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It's a few months on when Fjord finds it. It's unassuming, nondescript unless you know what you're looking for, just a wooden chest approximately two feet long with a tripartite design above its lock.
"May I?" he says to the merchant whose stall it sits at, a place of odds and ends of higher quality than most of the junk dealers Fjord encounters.
The old woman puffs meditatively on her pipe before answering, and Fjord knows he's being sized up. "You look like you're not the one who asks permission," she says.
"Well, they have a word for it when you don't ask permission, and it's not one I'm particularly fond of," Fjord says.
The woman nods, looking satisfied at his answer; she produces a key and tosses it to him. "All there. Have a look."
Fjord knows this is a second test, because he'd only know if it was full if he knew what the contents should be. Either way, he opens the chest, and he sees exactly what he hoped for. There are multiple lengths of fine rope and various pieces of hardware, specifically assembled to do what Fjord is skilled at doing. He can have a perfectly good time even with just his hands, but the possibilities are endless with something like this.
Still, he checks it carefully while trying not to salivate too much; that's a bad look. "It's a little light," he tells the merchant.
She reaches into a bag and produces a set of finely crafted manacles, the most expensive thing in the set. "And now?"
"And now I'd like to know how much you might be willing to part with it for," he says, with a winning smile.
The woman takes a drag on her pipe. "Fifty gold."
Fjord could buy a healing potion with that much; however, he's sort of buying this for a cleric whose deity would exult in the idea of spending the money on this instead. That probably makes it fine.
"You wound me," Fjord says, putting a hand to his chest. "Can we say thirty-five?"
"Forty," she says.
"You have yourself a deal," he says, producing the gold, which makes his purse significantly lighter. Behind him he hears the telltale sounds of Jester looking for trouble and Molly sticking around to watch the fireworks, but for now he ignores it.
The woman sweeps the coins up one handful at a time and deposits them in a metal box. "It's one of the tieflings," she says, not a question, as mildly as if she was describing the color of the sky.
"It's both of the tieflings," Fjord says, because he likes this old broad.
"It deserves to belong to you," the woman says sagely. She picks up a tray from the table behind her and holds it out. "Have a cookie."
The cookie is delicious, and Fjord rejoins the others, trying to pretend he's not carrying a box of bondage supplies. Luckily, he's good at pretending and, given that Jester has coerced Caleb into buying a second set of clothing, not the only one holding something bulky.
Fjord puts the box under his bed in the inn, waiting for a moment to himself. They've arranged for transport in a wagon for the next day, and Fjord manages to find a space alone by offering to sit with the vegetables. He doesn't much care if he squishes a few, because the owner of said wagon gives him the same once-over he gets often from people who aren't sympathetic to half-orcs. Either way, it's relatively private, and he spends the time going through his box of goodies. Everything is in pristine condition, very clearly never used; whoever originally gave a hundred gold or whatever to have this made is a fool for not keeping it.
And yet he still keeps it quiet; it's a week later when he finally finds what he's looking for, when they post up in an inn with exposed rafters in the rooms. That night, he stands up from their table in the tavern early.
"If you all will excuse me, I'm quite tired," he says.
"Okay, but are you really tired, or is this an excuse to get to the sex faster?" Jester asks.
Caleb chokes on his beer, and Yasha slaps him hard on the back a few times.
Molly grins, putting an elbow on the table and leaning forward. "She's awful for saying that, but I am curious about the answer."
Fjord sighs; he will forever be the only one in the group with the slightest bit of home training. "If you're so interested, come up and find out for yourself."
Molly stands up, courteously offering Jester a hand, which she takes, standing up with him. Fjord just leaves, headed back to their room, and ignores the two of them parading along behind him.
Fjord reaches the room in question, holding the door open and giving each of them a slap on the ass as they enter. "I have a surprise," he says, walking over to where he's placed the chest.
"I knew there was something up with that box," Molly says.
"I tried to pick the lock, but I didn't do a good job," Jester admits.
