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“So,” Astarion hummed, “you and Gale, huh?”
You bristled at the accusation. “Why does everybody think that?”
Your entire party had been acting strangely since your last rest. A five-minute conversation with Gale had somehow warranted a string of nosy comments from Shadowheart, Laezel, and now Astarion.
A coy smirk played at his lips. “The two of you weren’t exactly being private when you were—“ He cleared his throat, dropping his tone to a mocking imitation of Gale’s. “— exploring the bountiful thrills of our gracious maiden, the weave .”
The last thing you needed was for the wizard in question to overhear. You shot Astarion a quick look of warning. “He was just showing me a magic trick,” you hissed.
“Right,” Astarion cooed back. “A magic trick that had you squirming where you stood. Don’t fool yourself into thinking a bloodsucking vampire wouldn’t pick up on that lovely little blush of yours.”
He wasn’t wrong. When Gale was guiding you through the weave, things had grown a bit heated. The raw energy that had crackled between the two of you was suggestive, if not downright erotic. You were sure that you normally had no sense of attraction to him, but at that moment, things had been . . . different. Weird.
And when you’d finally come back to your senses, Astarion had been staring right at you from his tent.
His condescending laugh broke you from your recollection. “Look, the memory alone has you getting all worked up. I can’t say I’m surprised. Gale is safe, after all.” A knowing smile. “ Vanilla .”
You slowed, wanting to put some distance between you and any eavesdropping allies. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Oh, nothing much,” he drawled, matching your pace. “You just strike me as the type to want a tender, caring lover. Maybe one who has truly mastered the art of missionary, likely at the expense of every other position.” He flourished with a quick wave of his hand. “Our resident spellcaster fits the bill.”
Astarion was toying with you, using you for entertainment.
Rather than allow him to get a rise out of you, you decided to play along and have some fun with him instead. If things took a more sexual turn because of it . . . well, you wouldn’t complain.
You feigned deep thought. “Hm, I’m afraid your imagination might just be lacking.”
“Oh?” A pleased, sharp laugh escaped him. “In what sense, dear?”
“All I’m saying,” you started, “is that he can quite literally bend reality for sex. I think there are a lot of possibilities that you’ve failed to consider.”
“But you’ve considered them?”
You nodded. “Oh, certainly. A few scenarios come to mind.”
He glanced toward the rest of your party, now far ahead, and took hold of your wrist. In the next moment, you were pulled into the woods along the trail. Astarion’s crimson eyes gleamed with interest. “Indulge me.”
“Such a dirty gossip,” you tutted. You stood on your toes and peeked over his shoulder. Shadowheart was squinting at the spot in the bushes the two of you had just slipped through. She looked exasperated. “You’re going to get us separated from the others.”
“That’s the point, you sweet thing.” Grinning, he leaned down to match your height. “Now, tell me everything you’ve had brewing in that perverted little mind of yours.”
“Fine, but I’ll have to be quick.”
He clasped his hands together and grinned. “Wonderful! What a good girl you are.”
You tried to fight the heat that rushed to your cheeks, though you doubted your reaction was lost on the vampire. Doing your best to move past it, you began: “So, Gale can use the weave to change his environment, but that’s just the beginning of it, right?”
“I'm listening,” Astarion encouraged.
“He could take you anywhere, be anyone .” Your words were rife with insinuations. “Do you see where this is going?”
“How absolutely scandalous!” He was all drama, wide-eyed and clutching at his heart. “But, please, do go on.”
“If, for example, I find myself in the mood to bed a tall, handsome vampire who just can’t keep his fangs to himself—“ You fought a satisfied smirk as you watched Astarion go still at your words. “—then Gale could potentially provide that novelty.”
“ Really ?” His voice was indignant. “You’d go to Gale for that?”
“Don’t read too far into it. It’s just an example,” you told him innocently. Slow and careful, you brought your thumb to his lips. When he didn’t pull away, you swiped its pad across his razor-sharp canine. “Though I do rather like being bitten by my lovers.”
Blood slipped from the resulting cut. Astarion’s eyes immediately darkened as a single drop trickled down to his bottom lip. Pleased, you swiftly withdrew your thumb and licked the wound clean yourself.
Your actions earned you an annoyed huff. Despite his frustrations, though, the slightest hint of intrigue graced his expression. His gaze lingered on your thumb, which was now settled comfortably against your mouth.
“I take it that you have a thing for monsters, then?” he murmured.
“Only the ones who know how to fuck.”
“Why bother with Gale, then, darling? The only thing monstrous about him is the way he dresses himself.” Astarion took a step closer. “And, no amount of magic items will give him even a fraction of my skill. I offer no exaggerations when I say that I’ve spent the meager length of his life, in years, developing my craft.”
You felt soft arousal eating at you as you considered what exactly those years may have entailed. Not wanting to give away just how easy you were, though, you shrugged. “What reasons have you given me to believe that?”
