Astarion clings onto him, feeling the way he stiffens and surges into his
body, kissing him through it.
"Ah-"
He finally manages to unclench one hand from around Jacob's shoulder to
reach down between their body, stroking himself so fast and hard that it
borders on uncomfortable.
It doesn't take much. Within a few moments he feel the tension in his body
shrink to a single point at his core and then suddenly unravel in a dense
wave of relief. His mind empties. The world disappears.
"Why this time? Why are you leaving now and not before?"
He moves, trying to meet his face. "It - doesn't have to be like this. It wasn't the last goddamn time." When they showered. When he slept. When there was nothing but actual feeling.
"I don't get it. When am I your friend and when am I just a good fuck?"
Astarion keeps moving, slipping his feet over the edge of the bed.
Well. This is done, isn't it? It's his fault, again, just like with
John. You let these things go too far, once or twice, and you can't pull
it back. Not really. He should have known better. It was already too
much when Jacob was killed just to make a point. The pleasure, the simple
escape, it gets mixed up with these more complex things and he can't...
He can't.
"I don't sleep with my friends," he says. "Last time was - a mistake."
"Yeah, well I ain't last time," he says with a frown. He stands up, following him, not physically stopping him but trying to get him to at least look at him. "But if you have to choose, then forget the fucking and just be my goddamn friend, Astarion."
Astarion looks at him, finally, and there's the briefest flicker of
something vulnerable - surprise, confusion. He's being told to choose
between the friendship and the benefits, and that's the choice Jacob
wants from him? The part he's bad at, the part where he's offering Jacob
essentially nothing? Why?
"...Fine."
He gets up off the bed and grabs his clothes so he can dress.
"Yeah, I've been out plenty. Enough to know that you're more important than a casual fuck. You think I would have said that shit to - him - if that's all you were? Jesus..."
Astarion doesn't shrug him off, but only because he's frozen like an animal
in a trap, too startled to even struggle.
"I..."
He feels lost. Why do people insist on putting labels on things? He was
perfectly content with being a casual fuck who Jacob held in inexplicably
high esteem. That would have been fine. But now it isn't? Apparently?
"Were you?" He moves in front of him now, the dim light from the lamp casting shadows along both of them.
"I don't know shit about relationships or friendships. I only know survival. But you make surviving this place bearable. And you don't even fucking know it."
He looks down, trying to keep his head on straight. Casual fucks don't play in the goddamn snow. Casual fucks don't go on walks. Casual bucks don't spill their goddamn secrets. Casual bucks don't stand in front of an abuser for each other.
That's Jacob's line, but he doesn't know what the answer is. He doesn't know what the options are.
"I said I wanted friendship. So - that. You're fucked up. I'm fucked up. It doesn't mean we have to go ride off into the goddamn sunset." He's scrambling a little, his mouth getting ahead of his brain. He's almost panicked.
"But I want you not to run off like I don't mean shit. I want to show you things you haven't seen before like I did today. I want to hear about your weird as fuck magic world. I want to - I dont know. Hate Cazador with you and figure shit out. That's all I want."
For a moment, Astarion feels a sharp spike of something like nostalgia for
a time when things were simple. When his longest relationships lasted a
few hours and ended as his partner walked away under Cazador's thrall, as
meek as a lamb. When it was understood that he was unfit for anything more
ambitious, anything more emotional, anything that might (gods forbid)
benefit either party.
He's too weak to be cruel right now. It was easy to spit acid at John
Gaius when he was on his way off the ship regardless, but here and now? He
can't afford to lose what few allies he has. He can't burn this bridge.
Not yet. He can't extend the mercy of letting Jacob know that he's seeing
something in him that simply isn't there.
"I don't do...'friends'. I haven't. Historically."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Astarion clings onto him, feeling the way he stiffens and surges into his body, kissing him through it.
"Ah-"
He finally manages to unclench one hand from around Jacob's shoulder to reach down between their body, stroking himself so fast and hard that it borders on uncomfortable.
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He looks so fucking good underneath him, so open. And Jacob wants nothing more than to worship him in this moment.
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It doesn't take much. Within a few moments he feel the tension in his body shrink to a single point at his core and then suddenly unravel in a dense wave of relief. His mind empties. The world disappears.
For a few moments, he just drifts.
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He shudders as he pulls away, moving off of him to lie to the side.
