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devouringdevoutly · 19 days

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007: Singaporean Sling [G!P]

Summary: She was never this cock drunk before she met her.

Horny? Yes.

Wanting to be dicked down every time of the day? Absolutely not.

But as the seasons change so does Audrey's sexual appetite.

Note: This is a self-indulgent fic, crossposting it here on tumblr is basically a birthday gift to myself. Again, this is a work of fiction and does not reflect real life situations and relationships. Originally posted on ao3. CW: Smut, Drunk Sex, Vaginal Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Futanari, G!P/Girl Penis, Vaginal Fingering, Unprotected Sex, Pregnancy Kink, Lactation Kink, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Lemon. Pairing: Audrey/Bada Language: English Words: 2,676

"You wore my clothes again."

Bada says with a sigh and it was hard to discern whether it was meant to be one of annoyance or lust. Maybe it was both but who knows, really.

They just came back from the nightly company dinner their manager relentlessly dragged them to, every single night without fail since they both arrived in the country. It was beginning to feel like it's quite the chore no one wanted to do. But who were they to refuse and complain? When they were getting sumptuous yet equally scrumptious food for free.

"And what about it?" Audrey cheekily responds as she plops down on her hotel room's sofa. The mix of the high end liquors and the cheap cocktails they basically chugged under the provision of their flagrantly drunk labelmates and staff, was definitely getting to them. Thankfully, Bada had managed to take the both of them back to Audrey's suite before they went insane from the loud music and just overall embarrassment of having to deal with their drunk co-workers' high jinks.

Audrey's suite was big. Big enough to accommodate two tipsy and touchy girlfriends that is. The room overlooked almost all of Singapore's best sites. The view was to marvel at and any person of whatever standing would've been in an awestruck, as the city's bright lights beautifully contrasted the dark empty sky as it was already deep into night.

Under usual circumstances, Bada would've taken a picture and posted it on her Instagram story with some cheesy music she had been listening to recently, and then paired it with some banal ass caption to cater to her deranged fans who would overthink what it meant. But she was in no mood for that tonight, not when a literal goddess was laying right in front of her. The view just paled in comparison. If there was anything that should be captured by her in the first place, it was to be Audrey and only Audrey.

"Take it off." The older one demanded.

"No." The younger defies playfully, recklessly pushing her girlfriend's buttons as she lounged on the sofa and stretched her body like a cat.

"No?" Bada chuckles in disbelief with Audrey's antics. She then easily swooped her off the couch. Throwing her on her shoulder, and walking to the bedroom with her body in tow without breaking any sweat. Normally, Bada wouldn't even be able to lift that much weight with her almost lanky figure, but her vigor when it came to her beloved girlfriend was not to be underestimated nor questioned. One look at her and anyone would think, "Damn, that's a face men used to go to war for." And that only fueled her primal desire to claim her, if she were to be honest.

Audrey doesn't squirm or try to get out of her grasp, instead she enjoys it as it lasts before she gets gently thrown on her queen size bed. She hits the duvet with a barely audible plop! as she giggled—it was all going according to her plan so far. Bada then crawls over to her body, her taller frame almost covering her whole and she fucking loved it. The thought of the older woman patently enveloping her, just sent a different kind of excitement down to her already soaked and stimulated cunt.

She then gets closer to her neck, inhaling every bit of her scent like a hound about to devour its prey. And god did Audrey smell so fucking good. Her sweat due to the Singaporean sun pitilessly toasting them as they walked around the amusement park earlier, and her strawberry gourmand fragrance that was still clinging onto her lightly tanned skin, only managed to turn her on even more.

Bada then placed chaste kisses along her neck before placing her plump lips against hers. Their lips met as if waves crashing into shore, her hands roaming around Bada's back wanting to pull her closer than their current position. She then grinded her body against hers, not failing to notice the older woman's hardening length underneath her khaki shorts.

"Fuck. I told you not to wear that hoodie and jogger pants, it's hot as shit here in Singapore." Audrey only giggled at the older's sudden reprimand. She knew that from the start but she insisted in still stealing her clothes and wearing it, parading herself around the city as Bada's to those with heedful eyes and letting them souse in their own surmisings. Bada then hastily removed her clothing only to be taken by surprise.

"You're not wearing anything?" Bada asks as she stares at Audrey's body, all in its naked glory. Her eyes then lingered on her girlfriend's already hardened tits, the brush of the hoodie's fabric on her chest all day making it so.

