#time is a construct and an illusion

[ingoodjesst]

have you put the pieces together yet, detective

[listentothelittlebird]

Happy (belated) birthday @shepscapades!!!!! This fic did not exist yesterday but it sure does now! Another dbhc au docsuma set in hermitcraft season 10, during Doc’s building of the Big Wood hourglass (and after “Anyways. What?”)

word count: 1114 words

“Whoa.”

Xisuma lets his boots scuff against the grass, folding his elytra away without taking his eyes off the towering hourglass before him. An hourglass that he is sure did not exist, well, yesterday. 

He checks his communicator again, still showing Cleo’s message from last night. Just a simple, “Not urgent, but you should head by the shopping district.”

The “not urgent” part of the message had been what allowed Xisuma to rest until morning before popping by. It seems, though, that someone else did not do the same.

Based on the untouched bed covered in soot beside a double shelf of furnaces, Xisuma thinks he knows exactly why he was called. Even as he starts looking around for a familiar lab coat, he resigns himself to yet another shred of fodder that will soon be added to Cleo’s arsenal of stories.

“Doc?” Xisuma’s voice echoes around the base of the hourglass. A quick squint through the glass is enough to deem it empty as well. Finally, Xisuma tilts his head up, towards the very top of the hourglass. No movement that can be seen from down here, but it would be a reasonable place to check. 

Sure enough, a quick elytra trip later and Xisuma touches down on the top of the hourglass to find Doc standing right in the middle of his goat-shaped glass panels. 

“Doc, hey!” 

His greeting seems to startle the other, though Doc has never been one to show it. His body turns to face him without so much as a flinch, his shock only betrayed by the second of hesitation it takes for Doc’s expression to curl into an easy smile.

“Xisuma.” A nod in greeting, and then Doc seems to really come back to himself, looking around with his LED ring blinking a brighter blue, if only for a moment. 

“You built all this up in a day?” When Xisuma speaks, Doc’s eyes snap back to him. Again, it takes a moment before Doc responds. Coupled with his slumped shoulders and the way he almost seems to sway in place, his entire form screams exhaustion.

His voice masks it well, though that could just be the lingering passion that has kept him going for this long. 

“Yeah! It’s going to be the biggest shop in the shopping district. All the wood will be sold here. That is, uh, once all the other permit holders agree to sell it here. But they will!”

“Right.” Despite his concern, Xisuma laughs. It is usually Xisuma who has to be pushed and shoved into taking a break, not the other way around. Oh, how the tables have turned.

Xisuma steps closer, brushing off a mixture of soot and sand from Doc’s shoulder. As usual, Doc eyes Xisuma quietly, making no move to push or pull away. 

“When’s the last time you slept?” This close, Xisuma can see the flicker of yellow in the whirring of blue. 

“Uh,” Doc manages, after a long moment. “Uhm. I slept.”

Xisuma hums. He must not manage to keep the skepticism out of his voice, because Doc doubles down. 

“I did! I went into rest cycles of ten to twenty minutes every three hours. That’s enough for functionality.”

“Barely enough,” Xisuma retorts. His hand finds Doc’s shoulder again, resting there. “You’re supposed to have longer rest cycles than that, Doc.”

Doc scoffs in reply, though he leans some of his weight into Xisuma’s hand, a greater tell than anything else.

“Tell you what.” The bed at the base of the hourglass is hardly an ideal place for resting. Thankfully, there’s better places nearby. “Come over to the lab. I’ll show you the new systems I installed after you sleep for the day.”

The words catch Doc’s attention, at least. “New systems? I don’t remember an update.” 

“Just a little testing here and there.” A squeeze to Doc’s shoulder halts his next words. “Nuh-uh! I’ll tell you after you get some shut-eye.”

Doc huffs, but does quieten after that. Xisuma leads the way back to the lab, keeping track of the sounds of Doc’s rockets behind him. While Doc is not so exhausted as to crash while flying, Xisuma’s mind still niggles with worry.

By the time they land, it seems the long hours of work have properly caught up to Doc. Xisuma turns around just in time to spot Doc fumble his landing, tripping over nothing but his own feet. He manages to remain upright, if only because Xisuma braces his hands under his arms in time. 

“Enough for functionality, you say?”

Doc grumbles, knocking a fist against Xisuma’s chestplate. “Shush.”

