Astarion peeks up at him, his eyes dark and focused on Jacob's backward
glance, and he doesn't stop for a moment. His tongue strokes and flicks,
circles and pushes, experimenting to learn what he responds to most
acutely. His own body feels feverish with arousal.
Astarion hums in vicarious pleasure, enjoying the way he shifts and
squirms. His thumbs stroke at his rim slowly, tugging him open just a
little so he can press with his tongue like he's trying to fuck right into
him.
Jacob's skin flushes, little beads of sweat appearing on his shoulders. He bites a moan into his arm, squirming almost unconsciously in an effort to seek some relief, all parts of him aching.
"This is torture," he breathes, but he doesn't tell him to stop. He doesn't want him to.
Astarion kisses his tailbone and presses a slick index finger inside him,
in by a fraction and then out by a fraction less, gradually stroking it in
deeper. He dips back down to keep licking him.
He doesn't really know what he's getting into until it happens, automatically tensing up. Thinking about this, fantasizing about it, none of it really compares to it actually happening. He lets out a breath, making a deliberate effort to relax under the attentions of that tongue.
"It's alright," he says in anticipation of a question, shifting a bit.
"Good." It's barely more than a murmur. "You feel perfect, Jacob."
After sinking his finger in to the knuckle, he pulls out slowly and presses
back, fucking him for a few strokes, feeling his body gradually adjust to
that new sensation.
"I'm going to put in another," he warns softly, and gives him time to
object before starting to tease in a second fingertip alongside the first.
It's certainly new, something different and strange and there's a part of him, raised in the South, with a strict religious father, that balks at this. There's a part of him that knows all the names he'd be called for this, all the ways he'd get his ass kicked.
But it feels too good and he wants this so badly - with Astarion, who takes such good care of him.
He moans his agreement, surprised at how quickly he starts to want the pressure and the friction.
Astarion, for his part, had been braced for this to go badly. Faerûn isn't
devoid of homophobia, and he's read things about American culture. He
remembers certain elements of his identity during certain breaches. It
wouldn't have surprised him at all if Jacob had frozen up, panicked, even
gotten angry.
Who knows? He still might. He's not doing anything a woman couldn't do for
him, in theory. Not yet.
He twists his fingers slowly, dragging them in and out in a corkscrew
motion, then curls them deliberately into his prostate.
Jacob has been too far in now to worry about it. The lax attitude on the Barge has helped, along with his own apathy. The first time he took Astarion's cock in his mouth was the moment he committed himself to the fact that he enjoys this. Whatever that makes him.
And then he hits just the right spot and Jacob actually gasps. "Oh goddamn," he breathes out.
Astarion chuckles, pleased and maybe just a little smug. Each thrust is a
little deeper now, his fingers working a little harder to open him up, but
he returns to that little mound inside him each time.
"Yes? I could make you come," he murmurs, "doing this alone. I wouldn't
need to touch you anywhere else."
"I like hearing you say my name when you're all worked up like this," he
breathes, his arm matching the movement of Jacob's hips. Gods, he's
gorgeous. Beautiful to watch, when he's letting desire guide him.
"Do you think you can take another finger? Just a little?"
He doesnt know if he can, but he certainly wants to. He knows that part of this is wanting to please Astarion, to hear that smug tone in his voice again. He gets far too much pleasure from it.
Still, there's another part that is enjoying this. Lying vulnerable, so shameless and needy that he's pushing himself back on those fingers, begging...it's a little intoxicating.
Hurt isn't the right word. It's uncomfortable, fills him up in a way that he's never felt before, but they've gone slowly enough that it doesn't slide anywhere close to hurt.
The moan comes deep from his chest, his toes curling again. "God...goddammit. Astarion..."
He raises his hips a fraction of an inch, rocking friction onto his cock, offsetting the initially strange and open feeling.
Astarion fucks him very shallowly now, working more on getting him
comfortable with that sense of openness than trying to sink deeper. He
can feel him squirming, all but humping the mattress beneath them, and his
cock throbs with sympathetic arousal.
"The way you look when you move, Jacob," he murmurs, sounding almost
wounded. "You're beautiful."
He settles after a blissful sort of moment, relaxing under the touch.
"Goddamn...I feel so...fucking useless like this," he admits, still trying to form a coherent thought even though his entire body is flushed and aching. "I want to fuck you, I want to be fucked, I want - " He trails off at that because everything that he wants to say has been firmly pushed back in his head.
"Tell me what you want, Jacob," Astarion murmurs, moving up his body to
kiss at his shoulders and neck, fingers still moving slowly between his
thighs. He lets his own erection press against Jacob's warm skin, lets him
feel the effect he's having on him.
Everything is frighteningly vague, but Astarion can latch onto the
right-now desire. He's more than happy to fulfil him to that extent.
"Very fortunate that I very much want to fuck you, too," he murmurs. "You
feel ready. Just keep breathing for me."
He keeps the movement as fluid as possible, drawing his fingers free and
briskly slicking his cock. Before Jacob can tense up again, he's pressing
the head of his cock against him, carefully easing it inside.
It's been a while since he's topped. The tightness and heat of him makes
him groan out loud, and the sheer effort of not snapping his hips forward
for more makes his thighs tremble.
There isn't much time for him to anticipate what's happening. It's not as if the cock in question is one Jacob's unfamiliar with, but there's a big difference in having it here versus in his mouth. But there isn't anything to worry about, and he remembers the way it had felt when Astarion's fingers hit him right, hit him exactly where he needed.
He stretches out an arm above him, his knuckles white on the sheets. "Wait," he tells him, letting himself get used to the feeling, not wanting him to pull away.