"Nope." Her younger girlfriend replies with a lustful grin.

"You're such a fucking tease, you know that right?" The older woman complains before latching her mouth onto one of Audrey's pink buds, earning a loud gasp from her.

"Y-yeah… Fuck, are you trying to milk me or what?" Audrey finally responded, her voice heavy and thick with bafflement as her girlfriend hungrily sucked her tit. Her other hand playing with the unoccupied one, basically encompassing her whole breast. It wasn't that big in the first place so it was easy to do so. She never had a problem with it as Bada constantly reassured her that it was the perfect size for her to grab and hold, like it was her personal hand warmers in winter.

"What if I am?" The older woman finally lifts her head, her mouth finally detaching from her now sore nips. Audrey whines as her dampened nip was met by the cold breeze of the room's air-conditioning.

"I wanna fuck you pregnant." Bada says thoughtlessly and Audrey could only raise an eyebrow at her. The constant boob grabbing and massaging, the incessant hand placement on her stomach and her thumb rubbing circles on the soft yet flat surface, the pull out method… It all made sense now.

"Then do it." Audrey says unthinkingly, green lighting whatever was bound to happen from then on.

"What?" Bada asks dumbfounded.

"Did you not hear what I just said?" The sudden change of tone from Audrey could only put a devilish grin on Bada's face. She could only respond by going down on Audrey and suddenly inserting a finger inside of her, earning a loud moan from her girlfriend.

"You're quite loose." Bada plainly says as she inserts another finger inside of Audrey. Her cunt had welcomed her so easily, that it wasn't much of a struggle pumping her fingers in and out of her hole.

"P-repped myself e-earlier… Do you not like it? A-ah!" The younger woman cries out as Bada sped up her pace. Her long and slender fingers were an absolute godsent to anyone who has had the opportunity to be fucked by her. Each plunge was met with a sickly sweet sound of Audrey's pussy spewing out her own juice. The younger woman then tightened around her digits before wetting and totally coating it with her cum.

"No, thank you baby. It just means that I can fuck you much easier." She then pulls her fingers out of her wetness, sucking every single bit of Audrey's sap that was discharged on her fingers. She tasted salty, a bit sour with a hint of sweetness… She tasted like ripe mangoes and peaches dipped in sea water. If she had to go through hell and beyond like Dante did, just to get a taste of her every single day then she would do it in a heartbeat. Bada then gently grabs the back of Audrey's head, before pulling her into a beguiling kiss to distract her from what would happen next.

Bada would've eaten her out with no shame if her cock wasn't throbbing painfully at this point, screaming at her about wanting to be let out of its clothed imprisonment. She quickly got out of her own hoodie that matched with what Audrey was wearing earlier and zipped down her khaki shorts. Clearly not wanting to waste any more time and miss out on fucking her girlfriend like a dog in heat.

Bada then teased her by rubbing her raw cock on Audrey's wet folds, letting her feel the hardness and every vein of her length. Dampening the side of her dick with each glide. She slides herself a few more times before slipping inside of Audrey's burrow which warranted the younger to claw her back. It stung like a bitch but the feeling of her tight walls around her cock was just too much for her to notice anything else at the moment. Bada let out a sigh of relief as her cock was now fully engulfed by Audrey's cavity.

Her younger girlfriend could only smile with pride as she salaciously gazed, ogled even at Bada's reaction. She knew that only her pussy could emit such a reaction from the famous dancer. Those bitches can desperately hop on her girlfriend's dick with their shriveled meat curtains all they want, but Bada would only want to fuck her cunt.

She then moved her hips in a lackadaisical manner, wanting to take it slow and ease the both of them to the rhythm of each thrust.

"F-fuck… forgot how big… y-you were…" Audrey comments, panting and stammering in between words as she physically feels her cunt adjust to Bada's girth and length. Bada swore she could die then and there. Her cock just sandwiched between the gummy enclosure felt sublime. She silently thanked all the gods that had blessed and guided her ancestors to have led her to this moment. Pounding the absolute sanity out of Audrey, their skins slapping with each slide of her cock in and out of Audrey's drenched cunt. Their moans and grunts of pleasure bouncing off the hotel bedroom, making a harmonious melody of their own even without singing.

