Astarion smiles, all warm sly approval, and beckons him - to come closer
and sink lower. He's not taken off his trousers, but they're open enough
that the half-hardness in his underwear is very clear.
Jedao's breath hitches a little as he obeys, leaning forward just to rub his cheek against Astarion's cock through the thin fabric, his hands returning to perch lightly on Astarion's hips again, thumbs stroking the skin like he can't quite help himself.
The puncture spots on his neck don't heal immediately, but the thickness of his blood doesn't drip, either, large black droplets like dark pearls simply resting at his throat.
"And I have given no small amount of thought to feeling your lips on me," Astarion murmurs, his hand sliding into Jedao's hair - not pulling, not yet, just cradling his scalp. "I'm yours for the tasting, pet."
His eyes flutter closed for a few moments, and he tilts his head easily into Astarion's hand. He breathes out a soft, deep breath, and something relaxes in his shoulders as he - settles, his mind going quiet in a way that usually takes - a lot of pain, or being completely overwhelmed some other way.
It's so nice.
When he opens his eyes again, his pupils are blown wide, with the irises barely visible, his mouth loose with an easy, dreamy smile as he tugs Astarion's underwear down. Jedao doesn't do any elaborate teasing, just leans in and gets his mouth on the head of Astarion's cock, giving him slow, messy, open-mouthed kisses, just savoring it. He's already so hard he aches a little, and he doesn't mind at all.
Astarion shudders, closing his eyes and just letting himself slip into it.
Jedao wants to be an indulgence? He can indulge. He feels his cock
stiffening under his lips and tongue, pleasure radiating in slow, warm
pulses.
His hips rock slightly, his fingers tightening in Jedao's hair.
Jedao slides forward a little, opening for it easily in response to the shallow thrusts, taking more of Astarion's cock in his mouth and sucking steadily, sweetly, hungry but without hurry. Jedao moans soft and low around him, felt more than heard.
It feels wonderful, a little shiver of vibration around his cock, and
Astarion doesn't hesitate to press in a little deeper. Jedao feels warm and
wet and inviting, and for once it's just - easy? To let himself put
everything aside and chase pleasure for its own sake. To lose himself the
way he's tempted so many others to lose themselves in him.
Which isn't to say he's entirely forgotten where he is. His fingers curl
into Jedao's hair, gradually getting tighter and tighter, pulling right at
the roots.
He doesn't need to breathe but he does it anyway, little tiny sips and gasps arranged around the rhythm of Astarion's cock moving in his mouth, just to have the air to moan with. He whimpers and groans in a liquid, almost-continuous stream, lost in sensation. He feels drunk on Astarion's cock, feels rewritten by the tight hand in his hair, like some distant god is re-inking his outlines starting at that sharp little point of sensation, bright and clear where everything else about him is hazy and easy and warm, like the blurring spread of watercolor.
He can feel his own false pulse throbbing in his cock, and he could probably come in an instant if he touched himself, but it doesn't even occur to him. All that matters right now is being here, his mouth so full and his throat ready for more, if Astarion chooses to give it to him, Astarion's hips moving in his hands and his steady hands in Jedao's hair, the hard floor under his knees and taking it.
It hasn't entirely passed Astarion by that his breathing isn't necessary
and there's probably no gag reflex to speak of; he just keeps taking him,
moaning like he's being fucked, and it's hard not to accept the offer being
less-than-silently made.
"Give me a pinch if you need me to stop, darling," he murmurs, then rolls
his hips like he means it. He pulls back until the exposed head of his
erection presses against Jedao's tongue, then pushes forward until it
presses into the tight seal of his throat.
He's free with his pleasure, groaning out loud and pulling at Jedao's hair.
He doesn't have any gag reflex, and never has - one of the few unmitigated benefits of Jedao One's muscle memory. His eyes are huge and dark as he watches Astarion, and then roll back as he shudders in pleasure, the loudest moan of all punched out of him after that last deep breath. He drops his hands from Astarion's hips and holds them behind the small of his back, offering himself completely.
He tries, convulsively, to swallow, his throat working around Astarion's cock, breathless moans tapering into tiny, hungry, yearning whines, almost entirely muffled. His whole body feels electric, overwhelmed with the pleasure of being used so well, the bright sting against his hair and the beautiful sound of Astarion's pleasure, Jedao's cock jerking and dripping precome as his own hips twitch against nothing.
There's a gorgeous surge of power along with the sheer physical pleasure of
it - the rush of having a gorgeous man on his knees and fucking his throat,
increasingly hard, in the same way he's been grabbed and manhandled and
used so many times himself. The fact that Jedao is clearly enjoying
himself burns out even the possibility of guilt.
