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The first taste he remembered was blood.
The second was dandelion fluff.
“Isk! Hungry thing. That isn’t food,” his mother chided. “Spit it out.”
Blurg blinked. And swallowed.
His mother gave a hearty laugh and hefted him onto her hip, settling her ax over her opposite shoulder. “Curious one, hm? Going to get you into trouble. Chew on that bone, clean it up for me.”
Blurg gnawed on a rabbit’s femur until it was pale and bloodless, watching as the limbs of the trees in their forest home passed overhead, his mother making quick, practiced strides back to the village. Calls rose up as she arrived, her name and greetings in ghukliak. Another woman by a fire reached for him and sat him in a group with the other children, plucking the bone from his blood-sticky hands and tossing it into the fire.
“Eat,” she said, and ruffled his hair.
In the evening, the warriors returned from their raids, covered in blood and paint, hoisting their spoils overhead. Hunters returned not long after, Blurg’s mother among them, a stag their prize as the two parties clashed in joy and fervor. Lovers and spouses and siblings and friends, bloodied and victorious. There was music and there was dancing.
Blurg plucked a dandelion free from its roots and let the soft fuzz of its seeds coat his mouth and cheeks as his clan sang and celebrated late into the night.
Time passed, and flowers alone were not enough to slake Blurg’s burgeoning thirst for knowledge. He had become a nuisance on hunting trips, lagging behind the group to catch dragonflies, or observe the new growths on old trees. His mother scolded him, scruffing him gently, prying him away from the flora and fauna of his home.
“Tchk — that’s enough, boy.” She looked tough, but Blurg could easily suss out the difference between his mother’s angry voice and the one she saved just for him. Even when he was being like this. “You’re going to get into trouble.”
She didn’t mean with her. He caught his mother’s worried glance toward a group of boys a few years older than him, close to being able to join the raiders. They already bore the scars of reckless hunts undertaken for show, to prove themselves. Blurg looked down at the crumpled petals in the palm of his hand and let them drift onto the forest floor.
He paid for it later, in his own blood, spilled into the dirt as he gasped in pain. His clan would never kill him — even if the boys thought he was weak, even if they thought he was worthless, it wasn’t their right to take his life. That right belonged to Blurg’s eldest brother, who’d inherited it from their father when he died. To cull a member of the clan was a last resort. Even exiled, someone could still contribute. Gold and resources delivered in the night by kin who’d been asked to leave and never come back.
Clan was everything, even when it had turned its back on you.
Blurg bled for the clan, choked and gasped with it. He bled for his family, when his brother marked him as other and sent him away.
He bled in places no one could see, mourning his loss, mourning his loneliness, his exile.
Later, he would tell his only friend in all the world he had been too curious for his own good, echoing his mother’s words, and tasting dandelion fluff on his tongue.
Blurg didn’t find Omeluum especially off-putting. It had a quiet demeanor, and seemed rather small for an illithid. It never spoke unless spoken to, which was uncharacteristic of the Society of Brilliance as a whole — they were all rather loud and opinionated, and had been tossed out of their fair share of taverns on more than one occasion for arguing with small minded patrons. Blurg’s favorite tavern to be tossed out of was the Blushing Mermaid. At least then they were still close to the Lodge.
But Omeluum didn’t speak much. Or at all, really. Before being paired off and shipped to the Underdark, Blurg had only heard Omeluum’s voice in his head twice before, and never directed at him. They hardly said a word to one another on the journey, until they slid beneath the shell of the earth and into the depths before finding a place to make camp for the night.
“Erm—” Blurg pointed at a cave before sniffing at it. “Seems clear.”
Omeluum’s eyes slipped closed and it nodded. “Yes. I sense no threats.”
Blurg raised a thick brow. “Can you explain what you mean by that?”
“Indeed. I do not sense the minds or thoughts of creatures that wish us harm. A few bats, and some blind fish. That is all.”
“Blind fish you say? Well, we’ll have to take a look then, won’t we?” Blurge eagerly trudged into the cave and spent the next hour making observations and capturing a specimen or two. “Fascinating,” he muttered.
Omeluum stared.
“...What?”
“I am merely observing. You take great care in your work.”
“It’s my work,” Blurg said. “Someone’s got to care about it. Might as well be me.”
This seemed to appease his new companion, who levitated to another part of the cave and gestured vaguely towards their bedrolls. Nifty, Blurg thought, being able to unpack with a wave of your hand. His own magic was mostly to protect him from this place.
Blurg had a thought, as he turned down his bedroll — did mind flayers sleep? He’d never spent this long in one’s company. His sole experience had been with one trying to kill him. But Omeluum appeared not to be interested in that. It liked to watch, and observe. Blurg even swore he’d heard it humming on their way here.
He watched, trying not to seem so obvious about it, as Omeluum settled onto its own bedroll and placed its hands on its chest, seeming to fall asleep shortly after.
Blurg made a mental note and rolled over onto his side to get some rest.
For a being that literally floated over most of its problems, Omeluum was quite adept at causing them.
They had set up their observation camp nearby a small village of duergar, who had nearly shot the two of them on sight before Blurg was able to talk them down. They’d settled into an uneasy alliance, but the novelty of a mind flayer seemed to have worn off for the duergar, who had decided to ignore them. This was fine by Blurg, as he was now absolutely inundated with soil and water samples. He’d set up his workstation under the tent they’d put up and was happier than he’d been in some time.
