sixfeetofdirt | TLV: IC Contact

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.

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."

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Astarion wonders if he could ever really be with someone who didn't enjoy this. Who didn't welcome this part of him. There's the occasional night, a bit of fun, but for more than that - it seems impossible to imagine a lover who doesn't make these sweet sounds under the press of his fangs.

Of course, it would be something else if Jacob was more interested in his vampirism than in him. He's been fetishised and he did not care for it.

But this is just...a perfect balance.

He pulls back silently, kissing at the little wounds he's made, lapping over them.

In all the fantasies he's ever had, vampirism wasn't ever one he contemplated. He'd never really thought in that way. But the desire to give, to protect, to help, threw him face first into moments like this where a quick flash of pain, followed by the dizzying knowledge of something so intimate, is exactly what he likes.

And when Astarion pulls away, Jacob's quick to kiss him with bruising intensity.

Astarion moans for him, returning the kiss with no less fervour, plunging his tongue hungrily into Jacob's mouth and sharing the copper taste of his own blood.

"I very nearly forgot how good you taste, Jacob," he murmurs, their mouths still barely touching.

He breathes him in, barely keeping up, luxuriating in the taste of the blood on his tongue. It isn't as shocking as it was before; it doesn't come with the reminder of the heat of the desert. It's something for them, something they share.

And, as always, his name sounds delightful on Astarion's tongue.

"Can't let that fucking happen," he mutters, intent now on getting the shirt from him.

"Never," Astarion breathes, shucking off his shirt easily and then reaching for Jacob's. He wants bare skin against bare skin and the intimacy that privacy offers.

"I'll remember in a hundred years how your blood feels in my throat."

It's a nice thought, to know that someone will still think about him in the future. That he won't fade into obscurity.

He tosses his fatigues and shirt to the side, then immediately pulls him close again, his shoulder aching in the best way.

"Good," he moans. "Cuz I won't forget any of this." He catches his mouth in a kiss again, spreading his fingers down his chest.

Astarion shivers and arches into the touch, seeking friction now, wanting to stoke the warm burn of arousal in his gut.

"Jacob, I - won't take the slightest bit of offence if you say you're not interested, but..."

He sits up, hands stopping on Astarion's hips. "What is it?"

"Have you ever thought about doing this the other way around?" he asks, looking to meet Jacob's eye.

At first, he's not sure what he means, but his eyebrows raise slightly when it dawns on him.

Has he thought about it?

"Yeah," he says, looking away from his face for a moment. "Actually yeah. Remember that - uh - that day I- "

Fuck.

"Got all on my knees for you? Thought about it then. And - uh - after. So. Yeah."

He clears his throat, fingers tight against Astarion's hips still.

Astarion nuzzles into him, kissing his jaw, his lips. He can feel himself getting harder.

"Would you like me to fuck you?" he asks, much more plainly this time.

This time, when he talks, it's a lot less hesitant. Just-

"Yeah. Yeah, I fucking would. You gotta walk me the fuck through it, though."

"I will. I'll be very careful with you."

He smiles and kisses the wound he's left on Jacob's neck.

"The first and most obvious step, darling, is to get rid of the rest of these clothes."

He reaches for the button and zip of Jacob's trousers.

"No shit," but he's sitting up to let him unfasten them. Jacob pushes them from his hips and onto the floor, sitting up into a kiss.

Astarion kisses back deeply, but only briefly, pulling away to deal with the matter of stripping down. He slithers out of the leather and cotton, leaving it in a tangle with Jacob's clothes as he kisses him again. And again.

"Gods, I can't wait to put my hands on you."

"Then don't wait," he grumps, though it's all an anticipatory tease. "And remember, in ain't as flexible as you."
Which he says with a laugh so he can kiss his neck, hitching his hips against him.

"Don't worry. I won't be tying you into knots any time soon," he promises. "Can I put my mouth on you?"

Huh. There's a thought.

He's sufficiently distracted by the question, at least. "Yeah. Yeah you sure fucking can."

He leans back on his elbows, fingers gripping the sheets.

Astarion smiles and pecks him on the lips, then urges him to slide back further onto the bed.

"Roll onto your stomach for me," he murmurs. "So that I don't have to bend you in half, mm?"

"So damn bossy," he mutters, but he takes one last look at him, drinks him in, and turns around to move closer to the pillows and settle on his stomach.

"Guess I gotta figure out what I've been missing out on."

"Oh, you needn't figure out anything," Astarion chuckles, kissing the nape of his neck as his hands run up and down his sides. "Just let me show you."

He keeps working his way slowly down his spine, hands lightly circling over his ribs and massaging his hips.

He doesn't quite know what to do with his hands, so he simply crosses them and rests his cheek on his arm, shivering a little at the touch. It's odd this way, but he's enjoying himself.

"This ain't bad," he murmurs. "Could do this for a while."

"Good. I like touching you," Astarion says, hands gliding over his body. He kisses the small of his back.

"The texture of your skin, your scars. Your muscle and hair."

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