Oh, her resolve crumbles so readily. Astarion could laugh, but he doesn't. He could pat himself on the back of a job well-done as well, but he doesn't, even if this is technically playing into his hand the way he always intended. The way that he knows he can ply the people around him. To be useful.
But the question she asks him, heated though it is, feels posed in a slightly differently light—would he like her to show him?
The obvious answer would be 'yes' to keep up with the banter, but Astarion does give it a moment's pause. Because Ea had given him a gift greater than the blood she offers—she gave him agency. She said he doesn't need to get into bed with her if he doesn't want to.
So for the first time in two-hundred years he asks himself...does he want to?
He could say 'no'. There's a thrill to it, turning people down. To rejection. But the word doesn't form as easily on his lips as he thought it might. This strange woman has a hold on him much tighter than her tail had been, even if he doesn't fully realize it yet. But it manifests just enough for Astarion to consider that maybe now that he feels more of is vigor returning thanks to a meal, the idea isn't one he hates. And it's one he has the power to choose.
Astarion takes hold of her chin, pressing his thumb to the space right below her bottom lip. He closes that scant space between their mouths in a surprisingly chaste kiss, but lets his lips ghost hers when he speaks his consent,
For a few charged moments, she holds her breath. He should be able to tell, she does it as soon as he takes hold of her chin, until he leans in and ruins all her fucking resistances. Obliterates them. Walks across them with iron boots - and more apt metaphors for the fact that she's a bit of a mess.
Her eyes flutter closed for that chaste kiss, reopening to half-mast, only wide enough to see him - catch his lips moving, hear the words, and dart up to those wine-red eyes. She leans in and flicks her tongue over the bow of his upper lip, and closes the scant distance between them for another kiss.
Need is a persistent drumming in her chest, it's her heartbeat racing, it's her toes curling in her boots, her hands coming to cup his face so tenderly. It's the brush of her lips against his once, then twice, and then deeper. It's the restraints coming off, and her little hum of pleasure when she tastes him - in lingering notes, also tasting herself on his tongue.
Need could set this whole tent on fire, if an archdevil had stolen Ea's heart to replace it with an engine too - thankfully, she's been spared, so Astarion's tent remains intact and safe for now.
After what feels like a good decade spent just kissing him (it is half a minute, but be melodramatic, Lowkey), she breaks it because she needs to breathe, which is very much unfair.
"Surpriiiise," she says, voice low and a little raspy from the effort. There's a question in there somewhere.
He lays the groundwork and she takes a mile—he's okay with that. He's okay with the way she holds his face, wanting but not demanding. Not holding him so he can't move or turn away if he wants. And the heartbeat that he had been so in tune with just a moment before is still audible to his sensitive ears, reigniting a different sort of hunger in him...
No, no. Astarion forces that back down. He has enough to keep his stamina and good mood for a couple days, and longer to simply be sustained. The monster in him may be a greedy, starving thing, but he's better than that. Stronger. A person with agency who chooses his meals and his company because he has a plethora of both.
Or well, maybe not the meals part. But Astarion could have reasonably taken his chances with any of their other compatriots. He didn't. Ea seemed the most sensible target to strike a bargain with...
And that's all this needs to be, right? Of course. She's a means to an end, even if she's decent company from time to time.
Astarion kisses her back, but mostly lets Ea lead the dance. Her touch is warm, but not hot, the kind of ambient heat that radiates from living beings. His own flesh is starting to warm as well thanks to her blood and her touch both. His hand drops from her chin, letting his fingers drag gently down the length of her neck before they fall to her clavicle. There they rest until she pulls back—he has no need to breathe, after all.
But he knows that voice and the unspoken question. Astarion lets his hand, and voice, drop a little lower.
"I can take you where you need to go, darling," he says against her lips. "If you'll allow me to taste something else of you..."
His touch sends shivers rippling down her spine to her tailbone, and it just so happens that when she breaks apart to catch her breath, she does it with a soft gasp. Not too far away, not enough to put any proper distance between their lips beyond a scant one. It makes it easier to lean in and kiss him softly, chaste and brief, on the centre of his lips.
Then the distance, enough that she can look him in the eye. Her eyes are coloured different than elves, this much is true; dark schlera and bright neon green and purples around the iris, making her intense and strange in the sunlight, but fitting right in in the Underdark. In this cursed land, where there's no joy to be found, no mischief or levity?
Regardless. Different than your average humanoid or not, there's a heady quality to them. They're closed to half mast, lavender pale eyelashes fluttering slightly as she regards him. Considers all the choices she should be making, and all the ones she wants to make instead.
"Alright," she finally says. "Alright, fuck it, let's just have some fun." She doubts there will be more fun to have, in the following days, as long as they're here. "How do you want me?"