Audrey was just like a limp vegetable at this point, unable to do anything but to tighten her grip on the sheets under Bada's roughening. She asked for it and so she'll take it like the champ she is. Her resolve was long gone the moment she had landed in the familiar South East Asian land, after her excruciating seventeen hour flight from Los Angeles to Singapore anyway. It had been almost two weeks since she had been physically near her girlfriend. Two weeks of not being able to hold her hand, not being able to hug her human equivalent of Poby from the cartoon show Pororo the Little Penguin, not being able to yap her pretty little mouth off about the most stupid and chronically online of things as she listened to her despite being tired from work and practice. And most importantly… not being able to get fucked by her handsomely gorgeous and charming girlfriend, whom she's convinced was written by Sappho herself.

The last time they had sex was on the night of their last concert, which coincidentally was also Audrey's birthday. Audrey didn't want any gift as she was more than grateful to have had Bada beside her on such a momentous occasion of her life. But it would be a grievous lie to deny that the birthday sex wasn't the cherry on top, as her birthday candles weren't the only thing she had blown that day.

She was never this cock drunk before she met her.

Horny? Yes.

Wanting to be dicked down every time of the day? Absolutely not. But things do change with time like the seasons do, Audrey realized that with the time she had spent flying back and forth from the U.S. to South Korea. Her sexual appetite only being heightened further once she entered her relationship with Bada.

Bada was her forthcoming. And the reason she had blossomed like a flower in spring, finally receiving its much needed tending after months of ruthless winter snow.

Audrey was then pulled back from her thoughts as Bada hit her spot again and again, she could only pull her closer to her as she moaned shamelessly. She secretly hoped that Emma snuck out of her own hotel room to go clubbing once again. The last thing she wanted to face in the morning was to be bombarded by her teasing. In which she admits, she rightfully deserves for their impudence as a young robust couple with a high libido to keep up with. But she won't let Emma have her win so easily, after months of bickering and play fighting with each other. She wasn't going to back down now.

Soon enough, Bada's body trembled as she thrusted into her one last time, unabashedly painting her walls white and coating her warm with her cum. And holy fuck did it feel good to her senses. She then followed Bada's high with her own, coating the older woman's cock with her own slick.

Bada laid on top of her for a while in which she didn't mind, it felt great even. To hold her close and so tenderly. Audrey then wondered if she would feel the same way once their own baby is placed on her chest, when she finally gives birth in the future. It made her feel all warm and fuzzy inside. She felt butterflies in her stomach just at the thought of her possibly carrying their child a few weeks from now. Audrey then accidentally clenched multiple times around Bada just from those thoughts, earning a moan from the older.

"Babe. Shit. Was that not enough?" Bada asks, her ears heating up from the possible suggestion of a second round. Audrey's tightening cunt was basically draining her of every drop of cum from her cock at this point.

"Maybe." Audrey then brazenly grins at her like she's a Cheshire cat. Her big brown eyes gleaming with want and desire.

"Shush, that's enough princess. We still have work tomorrow." The older woman rationalized, Audrey wanted to protest against her decision but she was quite tired herself as it had been a long day. And so, Bada carefully spooned her and pulled the duvet over their naked bodies before the both of them headed off to dreamland.

A few days later…

It was time for Bada to go back home. Her schedule in Singapore was finally done and she had no excuse to overstay her welcome in the foreign country. She also had her own share of responsibilities waiting for her back in Seoul that she needed to attend to as soon as possible, so staying for a few more days was out of the conversation. Audrey had to stay behind and send her girlfriend off at the airport. She wanted to cry right then and there and Bada knew it. She hugged her and savored the warmth of her embrace one last time.

"We still have Vietnam in March. So don't miss me too much, babe." Bada says cheekily once she sees the tears threatening to fall from Audrey's eyes. She then cups her pretty girlfriend's face and gives her a goodbye kiss on both cheeks, forehead, nose, and finally her lips before Audrey leaned into her ear to whisper something.

"I'm not gonna miss you too much when I have my own miniature version of Bada Lee to accompany me." The younger slyly says to her before she was playfully pushed onto the entrance gates. Bada stood there dumbfounded, unable to say or confirm anything from Audrey as their company van drove off to her girlfriend's next agenda for the day.

She boarded her plane with the image of a pregnant Audrey clouding her mind, a smile formed on her face as she embraced the adorably amusing notion of her actually knocking her girlfriend up. God knows more than anyone else that she'd be more than grateful if it actually turned out to be true and not just some silly yet kind of cruel jest by Audrey.