And then he relaxes, settling down onto the bed again. "Alright, I'm alright."
It shouldn't hurt, Astarion had told him, and it doesn't. Not even a little bit.
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"Fuck..."
He settles immediately, looking over her shoulder, catching a glimpse of him.
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Astarion peeks up at him, his eyes dark and focused on Jacob's backward glance, and he doesn't stop for a moment. His tongue strokes and flicks, circles and pushes, experimenting to learn what he responds to most acutely. His own body feels feverish with arousal.
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In between the touch of his tongue, Jacob raises his hips enough to seek out some relief on his hardened cock.
He says nothing, beyond words at the moment.
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Astarion hums in vicarious pleasure, enjoying the way he shifts and squirms. His thumbs stroke at his rim slowly, tugging him open just a little so he can press with his tongue like he's trying to fuck right into him.
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"This is torture," he breathes, but he doesn't tell him to stop. He doesn't want him to.
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"Oh?"
His fingertip rocks against Jacob's hole, as if he might breach his body with a fraction more pressure.
"May I open you up, Jacob? Give you more?"
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"Perfect."
Astarion kisses his tailbone and presses a slick index finger inside him, in by a fraction and then out by a fraction less, gradually stroking it in deeper. He dips back down to keep licking him.
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"It's alright," he says in anticipation of a question, shifting a bit.
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"Good." It's barely more than a murmur. "You feel perfect, Jacob."
After sinking his finger in to the knuckle, he pulls out slowly and presses back, fucking him for a few strokes, feeling his body gradually adjust to that new sensation.
"I'm going to put in another," he warns softly, and gives him time to object before starting to tease in a second fingertip alongside the first.
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But it feels too good and he wants this so badly - with Astarion, who takes such good care of him.
He moans his agreement, surprised at how quickly he starts to want the pressure and the friction.
"Fuck, this is good."
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"Mmm."
Astarion, for his part, had been braced for this to go badly. Faerûn isn't devoid of homophobia, and he's read things about American culture. He remembers certain elements of his identity during certain breaches. It wouldn't have surprised him at all if Jacob had frozen up, panicked, even gotten angry.
Who knows? He still might. He's not doing anything a woman couldn't do for him, in theory. Not yet.
He twists his fingers slowly, dragging them in and out in a corkscrew motion, then curls them deliberately into his prostate.
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And then he hits just the right spot and Jacob actually gasps. "Oh goddamn," he breathes out.
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Astarion chuckles, pleased and maybe just a little smug. Each thrust is a little deeper now, his fingers working a little harder to open him up, but he returns to that little mound inside him each time.
"Yes? I could make you come," he murmurs, "doing this alone. I wouldn't need to touch you anywhere else."
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"Fuck...Astarion..."
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"I like hearing you say my name when you're all worked up like this," he breathes, his arm matching the movement of Jacob's hips. Gods, he's gorgeous. Beautiful to watch, when he's letting desire guide him.
"Do you think you can take another finger? Just a little?"
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Still, there's another part that is enjoying this. Lying vulnerable, so shameless and needy that he's pushing himself back on those fingers, begging...it's a little intoxicating.
"Yeah," he answers with a shudder in his voice.
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"Just tell me if it's too much, Jacob. This should never hurt."
No matter what he might have heard. No matter how much pain Astarion has become accustomed to.
He slowly strokes Jacob's stretched rim with the tip of his ring finger, then eases it in alongside the index and middle.
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Hurt isn't the right word. It's uncomfortable, fills him up in a way that he's never felt before, but they've gone slowly enough that it doesn't slide anywhere close to hurt.
The moan comes deep from his chest, his toes curling again. "God...goddammit. Astarion..."
He raises his hips a fraction of an inch, rocking friction onto his cock, offsetting the initially strange and open feeling.
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Astarion fucks him very shallowly now, working more on getting him comfortable with that sense of openness than trying to sink deeper. He can feel him squirming, all but humping the mattress beneath them, and his cock throbs with sympathetic arousal.
"The way you look when you move, Jacob," he murmurs, sounding almost wounded. "You're beautiful."
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"Goddamn...I feel so...fucking useless like this," he admits, still trying to form a coherent thought even though his entire body is flushed and aching. "I want to fuck you, I want to be fucked, I want - " He trails off at that because everything that he wants to say has been firmly pushed back in his head.
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"Tell me what you want, Jacob," Astarion murmurs, moving up his body to kiss at his shoulders and neck, fingers still moving slowly between his thighs. He lets his own erection press against Jacob's warm skin, lets him feel the effect he's having on him.
"If I can give it to you, I will."
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"Everything," he says instead, voice muffled by a pillow. "But right now I actually want to be fucked by you."
Words he never thought he'd say about anyone or anything.
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Everything is frighteningly vague, but Astarion can latch onto the right-now desire. He's more than happy to fulfil him to that extent.
"Very fortunate that I very much want to fuck you, too," he murmurs. "You feel ready. Just keep breathing for me."
He keeps the movement as fluid as possible, drawing his fingers free and briskly slicking his cock. Before Jacob can tense up again, he's pressing the head of his cock against him, carefully easing it inside.
It's been a while since he's topped. The tightness and heat of him makes him groan out loud, and the sheer effort of not snapping his hips forward for more makes his thighs tremble.
"Gods...Jacob..."
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He stretches out an arm above him, his knuckles white on the sheets. "Wait," he tells him, letting himself get used to the feeling, not wanting him to pull away.
And then he relaxes, settling down onto the bed again. "Alright, I'm alright."
It shouldn't hurt, Astarion had told him, and it doesn't. Not even a little bit.
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