“I could give you a few right now, if you’d like.” Languidly, he looked over his shoulder. “We probably have a while before our dear companions come hunting us down.”
Your breath caught as he slipped a hand around your wrist, bringing your fingers to his lips. Then, he dragged his tongue flat across your cut. The sudden wet heat against the wound stung but quickly fell into a pleasant, dull throb as his mouth enclosed around it fully.
The two of you made eye contact, and you knew that he was savoring the taste of your blood, that he hungered for a more satiating mouthful. His predatory gaze, the one he only wore while feeding, had you rooted in place. You wondered if the sensation was supernatural or just a manifestation of your primal instincts.
When he eventually released your wrist, a small crimson smear marred the edge of his smile. “So, Reason One: I am good with my mouth. Need I go on?”
“Yes,” was your instant response. “I think I may need many, many more reasons before I’m ready to believe you.”
He saw right through your flippant words. “We don’t have enough time for many, many more.” But he was tugging apart the top few buttons of his shirt anyway.
“Shadowheart can hold the group off,” you told him dismissively. “Extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence, and you said you’ve spent decades perfecting sex.”
“‘Decades’ was a humble understatement on my part, love.”
“Right, then one reason is certainly not enough for me.”
He tossed his shirt to the ground, revealing a well-built body that you weren’t quite prepared for. Astarion was gorgeous—statuesque, even. If you wanted to be thrown around, he certainly had the brawn to do it.
He held two fingers up. “Reason Number Two is that, in a very literal sense, I am built for sexual conquest.”
You did your best to sound unimpressed. “To be fair, I think Gale could probably take that form fairly easily. For as long as it'd take to have me sexually satisfied, at least.”
A laugh hissing through his fangs, Astarion looked you up and down. “If he could sexually satisfy you in the first place, that is.”
“With that body, it shouldn’t be too hard.” You were very blatantly staring at the tension building against his trousers.
“At what point are you going to just admit that you want me ?”
“Do I really?”
He frowned, his eyebrows drawn together. Something like pity was biting at his expression. “If you’re going to be like that, I suppose I’m just going to have to make you take Reason Number Three down your throat.”
His pants fell around his ankles, he grabbed you by the hair, and you were pulled down onto your knees. After studying your face for any sign of real resistance, he pushed your face against him with a cruel smile.
“Go on, then,” he whispered, voice low and teasing. “You can even try pretending it’s Gale, if that’s what gets you going. I have a feeling my name will be the one on your lips the next time you touch yourself, though.”
You’d have to clear everything up after this. As fun as teasing Astarion with this bit was, you didn’t want to develop a false reputation for crushing on Gale. It wouldn’t be fair to anyone involved.
In the meantime though? “You’re starting to sound jealous, Astarion.”
He scoffed. “ Me ? Of him ? Don’t be ridiculous.”
You gave him a silent smirk. It was as smug as you could look with his cock resting against the side of your face.
“You’re insufferable,” he snapped, taking your head in his hands and pushing his tip directly against your lips.
Opening your mouth just enough to take the head inside, you looked up at him through half-lidded eyes. He was especially pretty from this angle, tree-filtered sunlight speckling his broad chest and tensed abdomen. His mouth was still turned down in annoyance, the outline of his fangs softened by his frown.
He twitched impatiently and you sighed through your nose. You’d better get to sucking his so-called Reason Number Three.
Slowly, he guided your head down his length. You’d expected him to be a bit rough with you based on the circumstances, but he was cautious, gentle even. You pulled yourself off of him momentarily.
He stared down at your kneeling form. “Can’t keep quiet just long enough to blow me?” The words were mean but playfully so.
“You’re not being this gentle because of that ‘vanilla’ comment you made earlier, are you?” Your lips puckered into a pout.
He rolled his eyes and, instead of replying, grabbed your hair and shoved himself into your mouth, all the way down to the hilt. “Better? I wouldn’t want to hurt your delicate little feelings.” He spat the last word.
“Mmhmmm!” you managed to choke out around him. The back of your throat ached with the sudden intrusion, and your core ached with something a bit more carnal in nature. Nails biting at his flesh, you grabbed onto the side of his thighs.
He began muttering something about finally getting to have some fun on his travels, but you couldn’t quite make out the words as he thrusted in and out of your mouth. When he picked up the pace, his fangs tearing into his own lip, you began to think you shouldn’t have complained about his earlier gentleness.
You tried to keep up, to contribute in some way. Something inside you wanted to impress him. The idea of him seeing you as inexperienced or dull bothered you deeply. But he was so fast and so filling that even keeping your jaw unhinged for him was a struggle.
Eventually, and not soon enough, his speed waned to something more forgiving. Astarion watched you blink away tears, your mouth full of him, sore. His gaze was heavy. “Touch yourself for me, dear.”