Fjord suddenly realizes she could just as easily have gotten Nott to open it and immediately resolves to find a better solution than lock and key. Either way, he picks up the box and carries it to the bed, sitting down with it. Jester and Molly crowd in on either side to look as Fjord unlocks it and lifts the lid.
"What is all this?" Jester asks, looking quizzically at the supplies.
"A playground," Fjord says, feeling proud of his purchase.
"A bit small," Molly says dryly.
"Maybe for gnome children," Jester offers.
"Gnome children aren't very small," Molly says. "Not much shorter than the full-grown ones."
"No gnomes are involved," Fjord says. "I mean, I guess they could be, but under the present conditions, it's unlikely."
"Then what is it?" Jester pushes.
"There are certain establishments for like-minded individuals," Fjord says.
"He either means brothels or sex shops," Molly translates.
"Don't cheapen it," Fjord says. "But a standardized set of tools, like this one here, became customary, marked by this symbol." He touches the triskelion on the chest. "So I have everything in here to strap you down so tight you can't think of moving." His lips curl into a grin. "Or enough to make you fly."
"The second one intrigues me," Molly says. "I've already been offered the first."
"It's easier," Fjord agrees.
"So who gets to fly first?" Jester asks.
"You'd get bored when you couldn't wiggle out of it, and we can't have that," Fjord says.
"Very true," Jester says, looking unconcerned about the allegation.
He turns to Molly. "It's you I'm thinking of."
"Are you going to tie him up by his horns and spin him around?" Jester says excitedly.
"Where do you get these ideas?" Fjord says.
"I've seen circus performers do that," Molly replies. "Seems like a good way to get a headache."
"This is a bit different than a circus performance, unless you gave some specialized shows that I'm not aware of," Fjord says.
"That market is glutted," Molly says dismissively. He shrugs. "But I'll try anything once."
"I doubt you'll regret this one," Fjord says.
"Unless you drop him on his head," Jester says.
"I would really rather avoid that," Molly says.
"I'll avoid it as best I can," Fjord says, valiantly not rolling his eyes at the two of them.
Fjord spends the better part of the next hour explaining precisely how this is going to work, going over it until both Molly and Jester are claiming to have their intelligence insulted. With them, that's usually a fairly good sign that they've actually been paying attention, so he goes over it one more time and then starts setting up. With Jester's help, he lays out all the ropes from the chest by length and puts other things he might need in strategic places- a knife to cut ropes with in an emergency, a vial of oil.
He realizes suddenly that everything is in its place, that there's nothing else keeping him back from something he's been waiting for for a long time. He squares his shoulders and rolls his neck, getting himself psyched up before he turns back to Molly and Jester.
"Strip," he says to Molly. "Jewelry too." Molly doesn't get a chance to do it before Jester is on him, gleefully pulling his clothes off as she gives him little biting kisses. As the last of his clothing hits the floor, rings and piercings set aside, Molly gets ahold of her, pulling her to him and bending her back a little as he kisses her hard. Fjord lets him do it for a few long moments before clearing his throat, and Molly reluctantly lets her go. "On the bed, on your stomach."
Molly lays himself out, and Fjord has the admit that he makes quite the appealing spread. Tattoos of varying quality criss-cross him, and as he often does, Fjord wants to map them out with his teeth and tongue.
"Give me your wrists," Fjord says, picking up one of the shorter pieces of rope. This part isn't new; your standard rope is not hard to get, and Fjord has never been above using it. He takes it a little slower this time, though, making sure to wrap the rope so that his turns don't overlap. The rope is a light tan, almost white, and it stands out well on Molly's purple skin, complementing it.
"This stuff is nice," Molly says, when Fjord is done, twisting his hands to make the ropes rub against his skin.
"Glad you think so," Fjord says. "There's a lot more where that came from."
"I'm counting on it," Molly says.
