Handbook of Erotic Fantasy: Pinned (Patreon)

They sat beside the fire, tankards in hand. Both men stared into the flames. Neither wished to speak. They did so anyway, loudly and through gritted teeth.

“Total bummer about that remove curse,” said the half-elf.

“Aye,” said the dwarf. “These things aren’t foolproof.”

“Oh, fuck!” said the first voice through the ceiling. It repeated this observation several times in succession.

“Fire’s getting a little low,” remarked Warlock.

“If ye put any more wood on the guild hall’s going to burn down,” replied Cleric.

“You like it when I maintain that grapple, don’t you?” said the second voice through the ceiling. And as the first ceiling voice reiterated that, yes, this was an accurate read on the situation, and that grapple checks were emphatically a good and generally desirable thing, Warlock was overcome by a sudden coughing fit. Cleric joined him.

At length, once Warlock had recovered from his brief bout with respiratory discomfiture: “You can like, prepare remove curse again tomorrow, right?”

“Several times. And I plan to.”

“Good. That’s seriously good to hear.”

“Assuming I can sleep.”

There came a particularly ominous pause in the conversation. Then: “By Corellon’s variable genitalia, I swear that I shall murder you if you stop!”

The two men by the fire drank their drinks. They crossed their legs. Attempted to read. Set their selected texts aside without remarking upon them or, indeed, retaining a single word. They rose and paced, returned to their seats, offered to refill ale cups, demurred, and puffed like peaked dragons on their respective pipes. They did anything at all, in fact, besides catch one another’s eye. And certainly they did not mention the encroaching boundaries of the friend zone, though both could feel its borders tightening like a noose.