Your initial instinct was to remind him that he’s the one proving himself to you, but it was a bit difficult to do since your mouth was occupied. So, for lack of more appealing options, you granted his wish, your hand slipping under your waistband.
“My pretty little lover,” he hummed endearingly. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think Gale would ever have you behaving so hedonistically.” He brought your head down to the base and held it there. You couldn’t breathe, let alone argue.
When he finally let you go, you fell back and found yourself heaving on the forest floor. He got down onto his hands and knees, taking your hand in his. He trailed kisses up your wrists that quickly devolved into sharp nips at your skin. Then, he was licking the taste of you off your fingers.
“I can think of somewhere else to put Reason Three,” you panted.
“Tell me what you want plainly, pet.”
“I want you inside of me.” The words were quiet, reluctant.
“Hm?” He cupped a hand around his pointed ear.
You wanted to drive a stake through his heart. “Can you just fuck me, Astarion?”
“Undress for me.”
You peeled off your clothes, ignoring how the heat and arousal already had you sweating, and averted your gaze. You could feel him studying your form. “Now? Please?” you huffed.
“You’re so very impatient. But, since you’re asking nicely . . .” He picked you up with ease. Your skin burned where his fingers gripped, and you felt a pleasant heaviness in your stomach as his cock pressed between your legs.
Leaning you against a nearby tree, he supported your weight with one arm and used the other to brush your hair out of your face. In a torturously drawn out movement, inch by inch, he slid himself inside you.
You yelped his name and buried your face in the crook of his neck as you shifted your hips. For a few moments, you were both still, adjusting to the feeling of each other.
You could hear the grin in his voice, and a bit of strain, as he said, “Say it again.”
“Say what again?” Your response was muffled against his skin.
“My name.”
You were smiling back now, sure he could feel your expression against his throat. “Make me.” You leaned back a bit to meet his gaze.
And he did, angling his hips so that he was in as deep as physically possible. It hurt in such a lovely way. Then, he was gripping your hips in both hands hard enough to bruise, bouncing you on his cock. His rhythm was fast and consistent, and each time you bounded upward, your shoulders scraped against the tree bark.
“Ah, wait, I—“ You let out a sharp cry and tangled your fingers in his curls.
“Say it,” he repeated through gritted teeth. His thrusts were broken up by soft, measured grunts. The pace was beyond intense, and you were slipping out of his grasp, kept up mostly by the force of his hips driving into yours. Your back felt raw against the tree.
“ Astarion ,” you moaned. “You feel so good. You’re making me feel so good, Astarion.”
“ Fuck .” He buried his face in your hair. His breath was hot and heavy against you. And his thrusts—perfect, practiced Astarion’s thrusts—grew sloppy.
You leaned forward and brushed your lips lightly against his. There was a certain haze between you both, settling over the searing eroticism of the position. You didn’t know if it was okay to kiss him. There was a worry tugging at your chest that it would change the tone, bring it to a place that two friends having fun, spontaneous sex shouldn’t go. Neither of you fully closed the gap, instead breathing each other’s air in anticipation.
Then, he readjusted his grip, turned, and fell backwards into the grass. You remained in his hold, now straddling him. Light-headed and driven purely by lust, you finally pushed your mouth against his, your lips catching on his fangs. The embrace was fiery and desperate. You rolled yourself against his cock, shuddering at the friction inside you.
When you finally had to come up for fresh air, he was a breathy mess beneath you. Something possessed you to say, short-windedly, “I’m happy it’s you I’m here with.”
Recognition—no, understanding—registered on his face. There was a certain bittersweetness in his gaze, but he closed his eyes and it was gone in an instant. When he opened them again, he grinned and responded, “Then I suppose I’ve proven my point.”
He bucked up into you, and you responded by moving yourself up and down his length. Soon, you found a nice rhythm to ride him to. His hands caressed your thighs, and he moved his thumb to rub circles against your clit. With him under you like this, feeling at you and watching you work yourself up on top of him, you felt divine, like there was something inherently sacred about your every movement.
The warmth inside you grew until it was white-hot tension threatening to burn through your chest. Astarion’s name tumbled out of you again and again, a mantra that followed you right to the edge and sent you over it. Your every nerve trembled with the intensity of your climax, sending your heart into your throat and your shaking hands to Astarion’s face.
His eyes stayed firmly on yours as you came against him, his jaw tight and his chest heaving. “You’ve never been so beautiful, darling,” he told you between breaths.
He rolled the two of you over so that he was on top and fucked you as you came down from the mind-numbing high. Your weak grasp on his arms, the glazed look in your eyes—it must’ve been enough to bring Astarion to his end, because he was coming only a minute after. Your name came as a hoarse whisper against your ear, a hushed obscenity for only you to hear.
He collapsed into the grass beside you, where he collected himself briefly before saying, “You know, I think you were right about my imagination just not being up to the task earlier.” A labored laugh left him. “Do you think I could get Gale to take your shape? I wouldn’t mind ravishing two of you at once.”