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It was still weird, going from the overwhelming heat of a fire giant stronghold into the somewhat-refined Mansion Caleb summoned. Many a joke was made about “Caleb’s Crappy Cottage” or “Caleb’s Cluttered Condo,” because, for some reason, even when the man could summon a Magnificent Mansion, he still made it as small and simple as he could. It was nice enough, rooms for each of them, a decent sized kitchen, a small hot spring, and a massive library. According to Caleb, it was every book he’d ever read, but Jester was too busy drawing a picture of him with large glasses, taped together, pants pulled high, and a quill behind his ear.
She laughed at the picture quietly as she flipped to the next blank page. Finally finding it after the picture of the fire giant leader (Was it Verdius or Terdius? She wrote Terdius, but only because it was like turd.) holding a large greatsword, except the blade was a penis. It was very artistic. She knew the Traveller liked it. But what now?
Jester hummed, and sat up, cross-legged on her bed. Next to her, a large green mass shifted. She smirked, watching Fjord’s shirtless form roll over onto his back, a small bit of drool (Or sea-water? She wondered what it tasted like.) rested at the corner of his slack jaw. He had changed a lot over their time together. Spoke up more, got more confident.
Jester fondly remembered the day when Fjord walked up to her, casually asking to borrow Tusk Love, and if there were any scenes he should keep an eye out for. Of course, she responded with any of the dog-earred pages, and she couldn’t contain her giggle as Fjord flipped through and saw the multiple examples, his face flushing. His flush was cute. It wasn’t red, but a nice hunter green, and it spread to his ears and it made her heart pound. That night, when she had come across Fjord and Molly’s room—well, the sound was enough to make her peek in through the lock, and she liked the glimpse she saw—let’s just say the Traveller got some quality art that night.
She ran a finger along his face, catching the bit of drool that gathered, and wiped it unceremoniously on the sheets. It was good that the sheets were created anew each time Caleb cast this spell, otherwise these would be… Jester giggled again. Fjord was a good fuck. And Jester had seen quite a many fuck. He wasn’t strong like she was, but he held his ground, lasting longer than both her and Molly, no matter what. It had become a game for the tieflings: what could they do to Fjord before either they would get impatient, or he would. 99% of the time, it was the former.
Fjord’s mouth fell open wider, a loud snore jolting Jester from her pleasant thoughts. She chuckled, and then the sound died in her throat. Seeing into Fjord’s mouth, she saw the unmistakable gaps where his tusks used to be.
“I did all my own dental work.”
Words from forever ago, echoed in her mind. She frowned. He had gotten so much more confident, and yet he still seemed ashamed of being who he was. After he read Tusk Love, and the night he had with Molly, he had knocked on Jester’s door, for what she hoped was a round for her.
“Uh, Jester?”
“Yes Os—Fjord?” she said, leaning sexily against the door. “Trying for a two-for-one deal?”
He flushed, his hand going to rub the back of his neck. The collar of his shirt barely hid the bruises and bitemarks that Molly left. (“It’s the only signature I leave, darling!”) “It… was a good book. Uh, seemed to focus a bit much on Oskar’s tucks.”
“Oh, well they’re very sexy! Just like—” The sentence died in her mouth as she watched him deflate further.
“Thanks for letting me borrow it. I won’t disturb you or Beau anymore.” His voice was low, ashamed, as he pushed the book into Jester’s hands.
“Thanks dude,” Beau mumbled from a mass of blankets behind Jester.
Jester fumbled with the book, reaching out to him. “Fjord, wait, I didn’t mean—”
“Night Jester.” He walked away briskly.
She closed the door slowly, holding the book to her chest. Minutes must have past of her staring at the wood grain, because the next thing she realized was Beau leaning on the wall next to her, hair down and groggy.
“You… okay?”
No. She had just shattered everything she had ever built up with Fjord. All the times she called him handsome, the careless flirting in the bathhouse, the wolf-whistling… it was ruined. She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream.
Instead she smiled, ruffled Beau’s hair, saying: “Of course I am, Beau! Why wouldn’t I be?”
*
Jester sighed, shaking away the memory. She kissed Fjord on the forehead and went back to her journal. She started to draw Beau and Yasha sparing, but it quickly devolved into a picture of the two aggressively making out. Like that would ever happen. Those two were going to dance around it forever. Useless lesbians.
Her thought kept drifting back to Fjord. Jester sighed loudly, tossing the journal across the room, then flopping backwards onto Fjord. He woke with a yelp, bolting upright, a familiar glow starting in his hand.
“You were snoring very loudly and it was SUPER distracting because it was so cute, like how is a girl supposed to sleep like that?” She ran a hand along his chest, impishly toying with one of his nipples.
Fjord, seeing that his only danger was Jester, shook his head, the glow fading from his hand. “You know, one of these times, you or Molly is gonna get hurt.”
“Please, you know we both like it.”
He flushed again. His mouth opened, like he was going to say something, before letting it fall shut.
“Why did you rip your tusks out?”
She feels his entire body stiffen. Well, not his entire body. He looked away from her, his hand coming to the back of his neck. Moments passed by, and he was floundering.
“Do I need to strip to encourage you?”
Fjord laughed. “No, uh… I mean you can, I won’t stop you. It’s… just not a thing I talk about to anyone.”
She sat up, straddling him now. “And I’m just lumped in with anyone?”
“That’s not what I--! You know that you and Molly mean a lot to me… speaking of, where is he?”
“He was getting wasted with Yasha and Beau while we fucked, you’re changing the subject.”
His blush was so cute. He could be commanding and sexy while they were in the middle of things, but the second it was brought up in conversation, he became a little blushing boy.