Fjord considers the ropes carefully, picking out the lengths he'll need to support Molly's weight. He's practiced some when he could get a moment away, but he hasn't had Molly himself to work on. He's learned how to judge these things, but there's no harm in taking another moment to think. "Hands and knees," he says, and once Molly does it, Fjord begins his work.
It's not unlike making a net, the way he passes the ropes around Molly's body and connects them at his back. He starts at Molly's armpits and goes down to his hips, making sure neither his cock nor his tail get caught in the process. He keeps going until he has Molly secured to his liking, ten points in all, then connects his ersatz harness to the longer ropes that will keep Molly in the air.
"Is this what all sailors do in their spare time?" Molly asks.
"Most of them just take up macrame," Fjord says. "Good so far?"
"Fine," he replies, and he sounds unimpressed. Fjord wonders for a moment whether he's actually going to enjoy this; it's possible it won't be Molly's thing after all, and Fjord will just have to figure out how to salvage the evening. Then again, it's not unusual for Molly to be unimpressed by things, and they're not past the part that's mostly technical. Fjord hopes his mind will change when he's actually up.
"I still think you should tie him by his horns," Jester puts in.
"I'd rather not break his neck," Fjord says. He climbs onto the bed, and at his height it's easy to take the ropes and pass them over the rafter. They reach back to the floor, and Fjord hops off the bed again, checking his ties another time before he hands the ropes to Jester.
"Like we agreed," he says carefully.
"Yeah, yeah," Jester says. Despite her penchant for tricks, she starts slowly hauling Molly up and doesn't even pretend to drop him.
"This is a very strange feeling," Molly says, as his weight leaves the bed, making him adjust and readjust as he loses contact.
"A little further," Fjord directs, and Jester pulls until Molly's knees are just above the bed. "Hold it there," he says, and as Jester holds the ropes in place, he ties them off to the leg of the bed.
Fjord walks around, surveying his good work. "Just for you," he says to Jester, and he takes a thin rope and ties one end to Molly's horns and the other to his tail. It won't hold if Molly thrashes and it's not bearing weight, but Fjord has to admit that the way it draws his head back when he flicks his tail is very appealing.
Fjord doesn't do anything else for a long while, just sits back and watches Molly as he adjusts to it, being helpless like this. With effort he might be able to change his position somewhat, but he doesn't try. Instead, he lets himself be held, giving in to the feeling.
"It's very appealing visually," Jester says, turning her head this way and that. "Symmetrical."
"Thank you," Fjord says. "I try."
"Oh, I like this," Molly says softly, his tail swishing in that way it does when he's thinking. His voice is hushed but full of a kind of excitement, one that's almost like wonder, like he can't believe it himself, and Fjord's not even sure that was for him and Jester to hear.
An unexpected thing Fjord is learning about Molly is how much he wants to be quiet. He shows off because it's in his nature, but part of him is so tired, so done, like he'd do anything to drop the act. It's that part of him that Fjord finds satisfying to indulge, because something about it feels true. He can see it coming out now, as Molly sinks into it, lets the sharper parts of him slough off.
He steps forward and puts a hand on Molly's head, running his fingers through his hair. "How are you holding up?"
"Feeling just fine," Molly says, though he sounds much better than fine.
"You want a little more?" Fjord asks.
Molly moves in his bonds, like he's feeling them out. "Go for it."
Ford picks out a few more pieces of rope. "Take these," he tells Jester, and she dutifully unwinds them, draping them over her arms and holding them out. The rope also looks very nice against her skin, but that's a thought for later; he has certain ideas about what exactly he'd need to do to make it so she couldn't escape.
Fjord ties Molly's legs next, using the same net-like technique as he did for Molly's body. He attaches a long rope at Molly's ankles; there's less to work with this time, so Fjord tosses it over the rafter instead of risking climbing on the bed again. He makes the throw easily and hoists Molly's legs himself, pulling them up until they're above the rest of his body.
Now, the only part of Molly resting on the bed is his bound hands, and he lets his head drop towards them, his tail curling upwards with the rope attached to his horns. Fjord takes in the lines of his body, the grace in it, and he really could just stand and look at this all day long.