Xisuma manages to stifle his laugh as he leads Doc into the lab. The hand still lingering on Doc’s arm is entirely unnecessary now that Doc has regained his balance, but neither of them comment on it. 

Owing to their horrible work ethics, one of the first places Xisuma tends to build at his labs is a small bedroom. It feels refreshing to be the one ushering someone else into the room, instead of being the one to trail behind.

“There you go.” Xisuma tugs Doc into sitting on the edge of the bed. His elytra digs into the bedding behind him, Doc turning to blink at it like he just remembered it there. 

Faster than Doc, a rarity from the beginning, Xisuma slips the elytra off Doc’s shoulders, folding it away before Doc can protest the coddling. Not that it is coddling, really. He just wants Doc to be comfortable, is all.

The “yeah, right” that hums in the back of his head sounds very much like Cleo.

By the time Xisuma looks up from storing the elytra, along with some golden carrots, in the bedside chest, Doc has managed to shift himself flat on his back, lying over the duvet instead of under it. The sigh Xisuma lets out is fond, an emotion that he hopes his helmet hides.

“At least pull the covers over yourself.” 

In reply, Doc grunts and waves his hand dismissively. Not in a rest cycle just yet, but very close to one.

Well, so much for not coddling. Somehow, Xisuma manages to pull out the duvet and drape it over Doc. By the time Xisuma finishes his fussing, Doc has gone still, his blue ring of light dimming in rest.

Xisuma risks a final brush of his fingers to Doc’s shoulder, the metal hidden under the duvet. “Sleep well, Doc.” 

No movement, to his relief. Quietly, Xisuma backs out of the room, shuts the door gently, then heads for the labs. He should pull up the new systems again, just to refresh himself on what they can do.

[thegoodmorningman]

Dear Corvi Dable, Time is a lie. A lie they've been telling you all your life. They don't want you to have a Good Morning all day every day. Because if you did, what power would they have left? Your Eternal pal, Bud☀️🧙🏼‍♂️✌🏼

[frnkiebby]

just…fucking…~🎃

[hanas-hues]

We were fighting 30ft tall deforestation constructs (chainsaw arms) and after a chainsaw tornado AoE attack, it activated its self destruct.

Marigold used her Misty Escape to teleport to its head and did enough damage with Shillelagh + Booming Blade to kill it before it exploded.

[rengineer]

Happy Chinese new year Engineer !!!!

[hands you a 5 dollar bill]

sorry I dont have any of the envelopes left..

@asktheasianscouttf2

"Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but ain’t it supposed to be the older folks sendin’ money to the younger ones?" He eyed the five-dollar bill with clear reluctance, his pride keeping him from taking it. Hell, he earned more than this punk ever did—wasn't about to stoop that low for pocket change.

"No need for the money, boy," he added, shaking his head. "Reckon it'd do me a lot more good if I borrowed your muscles instead." He jerked his head toward the heap of metal that still needed loading onto the truck.

[crowberryboo]

i.

WHAT THE HELL IM 22 NOW?

HUH?

[phoenixdeleted]

AAAAAAAAAAA

I FORGOT TIME EXISTS AND NOW IT FEELS LIKE TOMORROW AND IM IN YESTERDAY AND I CAN’T EXPLAIN HOW WEIRD THIS IS IT’S LIKE FALLING ASLEEP AFTER SCHOOL AND WAKING UP TOMORROW.

[human7lilly]

19

Why did no one warn me about how weird it is to turn 19. It's just this gap in your life. You can choose to further your education, get a job, or just experience life. Except all of that comes at a price. Student debt, 100 years of experience, money. Some 18 year old's have all of this, some don't. I don't. I have the misfortune of having grown up under difficult circumstances and deciding to move across the continent to try and escape that. Which I did. But now I've made being 19 so much more difficult. I'm in a place where I don't know the areas, I don't have friends, I don't have connections. Experiencing life is a chance. Being 18 going on 19 will be the easiest and most difficult thing I've ever done. There's so much time left for me to grow and experience, but time is also running out. And I'm stuck feeling like the decisions I make in the next 3 months, will affect my entire life. Maybe turning 20 will be easier. Probably not.

[mechachimera]

I think I've finally reached mom fandom unc status because what do you MEAN I've been here for almost 10 years???

