The summer heat hasn't quite dissipated in the air by the time you're out of your armor and settled in for the night. Maybe that's why you're feeling so restless, or maybe it's the way Astarion is looking at you.
He's been looking at you all day: not terribly obviously, [[but you can tell. ]] It makes you feel...strange. Maybe you [[had a drink]], or maybe you [[didn't]]. Either way, something about this night makes you feel brave, makes you feel like maybe this passing infatuation could be something, you could be more than just his blood bag.
You should go talk to him.
You're going to go talk to him.
[[Go on. ->didn't]]Something's given it away... what was it again? How did you know? Was it something about the way you [[fight?]] or perhaps you were hanging back, doing [[magic]], or perhaps just [[providing inspiration]].You don't exactly have any doubts about your own abilities in the field, you know you're more than capable, but the way he looks at you when you fight... perhaps violence is an art. Maybe when he looks at you he sees some kind of beauty in it, not just in your body and the way it's crafted but your movements, your hands, your weapons. All of you, taken together. You are a sight. You're beautiful.
But [[where were you? ->Evening at camp]] You were hanging back from the battle, hyperaware of everything happening, the locations of your enemies on the field. You have to be, you're a little bit too fragile to take the big hits. And there he was, too, all over the field, in and out of the shadows, moving like one himself. You know he was watching you because you were watching him too: You had to protect him, had to be ready. He winked at you, after you intervened in a close call. It was a distraction, even if it was a welcome one. You should really talk to him about that, but even as you think it you dismiss the thought again. He can do whatever he wants. And he will.
And if what he wants is you, well. All the better.
[[where were you? ->Evening at camp]] A bard is useful in a fight, sure, sometimes, on occassion. You've been in fights before. But no one wants to see you hurt, you're the center of this group, and these people are important to you, and you're important to them. So you stay on the sidelines, fingers strumming, doing magic or offering a word everywhere you can, shouting insults, running away.
You make him laugh, once. In the middle of the fight. It's a wildly impractical moment, but you tell someone your grandmother could probably out-box out-run and probably out-fuck them, and he laughs. Loud.
It immediately draws attention and the next hit's swinging for him, and that's probably not your best work, but still. He laughed.
He's pretty when he laughs.
[[Where were you? ->Evening at camp]] Alright, maybe you're a little drunk. That's alright, you're an adult, and you're not so drunk that you don't know what you want.
You suppose this is a little wild if you've [[never slept with Astarion before]], but maybe you're wild. Or maybe this isn't your first time with him and you [[negotiated this prior]]. Either way. You're drunk and too-warm, so you rise from your spot by the fire on unsteady legs and move further into the shadows, waiting for him to follow you.
He does. You're sober, you're steady, and the night feels as though it could hold any amount of promise. You make your way up to Astarion and sit down next to him. He leans back and looks at you, offers you a coy smile, and you smile back, replying to the unasked question:
"I have an idea."
"Do tell," He says, low and intrigued, eyes alight with interest.
You have to supress a more genuine grin, not wanting to scare him off with too much enthusiasm. Astarion's not easy, by any means, but the sweet taste of unmitigated freedom is intoxicating in its own way. He can do anything now, and you can let him. So what will the night hold? [[sharing his company?]] or getting up to something, [[just the two of you.]]Actually, have you.... ever slept with anyone before? [[That's silly, of course you have]]. Well. [[Unless...]]
While you're still thinking it over he blows a deliberate breath against the back of your neck, making you jump. He doesn't have any trouble sneaking up on you on the best of days, and this is certainly not the best of days. The world is spinning slowly, shifting on its axis, like you're trying to get out from under blankets over your head first thing in the morning, disoriented and warm.
"If I didn't know any better," Astarion murmurs, "I'd say you were trying to seduce me."You're smart, slutty, and sexually realized, you've got this in the bag. You can do whatever you want forever, at least as far as Astarion's concerned.
So what //do// you want? did you want to pretend to be [[a helpless waif? ->Carry on.]] Did you want to let //him// ride //you//? He's equal opportunity, he doesn't care what you're [[packing]] as long as you've got it ready.
Or maybe you're easy and you just want a nice hard fuck on the forest floor while you [[let him feed.]] He takes care of you, you take care of him. Everybody wins. Really? Well, as far as ways to lose your virginity go, drunkenly seducing a vampire is certainly a...memorable one.
Are you sure this is what you'd like to do? It's not too late to [[go back ->Evening at camp]]
If not, well. [[Carry on.]] You're experienced enough. You can handle this. Even drunk. You've definitely got this in the bag. You turn around, so quick that you give yourself a headrush and send the world tilting off at fascinating new angles, swaying hard. You know Astarion well enough to know that he will //absolutely not// catch you, and would probably laugh at you if you fell, so you preempt it by grabbing his tunic and, rather more aggressively than you intended, pull him closer.
Hm. It would have been smarter to have thought about your size relative to his before you did this. Are you going to [[drag him over?]] that would certainly jump start this evening. He may be a rogue, but maybe he can [[hold you up]], if only to keep himself from falling. He lands on top of you, knocking the wind out of you, and then knocking it out again as you look up at him, his hair framed by the trees like a crown, a halo-moon over his head.