Next to him, Jester is practically vibrating. "Go on and ask," Fjord says, after he's had his fill of staring.
"Can I play with him?" Jester asks, her hands clasped in supplication. "Please, please please, pretty please?"
He snorts. "Have your fun."
Jester doesn't wait to be told twice, climbing onto the bed and advancing on Molly. The very first thing she does is bite down on his shoulder. Molly hisses but doesn't move away, and Fjord knows he's in a good space. Jester doesn't leave it at that; she keeps her fingernails sharp, not disguising how claw-like they are, and she runs them along the spaces between the ropes, leaving reddish-purple lines on Molly's skin, his defenseless underbelly. Molly moans, his head going back, and she seizes on it, running a nail along the line of his neck, making another mark.
Fjord resists the urge to touch himself as he watches Jester work Molly over. Molly jumps and flinches, but mostly he takes it, just dangles helplessly as she toys with him. Fjord knows how much he loves it, being caught and reduced to Jester's plaything, and he wonders how Molly is going to get her back when his chance comes. For now, he just submits to it, letting her leave a dusting of teeth and claw marks on his skin.
Jester is about to grab for a certain part of Molly's anatomy, but she draws her hand back. "Am I allowed to touch his dick?"
Fjord considers this for a moment. This is all very experimental, and he doesn't know if that's the road Molly wants to go down. "What do you think, Mollymauk?"
Molly has this look like thinking has gotten hard, but he shakes his head. "Not now. After."
"You heard him," Fjord tells Jester. He runs his hand through Molly's hair. "And no more questions, I promise."
"You can ask whatever you want, so long as you don't need a coherent answer," Molly says.
"You can be as incoherent as you like," Fjord says.
"Oh good," Molly says, and Fjord sees him relax a bit.
Jester plays with him a little more, but Fjord can see it when she's sated. She sits back on her heels, prodding a bite mark with a claw just once before she nods, climbing off the bed. She walks around behind Fjord, putting her arms around his waist.
"Did you get your fill?" Fjord asks.
She hums. "It was very fun," she replies. "I left a smiley face."
"How artistic," he says.
"But you don't mind so much if I touch your dick," Jester says, and she proceeds to do it, running her hand along the outline of his cock where it distends the front of his pants.
"I really don't," Fjord says, not stopping her as she presses harder, giving him some real friction. He's faced with an unfortunate dilemma; one of them needs to stay clear headed for Molly's sake, and he's not going to be able to do it with Jester's capable hands down his pants. Jester's not concentrating on it either, but she freezes when Molly makes an unhappy noise.
"What's wrong?" Fjord says, stepping away from Jester, who reappears at his side, her concentration focused back on Molly.
"Use me," Molly says, and it sends a pulse up Fjord's spine.
"You really should," Jester says. "He's just going to waste."
"Don't have to tell me twice," Fjord says, undoing his pants to free his cock. He steps forward, and Molly licks his lips before opening his mouth, waiting for it. Fjord grabs the ropes, pulling Molly towards him; Fjord's cock rubs along Molly's cheek for a moment before Molly catches it, cheeks hollowing as he sucks.
"Let me do the work," Fjord says, and Molly makes an affirmative noise. Fjord sets up an easy rhythm, using his grip on the ropes to keep Molly where he wants him while he fucks his face. Molly just lets him, his eyes closed, and Fjord can feel rather than hear the way he moans.
He can't possibly get over the way Molly looks doing this, helpless in the net that Fjord wove for him, giving himself over completely as Fjord takes his pleasure. Fjord and Jester are the only ones who get to see him like this, though Fjord thinks sometimes about showing him off, proving how beautiful Molly can be when he's overcome.
There's no way Fjord is going to last after all this build up; he's been hard since he was tying the first knots, and the heat of Molly's mouth is more than he can handle. He tries to hold off as long as he can, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth, but it's too much for him. He groans in satisfaction as he comes, spilling into Molly's mouth as he holds tightly to the ropes.