[gardenia-nettle-first-floret]

Today’s emotion is: Not understanding time

[tuulikki]

Bro r u ok

[homeofwhimsies]

‘Time, Wondrous Time’

Tonight, as I write this, my best friend is travelling back home from his international trip on a flight of four hours. Here’s the quirky thing though. He will on his flight when it is around 10:30pm in that country and around 8:30pm in mine, and is going to land home when it would be 12:30am here. Two hours. If he gets on his flight and falls asleep for four hours, he would reach home and only have spent… two hours.

The other day, I was watching a reel on Instagram by @onlinekyne and she was explaining how different cultures have different ways of calculating time. She even explained how a certain culture was actually in the year 2016, and how in another we (the ones strictly adhering to the Gregorian Calendar system) would actually be almost 2 years older.

Confusing, eh?

That’s exactly what time is. Confusing. Fascinating. But most importantly, a social construct; one that has been enforced to make sense of everyday circumstances and happenstances. And if time is a social construct, so is age, of course. And if age is a social construct, why worry if you’re 25 and still in search of your passion and purpose while watching your peers get settled? Why cry if you’re 32 and still growing up? You’re simultaneously younger and older than your legal age in some part of the world, somehow.

But, I deviate from my thoughts here.

What I wanted to point out is how the very concept of space and time presents so many questions and possibilities. I am no scientist, of course, but I am sure there are many questions about time still unanswered by the ones who are in fact scientists. I myself have so many in my mind. I wonder if all of them will ever get addressed, in time. See what I did there?

Meanwhile, maybe the bookworms here can suggest me some good books to read - books that deal with time in a mind-bending way, books that deal with time as the magnificent, brilliant thing it is, books that engage with time from a psychological aspect.

If this post is confusing to you, well… I never promised sanity in my writings.

(The pictures have been taken from Unsplash. The first one is by Lucie Morel [@kaklahad on Instagram] and the second one is by Stephanie Moody.)

[peaceandlovemotherfuckers]

When i look at the clock, i often don't see the hours.

I just see a threat.

[thriftdyke]

it really does bother me how no one can seem to answer the question “what even is romantic attraction, really.” like some people are like “it’s who you wanna kiss and cuddle <3” and I’m like ok well kisses and cuddles can be either sexual or platonic depending on context. “It’s who you feel passion/desire/arousal for” well that just sounds like sexual attraction which you can have without even knowing somebody so I fail to see how that’s romantic. “It’s who you want to go on dates with” I go on dates with friends all the time plus “date” is a social construct anyway there’s really no innate difference between a date and hanging out. “it’s who you have deep feelings for” great news for you that can be literally any type of relationship. my friend told me she defined it as “who you wanna give roses to” and I’m like do u hear urself??? like the more I talk to people the more I’m convinced romance and romantic attraction is an elaborate socially fabricated illusion that has no real defining characteristics. and like there’s nothing Wrong with it being a constuct but why people are so attached to defending the supremacy of it is something I cannot for the life of me figure out

[roguishcat]

Fangs and Cheeks

Summary: Astarion is an ass man.

Excerpt:

“I don’t expect any physical intimacy. I love what we have. I love you,” you said truthfully. “But um… You being lost in the moment, being so feral about it… It felt nice.”

“My rutting against your ass like a hormonal hound would with a bitch in heat? I’m sure it was a magical moment,” he quipped sarcastically.

Word count: 4.3k

Rating: Exlicit (MNDI)

Tags: Dry humping, PinV sex, orgasm denial, somnophilia kink, Reader being a bit of a brat, brat taming (if you squint), Reader having a danger kink, Reader denying that she has a danger kink, oral (female receiving), soft dom Astarion, smut and fluff, Astarion is loved, smug Astarion

A/N: Please tell me if you notice typos and mistakes. ❤️ Constructive criticism is appreciated. Comments are always loved! ❤️

(dividers by @saradika)

Once you and Astarion were in what you would call a ‘proper relationship’, you quickly discovered that he was a very tactile person. Astarion hated being touched out of the blue, grimacing and stiffening if anyone got too near for his liking. Yet, he was rather partial to keeping his hands on you. He was especially fond of your derrière, making sure that it received plenty of attention from him.