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tieflingsfingers · 1 month

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Foraging for Ripened Fruits

What and who: Soft Dom Astarion smut, Character Study, Half-Drow Bard OC. Summary: Thomasin goes off to forage for a meal for camp, but Astarion pops in to remind her of a bet she lost. Realizing he's rehashing an old promise, she reluctantly agrees in hopes of enjoying his company. Warning/Content: 18+, Reimagining of first sexual encounter. Post bite-scene, part of series. A lot about two elves that are bad at feelings. Partial mentions of past traumas that inform their current actions. Word Count: 4,174 Ao3 Link

Thomasin wandered off the beaten path. Unknown thickets and brambles were an easy trek though. From a young age, the half-elf had been taught a labyrinth of knowledge about living off the land. A library of resources left to collect dust with each decade for she’d become dependent on ship crews and city streets with passing years. Now to only blow off those dusty tomes to reread with fondness.

Although, camp was just thankful she could identify a meal.

There was escapism in placing a floral handkerchief and guidebook in her wicker basket. Buckling her skirt at the waist to watch the length sway at her feet. Perhaps she’d find the same little blue flowers dancing along its hem. Handfuls of berries. Bitter leafy greens. Hidden roots revealing hearty starches to soak in broth. Dirt, crisp and cool, compressed beneath her boots. Patches of grass where plants raised their heads to the sky, bathing in sunlight and twisting at its joints.

Pinched between her thumb and forefinger was a leaf whose colors were difficult to distinguish.

She narrowed her vision and wracked the encyclopedia embedded in her memories.

Poisonous markers found themselves hazier and hazier as the years went on. Rhymes recited to know danger by its features. Whether speckles and lines were meant to be fine. Whether pinks and blues sent you praying at the pews. Or was it yellows at the tips? Spikes and spines? The longer this troubleshooting ran through her filters, the more she felt the urge to laugh. What a thing to have a lapse of judgment on. Poisoning the camp on the off chance their stew was more savory than usual.

Just as absurd stakes set in, the leaf was flicked away from her fingertips. The ball of her foot spun in the dirt, twirling in whimsy to head another direction. Skirt in tow. Light dramatics to match the melody humming from her lips.

That was, until the sight of another in her presence. Astarion had created a habit of startling her for his own entertainment. Knowing the windows of calm and isolation meant her propensity to be skittish. Thomasin scowled, immediate embarrassment melting into frustration.

“In the gods’ names, Astarion! Make your presence known or I’ll start sharpening every shard of wood in our vicinity.” She took a deep breath to calm herself from offering more creative threats.

Astarion couldn’t help but clutch his stomach in self-satisfied laughter. When they approached conflict, Thomasin was no stranger to deescalating those with sharp tongues or unflinching convictions. Her own proclivities for chaos even pulled the group into a few hi-jinks. She always wiggled her way out of things unscathed for the most part, from his short experience.

And so, how could he not take advantage of such a glaring pitfall? A gap exposed in her armor? Only for his own amusement, of course. Each of his steps became looser, bouncing with their weight, partaking in one of his favorite activities. Peacocking.

“Is it not hilarious that you’re more frightened of me than those giant bandits we encountered? Although…” He placed a hand upon his chest. “Maybe it’s a bit of a compliment. Thank you for that. I have felt quite the masculine energy in me with all this newfound freedom.”

Thomasin snickered. “Glowing. Don’t look a day over three hundred years old.”

“Excuse me, it’s not my fault you hop around here like a scared little fawn.”

“Okay, fine. What are you doing out here anyways?”

“It is a curse to simply be, I don’t know. Bored? The woods aren’t as magical as druids like to make a big fuss about. ”

Finding his answer lackluster at best, Thomasin continued to search her surroundings. Like a puppy gnawing at her ankles, he followed her trail, preparing quips to throw over her shoulder. Watching her pluck foreign fruits from mysterious branches. He’d offer an agreeable “hm” and “ah” in half-hearted acknowledgment as she conjured up ways to poison Cazador.

Nothing worth pocketing for later though. Scary flowers? To defeat the reign of vampiric terror? Child’s play. Absolute yawn.

Thomasin turned to be greeted by his eyes wandering about the flora with little thought brewing within. She found his predictability charming.

