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.
It takes him a couple seconds to decide, but eventually he gets to his feet; crawling feels a little too much of a performance when he hasn't been ordered to do it, and therefore something he'd have to think about, so he doesn't. He does swipe his pants from the floor, because unlike the sweater, they're made of largely self-cleaning nanites. He scoots onto the bed next to Astarion, and slides his other hand under one of Astarion's calves, gesturing vaguely with the crumpled fabric to indicate cleaning him with it.
Jedao's hazy smile crinkles into a brighter grin, like an easy breeze whipping the clouds of his peacefulness into frothy, curlicued tops, without any threat of dispersing them. He ducks his head down and drops a few soft kisses on Astarion's knee, wiping up most of his own come with neat, steady swipes of his pants-turned rags.
He does lick up a few stray drops, but more for the pleasure of tasting Astarion's skin again than anything else. He suspects, in some distant corner of his mind, that if he actually licked up all of it, it would have to be either disgusting or extremely hot, and he doesn't really want to - cause the fuss of getting hard again, when Astarion already got him off so nicely.
A few more light, lazy kisses, and then he scoots around to attend to the other leg as well.
"Nothing wrong with a little mutual indulgence," Astarion
murmurs, fingertips tracing light circles on his scalp. "Next time I shall
be putting my hands all over you."
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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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"May I?"
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"You may," Astarion says blithely, muscles flexing slightly under Jedao's hand. "Thank you."
It does feel rather nice to be serviced in this way, as well.
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He does lick up a few stray drops, but more for the pleasure of tasting Astarion's skin again than anything else. He suspects, in some distant corner of his mind, that if he actually licked up all of it, it would have to be either disgusting or extremely hot, and he doesn't really want to - cause the fuss of getting hard again, when Astarion already got him off so nicely.
A few more light, lazy kisses, and then he scoots around to attend to the other leg as well.
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Astarion permits this, watching Jedao as he works, eventually reaching down to pet his hair again as he finishes up.
"Thank you, darling. You're terribly good to me."
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"No, you," he counters, feeling very silly for saying it, but not in a bad way.
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"Nothing wrong with a little mutual indulgence," Astarion murmurs, fingertips tracing light circles on his scalp. "Next time I shall be putting my hands all over you."
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"Love your hands," he murmurs. "Anytime."