"I'm close, pet," he mutters. "You are too, aren't you? It wouldn't take
much."
He slides one foot forward, pressing his shin up between Jedao's thighs.
Jedao blinks up at him, eyes dark and wide with pleasure, throat clutching as he's choked and doesn't care. His whole body twitches at the press of Astarion's shin; he whines softly, daring to rock forward against him, raw needy desire. He is close, he's so close, he could finish in an instant if he thought about it at all, if Astarion wants him to -
He doesn't have a way to ask, or not one he can figure out with his brain so addled, only quavers and twitches and leans in, half-mindless, ready.
Fuck. He can feel the hot hard press of Jedao's cock against his cool skin,
can practically feel the throb of his pulse there. He's heady with it. The
pure submission Jedao offers him, whether it's on his knees like this or
ready to take a beating.
"Do it," Astarion hisses. "You can lick me clean when you're done."
That hiss stabs him somewhere in the hindbrain, the perfect combination of commanding and hungry and a little mean, and drags his orgasm out of him like a harpoon dragging a whale. He's already started to come before Astarion is entirely finished speaking. His whole body quivers with the effort of staying in position, throat working and gulping around the cock still pressed deep inside. Jedao's hips jerk shakily as he rocks forward, splattering hot and helpless against Astarion's shins.
Astarion knows he wouldn't be able to hold off much longer anyway; when he
feels the wet of Jedao's come on his skin, he no longer has a choice. He
groans deep in his throat and tugs sharply at Jedao's hair as he comes,
emptying himself into his throat with a few quick little jolts of his hips.
Jedao feels completely dazed afterward, floating, silent and weightless as the gentle limitless dark between the stars. He does his best, in the surge of mindless pleasure, to keep sucking Astarion as he moves, as he comes. Then he simply - settles, waits, holds Astarion in his mouth as he feels him start to go soft. He's learned that most people get overstimulated if he keeps sucking after, so he doesn't do that, just lets himself be, a patient vessel, until Astarion chooses to pull away.
Astarion doesn't, for a few moments; he just rocks his hips slowly,
enjoying the little aftershocks of pleasure, and then lets Jedao hold him
in his mouth as he softens. His hands loosen in his hair, fingertips
instead lightly circling and massaging at his scalp.
"You do look gorgeous down there, pet," he murmurs, as he pulls back.
Jedao gazes back up at him, beaming sofly, obviously fucked a little bit stupid. He wonders idly if he's supposed to say anything, if he should try to scrounge some words from under the couch like lost cat toys.
"Like bein' down here," he murmurs eventually, voice low and rough in his well-used throat.
He hums happily, then tilts forward a little, closing his eyes and resting his cheek against Astarion's thigh for just a moment. He thinks there was something else he was supposed to do - but if it was important, Astarion will remind him.
It's not important, really - just filthy words he'd used to help push him
over the edge. Right now, he's much more content to pet Jedao's hair and
enjoy the way he drifts. It looks...nice? Relaxing in a way that his
dissociated states aren't.
He's not sure if he'd be capable of such a thing himself.
"Okay," Jedao agrees warmly, with the stupid-easy smile again, letting himself sink back down a little in his own mind, even as he sits back on his heels, waiting for Astarion to lead him to wherever it is they're going to move.
There's no sofa in here, not even an armchair big enough for them both to
curl up in, so - the bed it is. Astarion slides back onto the mattress and
beckons Jedao forward, to walk or crawl or do whatever he needs to do in
order to join him.
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"Gorgeous."
Astarion smiles, all warm sly approval, and beckons him - to come closer and sink lower. He's not taken off his trousers, but they're open enough that the half-hardness in his underwear is very clear.
"On your knees."
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The puncture spots on his neck don't heal immediately, but the thickness of his blood doesn't drip, either, large black droplets like dark pearls simply resting at his throat.
"I've wanted to taste you for ages," he admits.
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"And I have given no small amount of thought to feeling your lips on me," Astarion murmurs, his hand sliding into Jedao's hair - not pulling, not yet, just cradling his scalp. "I'm yours for the tasting, pet."
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It's so nice.
When he opens his eyes again, his pupils are blown wide, with the irises barely visible, his mouth loose with an easy, dreamy smile as he tugs Astarion's underwear down. Jedao doesn't do any elaborate teasing, just leans in and gets his mouth on the head of Astarion's cock, giving him slow, messy, open-mouthed kisses, just savoring it. He's already so hard he aches a little, and he doesn't mind at all.