“You’re not even listening,” she said.

“Bah, nothing but accusatory language. I am immensely interested in what the leaves are up to. Which herbs are the biggest gossips or whatever,” he followed up. Almost too immediately. “I did have something to bring to your attention though.”

“Hm? Another confession? Lycan blood also in your veins?”

“Oh, I’d be unstoppable with Lycan blood in me. Imagine? A dinner of champions– Although I wouldn’t want to spoil my snack.” He inched toward her, keeping just enough distance to offset potential rejections.

Thomasin arched her brow, leaning back and compensating for the closing quarters between them. “Are you going to kill me now?”

”This is a peaceful coup, on my heart, I swear it.” One hand raised, chest puffed and proud. “Consider this a midday snack. Don’t be a sore loser now. A deal is a deal.”

Thomasin slipped into momentary bemusement, attempting to recollect what bet they made. The prize seemed obvious at least. His glances failed at subtlety and she’d catch his eyes dart to the clavicle peeking from her neckline. Not the most bizarre way she’d been objectified, but it still took some getting used to.

It was all uncharted territory. Even if she felt flustered, she had to press it down. Blushing admitted defeat. Docile defeat wasn’t in her vocabulary nor her nature.

He twirled his hand about, gesturing to matters as casual as the weather. “You cannot tell me my winning hand at cards is suddenly incorrect, Thomasin. I love delusion as much as the next man, don’t get me wrong. I mean, Karlach and Wyll could read you the contract as if straight from Avernus itself. Just a light nibble of thy neck.”

Thomasin wanted to retort. Yet, she had been around the campfire those long nights. She was aware of exchanges lightening the load of their gold pouches. The glory of riches on the line. Opportunity to watch Karlach drunkenly arm-wrestle Wyll or Astarion throw daggers at glass bottles with precision. Irresponsible banter around the fire was prime for it. Even if the night was hazy at this point, vague stipulations of a retired magistrate couldn’t be disputed. He was right. She didn’t think her hand was that bad, from what she could recollect, but he was right.

If anything, the length he waited was more of an oddity. The bet went unredeemed for a long while. Weeks even. They had been busy though. Shooing the feistier of goblins and gnolls into early graves, resolving power struggle after power struggle. Hunching over hastily cooked meals and soothing aching muscles in lakes. Perhaps flirtation here and there, but the sweet nothings had been there for comic relief. Cheeky remarks to remind them of normalcy.

“Fine, fine. C’mon,” she said, amused by his persistence.

The half-elf tugged at her skirt, sweeping it into the direction of a cushioned patch of wildflowers and clovers tucked beneath a tree. Her basket slipped from her hands, cradled by clovers.

Astarion grinned at Thomasin, following in suit, pinching at the bow helping fasten her skirt to her waist. He studied her shape like many times before. Quietly, but nevertheless. The drapery of her blouse and how it tucked in along the small of her back. Her sleeves pushed up to her forearm, billowing fabric tapered, cuffed, and buttoned.

She flicked her view up from her under her lashes. The stitches of her linens had folded into themselves to reveal her shoulder, her fingertips pressing into her clavicle as if she’d gather more answers from touch alone. She was a peach, carefully cut into slivers for his enjoyment. To drip and glisten down his palms. To sticky the already unspoken laws of the platonic.

“I caught you staring earlier. I-Would that hurt more? My shoulder?” Thomasin glanced down at the grass for a split second to consider her options, meeting him again with a quick answer. “Actually, that’s a lot more hidden than the neck.”

It’d been ages since one of Astarion’s conquests felt like less of a chore.

He was quick to slip into his role. Rehearsed as often as a shopkeeper stocked their wares, he turned on the “pursuer”. Sexual conquests and their success were a promise of relief. As much as he would never admit, he had dug into his filing cabinet of archetypes he’d approach. Whether she was a romantic, a bookish sort, or looking for sexual wanderlust. The complexities mixed with their constant travels made for rocky waters though. Talking alone wasn’t going to work.

This made him toss and turn at night. Feeling like the ground could crack under his cot every reverie and swallow him up. A man not suited for more than being hung up like a rug, heavy with dust, to be beaten and displayed as usual. He didn’t want to think about that.

“Perfect,” he finally spoke up.