Except for the fact that he was constantly tripping over things.
Omeluum liked to scout, going out for an hour or so at a time and returning with geodes or strange plants — and small creatures which liked to bite. In addition to tripping, Blurg was now sporting three fresh claw wounds after trying to clear the little bastards out of their camp.
He decided he’d had enough when he found some mushroom samples Omeluum had left out had spored and attracted the local wildlife. It took fifteen minutes of firebolting the strange flock of…birds, Blurg decided to call them, before things quieted down.
Blurg seethed. It was very un-hobgoblin like behavior, to seethe. To seethe required silence, rooted deep in frustration. His ancestry demanded fury, rage, to flip the table he was sitting at and spill its contents across the damp, dark ground.
“Alright!” he finally shouted, channeling his tamest ancestor. “I can’t work like this anymore. I just can’t.”
Omeluum turned to face him. “Is something the matter, Blurg?”
Blurg stared. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, something is the matter!”
Omeluum’s head tilted curiously to the side, like one of the flumphs that watched the duergar village. Observant and passive. It was curious behavior and, maybe, like Blurg’s own temperament, unbecoming of its ancestry.
“I see,” Omeluum said. “I did have my suspicions this would occur. I will depart from camp immediately and return to the Lodge for reassignment.”
“...What?”
“You are uncomfortable working with me. I had my reservations about partnering with someone for this expedition, but I had hoped we would be able to work together. As it seems we cannot, I will no longer trouble you. I did tell the Lodge anyone might struggle to work with a mind flayer.”
Blurg held up his hands and shook his head. “No, no, no! My problem isn’t with what you are,” he said. “I’ve got no qualms with that. It’s…well it’s—” He looked around at their smoldering campsite. “It’s your methods! You leave samples everywhere, you never clean up after yourself. A-and don’t even get me started on your documentation process.” Omeluum’s notes, if they could be called that, were a mess. He explained that mind flayers had excellent memories, and psionically recorded their observations onto specially crafted tablets designed to absorb their thoughts.
Blurg used paper and pen and a shorthand system with a guide he kept on hand in case his notes needed to be translated.
“My…methods,” Omeluum repeated.
“Yes! We’re supposed to be working together down here, and we can’t do that if I have to be looking over my shoulder waiting for whatever creature you’ve let loose to come and chew one of my ears off in the middle of the night!”
Omeluum, who’d been hovering a foot above the ground, floated down. “So you have no issues with my being a mind flayer.”
Blurg scowled. “Of course not,” he said. “You’ve proven yourself a capable researcher and a loyal member of the Society. But I cannot work under these conditions.”
Omeluum nodded. “I see. So you require me to…tidy my station, then.”
“If you don’t mind.”
“And as far as specimen collection goes…”
“If we could do it safely then you can collect all the specimens you want. But I’d rather not have a repeat of this morning.”
It was hard to tell if Omeluum was considering the proposition, or calculating how long it would take it to get back to the Lodge. Mind flayer faces were not especially expressive. After a few quiet moments, Omeluum eventually nodded.
“Very well. I can agree to these terms. And…I apologize. It was not my intention to cause trouble for you.”
Ah, hells. Blurg sighed. “No, no, my friend. You didn’t cause me any trouble, I just…well, if we’re going carry on down here, I’ll need to be better about communicating with you. I’ve been on my own for a while.”
Omeluum made a noise that sounded like agreement. Maybe even a chuckle. “So have I,” it said. “It seems I have grown rather set in my ways. We will learn to coexist,” it added. “Despite how I may have frustrated you, I do think we work well together.”
Blurg smiled and went over to a crate to extinguish a lingering flame. “Yes,” he said. “I think we do.”
The Calim Desert was a vast sea of sand and dozens upon dozens of things that wanted Blurg dead. He had crossed it in his youth, venturing toward Chult, foreign flora on his mind, the blank notebooks in his pack begging for ink. In the middle of the desert his group had come upon an oasis, with fresh water bubbling up from the ground and ferns growing in scattered clumps beneath the partial shade of a palm, heavy with fresh fronds. Blurg sat beneath it and drank deeply from his freshly filled waterskin, visions of island beasts and hidden ruins filling his dreams.
When he woke, he was alone. Abandoned. The desert chill crept over him, and the sudden comfort of the oasis dissolved.
There were similar spots in the Underdark, places where the land crested closer to the surface, meeting with cracks in the ground letting coveted sunlight spill down into the dark. If the stars aligned and even just a trickle of water flowed, you could find life.
Blurg thought of them as good omens, as he’d never been abandoned at one.
“Look!” he said, pointing one out as he and Omeluum made their way to a new campsite. The duergar had grown tired of them and Blurg thought it best to make themselves scarce before something unpleasant happened. “Oh, isn’t it beautiful?” He jogged toward the spot, illuminated by the barest hint of sun. The plants growing here were different — more vegetal and sweet smelling than their nocturnal counterparts. Omeluum hovered after him and made a noise of agreement.
“It is indeed lovely. What a strange phenomenon.”
Blurg looked up — the light streaming through was faint, like a memory of the sun it came from. He closed his eyes and imagined its warmth. It had been months since he’d set foot on the surface. Blurg didn’t mind the long days of study and observation, but hobgoblins were no natives of the Underdark, and his skin longed to feel the warmth of a summer’s day.