You want to say something clever, maybe a joke about falling for him, but he braces himself over you and his eyes are dark and you lose the words.
"I feel as though I ought to make you pay for that," he teases you, and his fangs flash, and a little shiver runs down your spine as you realize you really have made yourself vulnerable for him. Still, there's no place you'd rather be than underneath him. [[Except maybe on top of him]]. Or, you idly think, maybe [[inside him.]]
You've thought too long. He leans down, ghosting his teeth over your neck. You feel your heart pounding, making you acutely aware of your blood pumping. You spread your legs and hook your legs around him to drag him closer, your robes pushing up, letting you feel him between your legs. He's hard. [[He wants you too.]]He grabs you around the waist, growling a little.
"Brat," he says, half amused, half-hungry. You bat your eyelashes at him in a way you hope is coy and charming and not just drunk. So, focus. You're helpless, in the dark, on a warm summer night. You're drunk and stumbling away from the fire, and the vampire is stalking you. Or, well, at least. Coming up behind you.
His steps are almost silent, and you're sure the fact that you can hear them at all is deliberate. He's announcing his prescence, and still, it startles you when he speaks, even the quiet curl of his words loud in the stillness.
"Hello, Darling," He murmurs, "You shouldn't wander off too far. It's dangerous. There could be any manner of terrible monsters out there."
You turn around, swaying on your feet, and look at him. You want to say something suave, but you're drunk and warm and everything about this night feels gently surreal. Like nothing will matter when the sun rises.
"Take me," you hear yourself say.
He tips his head, expression cool.
"Take you where?" He asks, feigning ignorance.
You take a breath in. What are you going to tell him? Do you [[wait]] or [[tell him you want him to take your virginity?]] It's easy, moving against him. You tip your head back and spread your legs, ready to recieve him, inviting him in.
"Come on," You breathe, "You know you want more than my blood, take it. Take me."
"Demanding," he teases, but he's ready to oblige, You don't say anything, not wanting to let on how inexperienced you are. Instead you step towards him and drag him closer to you, fitting your mouth against his before he can pretend to misunderstand you more.
He kisses you back, humming a little amused note against your mouth, and pushes you up against a tree, reaching between your legs to touch you, every press of his fingers over your underwear sending a warm pulse through you. You can't help but buck, chasing the contact, wanting //more//, even if you're not entirely sure what it is you want more of, aware only conceptually. This is all so new that everything you know about it is slipping out of your mind, though that may be the drink. You manage to say it. He stares at you, suddenly //very// still. It takes a second for him to recover.
"You cannot be serious," He says, a touch incredulous.
You flush and don't answer, which is answer enough, and he takes a deep breath.
"...Alright," he says, and then he's pinned you to a tree. You barely saw him move, it was so fast.
"I hope you know what you're doing," he purrs, "because there are things you won't be able to take back, when they're done-"
You manage a nod, wide-eyed, hyper-aware of how vulnerable you are right now.
"I- know what I want," you manage. "I want you inside me."
"No taking it slow?" he coos, and you hesitate. Would you like to ask him to [[go slow?]] or would you like to ask him to just [[do it]], rip off the bandage. You're sure you're relaxed and turned on enough it shouldn't hurt too terribly. You just want //him.//"What if we share our company?" You offer, tone low and conspiratorial, "Don't you want to do something so depraved that whoever we fuck has trouble so much as looking at you tomorrow?"
He laughs. He has a nice laugh.
"I'm game," he says, settling back on his hands. "Whose world will we be changing tonight? [[Gale?]] He could certainly use someone removing that stick up his ass, get him to loosen up a little."
You snicker, "[[Wyll]] could use some destressing,"
"[[Shadowheart]] is also stressed," He counters, musing.
"Not more than [[Halsin.]]"
"You know," he says, "[[Karlach]] is also....pent up. And you're awfully creative."
"Decisions, decisions. At least the night is young."You hold out a hand to him, and he takes it, looking a touch bemused as he lets you lead him into the woods, to a little clearing you'd spotted earlier. On your way you grab a little pack of supplies you'd set aside, optimistically hoping for an interesting night.
What did you bring? Now's the moment to remember. A healing potion, so Astarion can get //really// rough [[with you]]? Or perhaps so //you// can get rough [[with him]]? A [[dagger]], with a smooth handle and a crossguard, safe to slide in wherever you should want to? [[Ropes?]]
Perhaps you [[only brought yourself]], just looking for a little amusement in the woods. Nothing wrong with that. "Was Gale really your first choice," you tease, and he rolls his eyes.
"You're my first choice, darling, his baubles are just catching the light from the fire."
You look over at Gale, who's pulling necklaces out of the pack you tossed to him earlier, checking for enchantments. He's got a terrible little wrinkle between his eyebrows.
"He could use some loosening up," you allow, actually a little worried about him.
"Don't get distracted," Astarion teases.
"From you? Never."
"We could [[gag him]]," Astarion suggests, "Wreck him throughly."
"You're getting ahead of yourself," You counter, amused. "We ought to [[actually proposition him first]].""What about your knight in shining armor?" You tease.
"Lae'zel is asleep already," Astarion says, feigning ignorance, batting his eyelashes at you.
"Wyll!" You call, "Astarion thinks you're-"
He slams a hand over your mouth, but Wyll's already heard you and is looking over, laughing a little as he sees Astarion wrestling you.
"Thinks i'm what?" He asks, looking at Astarion and not you, grinning. Astarion sighs, dramatic.
"What we mean," he says, "Is //would you like to fuck//. That's all that needs to be said."
"-Oh," Wyll says, and then clears his throat, having missed a step, almost shy. You duck out from underneath Astarion's hand.
"Are you unused to people being forward with you, blade of the frontiers?" You tease, and he laughs, something in his shoulders relaxing. Perhaps you've set this back in a framework he's more used to.
"Of course, just not... traveling companions. I've had lovers, of course. In passing."
Maybe [[you understand that]]. Maybe [[you don't]]. Either way, it doesn't matter so much as that he's willing now.
"Of course," you echo, grandly, and then smile at him. "So what do you say?"
"How could I say anything but [[yes?]]""Well," you say, "Our cleric does so much for us, we ought to do more for her."
"Don't make it sound selfless," Astarion chides, "I think we ought to selfishly take advantage of her kindness, that's sexier."
You consider it a moment, and then just settle back and look over at Halsin, knowing Astarion will follow your gaze.
He chuckles. "A good choice."
Halsin senses eyes on him and looks up from where he's getting his pack in order for tomorrow. He smiles at you both, almost tentative- it's not //shy//, Halsin certainly isn't //shy//, but he's careful. He's aware of his size and his strength, moves like someone hyper-aware of the fact that they're taking up space. You're going to have to be [[a little more forward.]] Or, well. You could [[let Astarion take the lead]]. We're going to assume you've prepared for this. You're ready and waiting. You had time to think and plan, or you come with your own equipment, and either way, you're grinding up against him, letting the length of it provide him a little friction. He groans against your neck, getting overwhelmed, and you reach down to tug impatiently at his trousers. "Please," You manage. You're not sure what you're asking for, but he's ready to give it to you, biting down on your neck and reaching down to get his own trousers open.
The weather outside is warm enough that you're grateful that his body on yours is cool, a perfect counterpoint to the air as you tug up his shirt, touching more of his skin. You're drunk enough that his fangs in your neck don't even hurt, not really, and there's more important things to focus on, like his cock as its freed from his underwear.
You reach down to touch him, running your hand against the shaft, exploratory but clumsy with drink, and he breathes out against your neck. His breathing is getting more pronounced, and it almost seems as though //his// movements are clumsier as he presses his tongue down to lap up the blood he's spilled. He shifts up, his cock rubbing between your legs but inside you, and you make a noise that's not particularly restrained, worked up, so he does it again, grinding against you without moving inside you, making you feel the drag of his shaft.
"Please," You plead, getting more desperate, feeling as though you're on fire, every nerve alight. "//Please.//"
"You're so pretty when you beg," He murmurs, voice rough, breath a shaky rhythm against your neck, and he drags a hand down to cup your chest, making you hyper-aware that he hasn't even completely removed your tunic, has just half-undressed you, looking like a mess. But maybe [[That's the way you like it]], messy and desperate. Maybe instead you'd like to [[demand he at least strip you properly.]]You stride over, smiling.
"Halsin," You say, "I haven't thanked you yet for making dinner tonight."
"It was my pleasure," he says, grinning a little, clearly wondering where this is going but willing to let you take your time to get there.
"There's just one thing, though," you say, pressing a hand to your cheek. "You missed someone."
"Did I?" he asks, and you see his eyes dart to Astarion. He already knows what you're going to say, but he looks back to you, eyes dark, and says- "If I did, i'd have to be very sure to remedy that. Thoroughly."
"That's good to hear," You say, "Because Astarion is just starving..."
You could stop this particular metaphor here, [[go on to other pursuits]] with Halsin. Or, you think, as your eyes trail down his generous chest and between his legs, you could tell him that [[you'd like a drink.]]"My dear chef," Astarion calls, wandering over to Halsin, "you've been so thoughtful as to cook for all of us tonight, and I have an offer to sate //your// appetities-"
You can't help but laugh a little, grateful Halsin's experienced enough to know what this is implying, because you're sure this particular avenue would fall flat on a different mark. but well, that's Astarion. he knows his marks.
"You honor me," Halsin says, pressing a hand to his chest, looking similarly amused. "I wouldn't spurn you by neglecting any gift you see fit to give me."
Astarion takes a step back and gestures at you.
"My partner," he says, grandly, "Yours for the night, on the condition you share in any bounty you recieve, like a bottle of wine shared between friends-"
"If your bounty is willingly shared I would be delighted to partake," Halsin rumbles, making your face feel hot. You swallow. It's hard to keep company, on the road sometimes. You need to take pleasure where you can find it, and sometimes that's in the arms of your traveling companions, but often it's in the arms of others, people you won't see again, to avoid ruining what you have. You can't have someone fail to watch your back because of a lover's spat. Your affairs have been quick and dirty, all hands and sweat in the dark, muffled gasps to keep the sounds from carrying through the walls, fingers grasping at each other, holding on for dear life to the only touch you'll have till the next stranger comes to warm you. Your history is largely with long-term relationships. You fall hard when you fall, head over heels and tumbling. You love and love and don't feel so open to those short term flings. Wyll must have been terribly lonely, to live like that. It's hardly something you can imagine. "How do you like it?" you ask, as you walk backwards towards your tent, crooking your fingers and guiding Astarion and Wyll after you like you're a pied piper with a flute, light on your feet, giddy with the excitement of the night.
"How do //you// like it?" Wyll counters, and oh, that figures, doesn't it?
Astarion groans, though his irritation is far too feigned to fool anyone, least of all Wyll.
"Are you really going to avoid expressing any preference?"
"My preference is my partner's pleasure," Wyll says, with a little bow that makes Astarion sigh.
You laugh.
"Alright," You say, "//My// preference-"
What is your preference? would you like Astarion to [[take charge of you and wyll both]]? Or would //you// like to be [[the ringmaster of this particular circus?]]
Or as a third option, perhaps the blade of frontiers could [[hunt two monsters]]. "I am creative," You muse, "but we would have to be careful about Karlach."
"I enjoy a challenge," Astarion says, flashing a fanged grin.
"And the poor thing," You say, getting to your feet, "Really could use the relief."
"Alright," You say, and turn on your heel and start towards Gale before Astarion has a chance to reconsider.
"Are we //really//-" he starts, behind you, but you call out:
"Gale!"
Gale looks up from the pack, opens his mouth. You lean down and press a finger to his lips.
"We're interested in sharing our bed," you say, "on the condition you're willing to be gagged and wrecked within an inch of your life. Nod if you're game."
Gale's eyes are wide, but he nods immediately, and you grin, giving his shoulders a playful shove to push him onto his back.
He just goes over, willing and pliant, face already getting red, flush visible even in the firelight. It occurs to you that he would just let you and Astarion take him, [[right here, in front of everyone.]] Or [[drag him off into the woods.]] He wants to be ravished, and you're happy to oblige. "Alright," You say, "You do it."
"Me?" Astarion asks.
"You," you say, "You're the charmer, you do it."
"It would be easy," he says.
"Mhm."
"I can seduce a man with just a look."
"Mhm."
"You sound doubtful," he accuses.
"You're doing a lot of telling me you can do it and not a lot of doing it," you say, batting your eyelashes. He splutters a little, hmph-s. You're starting to suspect he's being coy because he's actually nervous about being rejected and making a fool of himself. Maybe you should go ahead and [[take pity on him?]] or maybe you'd really prefer to [[see how this goes]].You pull out a loop of rope and unwind it slowly, twisting it around your hands. It's not quite so course as the rope you use every day; a little softer, a little stronger.
Are you [[tying him up]] or [[handing it over?]]Why should you need anything or anyone else? perhaps another night there will be more creative diversions, but this night is young and still full of promise, and all you want is to touch him, and to be touched in return. All that's in the pack is a blanket to spread across the ground, and you turn your back on Astarion to spread it out.
"Your trust is rather charming," He breathes, coming closer. You can't hear his footsteps: just his voice getting clearer.
"Is it?" you ask, giving the blanket a flick to lift and settle it out straighter and giving him time before you turn around.
"Turning your back on a vampire. You ought to know better."
"I'll turn around, if you're going to be so fussy about it."
His arms snake around your waist, tugging you back against him, and it would probably be a little more sultry, but you can't help but giggle.
"What?" he asks.
"Just one way to answer the question. You could use your words-"
"You didn't invite me out here because you wanted to //talk//."
"No," you allow, "I didn't."
"So." He turns you around, then, holds your chin in his hand and makes you look up at him.
"it's //your// turn," He challenges, "//you// can use your words and ask for what you want."
And there's the question. What do you want? Do you want to [[be fucked]] or do you want to [[fuck him?]]You pull the health potion out of the pack and wiggle it at him.
"If I don't need this by the time you're done with me, I won't be satisfied," you tell him, lightly.
"Are you quite certain?" He asks, eyes dark.
You hum, tapping your chin.
"Tell me what you'll do to me," you request, waving the bottle in front of him like a hypnotist's pocketwatch.
"I could [[make you bleed,]]" he goads, low. "or I could [[beat you]] without spilling a single drop of blood. Or [[burn you]]. Perhaps [[all of the above.]]"You just hook your legs around him, your knees up high enough to give him access.
"If you're not inside me in the next minute-" you threaten, but he doesn't call your bluff, pressing inside of you, and //oh//, gods, it's good. You're not especially quiet about voicing your appreciation.
"Sh," he chides, but when he shifts his hips inside you he //whines//, and you realize with a slow sort of awareness- a sort of dawn breaking- that your blood is pouring through you with as much liquer as is in your stomach. The poor creature is //drunk//, not just metaphorically, and you breathe out shaky as he runs his tongue over your neck again.