Astarion gingerly pulled her wrist in to close distance once again. The chimes of nervous giggling made his ears twitch. As if it ignited something ingrained deep in the recesses of his mind. Was it an internal monstrous instinct? Was it a matter of preying on vulnerability? The promise of a quick and easy night in most circumstances. He hoped that maybe, just maybe, it was a positive emotion he couldn’t distinguish yet. No matter how benign.

He scouted out the landscape of her skin, although it wasn’t long before he noticed how quick her breathing was picking up. Despite her best efforts, his sense of hearing betrayed her act. The cold touch of his hand slid up under her jaw to guide her attention to him. “Your heart is beating out of your chest.” He asked, his words quiet but tentative for her response. “Does this frighten you? Shall we not keep going?”

Thomasin couldn’t answer with honesty. The anticipation of stinging pain brought forth memories of their last exchange. As much as mild affection was as sought after as a hot meal, she couldn’t deny the way his last bite felt. The half-elf bounced between its warm embrace and its cold isolated depths.

“Oh? Maybe a little…I don’t know. Go slow. Remember how Karlach said she’d throw you to the goblins if you accidentally kill me,” she said, downplaying her racing thoughts.

She knew to keep her wits about her. A woman grandfathered into the art of being a commodity. Her hands had been adroit at distraction en masse or individual consort. Easier dealt with when jaws slackened. Those equally alert, still capable of negotiating. Those were the ones to take with caution.

Astarion debated his next course of action. The consequences of a plan diverged gnawed at him, but luck had been on his side. Divine intervention that he might be able to leech off one more day. He forced himself to commit to the move, nestled in the crook of her neck planting his lips upon her skin. A kiss. Tender and hesitant. He could feel her process the change, an inkling of a whimper escaping her.

Another, applying slight pressure this time. A pause to gauge her reaction and then another. The affection felt like a physical weight lifting from his shoulders, clicking something in his brain. Until his sleeve was strained by her grip, sudden and uncertain. He glanced up at her, suppressing the urge to express his fear. That be may have muddied the waters of what ethics were left in him. That he may have read her body language wrong and he was still swimming rigid circles in an overwhelming ocean.

”Thomasin. Use your words,” he said, rising to meet her gaze again.

She let the silence linger, not knowing exactly what would be the best answer. What would be the most appropriate. And so, in times of high stress, Thomasin did what she knew best. Impulsivity was at least one answer.

Thomasin reached out for the nape of his neck. Sometimes giving into the soma, rich in delights and vices, was the only means of relief. The corporeal body hungered for finger foods and bite-sized delicacies. To imprint oneself into another’s skin. To find solace in desire.

Before she realized, they met in a kiss.

The half-elf’s cheeks felt the buzz of his laughter against her lips. One of the few displays of pure joy she had ever witnessed, not born from slaughter or rightful revenge. She could feel him relax for only that brief instant. Rare was a chance to enjoy sins without the looming threat of vampiric lords, and so Astarion had latched on. Twisting and shifting, subtle yet effective at slipping into the lead. His hands veered off course, groping at every curve, tender flesh hidden away under thin linens. Grumbles and mumbles. He exchanged his thanks for her body heat and traced along her thighs in their clumsy shuffle. Finding the hem of her skirt was only half the battle. The urge to toss her into the grass felt like a warm haze throughout his skull. Never let yourself sink too deep though. Always have one foot in the door of composure.

Thomasin tilted her hips forward out of instinct. Fidgeting against greedy hands and the covetous cursed pressed up against her undergarments. He had crept his way to the delicate floral embroidery lining her underwear. Whose stitching was preyed upon by his touch. Pulling the cloth aside to slip digits right against her clit, he felt her grasp around his arms for support.

Their foreheads were mere inches apart, exchanging inaudible but palpable tension. One couldn’t avert their focus from the other. But why would they? He was reveling in his victories, the way he locked her into a vulnerable position, finding himself enraptured by the noises that left her lungs. A surrender in her panting.

“You should have told me it would be this easy to break you down,” Astarion teased.

The satisfaction from any inkling of power was powerful in itself. His mind, clear and direct, whilst hers wavered. Thomasin welcomed alleviation though. She would strike down his ego with the fearsome sword blow of one thousand men another day. A safety net was being created in ribbon. The same tied precisely at the ends of her braids, flowing wherever their rhythm took them. What a strange feeling that welled up in his chest. Over a woman he could compare to thousands of others he slept with before. Surely, if he tried. She was half-elven of no noble blood.