In hindsight, it's been this way ever since you first slept together. An occasional brush here and there. His hand on the small of your back moving further south than was necessary. The little squeeze that could be nothing but your imagination. Just you being hopeful and wanting your feelings to be reciprocated. Because you were under no illusion that your romp was nothing but that.

Astarion was gorgeous, ethereal, and intoxicating. All sharp lines and velvety words. Words which time and time again affected you in a way that you'd not thought possible until you met him.

And you? As much as you wanted there to be more to your trysts, you were painfully aware of the fact that you were conveniently there at a time when he felt like blowing off some steam. 

Yet, as you fought your way through the Shadow-Cursed Lands, shared victories and supported each other through the horrors that awaited around every corner, you felt a change. Like something between you shifted just enough for Astarion to start looking at you in a way that had your heart fluttering like a caged bird.

His touches became softer. He lingered. Held you closer, spent more time with you than necessary. Instead of drinking from you when you were asleep, Astarion would find an excuse to be in your tent whilst you were still awake, as if wanting to hear you ask again and again if he was in the mood for a nibble.

Astarion started sharing more of himself with you, telling you of what he had been through over the past two centuries. And you realised that perhaps to Astarion you being there for him, standing up for him, seeing him as a person, was novel and very welcome.

When Astarion confessed, nervously telling you of his deception, his guilty conscience not allowing him to take advantage of your affection for him any longer, you assured him that being with him was enough.

More than enough.

With you agreeing to abstain until he felt ready to resume the sexual part of your relationship, Astarion seemed to come to enjoy just being with you, exploring intimacy that other forms of touch brought.

You felt giddy every time you asked for a kiss and Astarion agreed most enthusiastically. Kissing you deeply, both his hands squeezing your butt tightly, kneading the soft flesh in a way that had you both moaning into the kiss.

Lae’zel would roll her eyes and march past you with a huff, muttering something unsavoury under her breath about istiks and their peculiar mating rituals. Her words would go completely ignored.

Shadowheart would smirk and pretend to be annoyed, remarking that if they were to be subjected to seeing you be all over each other, at least some change in repertoire would be nice.

Gale would suggest that for the sake of the others he would be more than happy to teach you to cast Silence.

You were not really sure why everyone assumed that you and Astarion were doing more than share each other’s space. It never went past kissing. And perhaps a little under the shirt action. Just as you agreed, you gave Astarion space and time to figure out what he was comfortable with. The two of you would hold hands, cuddle up to each other, share heated looks and sweetest kisses that made your toes curl. And without fail Astarion’s hands would eventually be touching, patting, squeezing, playfully slapping, or pinching your ass.

So, it really was not that much of a surprise when you woke up one fine morning with Astarion rutting against your clothed backside. Now, whilst you had no issue with your vampire enjoying himself, having explicitly stated to him on several occasions that you were game for whatever he would come up with, you were not entirely sure what to do now.

Should you just stay still? Judging by how his pace was picking up and the way his gentle grunts were becoming more audible by the second, Astarion would be done soon. He was clearly so lost in the moment and eager to chase his release that he didn’t even pick up on the change in your heartbeat.

Most of the time you slept like a log. It would take wildebeest stampeding past your tent for you to stir. Which is probably why Astarion, having made plenty of quips and jokes about your almost impressive ability to fall asleep in any place as soon as your head touched the bedroll, was not being particularly careful about being quiet.

Yes, staying still was probably best. If you were entirely honest, Astarion wanting you so desperately was doing wonders for your confidence. And the moans and muffled grunts, his cool fingers on your hips, soft curls tickling the back of your neck, got you hot and bothered in seconds. You two weren’t intimate in... a while. And whilst this was not exactly how you thought you would next be intimate, you'd take it.

And then you felt your nose itch. What started as a just little itch that had you scrunching you nose in annoyance was becoming worse by the second. Oh, hells! You were going to sneeze!

You tried to turn your head ever so discreetly to the side and rub your nose against the bedroll. Surprisingly enough, even you moving got absolutely zero reaction from Astarion. And this would be the end of your predicament if you were anyone but the unluckiest woman in all the realms.

Your violent sneeze was like a clap of thunder on a still night.

As you blinked your watery, bleary eyes, you realised that Astarion stopped, the fingers gripping your hips no longer there. You gulped, not really sure what to do now that it was abundantly clear to the both of you that you were very awake and very aware of what was happening moments ago.