Do you want to [[cut him off?]] or are you enjoying being helpless? [[he could do whatever he wanted to you.]]"And it would be rude to leave me out," you continue, batting your eyelashes. "perhaps I could amuse myself while he drinks?""and I'm...thirsty," you say, looking down between his legs, "mind if I take a drink from your tap?"
It's a bad metaphor, but he has to adjust his trousers, so it can't be that bad.
"of course," He says, "I'd be happy to give you both...a drink."
You snag his hand and guide him back to your tent, laughing a little as he has to duck to get inside it. He doesn't hesitate to undress, not especially shy, and you really take a second to appreciate the view of his muscled arms, barrel chest, a beautiful roll of fat around his stomach. You wonder if he's heavier in the winter, and if you could convince him to lay on top of you: not that you're lacking with Astarion, but Astarion runs cold. Halsin's big enough for a blanket for two, anyway.
"How do you want me?" he asks, amused, bringing you back to the present, and you look up from his stomach back to his face.
"On your back on the bedroll?" you suggest, looking to Astarion for confirmation. He's looking at Halsin's cock like he's jealous you're going to get a chance at it first, and you grin.
"you're getting fed too," you tease.
"I'm afraid I want it all, my darling," He says, amused, even as Halsin lowers himself down, spreading his knees to make space for you as his cock rests against his stomach. Without you even asking he reaches over to a thick black roll of fabric you've been using to catch the blood when you let Astarion feed and tucks it under his neck, and you wonder if he's using animal's senses all the time, if he knew how badly you and Astarion wanted him just from the smell of you.
You kneel between his knees, taking a moment to really appreciate the size of him.
"You're welcome to change your mind," Halsin murmurs, mistaking your appreciation for intimidation, and you snort.
"Little chance of that when I'm so close to my goal," you murmur, and run your tongue experimentally up the shaft.
He shudders, immediately sensitive, and you wonder how long it's been since he had a chance to indulge. Not since beginning to travel with you, certainly. He must be feeling terribly deprived.
You wrap your lips around the head and press down. hmm. Decisions. He really //is// huge: how much experience do you have with this? Are you experienced enough to [[take him down your throat]]? or are you going to have to [[take this slow?]]"Wyll," you say, lightly, "How about a game?"
"A game?" He asks, raising his eyebrows.
"If you catch me, you can fuck me," You say, grinning. "But you'd better catch astarion too, or...." you trail off, letting the implication hang.
Wyll grins back. "Or the vampire will take his revenge for his captured mate?" he says.
""Be a good boy and turn around for me," You request, voice sweet.
"Well, if that's how you want it, darling," He aquieses, turning his back on you.
You step close, appreciating the trust he's placing in you, and loop the rope around his wrists, twisting up his arms and trussing him up. You keep the rope in one hand as you reach around him with the other, unable to resist the impulse to slide a hand into his pants and palm his cock, running your hand up the length. it's a bit awkward confined by his trousers but the desperation seems to make him more wild as he bucks into your hands, your fingers only making the smallest movements over him.
"You aren't really going to make me beg, are you?" he manages, voice rough.
You consider. Will you?
[[you certainly could]], he seems almost desperate enough to. But then again, maybe you're feeling a little [[too eager to wait]]. You toss him the coil of rope and he catches it effortlessly.
"Down on your knees," He orders, and you obey immediately, grinning up at him.
"Oh don't give me that look," he coos, "You're far too eager to be all trussed up and helpless, aren't you? What if someone takes horrible advantage?"
You're certainly hoping he takes advantage, and he seems to know it, starting with a loop around your neck and tugging you gently forward- not tight enough to choke, or at least not yet, though if you wanted him to, you're certain he'd be willing to [[pull harder]].
But maybe you're thinking a little simpler: he can just [[hog-tie]] you and force you to cum before he fucks you. You pull back, feigning reluctance, letting the rope tighten around your neck.
"Now now," He coos, "be good."
He pulls harder, cutting off your air as he drags you towards him, and you manage to just barely choke out a sound that's certainly not an objection at the rough treatment and the way the air cutting off makes your head start to spin. It's //good//, and you trust him, trust that he'd put you back together if he took you apart, which makes it even better. You move closer, obedient, and he struts around you, prowling like a cat, plants a heel in your back and pushes, sending you facedown into the grass.
"Stay down," He orders, silky.
[[you could do that.]]
Or, well.
[[You could make him work for it.]]You breathe slow, letting him yank your arms together and bind them, pliant for him, chest heaving into the ground. You're already feeling a little high on the adrenaline and he's hardly even touched you, especially as he grabs your ankle and lifts it, binding your left ankle and then your right together and to the tie on your back.
Now here's the question: what are you wearing?
[[something easy to hitch up?]] or something he's going to have to [[cut open to touch you.]]You roll over onto your back and kick up, blindly, seeing if you can make impact."I want you to break a fucking branch off that tree and hit me with it till I'm black and blue," You say, sweetly. "Is that a problem?"
He answers by turning and reaching up to the tree in question: It's a little bit of a false start, it's not so easy to grab the branch and break it off as you expected, and for a second he looks a bit silly hopping up to get it. You giggle.