They are different, yes, and remind him a bit of the way lamps in Baldur's Gate stand out against the night sky. There's a familiarity in that, having now existed so long under the blanket of darkness, whether he will it or no. Fitting or not for their circumstances, they do have a quality he chooses not to define. Because ultimately it doesn't matter.
She's their leader. His key to success. And it's simply a fringe benefit that she's attractive. A happy accident.
"On your back," he instructs as he brings his hands down to her thighs. Dragging his lips down her jawline and back to her neck, but on the opposite side of where he drank just a moment ago. Astarion starts the motion of laying her down, but he doesn't do it fully without Ea's permission and assistance.
There is something as appealing to the kiss he leaves against her neck as there is to the way he moves to lie her down. It makes her fold very easily; past hedonistic tendencies come back in full swing. She misses having people to be physical and affectionate with - not beloveds, but lovers. Casual, temporary, consenting arrangements that on paper sound dry and boring, but didn't stop them from being hot and heady.
There is no bad wine running through her veins this time, unlike at the party the tieflings threw for them near the grove. There is no Astarion giving her bedroom eyes in a meadow and purring about how he's been waiting to taste her, to have her.
Well - to a point. He is incapable to not having bedroom eyes when in his literal on-the-road bedroom. Either way, it's a sober affair and yet dizzyingly nice. She reaches behind her to catch herself on the way down, leaning against her hand then going to her elbow, and moving the rest of the way to lie down. She wants to respond with something sensual, has her lips parted to start saying it, when -
riiiiiiip
- her left horn catches on one of the many cushions on the ground, ripping the fabric apart and sending feathers fluttering. Her eyes widen at the sound - and then the feathers - and catch his for a millisecond before she snorts and covers her mouth with one hand to muffle her laughter.
They are practiced motions for Astarion, decades of finding the right ways to maneuver another body while getting comfortable himself in whatever position is necessary. This is no different, especially not with a body that he is already acquainted with. Ea had been malleable enough in the first, so this should be—
"..."
Astarion does pull up from where he was moving down her clavicle, red eyes widening a bit as they dart between Ea's horn and one of his (many) beloved pillows.
"Yes, yes you will." He doesn't hide the annoyance in his voice even though it is an honest mistake. He doesn't have horns to manage, you see! Which means this was a bit of an oversight on his part. (So much for decades of experience.) But he will still blame Ea because that's easier.
He reaches behind her to shove the pillow away, raising his brow when his gaze returns to her face. Of course she finds it funny. He...well, it is a little funny.
"If you want to tear something helpful, my dear, you could remove your trousers."
She can work with a little funny. She can work with a lot of things, she's resilient that way. If he is willing to give her another night - if he wants it too - then she's going to make sure it's an impossibly good one, given their circumstances.
"Let's not tear those, I think it'll be a problem if I walk around camp with my ass out," she banters back, amusement tinting her tone. Banter is all fine and dandy, but she reaches down to unlace her trousers anyway, digging her heels into the ground for leverage when she lifts her hips and pushes them smoothly down to under her ass.
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2026-01-05 06:41 am (UTC)But the question she asks him, heated though it is, feels posed in a slightly differently light—would he like her to show him?
The obvious answer would be 'yes' to keep up with the banter, but Astarion does give it a moment's pause. Because Ea had given him a gift greater than the blood she offers—she gave him agency. She said he doesn't need to get into bed with her if he doesn't want to.
So for the first time in two-hundred years he asks himself...does he want to?
He could say 'no'. There's a thrill to it, turning people down. To rejection. But the word doesn't form as easily on his lips as he thought it might. This strange woman has a hold on him much tighter than her tail had been, even if he doesn't fully realize it yet. But it manifests just enough for Astarion to consider that maybe now that he feels more of is vigor returning thanks to a meal, the idea isn't one he hates. And it's one he has the power to choose.
Astarion takes hold of her chin, pressing his thumb to the space right below her bottom lip. He closes that scant space between their mouths in a surprisingly chaste kiss, but lets his lips ghost hers when he speaks his consent,
"Surprise me."
And so he chooses.
no subject
Date: 2026-01-06 06:54 pm (UTC)Her eyes flutter closed for that chaste kiss, reopening to half-mast, only wide enough to see him - catch his lips moving, hear the words, and dart up to those wine-red eyes. She leans in and flicks her tongue over the bow of his upper lip, and closes the scant distance between them for another kiss.
Need is a persistent drumming in her chest, it's her heartbeat racing, it's her toes curling in her boots, her hands coming to cup his face so tenderly. It's the brush of her lips against his once, then twice, and then deeper. It's the restraints coming off, and her little hum of pleasure when she tastes him - in lingering notes, also tasting herself on his tongue.