All in due time, he thought.
Omeluum held out one hand under the dim beam of light. “Curious,” it said. “And appropriate.”
“Hm?” Blurg had busied himself with plucking one of the strange blue flowers growing out of the ground.
“Light. Illuminating the darkness. Such is our goal, is it not?”
Blurg glanced up at his…well. His friend. Since their little confrontation a few weeks back, he and Omeluum had certainly gotten closer. Omeluum had not said much about changing its habits, but it had tidied up its workstation and made certain Blurg could see it. All specimens were now in cages, though Blurg was still getting scratched — but he supposed that couldn’t be helped.
But yes. Yes, this was his friend, now. Perhaps his only friend. It’d been quite some time since he’d had one of those.
Blurg nodded. “That it is.” He pressed the blue flower between the pages of his notebook. When he looked up, he could have sworn Omeluum was…smiling. Blurg had no idea how to tell if a mind flayer was smiling, of course. He wasn’t sure if they even could. But there was something about the crinkles around its eyes, and the way it brought its hands behind its back, as if satisfied.
They stayed a while, in this pocket of strange life and sunlight, until time demanded they move on.
When the myconids didn’t seem to want them dead, and when they had proven they had no ill intentions, Blurg decided this was as good a spot as any to put down some roots, so to speak. They were given a nice little spot to work and research, and the lighting was exquisite, so he had no complaints there.
Omeluum seemed to agree, enjoying a good relationship with some of the more social members of the myconid colony. The two of them set up a bit of a trading outpost — in their time below the surface, they’d run into some adventurous travelers, and occasionally happened upon their corpses later. It was a good way to get coin for the Society and get a few excess collections off their hands. Omeluum was nothing if not eager about mushrooms and minerals.
Blurg found himself more often than not pocketing small trinkets on his solo ventures, returning to their home in the colony with more pieces for Omeluum’s shop — or rather, its personal collection. It seemed more things wound up in a place of honor and observation than they did in travelers’ hands, but it also made Omeluum happy. In the interest of communication, Blurg had begun making notes on Omeluum’s behaviors and attempting to translate them into humanoid expressions. When its tentacles were very still and rigid, Omeluum appeared to be frustrated. When one came to rest on the top of its head, it seemed focused. Occasionally, two would wind forward and hold one another, which Blurg suspected was Omeluum at its most relaxed.
He had not seen angry. Omeluum didn’t appear to get angry.
After a certain point, making the observations in secret felt like the wrong choice, so Blurg showed his notes to his friend, who seemed amused.
“You have a keen eye.”
“I’ve been at this sort of work for a long time,” Blurg said, smiling. “Am I right?”
“You are. Except—” Omeluum brought two tentacles together and held its hands behind its back. “Are you aware of the source of my serenity?”
“Eh, no. Couldn’t say.” Serenity also seemed like a strong word, but he wasn’t going to argue.
Omeluum made that noise, the one it made when Blurg thought it wanted to smile. “You, my friend. Our working relationship has grown and I find myself more relaxed around you than I have ever been around non-illithids. Thank you.”
Blurg blinked. He…had no earthly idea what to do with this information. His body did, apparently, because his cheeks grew very hot, and his mouth fumbled over his next words.
“Well. Well, I—” He cleared his throat. “I am glad to help, my friend. Always glad to help.”
Omeluum nodded. “I know you are. It is a great comfort to me.” It turned and went over to a cage holding a small, growling creature that snarled as it came closer. “Do not fret, little one. I will release you when I am finished.”
Blurg sat at his desk and huffed. Gods above and below, he thought. What in the hells was that?
Bleeding was a wretched business. These sort of thoughts came and went as Blurg leaned against a boulder and clasped a hand tight to the wound on his arm. Bloody hook horrors, he thought. He’d wandered too far off, he was stupid like that sometimes.
Behind him, the creatures screeched and sniffed for him, following the trail of his blood. Couple of well aimed firebolts would do the trick, but he was no match for three of them. He fumbled in his robes for his sending stone, but it must have fallen when he’d taken a tumble.
“Hells,” he muttered. “What a dismal way to go.”
He closed his eyes and conjured the scent of home. It was hard, down here in the dark and damp, but if he focused hard enough, he could smell oaktrees and warm summer sap, woodsmoke and his brother’s favorite pipe. He could hear his mother’s laugh, raucous and bright as she sang songs by the fire.
Home was terribly far away, and Blurg would never get to see it again.
The air snapped with the spark of teleportation. Omeluum materialized in front of him.
“You’re hurt,” it said.
“Hello to you, too.”
“The beasts are closing in. Why did you not teleport to me?”
“I…” Blurg blinked through the haze of bloodloss. He wasn’t strong enough. Omeluum looked past the boulder and made a noise.
Ah, Blurg thought. There it is.
Anger.
Tentacles flared in fury as Omeluum held out one hand and a pulse of psionic energy crashed into the oncoming hook horrors. They howled and drew back. Blurg craned his neck to see. One of them kept coming as the other two turned tail and rain. Omeluum growled and fired another pulse, sending this one flying. When it didn’t return, Omeluum floated to the ground and knelt in front of Blurg.
“You are bleeding.”
“Terribly so.”
“They must have been hunting you.”
Blurg nodded. “I suspected as much.”