"I'll make you regret that," He growls.
"Oh, I certainly hope so," you say, grinning.
He manages to get a grasp on the branch and yanks it down, snapping it off, and then he twists it in his hands.
"What are you going to say if you want me to stop?" he prompts.
Well, that's a good question. Safety first. You could just say [[stop]], but maybe you prefer to pretend to be unwilling, since this is a rough sort of scene. If that's the case, you should say [[red.]]"....Brand me," You say. "I want you to leave marks. I want it to hurt."
"[[Candle]] or [[torch]]?" he asks. "Did you bring candles?" you coo, "you're such a romantic."
He rolls his eyes.
"About to burn you terribly and you call me a romantic."
"Burning me terribly //is// romantic when I want you to do it. I trust you."
He seems thrown by that, swallowing hard, but his eyes are dark.
You smile and start to strip, just letting your clothes fall, letting him watch you, till you're standing bare in front of him. You set the tone from here. What will you do? [[kiss him?]] or would you prefer to display some vulnerability and lay down, on [[your back]] or [[your stomach]]?"Torch," you say, "I said I wanted it to //hurt//, Astarion."
"I'll just tell you to stop," You say, shrugging. "I'm going to beg you to keep going, otherwise."
"Alright then," he says, "if that's how you want to play.""Red," you say, and he raises his eyebrows.
"Like blood?" you offer, "as in I should only want to stop when I start bleeding-"
"What if you say stop?" he asks.
"Well, that's not red, is it?" you say, batting your eyelashes. "So you keep right on."Dear reader,
Before you embark on this journey, be advised that for the most part, you will recieve exactly the experience you ask for. Others may choose different routes, and those routes will be idle thoughts to you that you can simply choose not to pursue. As others have different tastes, you might find some of these options distasteful, but please allow them to pass over and through you, and as the old adage goes- don't like, don't read.
If you find you've headed down a path not suited to your tastes, be advised that the way back should be just to the left of the story, and will be your constant companion. If you use any other mysterious way back, such as a hypothetical "browser" of sorts, you will leave the story and when you re-enter it will be reading this page again. Hello. Welcome back. Use the arrow within the experience please.
If you find yourself a little stunned at a selection or if it otherwise leads somewhere you didn't expect, please let the author know. If a particular path is shorter than you would like, please let the author know. If there are glaring spelling and grammar errors, you know the rule of threes by now, and presumedly found this page via the author. let him know.
The unwinding of the path forward occurs once every seven days, on a "Sun-day", whatever that is, at 5 bells past high noon, in a mysterious zone going by a time called Eastern Standard. Most weeks only some paths will be expanded, because regrettably some people have to work for their bread. The author has a ko-fi, but he hasn't yet figured out how to link it here, because he's a moron.
All that housekeeping out of the way, please continue to your [[Evening at camp]] ."Well, why not?" You challenge, "you certainly seem ready to."
"I wouldn't-" he denies, but he whines when you lighten your touch over his cock.
"What was that?" you tease, "I didn't quite hear you-"
"Oh you B-" He cuts off as you tease your hand over him again, breathing hard. "What do you want?" he asks, voice pleading, but of course. That isn't the magic word, is it?
You could [[make him say please]] or [[make him kneel.]]"No," you murmur against his shoulder, "I'll spare your pride."
"Well then," he manages, "You've got me all trussed up. What //are// you going to do to me?"
And isn't that question just music to your ears. What //are// you going to do to him? Are you going to shove him down on his face and [[fuck him]]? or will you have him on his back, unable to touch you, [[ride his cock]].
or do you have [[something else in mind]]...."...We could go slow," you mumble, "But I still don't. Want to stop."
"Gentle isn't my forte," Astarion warns.
"I didn't say gentle," You point out, pouting a little. "I said slow."
He huffs out a laugh.
"Lay down," he murmurs. "Unless you want to be thrown around."
You consider that, decide against it for tonight. Another night, maybe.
You lay down on your back on the grass, breathing out, looking up at the sky, and start to hazily undress without even really thinking about what you're doing. the night is warm and comforting and it embraces you like a blanket, but still you shiver when he moves to kneel between your thighs. His hand is cold as it runs over the soft hair of your leg and up between them, running through the soft thatch of hair there too before pushing it back.
Before we go another further, a quick question. [[clit]] or [[cock?]]"Put it in," You beg, "Just right in, just fuck me, I need it."
He growls, almost fumbling with his pants, but he gets an arm around your waist and hoists your tunic up, pins you against the tree- the bark scrapes your back as you're bounced a little, but the friction is nothing, you're drunk and heady on the thought that he's going to be inside you. He hesitates just long enough to spook you.
"Please," You manage again, "Astarion-"
"Sh, just a moment--" He breathes, and you hear something uncap, a little juggling movement, a shift underneath you. And then you can feel him pressed against your entrance.
"Relax," he murmurs, "Relax, I have you-"
You tip your head back against the tree and breathe out, and then next shift he slides inside you, and you realize with a little jolt that he's slicked up his cock with oil: it doesn't hurt like you expected it to, he just presses into you deeper and deeper and-
You catch your breathe, not able to help the way you tense against the ache.