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Astarion shivers again as Jacob withdraws, arching languidly and then relaxing.
"Feeling warmed up, darling?"
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He drapes his arm across his stomach as he turns to face him.
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"Mostly. No longer quite the chill of the grave," he teases, and leans in for a fleeting brush of a kiss.
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He spreads his fingers along Astarion's chest. "You can get warmer, if you want. I got plenty of that to spare."
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"I know." Another kiss, and then he sits up, stretching. "But I'll be going back to my coffin to rest, darling."
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Except it isn't.
"Hey," he mutters, running a hand down his face. "Astarion...stay here. I don't want you to go."
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Astarion doesn't flinch, but it's a close thing.
"...Yes, well. I do," he says, without looking back at him. "Fortunately, that's an impasse we can resolve by me leaving."
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He moves, trying to meet his face. "It - doesn't have to be like this. It wasn't the last goddamn time." When they showered. When he slept. When there was nothing but actual feeling.
"I don't get it. When am I your friend and when am I just a good fuck?"
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Astarion keeps moving, slipping his feet over the edge of the bed.
Well. This is done, isn't it? It's his fault, again, just like with John. You let these things go too far, once or twice, and you can't pull it back. Not really. He should have known better. It was already too much when Jacob was killed just to make a point. The pleasure, the simple escape, it gets mixed up with these more complex things and he can't...
He can't.
"I don't sleep with my friends," he says. "Last time was - a mistake."
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Astarion looks at him, finally, and there's the briefest flicker of something vulnerable - surprise, confusion. He's being told to choose between the friendship and the benefits, and that's the choice Jacob wants from him? The part he's bad at, the part where he's offering Jacob essentially nothing? Why?
"...Fine."
He gets up off the bed and grabs his clothes so he can dress.
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He throws on his pants and sits at the edge of his bed, listening to him move around in the darkness.
"You're such a dick sometimes, but - you're the best fucking friend I have here. So don't do - this - shit, huh?"
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Astarion lets out a half-manic little giggle.
"You should really get out more, darling."
Too revealing. Maybe he's just tired.
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"Yeah, I've been out plenty. Enough to know that you're more important than a casual fuck. You think I would have said that shit to - him - if that's all you were? Jesus..."
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Astarion doesn't shrug him off, but only because he's frozen like an animal in a trap, too startled to even struggle.
"I..."
He feels lost. Why do people insist on putting labels on things? He was perfectly content with being a casual fuck who Jacob held in inexplicably high esteem. That would have been fine. But now it isn't? Apparently?
"I didn't give it much thought," he says lamely.
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He steps closer, feeling himself falling apart, but at least that's not a new sensation.
"Why are you doing this?"
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"I'm not doing anything," he says tersely. "I was more than happy for things to go on as they were."
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"I don't know shit about relationships or friendships. I only know survival. But you make surviving this place bearable. And you don't even fucking know it."
He looks down, trying to keep his head on straight. Casual fucks don't play in the goddamn snow. Casual fucks don't go on walks. Casual bucks don't spill their goddamn secrets. Casual bucks don't stand in front of an abuser for each other.
They have been that for a long time.
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Well, he knows now.
It...does not sit comfortably with him.
"...I don't know what you want from me."
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That's Jacob's line, but he doesn't know what the answer is. He doesn't know what the options are.
"I said I wanted friendship. So - that. You're fucked up. I'm fucked up. It doesn't mean we have to go ride off into the goddamn sunset." He's scrambling a little, his mouth getting ahead of his brain. He's almost panicked.
"But I want you not to run off like I don't mean shit. I want to show you things you haven't seen before like I did today. I want to hear about your weird as fuck magic world. I want to - I dont know. Hate Cazador with you and figure shit out. That's all I want."
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For a moment, Astarion feels a sharp spike of something like nostalgia for a time when things were simple. When his longest relationships lasted a few hours and ended as his partner walked away under Cazador's thrall, as meek as a lamb. When it was understood that he was unfit for anything more ambitious, anything more emotional, anything that might (gods forbid) benefit either party.
He's too weak to be cruel right now. It was easy to spit acid at John Gaius when he was on his way off the ship regardless, but here and now? He can't afford to lose what few allies he has. He can't burn this bridge. Not yet. He can't extend the mercy of letting Jacob know that he's seeing something in him that simply isn't there.
"I don't do...'friends'. I haven't. Historically."
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