Perhaps it was the promise of a bloodletting. A high he continued to chase after their last exchange weeks prior. Regardless, his eyelids grew heavy. That was, until he felt a tug at his waistband. Between the two, she had begun to untie his trousers, earning some pause.

”Now, now, hey.” Astarion’s words would've sounded casual if there weren’t for the tinge of concern in its abruptness.

His fingers slipped from her thighs, index and middle sneaking their way to her mouth. An act of indecency graced upon her tongue. Although Thomasin had not a single hesitation. Her own jaw had slackened. Her own mind clouded by the undivided attention. Sampling the fruits of his labor, attentive to his next move.

“You get distracted far too easily, darling,” he managed, despite his own voice at the edge of devolving, betraying him with his own lust. “All you need to do is tell me when you’ve had your fill. Until then, I’ll have mine.”

His eyes dialed in like daggers to the plum-stained lips wrapping around his fingers. The thought of succumbing now screamed at every aspect of his being and enveloped his loins. He blinked the interference away, a string of her saliva ever so delicate in the way it clung and snapped upon his exit.

He followed Thomasin's quiet desperation. One that spoke up in a whimper as his knuckles found themselves tucked under her jaw once more. The pressure was light, but firm, wrapping around her neck and bracing her against the tree. Just enough give to allow her shallow breaths.

”Would you like to lift your skirt for me?”

Light glinted off her cheekbones as she smiled, struggling to remember the last time she felt such an intensity coloring her cheeks. Her posture wobbled and waned, but the weight of the realms were no longer her responsibility. Fistfuls of linens were balled up in her palms as asked of her. Simple instructions. She clutched them against her chest, bare and adorned in the same blush.

Her compliance meant he was onto the next act. With a great thud, Astarion planted his boot upon one of the many hearty roots growing from the oak. Thick and sturdy, weaving throughout the soil. Using his now elevated knee, he positioned her for leverage. Her freckled thigh to be placed atop his and help widen her hips.

“How could you have traveled all these years? Met so many people, played so many silly little games, and yet you’re so bad at cards.” Astarion’s snuck back into her waistband once more, interrupting the scoff Thomasin let out by her heavy breath. “All those folks out there? Falling for your feminine wiles, no? Letting you win?”

Without warning, Thomasin felt the undeniable pressure of his fingers inside of her. He had positioned his feet in a firm stable stance and balanced her body with the weight of his own, pumping into her at a steady pace. She was locked in place, but couldn’t fathom a complaint.

Time lingered. Her legs began to tremble. Her eyelashes fluttered.

“Or are you losing bets on purpose?” he said. “It sounds like you should take your own advice. What was it you told me? ‘Watch out for men with sharp tongues and charming dispositions.’ But, alas, you’re not a woman of your word.”

He leaned in, quickening his pace. Such feverish passion that even Thomasin had to continuously acclimate to whatever he decided was her next venture. One of the bundles of her skirt fell and draped the two, her free hand opting to grab onto the back of his head instead. Her rings intertwined with his curls in aimless desperation. A gesture that made him let go of the powerplay upon her neck and join in the embrace.

“A sound that could lure a million sailors to their deaths. I could listen to you whine for centuries,” he purred, keeping the half-elf at bay whilst refusing any mercy. His name stretched its syllables from her lips, thick like honey. Urgent and stifled, yet strung out like another composition. It made Elvish infiltrate his vocabulary. Internal needs even he had never been allowed to unpack. “Hinual sreea, tell me. Your body belongs to me.”

Thomasin cracked a smile through her fatigued disposition, throwing her head back and fighting the urge to shout every Drow profanity she knew. “It’s yours— by sweet Eilistraeens. My body is yours. In the name raggath, please.” Thoughts consumed by the curl his knuckles and each stroke punctuating the last.

Little was left to upkeep in his performance. He had dissolved Thomasin’s intuition and judgment, free to shed his own anxieties. That was, until he realized what he was having trouble steering his own motives. Astarion simply watched her in a sort of awe. The way her body writhed. Scarred, freckled, silver tinted skin glistening from exhaustion. There was beauty in the crass and resilient. Something breathtaking. Like unattainable dusky silk, admired through storefront windows, awaiting to be torn into.