Long moments later, Fjord manages to gather himself enough to step away. Some of his come is running down Molly's chin, and he swipes his thumb through it, putting it between Molly's lips, where Molly readily licks it off. He can tell that Molly is done; it's almost a shame to have to take him down, but Fjord can't leave him like this forever, no matter how much of a good idea it seems like right now.
"Do you want to come down?" Fjord says.
Molly laughs. "I won't be coming down for a while," he says, "but I'm okay with being untied."
Fjord is just as careful with untying as he was when he was trussing Molly up. First his horns, then Jester lowers him so that Fjord can undo the ropes around his torso and legs. Freed, Molly rolls over onto his back, looking up at both of them, and Fjord runs a finger along the marks the ropes have left on his skin. Some of them won't last very long, indentations without much color that Fjord can feel under his fingertips, running in long lines across his torso. The rope burn is a different matter, his lavender skin turned to a darker shade of purple, and Fjord is more careful when he touches those spots. Between that and the bite and scratch marks from Jester, he's heavily decorated, and the look suits him very well. Fjord wishes he could record it somehow, maybe have Jester paint it, but he's also content with making a whole new set of marks to enjoy.
Molly pulls his hands away when Fjord goes to free his wrists. "Not yet," he says, and his voice is soft and slurred, in a way that gives Fjord an immense amount of satisfaction. It is everything that Fjord wanted, letting him come undone, everything extraneous falling away. There's nothing wrong or weak about it, nothing to it at all but the underlying Molly, a creature of want.
Jester prods Fjord in the side. "Can I touch his dick yet?"
"Please feel free," Molly says, putting his arms over his head. "But don't expect much help."
"Go on," Fjord says, and Jester strips with alacrity before climbing on top of Molly. She runs her fingernails down Molly's chest, gently this time, bending down and giving him a kiss before taking him inside her.
True to his word, Molly is no help, other than moaning and making sounds of encouragement as Jester rides him. Jester either doesn't notice or doesn't care, moving on him quickly, her hands splayed on his chest and pressing deliberately into the marks there. Molly arches off the bed as she grinds down against him, taking one hand back to rub her clit.
Fjord could just watch, but something makes that idea unappealing; it feels remote, removed, and that's not what he wants right now. He gets in behind Jester instead, kissing her neck as he slips his arms around her. He pulls her hand away from her clit and takes over, making her gasp. His other hand finds her breast, and he toys with her nipple. He can't get it up again, not this soon, but it's satisfying for its own sake, watching her fall apart from his hands on her and Molly's cock inside her.
Jester shudders in his arms as she comes, and he can tell when Molly follows her, sinking deeper into the bed as he lets out a low groan. Fjord doesn't separate them for a long while, until Jester starts to wiggle in his grasp. He lets her go, stretching out next to Molly, who still hasn't offered Fjord his hands. Fjord decides not to push it; if Molly wants to stay down a little longer, he's not going to judge.
Jester flops down next to Molly, turning towards him and walking her fingers across his chest. "The Traveler will like hearing about this," she says. "You get a whole spread today."
"I still don't know how I feel about that," Fjord says.
"Don't worry," she tells him. "I draw you with a great big dick."
"Thank you?" he replies.
"I've seen it," Molly says, his eyes shut. "It looks like you have three legs."
"Well, I guess I just hope he approves, then," Fjord says, unsure what else would be appropriate.
They lapse into silence after that, a satisfied one rather than being awkward or lost for words. Molly rolls onto his side, backing up against Fjord as he pulls Jester to him; it's a thing he likes, especially after something like this, feeling a little squished. Fjord rolls over to accommodate him, holding Molly to him. Molly puts his arms around Jester, trapping her in them given that he's still bound, but Jester doesn't complain. She reaches past him and grabs Fjord's ass, just to hear him laugh.
This is only day one, and it's already the best forty gold Fjord ever fucking spent.