“Well, I’ve talked about my self-confidence issues, yeah? That I don’t like being… different. And… it was sorta a angsty teenager thought. That I could fix everything if I just… got rid of one of the… outstanding issues, you know?”
“You’re still green, though.”
“It wasn’t a smart thought, Jester.” He sighed, resting his hands on her hips, rubbing circles into them with his thumbs. “People made fun of me for my tusks, but then I just became the tuskless half-orc, even worse. Then people are all ‘are you actually a half orc?’ or ‘are you just a yuan-ti pureblood pretending to be a half-orc or a water genasi?’ It was one of the first things that made me feel in control of…” He gestured to his face. “This.”
“You think I haven’t wished I was less ‘different’?” Fjord blinked in confusion. “Tieflings are literally associated with fiends and demons and devils and evil shit like that. We are immediate suspects wherever we go. It’s a miracle that Beau gets arrested more than Molly and I do!”
“But you two are so…”
“Beautiful?”
“I was going to say confident.”
Jester put a hand to her chest in mock offense. “You don’t think we’re beautiful?”
“That’s not what I—”
“I’ve heard almost every tiefling based insult out there. I’ve heard my mother get them; from her own clients even! I’ve been kicked out of stores, restaurants, bathhouses, you name it. It just… when you hear it constantly, you have to reclaim it. That’s why Molly and I decorate our horns, our tails—they’re things that set us out from everyone else, and we reclaim them. They make us powerful and sexy. If we got to choose what we were, it would be boring, and everyone would look the same, except for the people that are actually interesting and probably the main characters of some kind of story.”
Fjord stared up at Jester as she finished talking. He blinked slowly, a small smile growing on his face. “That was… powerful, Jester. I mean, of course I had heard folks call you and Molly names, you just… always took them in so much stride, I never thought…”
“When you’re called a Fiend-Fucker, Succubastard, Hell-Hussie, and being told to go back to the Nine Hells by the blandest looking white, blonde human… it’s predictable, and at this point lacks creativity. Though, some of them are pretty good.”
“I mean no offensive, but I feel like you’d like Hell-Hussie.”
Jester grinned, playfully slapping Fjord’s shoulder. “It’s my favorite! It’s so funny watching people say it! Molly’s favorite is Succubastard.”
“That makes perfect sense.”
“He always responds with ‘You wish I’d suck you, you bastard!’ I love him so much!”
“Me too.”
They laughed, Fjord’s dying out first, as he raised a hand to his mouth. He ran a finger across his bottom teeth. Jester’s laugh died, watching him rub the gap.
“You know…” she started. “The Traveler taught me this new spell.”
“Oh?” His eyebrow quirked up.
“It’s mostly a healing spell, but it can regrow body parts! Isn’t that wild?”
“Jester, that probably means like fingers or something.”
“Yeah, and a finger has bone in it, and teeth are bone!”
Fjord’s brow furrowed. She didn’t want to push him into doing anything he didn’t want to, but he seemed interested. But what if he was just thinking it over for her, because of the Tusk Love comment from months ago?
“Not that you need to of course, you’re very handsome with the teeth you have, and honestly it’s a little overrated to have tusks or fangs or whatever because then they can scare people when you smile and then it gets a lot more dangerous while you’re doing oral unless, of course, they like the added danger, but that’s not to say that all parties want that and it is all your choice and I love you no matter what—”
“Jester.”
She took a deep breath. “Yes?”
“Try it.”
“The oral?”
“Jester! The… the spell, Jester.”
“Oh! Well it will take me a minute to cast, give me a second!”
“Take your time.”
She hurried over to her bag, digging through it. Removing a prayer wheel and a small vial of holy water, she sat criss-cross in front of Fjord, who pulled himself to lean against the headboard. Jester rested the prayer wheel to her left, giving it a gentle spin, before sighing, closing her eyes, and beginning the ritual.
Her voice was gentle, nearly singing out in Infernal as the wheel continued to spin next to her. Wetting her fingers in the holy water, she reached forward, eyes still shut, finding Fjord’s mouth. He opened it for her and saw her grin as he did. She rubbed the holy water onto the two voids of teeth, before slowing removing her fingers. Her other hand then raised, joining the other in cradling Fjord’s face. Golden energy pulsed from Jester’s fingers, rippling through his skin, along his veins. This continued to glow for a minute, the faint ripple remaining as she removed her hands from his face, opening her eyes.
“How do you feel?”
Fjord opened his eyes, unaware that he even shut them. He reached up, touching his jaw. “I feel, well, super healthy.”
She leaned forward, grabbing his bottom lip and pulling it down. He grunted in discomfort as she let out an excited squeal, running to grab a hand mirror. Jester returned, grabbed his lip again, and showed Fjord the dimly glowing teeth in the once-empty space.
The two were too in awe to speak, as over the next couple minutes, they watch a pair of tusks grow from Fjord’s mouth. Eventually, the glow fades from them, and there they are, only extending half an inch past his lips, a pair of tusks.
He reaches up, running his finger across one of them. “Well, shit,” he said.
“Do you like them? Because if not, we can rip them out again.”
“As much as you’d like that…” He smiled and looked at himself in the mirror, before setting it down next to him. “I think I can make this work now.”
“Oh? You want to give them an oral test run?”
Fjord flushed again. “I know you like danger, but skilled danger is usually your game—”
“Nasty! I was talking about a tongue twister, since you sound funny.”
“Well,” a familiar, cocky voice said. The two whipped around and saw Molly leaning against the door, a bottle of wine in hand. His shirt was mostly unbuttoned, and his smile was devious. “I’m always down for some unskilled danger. Let’s play.”
Fjord’s smile grew, into the first full-teeth smile he had made in years, as Molly leapt onto the bed.