, her thighs, squeezing the narrow of her waist. She adores the way he moans so sweetly, his breathless agreements as she rakes her nails down his chest and says, “Mine. All mine.”
    • He gets rough with her sometimes. He fucks her up against the stone wall, fingers biting into her thigh, her ass. He sucks livid marks into her neck, along her collar bone, the tops of her breasts. She gives back as good as she gets, clawing her nails down his back, leaving bites of her own on his shoulders, his neck.
    • They move together slowly on their sides in the bed, both exhausted but still needing each other. He hooks her thigh over his hips, and rolls them slowly, steadily. Her orgasm this time is gentle, spreading throughout her body like ripples in a pond. She’s already falling asleep by the time he spills inside her.
  • Man cannot live on sex alone however. They take regular breaks to nap and eat. If some of the food gets utilized in ah, creative ways, well it was there and Percy likes to experiment and multitask. 
  • Chafing is a thing. Despite how wet she gets for him, they do take copious advantage of the jar of lube Grog so thoughtfully supplied. When Vex gets too sore, she uses her mouth, or lets him thrust in the circle of her hands, between her thighs, and even between her breasts (and oh how delightfully he blushed when she offered). 
  • Percy is enthusiastic in applying his natural ingenuity to this new frontier and between that and Vex’s half-elven flexibility, they manage some truly athletic positions. But as their time together winds down, they end up finishing in the most vanilla of sex positions. She likes it though–the weight of him over her, on her, keeping her grounded. She likes the way he’s gathered her into him, the way he’s tucked his face into her neck as he works his hips into her cunt, grinding in deep when he pushes in like he wants to tunnel into her and stay there forever. She holds him back just as close, hands slipping on his sweat-slick skin as she tries to clutch him closer, legs wrapped around his narrow waist. She can tell the pollen is almost completely out of his system. He’s less desperate now, more clearheaded.

    Now he’s mumbling something into her neck, but she can’t quite make out what he’s saying.

    “What is it, darling? What are you saying?” she murmurs.

    He removes his face from the crook of her neck and nips at the point of her ear, making her gasp. Then he pants into her ear, “Are you mine? Say you’re mine too, Vex. Please–please say…”

    Yes. Yes, of course I’m yours too, darling.”

    He groans and redoubles his efforts and when she comes, he’s not far behind her.