“Do you want to tal-”

“I’d rather not,” he interjected quickly, and you felt him moving away from you.

Panicking, you grabbed onto his sleeve, making him still.

“Are you really so adamant on prolonging this unbearable moment?” Astarion asked tersely, making you wince. Yet your fingers did not lose their vice-like grip on the fabric.

“Or do you want to tell me all about what you think of my disgusting, despicable behaviour?”

“I- I don’t think it was disgusting,” you cleared your throat, a blush blooming on your skin. “Not even a little.”

“I was kind of… into it,” you admitted with some reluctance. Because what kind of person did that make you? A very sexually frustrated one, that’s for sure and certain.

“Oh?” you heard the lilt in his voice as he lowered himself back onto the bedroll, settling beside you but not quite close enough for him to touch your back. Realising that you were still holding onto his sleeve, you let go, his arm moving out of your line of sight as soon as your fingers were no longer holding on.

“Why?”

The question caught you off-guard. You didn’t really want to tell him the truth. How embarrassing to admit that you would jump through hoops for his attention, even after him telling you explicitly that you were ‘well and truly taken’.

“Do I have to answer that?”

“No. But I would prefer it if you did, my sweet.”

The endearment made you relax a little. Picking up on it, Astarion drew your body closer, one hand settling back on your hip. You shivered as you felt that he was hard still.

Reigning in your raging libido, you reminded yourself that you were not to jump his bones and were to remain a perfectly well-functioning adult about this. You’d tell Astarion what you felt without giving yourself away so much that he’d feel pressured into anything.

“I don’t expect any physical intimacy. I love what we have. I love you,” you said truthfully. “But um… You being lost in the moment, being so feral about it… It felt nice.”

“My rutting against your ass like a hormonal hound would with a bitch in heat? I’m sure it was a magical moment,” he quipped sarcastically.

“Oh, you don’t have to make it sound that hot,” you laughed and put your hand on top of his cool fingers, running your fingers along his knuckles in soothing, comforting strokes.

“What I mean, it felt good to be desired, wanted by you.”

Your awkward confession and gentle touch got him to relax a little, you could feel it when he put his chin on your shoulder. You could also feel something else that you would very much wanted to press into. On top of. Around. You were not picky.

But you stayed very still. And that was pure, sweet torture.

“Make no mistake, I want you constantly.” Astarion’s cool breath tickled your skin and set it ablaze. “If it were up to me, there would be far less adventuring and helping out those pesky refugees, and far more time spent feverishly enjoying each other.”

He sighed and kissed your exposed shoulder. You grasped onto whatever restraint you had and pressed your lips together.

“But it seems that it is not up to me,” he went on. “So, when my trance was interrupted by you moaning my name in your sleep, I felt a stir. And I just- just went for it. I don’t know what I was thinking. I doubt that I was thinking at all. Not with you making those delicious sounds and you being so close. I apologise.”

“Astarion. I love you. And I did tell you on more than one occasion that I’d be happy to try anything. Consider this as us trying something new.”

“What happens now?” Astarion murmured.

“What do you want to happen?”

You didn’t get a reply. Licking your lips, you decided that perhaps a gentle suggestion would not hurt. Astarion knew that he could say no. That you would never hold it against him.

“If you like, we can pick up where you left off.”

“Meaning?”

Well, it definitely wasn’t a ‘no’. There was a distinct huskiness to his voice that made you feel that perhaps it wouldn’t be the worst thing to tell him exactly what you thought.

“I think that you should finish what you started.”

“Tsk, naughty. Who knew that you would be into something like that?”

“Who knew that you were so into my ass?”

He snorted and muttered something that sounded like ‘not yet’.

“Dearest, have you seen how leather lovingly cradles it? Nothing is left to the imagination. I can scarcely tear my eyes away long enough to fight whatever horror is sent after us!”

He was moving again and you bit your lip to stifle your moan, wondering if you could angle your body to get friction where you most needed it.

Astarion noticed. Of course he did.

With a breathy chuckle, you felt his fingers move fabric aside, sliding into your underwear.

“Allow me,” he grunted into your ear.

“Such a gentleman,” you sighed, spreading yourself a little wider to give him more to work with.

