a little side blog for bg3 (lots of halstarion...)

"I really have to get going"

"Make me stop, then", he suggests with his lips against the sensitive skin on the side of her waist, sending a tickling wave up and down. Hands like snakes, arms like vines, voice like honey (if honey could taunt). "Just say it, pet. Stop, my love, I have to go. I have better things to do."

With each word his hand draws a loose spiral over her stomach until he's lifting the border of the underwear and by then it is too late, it was always going to be too late, the moment he touched her, and he knows it. His fingers part her lips and find her already wet. If Awbonee was too proud maybe she'd take offence at the way he relishes it, because Astarion is a sore loser but can be an even worse winner.

"Go on then. Tell me to stop. Make me."

It was never going to happen, and at least he has the decency to hide his smile when she sinks back towards him.

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