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Astarion shudders, closing his eyes and just letting himself slip into it. Jedao wants to be an indulgence? He can indulge. He feels his cock stiffening under his lips and tongue, pleasure radiating in slow, warm pulses.
His hips rock slightly, his fingers tightening in Jedao's hair.
"Ah..."
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It feels wonderful, a little shiver of vibration around his cock, and Astarion doesn't hesitate to press in a little deeper. Jedao feels warm and wet and inviting, and for once it's just - easy? To let himself put everything aside and chase pleasure for its own sake. To lose himself the way he's tempted so many others to lose themselves in him.
Which isn't to say he's entirely forgotten where he is. His fingers curl into Jedao's hair, gradually getting tighter and tighter, pulling right at the roots.
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He can feel his own false pulse throbbing in his cock, and he could probably come in an instant if he touched himself, but it doesn't even occur to him. All that matters right now is being here, his mouth so full and his throat ready for more, if Astarion chooses to give it to him, Astarion's hips moving in his hands and his steady hands in Jedao's hair, the hard floor under his knees and taking it.
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It hasn't entirely passed Astarion by that his breathing isn't necessary and there's probably no gag reflex to speak of; he just keeps taking him, moaning like he's being fucked, and it's hard not to accept the offer being less-than-silently made. "Give me a pinch if you need me to stop, darling," he murmurs, then rolls his hips like he means it. He pulls back until the exposed head of his erection presses against Jedao's tongue, then pushes forward until it presses into the tight seal of his throat.
He's free with his pleasure, groaning out loud and pulling at Jedao's hair.
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He tries, convulsively, to swallow, his throat working around Astarion's cock, breathless moans tapering into tiny, hungry, yearning whines, almost entirely muffled. His whole body feels electric, overwhelmed with the pleasure of being used so well, the bright sting against his hair and the beautiful sound of Astarion's pleasure, Jedao's cock jerking and dripping precome as his own hips twitch against nothing.
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There's a gorgeous surge of power along with the sheer physical pleasure of it - the rush of having a gorgeous man on his knees and fucking his throat, increasingly hard, in the same way he's been grabbed and manhandled and used so many times himself. The fact that Jedao is clearly enjoying himself burns out even the possibility of guilt.
"I'm close, pet," he mutters. "You are too, aren't you? It wouldn't take much."
He slides one foot forward, pressing his shin up between Jedao's thighs.
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He doesn't have a way to ask, or not one he can figure out with his brain so addled, only quavers and twitches and leans in, half-mindless, ready.
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Fuck. He can feel the hot hard press of Jedao's cock against his cool skin, can practically feel the throb of his pulse there. He's heady with it. The pure submission Jedao offers him, whether it's on his knees like this or ready to take a beating.
"Do it," Astarion hisses. "You can lick me clean when you're done."
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Astarion knows he wouldn't be able to hold off much longer anyway; when he feels the wet of Jedao's come on his skin, he no longer has a choice. He groans deep in his throat and tugs sharply at Jedao's hair as he comes, emptying himself into his throat with a few quick little jolts of his hips.
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Astarion doesn't, for a few moments; he just rocks his hips slowly, enjoying the little aftershocks of pleasure, and then lets Jedao hold him in his mouth as he softens. His hands loosen in his hair, fingertips instead lightly circling and massaging at his scalp.
"You do look gorgeous down there, pet," he murmurs, as he pulls back.
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"Like bein' down here," he murmurs eventually, voice low and rough in his well-used throat.
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"I can tell," Astarion murmurs. "Shush now, pretty thing, you don't have to talk if you'd rather not."
He can tell how outside himself he seems, how challenging it is to make the words come.
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It's not important, really - just filthy words he'd used to help push him over the edge. Right now, he's much more content to pet Jedao's hair and enjoy the way he drifts. It looks...nice? Relaxing in a way that his dissociated states aren't.
He's not sure if he'd be capable of such a thing himself.
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"Should I be - making you just stand here?"
He's not worried, exactly, still soft and warm at the edges, but he has enough wherewithal to at least consider it.
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"Darling, you aren't making me do anything," Astarion murmurs. "But let's sit, hmm?"
Less for his own comfort, more to keep Jedao in this contented haze that he can vicariously enjoy.
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There's no sofa in here, not even an armchair big enough for them both to curl up in, so - the bed it is. Astarion slides back onto the mattress and beckons Jedao forward, to walk or crawl or do whatever he needs to do in order to join him.
"Come here, pet."
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