"is it- it that all of it?" you manage.
"Is it not enough?" he teases, and you press your face into his neck and nip him.
He laughs: it's a little too manic, he must be nervous too, but he's //inside you//, and you can feel him with every shift of your muscles, every tiny way your weight shifts moves him inside you. You feel //full//.You tip your head back, moving into his space and kissing him. The candle's still in his hand but he moves it away from you, instinctively, even though it's not lit yet. You're oddly touched by that, even though it's silly- before he even kisses you back, a little defensive movement.
You smile against his lips and he seems to realize what he's just done, because he pulls away.
"that's enough silliness from you," he chides.
"you're the one being silly," You challenge. "I'll handle it, I was just teasing," You say, "He might have some questions anyway, I don't think he's ever had a threesome before."
"Of course he hasn't," Astarion gripes, trying not to look too relieved. He really is cute, you reflect, and on pain of death you will never call him that.
You head over to Gale, standing over him. "Hey handsome," You say.
He looks up, baffled, like he's trying to figure out if you're talking to him- his gaze flicks to Astarion and then back to you, trying to assess if Astarion is alright, probably.
"We were wondering," You say, hitting the inclusive pronoun to allay that concern, "If you wanted to fuck us tonight."
"....if this is a joke it's a rather cruel one," he says.
"No joke," You say, and it's kind of strange, seeing this side of him, oddly insecure. You guess you were right- in this particular area, his experience is a little limited.
"I don't- partake in casual relationships the way shadowheart-" he starts, and you lift your hands.
"Hey," you say, "whatever you call being friends who have sex, I don't think it's //casual//. We're all too important to each other for that. You're not gonna wake up alone, yknow? And you're not being used for sex."
You're not sure what part of that he was worried about, but something in his shoulders relaxes.
"Right," he says. "Of course. Well- under those conditions. I suppose I would be...amenable."
You extend a hand, and [[he takes it.]]You don't //actually// think Gale will say no. He's as hard up as everyone else for company. So Astarion isn't risking anything, except maybe having to explain that there's a distinction between sex with strangers and sex with friends, and the latter doesn't have to be "casual".
The other thing is that Gale isn't //stupid// you reflect, and Astarion isn't half as good a liar as he thinks he is, at least not when it isn't life and death. His feathers are all puffed. Gale is going to clock from a mile out that Astarion cares very much about his response. And he's sweet. If he does say no, he'll say it without bruising Astarion's ego.
Astarion adjusts his clothes, wiggling a little in place like a rooster preparing to crow, and trots off towards Gale.
"Gale of waterdeep," Astarion says, grandly.
Gale looks up, baffled by the formality, but does not laugh, thank the gods. Before he can ask any questions Astarion barges on.
"You are invited to share my bed tonight," He says, "be appropriately grateful."
Gale looks past Astarion, at you, eyebrow twitching, looking bewildered. You give him a thumbs up.
"-okay," Gale says, and then must spot something in Astarion's expression that suggests that //that// is not //appropriately// grateful.
"Thank you! I would be honored, my friend! Forgive me for my somewhat lackluster initial response, I was simply startled by the suddenness of this invitation- How do you want me? where do you want me? When-"
"Now," you cut in, sensing the potential of this to hit a few more question words before Astarion jumps Gale for the sole purpose of shutting him up. "We want to fuck now. Your tent's magically roomy right? Might fit a little better-"
"Ah, yes, I cordially invite you inside," Gale says, looking relieved to have clear direction, [["Please come inside"]]You don't really give Gale's tent much of a once-over, but the impression you get is that it's //excessive//. But that's not important, what's important is pushing Gale into the pillows. You look over your shoulder and get distracted- Astarion is stripping, and before you can ask him what the plan is he fits himself against your back, pushing you down into Gale's chest. Gale lets out a little squeal, and //hm.// That's not a bad noise.
You fit your mouth against Gale's neck, and he shudders.
"Can I leave marks?" you breathe, as you feel Astarion's hands run up over your thighs.
"//Yes//," Gale squeaks, and you latch down hard on his neck, pulling his robe open.
Through the haze of lust, you register two things: one. Gale's chest is //softer// than you expected. two. There is //not// as much between your legs as you were anticipating. You look down, and Gale starts to make a spluttering little vocalization that's in danger of becoming an extended explanation of his gender, so you pre-empt it by burying your face in his tits and generously applying your tongue and teeth, and that shuts him up beautifully.
Astarion seems to have no objections to the different equipment, either, you can feel as he moves behind you that he's lining his cock up with Gale's cunt, and you move up a bit to give him room, pressing your chest to Gale's and catching his mouth to swallow the noise he makes when Astarion pushes into him.
He grabs at you: desperate for more contact, his fingers scrabbling at your back, and you briefly revel in being pressed between them, astarion's breath on your neck and gale warm underneath you, surrounded by soft skin and heat, but it's not quite *enough*, and you spread your legs to straddle gale's stomach, shamelessly trying to grind down against him as you whine into the kiss. Behind you, Astarion huffs out a laugh.
