TLV: IC Contact

[sixfeetofdirt]

Careful; I bite.

Comments

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

He sits up again to kiss him. "I didn't hear a goddamn thing," he promises, wildly amused. "And you ain't always a good influence. Remember the movie theater?"

[sixfeetofdirt]

"Hard to forget," Astarion says, voice smoky. "I personally think that was a very good choice on my part."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"Might be something to try again one day," he muses, as if he hasn't been thinking about it.

Now that he's here, that he's slowed down enough and gotten the frustration off his chest, he is not inclined to leave.

[sixfeetofdirt]

"Now who's a bad influence?" Astarion teases. "I couldn't agree more."

He goes back to stroking Jacob's hair, seeing as Aylin curls up against his side and starts purring.

He doesn't want him to go anywhere either. Not when he can have him here, and safe, it makes him feel...better.

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

He relaxes into his lap, letting out a breath as he gently strokes Aylin's fur. "You still are."

He lets the silence stretch a moment before he reaches up to take his hand and kisses his fingers.

"Can't believe it's been a month since that. Just a single fucking month."

[sixfeetofdirt]

"It's been...unusually eventful." He passes a fingertip gently over Jacob's bottom lip. "Overall, I think I like it better when it's dull."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"Yeah, I do too. Hopefully this next port will actually be useful."

He sits up. "A nice holiday."

[sixfeetofdirt]

"Actually nice, this time," Astarion agrees. "Few if any disasters. Hells, I'd take another quiet island, and I thought I'd already had enough of the wilderness."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"Why? Cuz you know I'll make you a shelter and you can just enjoy your books?"

He wraps an arm around his waist. What a good thought, though.

[sixfeetofdirt]

Astarion laughs and leans into him, pecking him on the lips.

"You know I'd make it worth your while, darling."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"Honestly, Astarion, you just have to sit there and look like that and it's worth it."

Because Jacob has eyes, after all!

[sixfeetofdirt]

"Oh, you just want me to be decorative? Luckily for you, I'm very good at that," he says, almost purring with satisfaction. "Gods know I won't be much use for keeping you warm at night."

He's not cold, he's just sort of...room temperature, always.

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"No, you do a pretty good job of getting the blood pumping."

He snickers. "Besides, Rosita will be there. She's pretty warm."

[sixfeetofdirt]

"You're right. And I can just go hunting, should your blood be moved in her direction," he says lightly.

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

"You could."

He has fantasies of his own, of course, but those aren't to share. Instead, now that he's sitting up, he draws him into a deep kiss.

[sixfeetofdirt]

Astarion has his own, but he and Rosita's relationship isn't in that kind of place (yet?). Here and now, it's more than enough to wind his arms around Jacob's neck and kiss him in return, all but climbing into his lap in the effort to get closer.

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

He smiles into the kiss, nudging poor Aylin away from him now. "Been a hell of a month," he mutters against his lips. "No time to breathe between disasters and no fucking privacy when there was."

[sixfeetofdirt]

"We've got time now," Astarion breathes. His cool fingertips stroke the nape of his neck. "Whatever shall we do with it, mm? I'm wide open to suggestions."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

The touch to his neck elicits an involuntary shiver. "Are you?" He bites gently on Astarion's lip. "Guess we should fill the time."

He gently tugs him close, wanting him in his lap, against him.

[sixfeetofdirt]

Astarion straddles him easily, his knees bracketing Jacob's thighs.

"Fill the time, he says. Is that all I am, to you?" he sniffs, unable to fight down the smirk to look or sound genuinely wounded. "A hobby?"

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

For a half second, he panics, then sees that look on his face.

"Yeah. Ain't that what this started as?"

He pushes fingers underneath Astarion's shirt, readjusting once he's in his lap.

[sixfeetofdirt]

Astarion chuckles, all indulgent warmth, and leans in to scrape his fangs against his throat.

"It is. But I don't mind at all that it's become something a little...different."

A little more. Maybe even a lot more. But that's much harder to say out loud.

"Quite the opposite."

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

He doesn't stop the very quick moan at the teeth along his neck. It's been far, far too long.

"Me, either," he manages to stutter out. "You can actually bite, you know."

[sixfeetofdirt]

Astarion doesn't ask if he's sure. Instead, he just hums his assent, then tilts his head a little further and sinks his teeth in. The rush of blood makes him moan in answer and hitch his hips in closer, all but writhing on top of him.

[weaponwithoutpurpose]

His breath leaves him all in a rush and his nails catch on his back, digging in out of shock and pleasure. The initial pain, so sweet on its own, fades and he looks up to the ceiling with another moan, this one deeper and so needy.

"God...yes."