“Of course! How callous would it be to leave a lady… wanting,” he punctuated the last word with a thrust of his hips. “Although, one cannot help but wonder, what were you dreaming about that had you moaning my name, hm?”

“What was I doing to you, dearest?” Astarion asked and moved his clothed erection against the swell of your ass, his fingers circling your clit with light, unhurried movements. You bit your lip harder, not wanting to alert the whole camp to what was going on. Astarion adored the blush that overwhelmed your skin.

“Oh? Don't feel like talking right now? How about I guess. Let me see… was I gentle? Did I whisper sweet nothings into your ear as I took you slowly?” Astarion teased, lifting himself a little off the bedroll so he could see your face better.

Hm. No change in your heartbeat, no spike in arousal. Clearly, that wasn’t it.

“No,” you confirmed his suspicions, “you were not.”

“Naughty,” he clicked his tongue and gave a pleased chuckle. "How absolutely delightful.”

Astarion’s thrusts took on a different rhythm to match the increasing speed of his fingers working you.

“So, I was rough, wasn’t I?” He pressed a fang against the hot skin of your neck, biting down on sensitive flesh without breaking skin.

“Yes,” you squirmed and pushed back, making his eyes slam shut. You shivered as a strained groan tore itself from his lips.

"Fuck," he hissed, releasing your neck to put his lips on a pulse point.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Must have slipped," you said grinding yourself against the bulge beneath the leather. Because you were past the point of reasoning and definitely way past having any restraint. Astarion spoke of not wanting to be treated like he was made of porcelain. Perhaps pushing back just a little would be exactly the right way to show that you weren’t walking on eggshells around him.

Astarion’s ruby eyes narrowed dangerously, yet a smile curled his lips.

"Do you really think you can play me so easily?"

"Oh, no. I would never!" Your gasp was so theatrical it made him bark a delighted laugh.

"Ha! Trying to outplay me, dearest? Well, it is not going to be that simple.” Astarion purred and tilted your head, so you'd look him in the eyes. The expression on his face was as arrogant as it was tantalisingly attractive.  “I am always the one in charge when it comes to playtime, you'd do well to remember that, my sweet."

He nipped your shoulder blade, humming in satisfaction at the shiver this elicited.

"If I recall correctly, you were in the middle of telling me your dream."

Ah, yes. You did remember that he wanted you to talk. Talk whilst he was overwhelming you with sensations, his nearness, his scent, just his everything. Sure. You could probably manage to string some words together.

“You were rough.”

“We’ve already established that.”

 And perhaps to another, more merciful being, that would be enough to let you off the hook. Astarion was hardly known for being merciful.

His fingers slowed down, making you thrust your hips forward. Astarion clicked his tongue and nipped the exposed skin of your shoulder, “Go on, dearest.” 

“It was after a battle, you were still in your armour.”

“I’m glad that I am such a consummate lover I needn’t even strip.”

“Sex dreams don’t have to make sense, alright?”

“No, dear,” he chuckled. “I’m so very sorry, do continue.”

“There isn’t that much more to it. I woke up before we actually… well. But um-”

Oh, you might just as well go for it. Astarion knew full well that he was intoxicatingly handsome. What he didn’t know was when exactly you found him most attractive.

"I- I enjoy seeing you fight."

“Would that be a danger kink, per chance? Do you want me to take you in the middle of a battlefield? Or should I feel worried over your throwing looks at others, hm?”

"No, it’s you. Every move so precise and purposeful. Your muscles straining, metal singing against metal. You are beautiful, and sensual, and confident, and powerful."

“Go on,” he whispered with a quietness that was at odds with the possessive way he griped you. You felt Astarion grind against you. Slowly, indulgently. The hand not working you moving from your hip to your ass to give it a tight squeeze that would definitely leave a mark.

"I see you and I marvel at your tenacity, the stubborn set of your jaw as you refuse to give in. Your curls tainted red, your eyes set on your target as you strike with cruel precision."

“My, my, who knew you were harbouring such fantasies. Such deviousness under that sweet façade. Only you could care for such a monstrosity.”

“No,” you cut him off sharply. “You are not a monster.”

You licked your lips as you thought of how to make him understand.

“You are many things. My friend, my confidant, my lover, my protector. I’ve never had that before you. I trust you. And that-,” you whimpered, eyelashes fluttering, a tear rolling down a heated cheek.