Needle-point teeth dug their way into her shoulder. Scraping under epidermis and into her veins, Astarion indulged, zeal twisting itself around her like ropes of sprawling ivy. Nothing more than waves of confusing ecstasy and questionable faith for the two. No god or goddesses in existence, only the light headed leap of faith toward her orgasm. Eilistraeens would want this, surely.

Before Thomasin could figure out his next move, she was riding every wave that crashed. It made her gasp. An audible panic as the puncture startled her. But the emotions were quick to mellow, pain much more manageable this time around. The intensity of blood purging seemed to be dampened by its coinciding pleasure. As if each corresponding sense knocked into one another, overlapping and tripping over themselves.

From the corner of his eye, he watched streams of blood spill down her shoulder, pooling where their bodies met and settling on her chest. “Decadent little thing,” he whispered in Elvish, as if the comment were more of an internal monologue leaking out. If fate would allow it, if the stars aligned, he would’ve kept going for eons. Dinner and a show. Her body lent an intoxication that made colors brighter. Sounds enticing, words processed as if eternally wading through molasses. Her yelping in pain and its subsequent laughter of thanks. The way her thighs tried to cling upon one another as his fingers buried deeper inside.

The conflicting sensations pummeled her nerves, shocking through her limbs in a way she hadn’t felt in years. Every movement became involuntary and overstimulated.

“Astarion, please. Enough, enough, enough!” She couldn’t help but choke out each word.

Astarion swallowed the last of his meal, licking his plate clean in such a primitive manner. Being fed after fasting for ages unlocked a rudimentary part of his brain. The elf swallowed hard, lips stained with the taste of copper, a thin red veil coating his mouth. Per her request, he gave her mercy from his selfish play. The bombardment simmered into a kiss to exchange their spoils within a sloppy rhythm. The direction of his mind seemed to have pivoted. Now his body couldn’t get close enough to hers, as much as he tried.

The inside of her eyelids shone a red velvet curtain. A shade not unlike the almost blackened hue of blood trailing down her chest. Catching shimmers of its highlights and plush, as if lit by bulbs of light in her mind’s eye. Enveloping everything until she was enraptured by pure endorphins. Cushioning the blow of her feelings until there was nothing more but pleasant horizons and hands to hold. Coziness in the desire of being wanted and the ephemeral homestead created for a bit. Until Astarion tore back the curtains.

Her eyes shot open. Reality rapid in its arrival and sunshine forcing her pupils to re-adjust. Thomasin fell victim to gravity’s disposal. Her body was propped up languid against tree bark. Its surface skid along her flesh until she could lower just enough to ease herself atop a bulbous protruding root.

The conclusion wasn't her untimely demise. Astarion wasn’t dragging her off to the guillotine, but that meant there was a different ending to this. He hadn’t thought that part through. The elf had thrown himself backward shortly after her pleas, taking enough steps away to collect his thoughts, chest heaving with the pulse of vitality coursing through him. Enough to power him into an entire night of mania if he wasn’t careful. With his back to her for these few brief seconds, he could think. His hand ran through his hair, dislodging tangles in the midst of his now disheveled facade.

“Are you okay?” Thomasin eventually said.

Her voice made his ears perk up. The question grounded him, the material realm known for being all too punctual. He palmed his mouth to wipe away any lingering blood and tucked his shirt back into his trousers posthaste. What little grooming he could conjure up before turning around. He grinned back at her, toothy and elated. Polar opposite to the disorientation on his expression not a second before.

“You think something is wrong after that performance?” He promptly gave two claps. “Would be offensive to not applaud.”

Despite his avoidance and fidgety demeanor, Thomasin decided to not pry. Her own knees were buckled. Emotion scrambled. What words she had uttered would be her own to contend with later, she proposed and shoved aside.

“I’m never going to hear the end of this,” she said, humoring him as she buttoned her blouse back up.

Astarion scoffed. “Gods, no. As if your gambling woes are going to become my problem. Encouraging your bad decisions is far more fun.”

Thomasin laughed, weakened by all their efforts, and proceeded to unhinge her jaw to speak. By the time she made a noise, she noticed he was already starting to walk back up the trail.

“Wait, you don’t want–”

“Nothing you’re going to dig up here is of my tastes, love! Still, grand efforts!” he cheered, volume rising as he went further and further along. “Dig up an old bottle of vintage and maybe I’ll bite my tongue! Good luck!”

And like that, she let him leave uninterrupted, rolling her head back and letting out a deep sigh.

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