"You can take your turn," he breathes, "move back."
You obediently shift your hips back and Astarion's cock shifts up from gale's entrance to yours, already slick. Gale whines at the loss but you press your face down into his neck as Astarion pushes into you.
"I wish you were a shark," Gale manages, hazy, and Astarion actually laughs.
"shut up," he orders, despite the amusement.
"I'm not entirely sure i'm capable. Everything is- very. overwhelming."
"Dear, I'm going to need you to bite him."
You debate for a moment. You could be [[obedient.]] or you could be a [[brat]]
"Fuck me," you say.
"Ask nicely," he teases.
You have to resist the desire to roll your eyes, but it wouldn't do to injure his pride right now. Your gaze drops to his mouth.
"Fuck me," You say, "//please.// And may I kiss you?"
He blinks, looking a little thrown, and you can't help but wonder why //that// comes as a surprise. Maybe he's not so used to people asking first. You hold still, try to keep your expression soft, let him see the warmth. No ill intent, not here. It's odd, how much you want him to feel safe. He supposes he's the monster here, and maybe he's just as much a threat to you as you are to him, but it doesn't feel that way right now.
"...you may," he says, and you close the gap.
His mouth is cold, but soft, and you don't deepen it till he does, matching his pace. He scoops you off your feet, probably intending to be suave, but he's not as strong as he thinks he is, and you both go down, you on your back onto the blanket and him on top of you. His tooth nicks your lip and makes it bleed, and you break the kiss to laugh.
"I'm glad I picked a spot with moss-"
He cuts you off, kissing you again, more urgently, and you can taste just the slightest tang of your blood on his tongue. For a second you think that's why he's so desperate, but as he starts to tug at your clothes you realize his hands are shaking. It's //need//, pure and simple, and you half-consider asking him to slow down, but it seems as though it would be cruel. And it's not as though you don't need it too, just as badly, a burning through your gut. You kick your clothes off, twisting a little underneath him without breaking the kiss, unknotting and unbutting and fumbling with his clothes too. It's clumsy, but it's //hot//, to be wanted like this, without thought of convenience or location, with everything he has. He's //not// thinking right now, you can tell, which is probably as peaceful as he ever feels.
You lose yourself in the shift of fabric and the cool of his hands, and it's almost a shock when he finally //does// manage to get his cock free, pressing to your entrance, and you instinctually shift up into it, guiding him inside you. He whines into your mouth, and you have to decide quickly- do you want to [[ask him to slow down]] or is this [[perfect?]][[strap]] or [[home grown?]] or have you got a [[spell for this]][[shapeshift]] or [[illusory]]?"Easy, baby," you breathe against his mouth, and he jolts a bit, almost startling. He starts tp pull back, but you wrap your arms around his neck.
"you can put it in," you murmur, "just a little slower."
"...as you wish," he breathes, trying to get his composure back as he pushes into you.
It's almost //more// intense like this, focusing on his cock as it enters you, inch by inch, and you tighten around him, letting out a broken moan.
"A rather sweet sound," Astarion teases, "Makes a man want to play you like an instrument-"
He pushes up on an elbow and before you can ask what he means by that he presses a hand down between you and between your legs.
"//oh//," you manage, clamping down on his cock even harder, the sensation echoing itself like a single operatic note in a theater, "//oh//, gods, Astarion, don't stop-"
"There it is," he teases, the motions of his fingers getting more insistent, and he starts to shift his hips. You can't help it: you get louder. It's hard to care about anything else when he's touching you like this, when the entire world is narrowing down to his hand and his cock. It's so impossibly //good//, and Astarion's expression is rapt, looking at you like he really is witnessing a singer on a stage. It would be embarassing, but you're well past that now, well past any coherent thought.
"//Astarion//," You gasp out, and it's the look on his face that makes you cum. There's a desperate hunger: not for your blood, but for //you//, for affection and attention, and you're trembling as you lift your arms.
"Please," you manage, hyperaware of his cock still shifting inside you, his hand not quite shifted back yet. "Please-"
He seems to understand what you can't seem to get all the way out, reaches back for you, moves his hand and holds you against his chest as he picks up the pace again. This time you let him, holding desperately onto him as his hips pound into yours, the aftershocks of your orgasm reverberating towards you. You don't mind the overstimulation: you wrap your legs around his hips and focus on it. It feels just as good as it did when he pressed you down: you lose yourself in where he ends and you start, just the shift of skin against yours, and you press your face into his neck and feel nothing but him until he's gasping into your ear, cock throbbing inside you as he fills you up. He sinks down, sated but clinging to you, and you tangle a hand in his hair and, absentmindedly, start humming.
He laughs a little.
"I'm not to live that down, am I?"
"why would you want to?" you manage, soft and sweet. He kisses your cheek, and it's almost more intimate than everything you'd just done. You tilt your head against his, grateful for how cool his body is against the summer air. Soon it will either be too cold or not enough, and you'll need to dress and bathe. But not yet.
For now, there's just the two of you, and the night. More than enough.