I wanted to write out a story that I came up with playing D&D in order to figure out how two characters might act if they had some intimate time together. All you need to know about this semi-probably-non-canon scene is that our party has a gnoll companion and in our old party I played a satyr who fought and fucked his way into his own kingdom. Since in the current game the old and new parties were at the same event, I figure of course my old character would roll in the hay with a beefy gnoll. So I wrote how it could have but maybe-probably-didn’t-might-have-to-ask-the-dm happened.
King Sidney Dragon drummed is fingers on his chair’s armrest. He was hoping this would be like one of the celebrations he had become accustomed to back in his kingdom. I mean coronations and knighting of heroes was great and all, but no one was serving wine and everyone still had their clothes on. The satyr had hoped this would be like one of the knightings he’d presided over, where the official ceremony lasted a few moments, and the party a few days. He yawned.
Twenty years ago, when Sidney himself was an adventurer, he would have been proud to be one of the enterprising few give the opportunity to stand before royalty. Now that he was king the majesty of such an occasion had worn off. He was a guest here. This was not his palace, this was not his kingdom. If the new king wanted to honor the heroes that saved his city from certain doom with a drawn out ceremony, it was his prerogative. The satyr would stand smile and applaud when appropriate. The group below had indeed performed heroic acts. That itself was worth a handsome reward, even if it wasn’t the kind of reward he would have given them. The satyr king looked to his advisors.
To the visiting king’s surprise, the ceremony enthralled his advisors. Unlike him, most of them hadn’t lived the hero’s life. To them stories of dragon slaying were larger than life. Sidney turned his attention once again to the group kneeling before the king. It was an interesting group to say the least. Three of the members were elves that looked so similar they probably came from the same family, another was a brown dragonborn, then there was a human, then what appeared to be a very tall human, another dragonborn this one silver and finally a gnoll. It was the gnoll that caught the satyr king’s attention.
Gnolls were normally psychotic animals that maimed, murdered, and ate everything they could get their filthy paws on. This one was clearly different. This gnoll was different. He was clean. He stood straight. He seemed calm and respectable. He even bowed as the king placed a medal around his thick neck. The gnoll’s behavior is what caught the satyr’s attention. What captured his interest was that the gnoll was a giant wall of muscles.
The gnoll easily stood over seven feet tall. His short, spotted fur did little to cover his toned body. He wore a metal cuirass, which was about two sizes too small, no tunic, and a belted leather skirt. Below, the human king moved to the next hero in line. Sidney motioned to one of his attendants. A minotaur brought his pointed ear to the king’s lips.
“I want to know which tavern the gnoll celebrates at after this,” the satyr king whispered. The minotaur nodded and returned to his seat. Sidney relaxed and enjoyed the rest of the ceremony. When the time came, he stood and applauded from his balcony seat as the rest of the city celebrated their heroes. The middle-aged satyr smiled.
Several of the heroes, including the gnoll, went to a tavern called the Sword and Shield after the ceremony. The satyr rolled his eyes as he pushed his way into the crowded bar. The king had told his entourage to enjoy the night. The request wasn’t unusual for him. He rarely travelled with guards or kings unless tradition demanded it. Years of adventuring had given the king an astute sense of danger, but more importantly he never liked the attention guards in shining armor drew. If he was going to turn heads he’d rather it be on account of his dashing looks and cute tail.
The satyr picked his way through the crowd. Locating the gnoll was easy enough. He was the only seven foot tall shirtless hyena-man in the crowd. He stood alone, drinking from a tarnished metal flagon. While everyone in the bar was happy to party with their new heroes, everyone seemed to avoid the intimidating gnoll in their midst. No one else even stood at his table. The satyr bought two bottles of wine from the bartender. He picked his way through the crowd to the gnoll.
“How do you do?” Sidney said in his most charming voice. “Care to drink with me?”
The gnoll stared down at the satyr. After a moment he shrugged.
“Can you not understand me?”
The gnoll shrugged again and gestured with his paws.
Sidney scratched his chin. Of course the gnoll didn’t speak the common tongue, gnolls had their own language. Sidney switched tongues to something he hoped would work. “Do you understand Orcish?”
“Small.” The gnoll’s response sent a shiver down the satyr’s spine, and ticked his tail. His voice was deep, powerful, yet betraying of his discomfort in the situation.
“This is yours,” Sidney offered the bottle. Wordlessly, he bemoaned the fact orcish lent itself terribly to flirting. “You will think it well.”
The gnoll took the bottle. After staring at it for a moment, he shrugged and drank from it. The king took a swig from his own bottle.
