sixfeetofdirt | TLV: IC Contact

"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.

"Fuck, this is good."

"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.

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."

His teeth sink into his arm a little. "God, I can't imagine." But he's already starting to push back into him, shameless and needy.

"Fuck...Astarion..."

"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.

"Yeah," he answers with a shudder in his voice.

"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.

"No, it doesn't hurt..."

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.

"If I can give it to you, I will."

He shakes his head, pressing his forehead into the bed. He's not ready to admit that. He's not ready to admit that he wants.

"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.

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..."

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.

Astarion waits, trying not to make any desperate pleading noises, and he feels in Jacob's body that the moment of uncertainty has passed - but he still waits for him to say the word before sinking deeper. He all but blankets his body over the human's, kissing his shoulders, soaking in the warmth of his skin and the sound of his accelerated heartbeat.

At the pace he's going, it feels like it takes forever before his body comes flush with Jacob's. He kisses his throat.

"Gods. Thank you - thank you for saying something. Still alright?"

There's a thrilling feeling of fucking success as he feels Astarion's cool skin against him and he reaches back with one hand to take his. "Yeah," he says in a breathless sort of laugh. "Yeah, I'm - fuck, it feels so good."

He didn't think that this would ever feel like satisfaction, but it does. Maybe it's just Astarion. Jacob knows he'll likely never figure out the answer to that. He can't imagine doing this with any other man, and that's a thought that doesn't terrify him.

"You feel wonderful" Astarion purrs, squeezing Jacob's hand gently. "I couldn't ask for more."

He rolls his hips fractionally, not doing much more than grinding against him at first, not moving in or out by now than an inch. Even that's enough to make him groan, unrestrained.

"You're dying as much as I am," he remarks, astonished that anyone could want him this much. As he always is.

"You can move. I'm alright. I'll - tell you if it's not."

"Thank you."

He pulls out a little more, pushes in a little deeper, slowly beginning to fuck him in earnest.

"Are you - mm - are you surprised that I want you so very badly? After everything I've said?"

He lets go of his hand, pressing the blankets underneath him. "Like this? ...yes. And no," he admits, biting back a moan. "You know you're so - goddamn beautiful? Like someone should - put you in a museum."

He takes a moment, rocking back into him in rhythm, raising his hips to meet him.

"Still amazing that you want me."

"You really shouldn't think so little of yourself," Astarion murmurs, giving his shoulder a stinging little bite.

"I am very beautiful, and being put on a pedestal is the last thing I want. What I want is - this," he punctuates the word with a deeper thrust inside him. "You."

His gasp turns to a soft cry, sweat beading along his forehead along with a rush of pleasure as Astarion hits him just right. It sweeps through him like fire, leaving him desperate in the aftermath.

"Good. I want you with me," he mutters once he catches his breath.

"Just - god, just like this."

"Just like this," Astarion echoes. This slow rhythm, the soft words, the kisses he can't stop pressing to Jacob's skin - it feels like lovemaking, and he doesn't want it to feel like anything else. Whatever this is, right now, it's perfect.

He slips his hand under Jacob's body, curling it around his shaft and giving him a slow stroke.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject