#shadowspawn

Astarion wiped his thumb along his lips, as he slipped into the dark quarters the party had managed to take for themselves above the Elfsong. He was very much looking forward to sleeping in a bed for once.

He had left the party early on, to go traipse about the streets and find himself a nice, hearty meal. It hadn’t taken long- as he’d always said, so many people needed killing. Baldur’s Gate, while home, was full of plenty of ugly souls that could easily be cleansed.

Astarion paused as the door shut silently behind him, swearing he could hear a subtle movement, the sound of little breaths. He had sworn he was alone- but he hadn’t bothered to take a headcount of the party down in the tavern. He waited another moment, then heard the faintest little keening noise, and couldn’t help his curiosity.

He crossed the room, steps silent as death, moving away from his own corner bed, pausing at the opening to the right, where more of his companions would sleep.

And lost his unneeded breath.

Shadowheart was laid out in her bed, devoid of any clothing. She had one of her hands between her legs, fingers pumping into herself, as her chest rose and fell with quick breaths. Her eyes were closed, lost in whatever fantasy she was setting for herself.

Astarion sucked at his tongue. He should… go. He should turn silently and, at best, head back downstairs and wash the taste of blood from his mouth with wine. Or crawl into his own bed and settle into a trance, enjoy the comforts of civilization.

Yet he couldn’t seem to move. Something about her, freshly withened hair fanned out around her, cheeks flushed as if she had been at this for quite some time, yet hadn’t found her release, speckled with a bit of moonlight from the windows-

It was stirring something in him. Making his already warm blood feel hot, his belly going pleasantly fluttery. He felt his cock stirring, against his pants- throbbing with a sudden spike of arousal as he realized he could smell Shadowheart. Gods, the wonders of thinking blood, and being allowed to gorge himself on it.

Instead of doing the reasonable thing and leaving, he folded his arms and leaned against the wall, voice breaking the near silence of the room. “My, what a fun little time you’re having.”

Shadowheart’s eyes flew open, her hand leaving her cunt- and gods below, he could see her fingers glistening- as she grabbed one of the blankets and quickly tried to throw it over herself, while also attempting to sit up. The end result was a lovely view of her breasts for a much more extended period of time than Astarion was sure she anticipated. “What are you doing here?”

She had tried to lace her voice with annoyance, but she was breathy still, and Astarion could just hear her heart pounding. He wondered how long she had been touching herself- she seemed rather close, from the sound of her heart, the flush of her cheeks and breasts.

“Me? Why, I do believe I am sleeping here, same as you. Or,” Astarion paused, offering a rakish smirk, “perhaps sleeping really isn’t the word for what you were doing, pet.”

She glowered at him- and oh, it was rather cute. He had to admit, the cleric was a doll, in her own ways. He wouldn’t say that to her face, though- he’d get a nice moonlight burn for his efforts.

She continued to stare holy daggers into him- but she was still panting, softly. Astarion could still smell her. His smirk softened, eyes going a bit tender as he continued to look at her. “You sound- and smell- as if you’ve been at this a while.”

He expected her to throw something at him, for that observation- but her shoulders only sagged, as she squirmed slightly. Astarion dared to push himself off the wall, take a step closer so he was level with the foot of her bed.

“Having trouble?”

“Maybe,” she admitted. And he… believed her. Believed she was being honest.

“Care for a hand?” He wanted to smirk again, to flash his fangs, to be the wicked, wicked man they all thought he was, when he offered- but instead he just sounded genuine. She studied him for a moment, pretty eyes taking him in, pulling him apart.

He almost shivered.

“Every sensible bone in my body wants me to tell you to fuck off,” she whispered, “but… yes.” And then, in a softer voice, as an afterthought, “...please.”

Astarion took one step around the bed, before he settled on the edge, perched precariously, as if he’d need to flee. But he… didn’t want to, he found. He had no obligation to be intimate with Shadowheart- he had offered because he wanted to.

It was… freeing.

He reached for the blanket that she had clutched to her chest, guided it away so that it pooled in her lap, left her breasts exposed. Astarion reached out, but paused close to her skin, glancing into her eyes. “Where can I touch you?”

It felt important, to him, to ask.

Shadowheart nibbled her lip, this rather endearing and adorable action, before she squared her shoulders. “Anywhere.”

Astarion took her breast in hand then, squeezed softly as she shifted closer, let her nipple rub against his palm. She sighed, and he bent forward, placed a kiss to the center of her clavicle, thinking she felt warm as the sun. His other hand found her waist, squeezed the tender flesh there affectionately, as he moved to her neck, could feel her pulse pounding against his lips.

“You’re warmer than I expected,” she admitted, shifting a bit, tilting her head and not pushing Astarion’s kisses away. He was careful to keep his fangs to himself- Shadowheart had never once welcomed his bite, and he wouldn’t chance it now.