“Yes?”

“And that makes me want you even more,” you admitted as you saw stars, Astarion’s fingers not breaking their rhythm, sending a wave after wave of pleasure rippling though your body. Finally, his hand stilled.

You panted, turning your head enough to the side to rest your cheek against his cool one. Closing your eyes, you let your body sag against his.

“I take it you enjoy dangerous things, darling?” Astarion whispered into your hair.

“Most pretty things are,” you forced out between breaths. “And you are the prettiest, handsomest rogue I’ve ever seen.”

"Love?" Astarion shifted and moved, and you felt his fangs graze the sensitive flesh of your neck.

"Yes."

Please.

He bit down to take long, greedy gulps, both his hands clutching you to his chest. Having been told that he could taste how you felt made you wonder, what secrets was your blood revealing? What sensations he drew into his own body from yours with every gulp?

"Clothes off. Now.” Astarion ripped himself away from you, not wanting to overindulge and leave you weak.

"But why? I thought you wanted-"

"Love, I don't always know what I want. But this is one of those times when I do."

Suddenly, Astarion was gone, making you whine in protest.

“Underwear off,” he commanded whilst fumbling with his clothes, his voice raspy because of the emotions he was struggling to contain.

You were more than ready for this. But you were feeling cheeky. So, with a smirk, you lifted yourself off the bedroll until your lips were an inch from his, your warm breath on his cool skin.

"A lady likes to be asked."

He gritted his teeth but relented. "Please, love."

"Tsk, don't pout, Star. Was it really so hard?"

"No. But this is,” he snatched your hand and put it on his length, giving himself a few strokes with his fingers clenched tightly around yours. “So be good and do as I say. Off."

You felt a shiver dance down your spine as he called you a good girl. He was playing dirty, and he knew it. This time you obeyed almost instantly, fingers shaking as you took off your smallclothes.

As soon as you discarded them, Astarion was behind you again, naked from the waist down. You turned your head to look over your shoulder, taking in his face.

Desire, need, lust.

He stared at you like he was desperate to have you. Perhaps in a way he was. You gulped, feeling giddy and excited, and also very pleased with yourself for choosing to wear a cotton slip to bed.

Angling your arm a little awkwardly, you reached for Astarion and your thumb flicked over the sensitive tip, making you gasp when his hips surged forward.

“Touch me again,” he ordered when your hand began to leave him.

“But I-I want to feel you inside.”

“Soon. Good girls who wait get fucked best, didn’t anyone tell you that?” Astarion taunted, though he knew that he was the one suffering.

His mind was clear, he was present, his eyes on the face of the one who loved him so tenderly and fiercely. He wanted to fuck you into the bedroll right there and then more than anything in his life. But that didn’t stop him from wanting to have a little fun with your first.

“Touch me, I know you want to.”

Perhaps you did, but that was beside the point.

“I need you, Astarion. Please.”

“Soon. Get to it, love.”

No matter how much he willed himself to stay still, Astarion’s hips jumped as your hand went up and down his length, moving to cup his balls and caress them with gentleness that had Astarion cursing himself for not just giving in.

“Astarion,” you whined, not quite recognising your own voice.

“Fine.” One arm wrapped around your waist, he pushed you back down against the bedroll. “Since you ask so nicely, I will indulge you.”

You were going to snap at him, but then whatever what you were going to say turned into whimper when you felt the tip of his dick rub against your entrance. You were still sensitive, and a shiver ran through your body at the slightest contact.

He gave a few shallow fucks before finally, finally giving you what you wanted.

Astarion dropped his head onto your shoulder as his hips began to grind and roll. His cock slid deeper, flexed against inner walls. He pulled out, slamming back into you and enjoying every soft hitch in your breath.

“You’re so tight. Fuck,” Astarion groaned out, nestling into your neck as he picked up pace.  “I won’t stop anymore, love. I can’t stop,” he admitted huskily. He no longer had the strength to control himself.

Astarion parted your legs to give himself better access and tore at the cloth still covering your body, the fabric tearing under his rough treatment to expose one of your breasts.

“Astarion!” Your protest turned into a whine.

“I’ll buy you a new one. I will buy ten,” he chuckled darkly and kissed your back.