Omeluum sighed. “Let me see the wound,” it said, and pried Blurg’s hands away. It made a noise — Blurg hadn’t done much looking, once he was attacked, but he could feel the slick, warm slide of blood down his arm under his robes. When he glanced over, he saw the white of his own bones and gagged.
“Bane’s bloody balls,” he wheezed.
“I do not think that is an appropriate invocation,” Omeluum muttered.
“I said what I bloody well said.”
Omeluum chuckled. “I am glad you still have your sense of humor, my friend. Please, hold still. I am going to apply pressure to the wound. You must drink this.” With one tentacle it pulled a flask from its pack and handed it to Blurg. The other three tentacles wound around the gash in Blurg’s arm and squeezed.
It was…strange.
Strange, because Omeluum had never once put its tentacles anywhere near Blurg. They had come close, chatting late into the night, discussing theories or new works put out by the Society. Omeluum could gesticulate wildly when excited — another observation — and had nearly smacked Blurg in the face once or twice in its fervor.
But this. This was…new.
Blurg swallowed. The feeling was alien, but not unwelcome. He thought perhaps it would feel more wet, but then he was still drenched in his own blood, so it was difficult to say. They were strong appendages, that was for certain, and he felt them gripping like a vise over the wound as he drained the healing potion dry. It spread, bitter, over his tongue and flowed warmly into his gut, soothing the pain he hadn’t realized was coursing through him.
“Oh, gods—”
“Just relax,” Omeluum said. “You are safe now. I will allow no more harm to come to you.”
Between the potion and the bloodloss, Blurg felt drunk. Drunk like he had when he was a young man and tasting fine wine for the first time. A pleasant, uninhibited feeling of…affection washed over him, and he smiled.
“I know you won’t,” he said. “Because we need each other.”
Omeluum glanced at him. “...Yes,” it said. “We do.”
“I mean…I mean we need each other. No one else could do this with us. This is…this is divine intervention, right? Gods said here. Here you go.”
“I do not know about any gods, but I do know I prefer your company to that of others.”
Blurg nodded. “Good. Me, too,” he added. “I prefer…prefer you. Over. You know. Everyone else.” He sniffed. “You’re my only friend.”
Omeluum made a noise and pulled back. “I believe the potion is working.”
Blurg glanced up. Omeluum’s tentacles were slick with his blood. “Yeah?” He looked at his arm and found it was not as bad as before. Still terrible. Still agony. But it would heal, if he rested.
“Yes. But we must get back, quickly, before more arrive. I cannot hold them off again.” Omeluum did seem drained, but it still helped Blurg to his feet and put a steadying hand on his shoulder. “Can you walk?”
“Can? Yes. Want to? Absolutely not.”
Omeluum laughed again. “Come,” it said. “Let us return home.”
It took Blurg a moment, blinking through the haze of blood and pain and exhaustion — “Home?” he said.
But Omeluum was moving on, and Blurg was too tired to ask again.
When the Society needed to contact them, they typically used Sending, or shuffled them off with sending stones. Blurg had never been called by the Society to do anything besides return to the Lodge, so he was surprised to get the start of a message one day as he leaned over the flumph larvae he was dissecting, rummaging in his robes for the stone.
“Yes?”
“Message for you. Home. Mother’s dead. Do not return. Already with the gods.”
“I—”
“End.”
“Wait—” But the stone was silent, its partner’s words already used up. Blurg stared at it in his palm, waiting to hear something else, waiting for anything. Anything at all. He sat in his chair, transfixed on the dead, quiet stone, turning its words over in his mind.
Mother’s dead. Do not return. Already with the gods.
How, he wondered. In truth, Blurg had suspected his mother might have already been dead. Hobgoblins did not have the longest life spans, but that was typically due to the lives they led. Blurg was older now, his dark hair silvering at the temples and creeping up. He ran a hand through it.
“We seem to be getting more visitors these days,” Omeluum said, entering their workshop and depositing a handful of coins into a chest. “I was able to finally part with those strange eggs you procured. The smell will bother us no longer.”
Blurg swallowed. “Uh, good. That’s very good.” He placed the sending stone on the desk and stood, trying to make himself busy once more. Focus, he thought. Just…just focus.
His hands shook as he took up the scalpel again, trying and failing to make a clean cut through the membrane.
“...Blurg.” Omeluum was very close, the buzz of its telepathy settling over Blurg’s mind like a warm blanket, blotting out the pain. Slowly, it lifted one hand and laid it on Blurg’s shoulder. “You seem…tense. Unsettled.”
“Ah, it’s nothing.”
Omeluum sighed. “Please,” it said. “Don’t lie to me.”
Blurg looked at his friend. “Someone in my clan sent word to the Society. My mother’s dead. And I’m…not welcome back home.”
Omeluum was quiet and still, but its hand remained on Blurg’s shoulder. “That is…unfortunate. And distressing.”
Blurg nodded. He knew Omeluum was limited in ways to sympathize with him. Mind flayers did not have parents, none they remembered. And he would never go so far as to call an elder brain a mother or father. Omeluum’s gentleness was born from their bond, their companionship. Months spent in the dark, finding purchase among these people, doing what they thought was right.
Omeluum couldn’t lose a mother, but it could sense Blurg’s pain, and it gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze —
And then it touched his cheek with one cool, damp tentacle.