“How did you earn knighthood?” Sidney already knew the answer.
“Battled dragon with friends.”
“I see.” The king honestly didn’t care that this gnoll was a knight. “I want to touch you.”
The gnoll took another drink from his bottle of wine. Then he carefully examined the satyr. A sly smile gradually spread over his muzzle. “Then do.”
The satyr took another sip from his bottle of wine as he closed the gap between himself and the gnoll. He put a hand on the gnoll’s bare chest and rubbed his fur. He wondered where the cuirass he saw him wearing earlier went. The gnoll wrapped a muscular arm around the king’s shoulder and pulled him close. Sidney’s nose pressed into the gnoll’s muscular chest. The king took in the gnoll’s scent.
He flushed as his heart raced in anticipation. The gnoll was warm. Sidney quickly noticed that his paw was making its way to the base of his tail. The king forced his hand through the waist of the gnoll’s belted skirt. He looked up at the gnoll before proceeding. Their eyes locked. The gnoll smiled and nodded.
Sidney snaked his paw further down the gnoll’s skirt. He quickly found his plump sheath, and to his minor disappointment, the gnoll was barely tipping. He skipped the bit, and moved straight for the furry balls beneath.
The two moved closer to the table to mask their lewd actions. The king wasn’t worried about anyone watching. In fact, he hoped that they were. He was a satyr after all. The gnoll on the other hand, was clearly not accustomed to the more civilized races tolerating his presence. He certainly hadn’t expected what Sidney was planning.
The satyr found what he was looking for, two large round balls filled the gnoll’s furry sack. They were too large for both to fit in his hand at once. Instead he chose to fondle each of the warm orbs in turn. He gave the gnoll a light tickle as he switched back and forth. The gnoll gave a pleased growl.
“How should I call you?” Sidney kissed the gnoll’s peck after he whispered the question.
“Otal,” replied the gnoll.
Sidney continued playing with Otal’s balls. He had a natural talent for discovering what pleased people. What seemed to please this gnoll was someone being kind to him and taking risks. The satyr king had every intention of doing both.
Sidney removed his hand from the gnoll’s fuzzy pouch, and found his bit. Otal was no longer just tipping, now he stood fully erect. The satyr wrapped his finger around the gnoll, who gasped quietly in response. The satyr started stroking the gnoll’s shaft slowly. Sidney could tell Otal was nervous. He didn’t want to embarrass him. The king wanted his new friend to enjoy the experience.
Sidney pressed his nose into Otal’s peck. Otal squeezed the satyr in return. The king continued working the gnoll’s shaft. Occasionally, he would sneak his hand back down toward his balls just too keep him on the edge.
To his knowledge, the crowd surrounding them hadn’t picked up on their indecent activities. Not that it mattered. Taverns that catered to adventures had a reputation of being tolerant of all varieties of behavior.
Otal begin panting. Sidney took that to mean the gnoll was ready for release. The satyr jerked the gnoll faster under the leather skirt. With his other hand he played with one of Otal’s nipples. The giant hyena tensed and slumped forward. He placed his paws firmly on the table, bracing himself.
As the satyr king continued stroking Otal, he removed his other hand from the gnoll’s chest and slithered it up his belted skirt. He found Otal’s balls had fully retracted. He gave them a playful squeeze. Otal began to arch his back. Sidney fondled his tip with one hand as he stroked faster with the other. A small twitch of one of the gnoll’s legs announced his impending climax.
The satyr caught the first shot of the gnoll’s seed. Otal let out a muted growl which the sound of the crowd quickly suffocated. Sidney took care catch each of the musky strands shot by the gnoll’s twitching member in his hand. Otal continued to squirm, huff, and growl for another moment before being entirely spent.
Still leaning against the table for support, Otal breathed heavily as Sidney removed his hands from the leather skirt. The satyr took care to keep the sticky mess low as he played with it in his fingers. Otal exhaled. The gnoll looked thoroughly satisfied as he straightened himself. Sidney gave him a devious smile.
“I need to clean up,” he whispered. “When you’re prepared for another round grab some and find my room upstairs.”
Otal responded with an inquisitive smile and small nod as the satyr disappeared into the crowd.
It took Otal longer to find what he’d hoped was the satyr’s room than he would have liked. Shortly after their encounter, his friends caught up with him and kept him at the bar for a few rounds of drinks. By the time he was able to sneak away he feared little satyr would have left. He decided it best to steal two wine bottles before he vaulted up the stairs and started his search.
The satyr had neglected to tell him which room to come to. His friends had noticed the satyr cozying up to him at the table. They warned him that satyrs were trouble and pretty much only interested in their own pleasure. Otal was tempted to tell them that so far their fear was at least somewhat unfounded. He decided against it.