“I’ll make sure to remind you,” you hissed and moaned, feeling a hand cup your breast and move to roll a nipple between long, dexterous fingers.

You were so, so close. It was maddening how well this man knew exactly where to touch you.

And then his hand was gone and you felt Astarion withdraw abruptly, leaving you concerned and panicking.

Was this too much? Was he- Oh! Oh.

Whatever thought you were about to have next died a swift death as Astarion’s tongue flicked between your folds, your throaty, desperate moan encouraging him to continue.

His tongue thrust forward, and then again, and again and-

“Astarion,” you half-sobbed, face falling forward. You held the pillow against your mouth to try to silence whatever obscene sounds you were about to make.

Legs shaking, fingers gripping the pillow so hard that your knuckles turned white, your second orgasm hit you hard, Astarion not stopping until he saw that you were finished.

Rising a little on shaking hands, you took a few steadying breaths.

“What happened to ‘I can’t stop’,” you managed.

“I slipped.”

You gave an inelegant snort and turned weakly to face him, legs and arms trembling. Astarion grinned at you cheekily, finding that he rather enjoyed how much of a mess you were. Hair mussed, clothes torn beyond repair, the red imprint from where you pressed the pillow into your skin, and the way you could barely hold yourself up.

He did all that. And he was not even done with you.

Astarion lay down onto the bedroll, pulling you down beside him, hands snaking round your middle and holding you close.

"I want that, you know," you felt him exhale. "I want to be the man you see," Astarion whispered, face hidden in your hair, as he entered you with utmost gentleness. Pausing briefly he just lay next to you and enjoyed the sound of your still ragged breath, the rapid heartbeat, the warmth of your skin. You felt his hand trace patterns on your waist as it moved down, settling on the swell of your hip.

And then Astarion was moving again. Slow, so toe-curlingly slow at first. Then a touch faster, settling into a rhythm.

"You already are. You are strong.”

“Yes.”

He was speeding up, this time ready for his own release.

“You are free."

He moaned and whimpered, hips stuttering, thrust turning desperate.

"I love the man that you are."

He bit down on your shoulder and you winced as fangs peirced skin, rivulets of blood staining what was left of the cloth that barely covered you.

"I love you, Astarion."

He thrust once, twice and then again and- oh. Astarion fucked you through his orgasm and then more still, until he felt himself grow soft, his spend trickling down between your bodies.

He drew in a breath he didn’t need and shuddered as the last wave of pleasure coursed through his body.

"That was amazing," you lifted his hand to your lips to kiss his knuckles.

“Well you have to say that now, after you had your way with me so thoroughly,” he said with an air of a virgin defiled by a rake.

“Are you saying that it was me that seduced you?” You turned your head to see him grin.

The nerve of that man!

“As if you didn’t know what you were doing to me when you wore that,” he pointed a finger what used to be your sleepwear, “to bed.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” you huffed.

“Perhaps then I should give you-”

“Will you two fuckers stop fucking already, it’s too early for all this!” Karlach bellowed from her tent.

“Gale?” Shadowheart groaned in dismay, probably wishing she put her tent up further away from Astarion's.

“On it.”

“Did he just cast Silence on us?” Astarion heard your voice in his mind.

“I believe we were a little too loud.” The elf wiggled his eyebrows at you as you felt him make use of the tadpole.

“This is mortifying,” you groaned and tried to hide your face behind your hands.

“Well, if they needed their beauty sleep, should have told the wizard to cast the spell earlier,” Astarion shrugged, looking completely unapologetic, and slapped your ass, delighting in your surprised squeak. “Besides, we can be as loud as we want now.”

“You are kidding, right?”

“I do not kid.”

“Astarion! No!”

“Yes.”

He rolled you onto your back and started kissing from your collarbones down to your breasts.

“No,” your voice had a little less conviction, weak hands pushing back silvery curls and tracing the tips of his ears .

“Yes.” Astarion lifted his head for a moment, ruby eyes filled with adoration, only to continue his descent.

“Oh, fine,” you gave a happy sigh, feeling him hum against your skin in approval.

You knew that you should probably feel chastened now that you knew you cost your companions precious hours of sleep, but you felt floaty and content, and far too well-fucked to feel too guilty. You would deal with the inevitable looks and comments later.  And then Astarion did that thing you liked with his tongue and you did not give anyone another thought for quite a while.

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