Blurg went very still, his heart suddenly racing in his chest. This was not the same as when Omeluum had come to his aid with the hook horrors. It was not a curative touch, but a soothing one. Intended to mollify and comfort. Blurg swallowed. Omeluum had both feet on the ground, its eyes fixed on Blurg, searching him for some sign of acceptance.
With a trembling hand, Blurg reached up and curled his fingers around the tentacle, holding it in place.
“...Thank you,” he said.
Omeluum nodded, removed his hand and tentacle and took a step back. “I am always here, Blurg. You know this.”
Blurg smiled. “I know, my friend.”
“Perhaps later, if you’d like, you could relay to me a story of your mother. I know you look back on your childhood with great fondness.”
“Some of it,” Blurg agreed. He turned and touched his cheek, still cool and tingling. “Did I ever tell you about the first stag I took down? Or at least, the one everyone thinks I took down. My mother was the one to make the kill, but she made a big show of it for me, everyone was impressed.”
Omeluum laughed. “That is a sweet gesture. She seemed to have loved you very much.”
“...Yes. Yes she did. And I repaid her by breaking her heart.” He lifted the scalpel again. His hands still trembled. “I think I need to take a walk,” he finally said. “Won’t go too far, just to the edge of the colony.”
Omeluum glanced over. “Alright. But…be careful.”
Blurg nodded. When he was alone, finally, he sat on a rock, put his face in his hands, and wept.
It seemed that whatever barrier had previously been between Blurg and Omeluum dissolved after that day of mourning. Where Omeluum had been careful not to touch Blurg before, it no longer had a problem with putting a hand on Blurg’s shoulder or elbow, or passing him something he needed with a stray tentacle. Blurg wasn’t sure how to react at first, but when he tested a theory, and put a hand on Omeluum’s arm to pull him aside one day, he found he liked the contact. And Omeluum seemed to enjoy it, too.
It had been so long since someone had touched him, and not intended to hurt him.
And now it was constant, hands and tentacles, pressing into one another’s space, leaning close, boundaries falling away. Blurg reveled in it, delighting in the sensation. So much was suddenly his, and Omeluum gave as good as it got.
And then it struck him. It struck like fire as Blurg watched Omeluum trade its precious laculite away for coin and ink to a wandering group of adventurers. Ink Blurg had been asking for, complaining about missing under his breath for days. He didn’t want to make a trip to the surface just for some blood ink. And here was his friend, trading away its favorite stones so Blurg wouldn’t have to.
Omeluum placed the new inkwells on Blurg’s desk and said something cheerful about how they could go a bit longer, and Blurg’s heart hammered and hammered and hammered in his chest.
He felt—
Gods. Don’t think it. Omeluum did not pry, not without permission, but what if Blurg thought it too loud? What if his lonely heart began broadcasting itself to the myconids, to Omeluum —
I lo—
No.
Don’t.
Ridiculous. Pathetic. He was…he was a hobgoblin, trapped beneath the earth, trying to make this place just a little bit better. There wasn’t time for…that. There wasn’t room for it. There wasn’t—
Heartache was real, he thought. It consumed and took without regard. He swallowed around it and went back to his work, but his mind was elsewhere, thinking about ink pots and thinking about tentacles and thinking about love.
Cursed, damnable love.
The love came first. The desire came after.
It had been…far too long, since Blurg had done, well, anything intimate with anyone. There was a time, in a tavern, perhaps five or so years ago. So rarely did anyone catch his eye to begin with, and he knew his predilection for babbling incessantly about mushroom spores was a bit of a turn off to most, so his experiences had been very few and far between.
Now, he lay in his bed and wrapped a hand around his cock and thought about the touch of those tentacles anywhere he could. Blurg had never been this keyed up in his entire life, but suddenly he couldn’t think for the desire consuming him. He wanted and needed release, but the release he found simply wasn’t enough.
None of this was made better by Omeluum, who continued to touch him, continued to chatter away as if nothing had changed. Mournfully, Blurg realized that for Omeluum, it hadn’t. The only solution was to limit contact, but there was hardly an easy way to do that when they lived together, worked together, saw one another every single bloody day —
Withdraw. That was the solution. Withdraw from the contact, let his feelings cool off for a bit. If he went without it for a while, he would be fine. He would live.
It didn’t work, of course. And it made Blurg feel awful. The first time he drew back, he could feel Omeluum’s surprise. And then its hurt.
“...Are you well, Blurg?”
“I’m fine. Just…tired. That’s all.”
“Yes, you do seem to be sleeping less.”
Because I keep imagining you all over me, he thought bitterly, but not for Omeluum. For his own pathetic needs. He was above this. He had to be above this. To risk the only friendship he’d had in so long for…for base desires?
“...Blurg?”
“I just need to stretch my legs. Just a bit. I’ll, uh. I’ll be back,” he said, and quickly made himself scarce.
None of this helped though. And Omeluum only seemed to become more worried, touching more, putting himself in Blurg’s space more. It was maddening, it was surely going to drive him so far over the edge he could never return, it —
It stopped. One day. Blurg waited for the concerned hand on his shoulder that morning, but it never came. Omeluum was friendly, bid him good morning and offered him a spot at their little table where Blurg took his meals — but it didn’t touch him. It didn’t come near him. It didn’t ask if he was alright. It chatted idly about the day ahead, about wanting to go out and collect samples, about some of the duergar that had come around causing a bit of trouble in the night.