His friends also told him the satyr was supposedly a king. Armed with that knowledge, Otal decided the satyr’s room must be the one with two doors. In his experience, the rulers of the civilized races tended to take up a much space as possible. It wasn’t entirely unlike the leaders of his war band back home. Although the difference between a king’s castle and a peasant’s hovel was worlds apart from the difference between a pack lord’s tent and a hunters bed.
Otal squeezed the necks of the bottles he carried. He’d become anxious, which wasn’t like him. Especially in times like this where he clearly had nothing to fear. Otal was almost two feet taller than the satyr and easily had more than one hundred pounds on him. But this was a game. A game with rules he didn’t know. Otal considered knocking at the door. But if this was a game then now was the time for him to win. He was either a meek gnoll alone and afraid among the civilized races. Or he was a proud warrior here to catch his quarry. He threw the doors open.
The room was large, with two warm fires lit in hearths on either of the side walls. The far wall was made mostly of windows, with two doors open to a balcony, letting the cool night air in. The room was as lavish as it was huge. It had a full dining set, couches and cushions around the hearths, a bathing tub, and a huge plush bed. Atop the bed, wearing nothing but a smile, was the satyr propping himself up by his elbows. The gnoll kicked the doors closed behind him. Otal strode into the room. Sidney turned over on the bed, exposing his complete nakedness and arousal to the gnoll.
As much as Sidney felt the need to say something cheeky, the time for words was over. The gnoll had accepted his invitation. That was all that mattered now. Otal reached the bed.
The gnoll used a nail to pull the cork from one of the bottles and offered it to the satyr who instantly took it with a greed smile. Sidney took a long drink from the bottle as Otal began to extract the cork from the other bottle. Sidney pulled the bottle from his lips. He grimaced at the gnoll and shook his head. Then he leaned back and poured the wine down his front. Otal grinned.
He tossed the unopened bottle onto the bed next to the nude satyr. He leaned in and began lapping at the wine collected on the nape of the satyr’s neck. He gradually worked his way down over his pecks, paying special attention to the king’s nipples. Otal continued until he reached the satyr’s abs. He could feel the satyr giggle as he used his long, flat tongue to mop up the wine that had collected in the small valleys formed by his muscles. He took special care to clean out Sidney’s belly button. The king rewarded Otal by taking up a handful of the fur covering his head and gently tugging. The gnoll’s lips met the tip of the king’s erect member.
Sidney fell back onto the bed. To his surprise Otal didn’t take him into his muzzle. Instead he licked his way down the king’s shaft and began lapping at his balls. The satyr squirmed on the bed. The gnoll licked sloppily, thoroughly cleaning every drop of wine from the king. When Otal lifted his head, a thin strand of saliva connected the end of his muzzle to Sidney. The king smiled and beckoned the gnoll warrior forward.
Otal crawled onto the bed; his eyes betrayed his hunger for what came next. The gnoll pinned the satyr to the bed. He brought his head low and licked the king’s lips. The king craned his neck to meet the gnoll. Their lips met. The pair kissed. Each could feel the others heart pounding as they pressed into each other.
The gnoll kissed with the same sloppiness he’d treated the satyr’s balls to earlier. Sidney enjoyed it. He rarely found himself with some who was as unconcerned with tidiness as he. The king preferred to focus solely on exchanging raw pleasure with his partners. This gnoll clearly felt the same.
Sidney worked his hands down the gnoll’s bare back. Every furry inch was strong and firm. As the two continued kissing, Sidney found fun in working the gnoll’s muscles. The moans that slipped from Otal’s muzzle told the king his efforts weren’t in vain. His hands reached the belt of the gnoll’s skirt. Sidney signed in frustration.
In a single, swift motion, the satyr flipped the gnoll onto the bed beside him. Sidney sprang from the bed. Otal watched as the satyr flicked his tiny tail each time one of his hooves clopped against the wooden floor as he crossed the room. When Sidney reached the table, he hopped up on it and faced Otal. Otal sat up on the bed. The king rolled his eyes and motioned for him to come.
He sauntered over, gaze fixed on the naked and erect satyr seated on the edge table. Why the satyr decided the sudden change in position, was beyond him. Sidney spread his legs as Otal approached. He stood between them. The gnoll and the satyr locked eyes. Deftly, Sidney undid Otal’s belt. His leather skirt fell to the ground with a muted thud.