Need could set this whole tent on fire, if an archdevil had stolen Ea's heart to replace it with an engine too - thankfully, she's been spared, so Astarion's tent remains intact and safe for now.
After what feels like a good decade spent just kissing him (it is half a minute, but be melodramatic, Lowkey), she breaks it because she needs to breathe, which is very much unfair.
"Surpriiiise," she says, voice low and a little raspy from the effort. There's a question in there somewhere.
no subject
Date: 2026-01-13 05:46 am (UTC)No, no. Astarion forces that back down. He has enough to keep his stamina and good mood for a couple days, and longer to simply be sustained. The monster in him may be a greedy, starving thing, but he's better than that. Stronger. A person with agency who chooses his meals and his company because he has a plethora of both.
Or well, maybe not the meals part. But Astarion could have reasonably taken his chances with any of their other compatriots. He didn't. Ea seemed the most sensible target to strike a bargain with...
And that's all this needs to be, right? Of course. She's a means to an end, even if she's decent company from time to time.
Astarion kisses her back, but mostly lets Ea lead the dance. Her touch is warm, but not hot, the kind of ambient heat that radiates from living beings. His own flesh is starting to warm as well thanks to her blood and her touch both. His hand drops from her chin, letting his fingers drag gently down the length of her neck before they fall to her clavicle. There they rest until she pulls back—he has no need to breathe, after all.
But he knows that voice and the unspoken question. Astarion lets his hand, and voice, drop a little lower.
"I can take you where you need to go, darling," he says against her lips. "If you'll allow me to taste something else of you..."
no subject
Date: 2026-01-16 08:53 am (UTC)Then the distance, enough that she can look him in the eye. Her eyes are coloured different than elves, this much is true; dark schlera and bright neon green and purples around the iris, making her intense and strange in the sunlight, but fitting right in in the Underdark. In this cursed land, where there's no joy to be found, no mischief or levity?
Regardless. Different than your average humanoid or not, there's a heady quality to them. They're closed to half mast, lavender pale eyelashes fluttering slightly as she regards him. Considers all the choices she should be making, and all the ones she wants to make instead.
"Alright," she finally says. "Alright, fuck it, let's just have some fun." She doubts there will be more fun to have, in the following days, as long as they're here. "How do you want me?"
no subject
Date: 2026-01-21 06:11 am (UTC)She's their leader. His key to success. And it's simply a fringe benefit that she's attractive. A happy accident.
"On your back," he instructs as he brings his hands down to her thighs. Dragging his lips down her jawline and back to her neck, but on the opposite side of where he drank just a moment ago. Astarion starts the motion of laying her down, but he doesn't do it fully without Ea's permission and assistance.
no subject
Date: 2026-01-21 08:54 pm (UTC)There is no bad wine running through her veins this time, unlike at the party the tieflings threw for them near the grove. There is no Astarion giving her bedroom eyes in a meadow and purring about how he's been waiting to taste her, to have her.
Well - to a point. He is incapable to not having bedroom eyes when in his literal on-the-road bedroom. Either way, it's a sober affair and yet dizzyingly nice. She reaches behind her to catch herself on the way down, leaning against her hand then going to her elbow, and moving the rest of the way to lie down. She wants to respond with something sensual, has her lips parted to start saying it, when -
riiiiiiip
- her left horn catches on one of the many cushions on the ground, ripping the fabric apart and sending feathers fluttering. Her eyes widen at the sound - and then the feathers - and catch his for a millisecond before she snorts and covers her mouth with one hand to muffle her laughter.
"Shit - sorry."
So much for smooth. "I'll replace that."
no subject
Date: 2026-01-29 06:14 am (UTC)"..."
Astarion does pull up from where he was moving down her clavicle, red eyes widening a bit as they dart between Ea's horn and one of his (many) beloved pillows.
"Yes, yes you will." He doesn't hide the annoyance in his voice even though it is an honest mistake. He doesn't have horns to manage, you see! Which means this was a bit of an oversight on his part. (So much for decades of experience.) But he will still blame Ea because that's easier.
He reaches behind her to shove the pillow away, raising his brow when his gaze returns to her face. Of course she finds it funny. He...well, it is a little funny.
"If you want to tear something helpful, my dear, you could remove your trousers."
no subject
Date: 2026-02-02 01:07 pm (UTC)"Let's not tear those, I think it'll be a problem if I walk around camp with my ass out," she banters back, amusement tinting her tone. Banter is all fine and dandy, but she reaches down to unlace her trousers anyway, digging her heels into the ground for leverage when she lifts her hips and pushes them smoothly down to under her ass.
"How's that, helpful enough?"