But it didn’t touch him. It didn’t touch him for days.
Blurg felt lost, weak with want and ache. This was supposed to be a good thing. This was supposed to cure him of this affliction, make him better. Instead, it only made him suffer more. And if Omeluum noticed that, it said nothing. But things had changed, and Blurg was in agony. Something had to give. One of them had to break. Someone had to fess up —
And then the fever came.
There were a variety of illnesses one could pick up in the Underdark, but they largely stemmed from infection, or coming into contact with spores. Both Blurg and Omeluum were good at keeping their distance from the worst of it, but without warning, a fever came on the likes of which Blurg had never felt before. Hobgoblins were hearty, but he suspected some of that came from remaining within the clan. Outside of it, there were fewer protections.
Blurg had been lucky, until now. Luckier still he had only gotten sick on the surface, where healers were close and convenient. Down below, it was…less than ideal.
“Are you well, Blurg?” Omeluum approached, but didn’t touch. Blurg, who’d been feeling sweaty and dizzy for the better part of an hour now, looked at it.
“I…yes. I think so. Why?”
“Your face is not as…bright as usual. And your movements are sluggish.” Omeluum peered closer. “Your pupils are dilated. I believe you may have come down with something.”
“No,” Blurg said quickly, even as his head swam. He put a steadying hand on his desk. “I’m fine.”
“I don’t think you are. You should rest, my friend.”
Blurg waved him off, turning back to his notes which now all appeared to be gibberish. “I’m fine,” he said, but the words coming out of his mouth were closer to noises.
Omeluum sighed. “This is not a position I’d like to be in, but I’m afraid you’ve left me no choice.” It lifted a hand, and Blurg felt himself become weightless, his feet leaving the ground as Omeluum levitated and pushed him further back into their little home and into bed.
After that, most of the next few days were a blur. Blurg was aware of Omeluum coming to him, giving him different potions, placing its cool hands on Blurg’s burning cheeks. They had done their best to make this little place in the myconid colony a home, cordoning off the space, creating privacy where there was none. Omeluum had drawn a large curtain across the entryway, blocking out the light and sound. It did make him feel better, but it also meant very little when things like time and noise were merely concepts to Blurg, who floated in and out of consciousness.
And all the while, there was Omeluum, mixing draughts, taking his temperature, preparing tea and soup. On the day the fever broke, Blurg finally saw the world again with clear, open eyes.
“You’re awake,” Omeluum said. “Properly, this time.”
“I…think so.”
The mind flayer came and settled by Blurg’s bedside, covering one of his hands with its own. Touch. Blessed touch, the one he had craved. The illness was gone, and so too was his fear. There would be time to confess, time to make truths plainly known, but for now…
Blurg looked up into his friend’s eyes, for what seemed like the first time in ages. A tentacle touched his cheek. “Hello,” he said.
Omeluum smiled, even though it couldn’t. But Blurg knew. “Hello.”
Blurg rested another day, then went down to the stream where he typically bathed.
It was cold water that trickled down from the surface, bracing and frigid, but Blurg always delighted in it. He washed himself and cleaned his robes, dressing in a spare tunic before settling down by the stream. Eventually Omeluum came and joined him, sitting on the ground beside him.
“I am sorry if, before your illness, I said anything to upset you.”
Blurg frowned. “What?”
“Your withdrawal from me. It was…confusing, at first. But then I determined there must have been a mistake on my part. I must have offended you, or made you angry.”
Blurg shook his head. “You didn’t. You…you’ve been nothing but kind.” You’re the reason I’m still alive.
Omeluum looked down, toying with its robes. “...Then…why?”
Why? Gods, it hung like the moon between them, blazing bright and just as consuming. Blurg looked away in shame.
“Please.” Omeluum reached for him, one cold hand on Blurg’s cheek. “Do not shut me out again.”
Blurg shivered, and it all fell apart.
“I…love you,” he said. “It…it won’t leave me. And I can’t do anything about it. You are the only friend I’ve had in so long, for all these years, and now I’ve gone and ruined it by doing that.” Blurg put his face in his hands. “I thought if I…if I just put distance between us, then that might solve it. But it hasn’t. It never will. I’m madly in love with you and I’ll just have to go back to Lodge and go away forever and send someone else in my place—”
He stopped talking. A tentacle covered his lips.
“Please,” Omeluum said. “Be still.” It leaned forward and pressed its forehead to Blurg’s. “I have felt the same for many months. I was unsure at first what to call it, but I know of love. Just not its side-effects. When I realized…I did not know how to explain myself.” It lifted its hands to hold Blurg’s face and gave a low hum. A comforting sound. “I still do not know how. But your words have inspired me.”
Blurg, without thought, reached up and took a tentacle in his hands — and kissed it. Omeluum made…a noise. Blurg drew back.
“Oh! Oh, was that—”
“No,” it said quickly. “It was fine. Just…a surprise.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t—”
“You…should do it again,” Omeluum said, and closed its eyes.
Blurg nodded, and did as he was asked. Reverently, he took a tentacle in both hands and, starting at the bottom, kissed his way nearly to the top, before reaching for another and doing the same. He felt the other three stroking at him, touching his ears and his hair. Omeluum’s hands were braced on Blurg’s shoulders, the sharp ends of its four fingers digging gently into his robes.