Otal stepped forward. Now bare, his tail swung freely. He pushed himself against the satyr. The gnoll’s full member pressed against the white underside of the king’s tail. The satyr laid back, stretching himself over the table. He reached into the bowl of fruit in the center. Otal expected him to retrieve the cluster of grapes or one of the other exotic fruits. Instead, the satyr withdrew a small bottle, not unlike the bottles the witchdoctors stored their brews in. Sidney sat up.
Sidney wrapped one hand around the erect gnoll and began slowly pumping him. He bit the cork on the small bottle in his other hand, and spit it across the room. He poured the slippery contents onto the gnoll. Sidney didn’t know where the substance came from, or why it was called griffon grease, but he was eternally grateful to the wizard who showed up at his castle one day selling it.
After the gnoll was greased up, Sidney slipped one of his fingers into himself. The satyr had loosened himself up while waiting for his guest to arrive. He just wanted to be absolutely clear to the gnoll what was going to happen next. He pushed in another finger. Otal grinned as he watched the king play with himself. Sidney slowly pulled his fingers out and wrapped them around his own shaft. Sidney greedily smiled.
Otal reached his paw down and traced the outline of Sidney’s hole as he lined himself up. He’d never bedded a male before, not that it mattered much. Thus far the horny king seemed pleased with his performance. He pressed his narrow tip into the king. The satyr’s head rolled back and he groaned loudly.
Sidney’s eyes begged the gnoll to go faster. It was for that reason he decided to do the opposite. He worked slowly, inching himself into the hungry king. Sidney had his fun teasing the gnoll in the tavern earlier. It was Otal’s turn.
He continued pushing himself in until his body, and balls, rested against Sidney. The gnoll loomed over the small satyr beneath him. The feeling was amazing, in a way unlike anything he’d experienced before. Sidney’s warmth surrounded him. For a moment their breath steadied and they each drew air in sync as they met each other’s gaze.
The gnoll bent down and kissed the satyr once more. With their lips locked, the gnoll began humping. He started slowly. As he increased speed, he separated from the satyr’s lips. With each thrust, Sidney’s little tailed ticked the underside of his plump sack. Otal’s tongue flopped from his mouth as he panted, over whelmed by the mixture of sensations crashing over him.
Otal continued increasing speed until his rhythm match the pace Sidney was pleasuring himself with. Dissatisfied with his hold on the king’s hips, Otal moved his paws to the set of curly horns protruding from his head, stopping only briefly to gently caress his face. He began slamming into the satyr. With each thrust, Otal pushed harder. Sidney squirmed and moaned as the gnoll pumped his way in and out.
Sidney continued to work himself in time to the sound of their bodies clapping together. He felt the giant gnoll’s balls slap against him with each thrust. His heart rate spiked as his breath shortened. He knew he was close, but he didn’t want to finish here. He sat up, best he could with a gnoll deep inside him, and placed a hand on Otal’s chest. The mountain of muscles stopped pounding the satyr king. Slowly, he pulled out. Sidney almost came as Otal removed his slender tip.
Sidney ran a lone finger down the gnoll’s body. Then he jumped from the table. He led Otal by his twitching erection through the balcony door into the cool night. He leaned against the railing, presenting himself to the gnoll warrior once more.
Initially confused, Otal had now figured it out. The satyr liked the idea that someone could be watching. Otal was happy to oblige. He didn’t care much either way. With difference in their height Sidney had to balance entirely on the railing. Otal firmly grasped Sidney’s hips and pushed himself back into the satyr. After a few thrusts, he’d returned to where they’d left off.
Sidney went back to working himself as the gnoll pounded his backside. His tail twitched against Otal’s stomach. The sounds of their lewd activity echoed in the empty street before them. Otal began building speed. His balls once more slapped loudly against the satyr as he neared completion. Sidney tightened his grip on his member and stroked harder.
Otal hunched over Sidney and pushed in one final time. He roared loudly into the night as he dumped his seed into the king. Inside the satyr, his bit twitched with each shot. Otal pulled himself from the king. The sudden removal caused Sidney to come through the railing, onto the bare ground below. Otal dragged his tip along the white underside of the king’s tail. Expelling the last of his cum, and leaving a sticky, musky trail in his wake.
The two caught their breath in the cool night air before returning to the king’s room. They found their way to the bed where they spent the early hours of the morning lapping wine from one another’s bodies, kissing, licking, and fucking as they pleased.
The next morning, when Sidney finally awoke, Otal had already gone. In his place was a full bottle of wine and a paw print made from ash on his stomach. The king smiled. It was a gnollish sign acceptance and community. He stretched in the bed, popped the cork on the bottle of wine, and wondered just how long until one of his advisors came looking for him.