“The wonders of having a full belly,” he whispered. “Your heart is pounding.”

He moved his hand from her breasts, delved it beneath the blanket, between her thighs- and found her completely soaked. Gods, her sheets would be wet at this rate. He exhaled into her neck, felt himself tremble, a torrent of arousal racing through his entire body as he rubbed his fingers along her slit.

“I…” she swallowed down a little noise as Astarion continued to tease, “I’ve been close for…so long. I just can’t quite…” she hiccuped a breath then, when Astarion grazed his fingertips along her clit. Gods, it was hard, had to be painfully sensitive.

“Hush, I’ll get you there. Lay back.” He pulled his hands from her, so Shadowheart could stretch out on the bed again. Astarion gave himself a moment to take in the softness of her belly and thighs, the little scars that he could see against her creamy skin. Carefully, he guided one of her legs into his lap, left her thighs open for him, before he reached back, traced his fingers along her glistening folds.

“I want something inside me,” she admitted, “but it’s not enough.”

A part of Astarion wanted to retort that he could make it enough, easily. But he didn’t… he didn’t want to fuck her, in that moment. Despite the fact that his cock was half hard, that he was indeed aroused, he felt safe focusing the pleasure on her, for this moment.

He slipped between her lips, two fingers fitting easily inside her, just as her own had. She arched her back, gave a little mewl, and it had Astarion smiling.

“They won’t hear you,” he promised, “not over the chaos of the tavern. Don’t restrain yourself.”

He curled his fingers, found that sweet spot inside her within seconds- and she let herself cry out to him, not his name, but the sound of her voice alone was enough praise. He smiled, affectionately, focused on thrusting his fingers so that he pressed tight to that spot, with each movement. At the same time, he pressed his thumb to her clit, began rubbing it in slow circles.

Shadowheart’s back bowed, her cry turning into a musical moan, her eyes falling shut. Gods, he could feel her cunt react around his fingers. He pressed a bit harder to her clit, heard her heartbeat spike- decided that was what she liked.

He could have lost himself, just watching her. It was no secret around camp that the cleric was attractive- they all had eyes, after all- but here, like this… she was open. Vulnerable. She went beyond attractive.

She was beautiful.

Astarion sucked at his tongue, his other hand rubbing her thigh affectionately, keeping her leg firmly in his lap. She had to feel the press of his erection, against her skin, through his pants. 

“Is this good?” he asked, even though he could read her body, hear her heart. But her breathy yes drove him, had made him want to puff his chest out with pride- which was ridiculous. He knew he was good in bed- one didn’t have the experience he did and simply never learn.

But… he wanted to hear it. Directly from her.

He moved his thumb faster, watched as she grasped at the sheets, twisting it in her hands. Were he truly thinking ahead, he would have known the moment she was going to come- but when she gasped his name, back arched, cunt gripping tightly at his fingers, he found it had taken him entirely by surprise. He had simply been so lost in the moment itself, he hadn’t bothered to try and keep ahead of his partner.

He couldn’t remember the last time that happened.

He kept touching her, fingers thrusting, thumb rolling, as her orgasm wrecked her. She trembled, shook down to her core, coming so hard he had to wonder if it made her belly ache. She truly had been stuck on the edge for quite some time, it seemed.

Only once she had relaxed did Astarion pull his hands from her- not wanting to overstimulate her. While it was a lovely idea, he didn’t think it was what she wanted, in that moment.

She was lax, laying on the bed, staring up at the dark ceiling through dark lashes. Astarion rubbed her thigh affectionately again, found he was smiling to himself. “Better?” he asked, and Shadowheart sat up slowly, swaying a bit as if she wasn’t fully inside her body. She gave a nod, sliding herself closer, keeping her leg draped across Astarion’s lap. Her eyes flicked to his lips. “I wouldn’t,” Astarion warned, as she leaned in, one of her hands pressing to his chest, her breath warm, against his lips. So close. “I taste of blood, darling.”

Shadowheart’s other hand reached up, sank into his curls, as she leaned in, pressed her mouth to his anyway. She was so warm, he wanted to curl up into her heat. She kissed him rather tenderly, slowly- heavy glides of her lips against his, gently presses of her tongue to his, but not something savage and searching.

“I’ve never been afraid of a little blood,” she whispered, before kissing him softly again. The hand on his chest slid down, paused at his belly, toying with the folds of his shirt. “I can feel you, against my thigh.”

Astarion swallowed. There was an offer, unspoken, in her words. Something delightful, if he wanted to take it.

But… “Would you just kiss me?” He spoke softer than he meant to, dared to glance away, feeling raw as he admitted, “I think I just want that, right now.”