“I have…imagined this,” Omeluum confessed.
“So have I.”
“Truly?” Blurg nodded. “I will admit, I did not think you would enjoy it. Enjoy me.”
“Why shouldn’t I?”
Omeluum signed. “I am illithid, Blurg. My kind are not known for grand love affairs. There are no sultry Baldurian paperbacks about our exploits lining the shelves of bookshops.”
“But you can love,” Blurg said. Not a question. “And you…love me.”
“Yes. I love you.”
Blurg nodded. “Then I want you. All of you. Everything you are. It’s all I’ve thought about for weeks. All I can imagine when I’m trying to sleep. I want your kindness—” He took a tentacle in hand again and gave it a gentle squeeze, enjoying the little noise of pleasure Omeluum made. “And I want this, too.”
Omeluum hummed. “It will be…different. You will not feel like you might ordinarily feel.”
“I think you’re misjudging the experience I’ve got,” Blurg said sheepishly. “But you know me best. And you know I can’t say no to trying something new.”
Omeluum nodded. “Very well. Then let us try.”
This was certainly a far cry from the darkened tavern room of his youth. Blurg felt his nakedness acutely, but Omeluum did not seem bothered by any of it. It undressed and lit a few candles with a wave of its hand, bathing the curtained off room in a soft gold light. It approached Blurg with cautious steps, until Blurg reached out a hand and pulled it closer.
“We do not have to do this,” Omeluum said. “I am content with your confession, and my own.”
“I want to,” Blurg said, sitting up. “I…well. I’m curious, for starters. These are sensitive?” he asked, taking a tentacle in his hand.
“They have many uses, but they are intended to be one way a mind flayer physically observes the world. To that point, having them handled by others can be…pleasurable.” Omeluum sat in front of Blurg, reaching out to touch his bare leg. “Earlier, when you touched them, I enjoyed that. But they are capable of other things as well.”
“Such as?”
“Penetration,” Omeluum said flatly. Blurg swallowed. “Would you like that?”
“Y-yes. Yes, I’d…I would, actually.”
“Very well. Lie back, and I will take care of you.”
Blurg nodded and did as he was told. Omeluum leveraged itself over him, tentacles seeking purchase against Blurg’s neck and chest. One of them slid close to his mouth and, without thinking, Blurg opened. The tentacle, cool and slick, slid inside and over his tongue. Blurg closed his mouth, wrapping his lips around it and giving it a gentle suck. Omeluum moaned as he did, so he brought his hand up and curled it around the tentacle, thrusting it shallowly in and out. It tasted different than he’d imagined — less like ocean spray, more like…rain. Fresh rain, flooding his senses as his eyes slipped closed and he enjoyed the way the tentacle moved slightly on his tongue, as if seeking out contact. This was a new experience for it, too, it seemed.
“I have never done this,” Omeluum said, perhaps reading Blurg’s mind, or perhaps being just as nervous. “But I will do my best to make sure it is pleasurable for you.”
Blurg carefully withdrew the tentacle from his mouth. “What about you? I don’t…I don’t see—”
“I do not possess the same genitalia as you, but I assure you, a form of climax is possible.”
Blurg smiled. “I should like to see that.”
“I promise you will. Now—” The tentacle pushed at his lips again. “If you don’t mind.”
“Not at all,” Blurg said, and opened his mouth.
Between his legs, he felt another tentacle stroking his thigh as Omeluum parted them, settling perfectly between his knees and resting one of Blurg’s legs on its shoulder.
“I will go slowly. Some natural lubrication occurs, but you will still be unused to the sensation.” Blurg made a noise and Omeluum chuckled. “I appreciate your enthusiasm, but it will be better for me to practice some measure of caution.”
I want you to split me apart, Blurg thought, and flushed. He so rarely had thoughts such as these, they were near-mortifying. But Omeluum, now brushing up against his mind, savored the words.
I will, it said. I will give you everything you ask for.
That first tingle of telepathy, the kind intended for Blurg and only Blurg, made him shiver. Before, he’d wondered if he would be able to tell when Omeluum was speaking to his mind alone, but now he realized that his friend had been holding back. This experience, this sensation, was new. Different. Electrifying. Omeluum’s words were like living creatures inside him, resonating in his bones. Blurg was so focused on the feeling, he hardly noticed Omeluum’s hands spreading him, finding where to breach him.
Be calm, it willed, and pressed the tip of one tentacle against his entrance.
It…moved. The tip was small, no more obtrusive than a finger, but Blurg couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt that either. He was an awfully long way from that tavern room now, his partner flashing a toothy grin as he spread him apart and pressed the tip of his cock inside him. Blurg couldn’t remember why the man had been interesting enough to go to bed with, but he had.
He could not begin to compare with this.
The tentacle felt slicker than expected as it pressed deeper inside. Blurg had seen Omeluum produce a bit of lubrication before, but had never considered it might be used for this.
“More?” Omeluum asked, and Blurg nodded. “More, then.” The tentacle pushed further, opening him up, dragging inside him as it slid deeper. Cocks were stiff. They didn’t…wriggle, ever so slightly, inside you. The feeling made him suck hard on the tentacle in his mouth and Omeluum cried out, going still above Blurg and closing its eyes. “More,” it repeated, for itself rather than Blurg, and began to move faster.
The tentacle in his mouth was becoming bolder, pushing deeper until Blurg nearly choked before he held it firmly in his hand. He didn’t mind it, but he wanted to feel it sliding against his palm, further into his mouth.
Between his legs, Omeluum grew bolder, too, pushing the tentacle inside Blurg deeper. The other two stroked his legs and Omeluum began to rock back and forth, setting a rhythm.
“You’ve taken to this well. Always such a quick study.”
Blurg couldn’t answer. His mouth was otherwise occupied.
The tentacle inside him was moving easily now, curling slightly inside him as it pressed gently against something pleasurable, sending a rush of heat through him. Blurg moaned, clenching tight around it. Omeluum made a noise that shuddered deep in Blurg’s mind, rippling through him. He could feel the same pleasure it was feeling, in tandem with his own. His cock, now hard and leaking on his stomach, twitched sympathetically. Blurg reached down and wrapped his free hand around it, stroking it to give himself some relief.
“Is this the reason you’ve been losing sleep?” Omeluum pushed at Blurg’s thoughts, gently, asking for permission. Blurg nodded, and let it in. The memories of himself on his back, thrusting into his hot and wanting fist, flooded between them, back and forth, back and forth. Memory of pleasure fusing with actual pleasure, chased by the feeling of another tentacle, asking to join the other.
More, Blurg thought, even as he wasn’t certain he could handle more.
You can, Omeluum assured him. You will.
The second tentacle pushed inside him along the other. They twisted together, thick and insistent, fucking him in earnest now. Blurg felt his mind starting to go blank. He let go of the tentacle in his mouth and let it go deeper.
Omeluum’s thoughts were more frantic now. Flashes of things it wanted to do, things it had been imagining. Blurg saw visions of himself held aloft, caressed and explored by his partner, the two of them floating, writhing in ecstasy. But he also saw…gentleness. Care. He saw other things Omeluum desired, almost as much as it desired this. Blurg comforting it. Sharing a bed with it. Holding hands with it.
He reached down and slotted their fingers together, bringing both their hands up over his heart.
Love, he thought, and the thought came back.
Love.
The third tentacle pushed inside him.
Blurg arched, the intrusion feeling like too too too much just for a moment before the three tentacles wound themselves into one braided mass, pulling out almost completely before thrusting back in. He felt like he was going to black out, just as a rush of energy flooded through him. Omeluum was…refreshing him. It. Them. Their minds were crisscrossing, intersecting, flooding one another.
I am in you. I am with you. I will not leave you.
Blurg wasn’t sure who said what. He wasn’t sure who was even feeling what anymore. He only knew he could feel like he never had before. In the rush of thoughts he’d stopped stroking his cock, but that didn’t seem to matter anymore. He felt his climax suddenly approach, the crest of a wave in oceans too deep for him to truly swim in. He came, untouched, spilling over his stomach and chest, crying out around the tentacle in his mouth.
The feedback loop was alive. Sensation spread everywhere, leaving him and coming back. Omeluum’s body jerked, the claws of his hands digging into Blurg’s chest and where it gripped him at his hip. Sharp points of pain that washed away into something sweeter. It made a noise, echoing in Blurg’s mind as Blurg sobbed with relief and then agony, reliving his own orgasm two, three times over.
Too much, it’s too much, it’s too —
Omeluum withdrew, severing the connection, just as its tentacles pulled free of Blurg and unwound between them. It gave a good show of trying to remain upright, but collapsed onto Blurg’s chest, heaving slightly, a very raw, raspy sound coming from its mouth.
Blurg laid flat and caught his breath, lifting one hand to stroke Omeluum’s head. It had never felt so…warm before.
“Are you…satisfied?” Omeluum asked, still not moving.
“Quite, my friend. And you?”
It hummed. “Very much so.”
“Seems you’ve been as imaginative as I have lately, hm? Have you happened to read any of those sultry Baldurian romance novels?”
“Despite my peoples’ reputation, I am more than capable of enjoying fiction, erotic or otherwise.”
“Of course.” Blurg closed his eyes and continued to stroke Omeluum’s head. He was messy, sticky and hot, but…happy. Happier than he’d been in years. “We should clean up,” he said.
Omeluum huffed. “Momentarily,” it muttered, eyes fluttering closed. “I am…recovering.”
Blurg chuckled. “Very well,” he said, and let himself doze off.
When he woke, Omeluum was gone, and Blurg was clean and covered with a thin blanket. He could hear movement from the other side of the curtain, so he stood and dressed. He was pleasantly sore and stiff, yawning as he parted the curtain.
Omeluum was seated at its desk, hunched over a small, writhing animal. It twisted its hands and cleanly snapped the thing’s neck before running a long finger down its spine. “Curious,” he murmured, and leaned in closer.
“What’s that?”
Omeluum glanced up. “A new specimen. Hello,” it added, extending one tentacle.
Blurg took it in his hand and brought it to his lips. “Hello,” he replied.
“I found this creature attempting to eat some of your food stores. I have been attempting to catch one for some time.”
“Seems like it just needed a bit of bait.”
“It would appear so.” Omeluum glanced over. “I was going to perform a quick dissection,” it said. “Are you interested in assisting?”
Blurg grinned. “Absolutely. I’ll just fetch my notebook.”
Omeluum hummed. “Excellent,” it said, waiting for Blurg to return before it began to dictate.