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ghosttotheparty · 1 year

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if you'd let me want you

also on ao3 thank u @lunaraindrop for the help <3 cw: angst <3 arguing, brief panic attacks

“I’m just saying, man,” Eddie says lightly, leaning against the counter, watching Steve lift a box and set it on a cart. He lets himself watch. Steve isn’t looking at him. He can practically feel the ground shake as Steve rolls his eyes to the ceiling. “You guys make sense together.”

“Just because something makes sense doesn’t mean it…” Steve rips the box open. Eddie wills his face not to flush with heat. “Make sense.”

“That didn’t make sense.”

Steve shoots him a look.

“I don’t like Nancy like that anymore,” he says, almost grumbling. His mood shifted as soon as Eddie brought her up a few minutes ago. He smiled when Eddie showed up at Family Video, greeting him with a bright, “Hey!” but the second Eddie asked if he’s seen Nancy recently, the perpetual soft smile that lingered on his face faded and he looked away. His cheeks flushed pink. So Eddie doesn’t really believe him.

“You know I don’t believe you, right?”

Steve sends a look over at him. But it’s not really a look. He glares at him.

Eddie’s eyebrows raise as Steve looks away again, his stomach twisting.

“You don’t have to believe me, Eddie,” Steve says, his voice twinged with annoyance. “It doesn’t make it… not true.”

“Well, you get all uptight and stiff every time I bring her up,” Eddie says, crossing his arms over his chest like he’s defending himself.

“Yeah, maybe I just don’t wanna talk about my ex with you,” Steve says, his voice firmer, annoyed and slightly louder. Eddie’s chest tightens, and he furrows his brows, his breath caught in his chest.

“This is the kind of thing friends talk about,” he says defensively.

“Maybe I just wanna hang out with you without talking about my fucking love life,” Steve snaps, putting a tape up on a shelf a little too hard. Eddie blinks.

“Why are you pissed?”

“I’m not pissed.”

“You sound pissed. You look pissed.”

“I’m fine, Eddie,” Steve says, sounding even more pissed. “I just don’t wanna talk about it.”

Eddie has a problem. He’s had this problem his whole life.

“Why don’t you wanna talk about it?”

It’s gotten him in trouble before. Many times. At home, at school, with his friends, the assholes that shoved him around in the hallways, against lockers.

“You talk about it with Robin,” he says. “Why is it such a big deal to talk about it with me? What’s your problem?”

He pushes. And prods. And pokes. And annoys the fuck out of whoever he’s talking to, until—

“Jesus, Eddie, I don’t fucking know, just fuck off.”

Eddie stares at him as he looks up at him. His eyes are gleaming, his brows are furrowed, and his cheeks are red, and he looks angry, and for some fucking reason it just pisses Eddie off.

“I wanna help you,” he snaps. “I know you like her, and you guys would be perfect for each other, fuckin’ mister and missus America—”

“I don’t fucking like her,” Steve almost shouts, and Eddie almost flinches back, the volume making its way under his skin, pulling at him and making him ache.

“What’s your fucking deal, Harrington?” He matches his volume.

Steve recoils like Eddie’s slapped him across the face, his eyes wide, and he blinks, his shoulders falling.

“Don’t call me Harrington,” he says weakly. Eddie exhales, staring at him. “You never call me Harrington.”

The door opens across the store, the bell shoving it dinging brightly, and Robin greets them with a cheerful, “Hey, dinguses.”

Neither of them look away, their eyes locked, and Eddie barely even heard Robin’s tentative, “What’s going on?” Steve looks like he might cry, his cheeks still flushed, his eyes shining, and Eddie scoffs, shaking his head and tearing his eyes away from Steve, ignoring Robin and heading to the door. It slams shut behind him.

His hands are shaking as he fumbles with his keys, biting his trembling lip as he slides into the driver's seat, and he looks up into the store as he starts the van. Robin is looking at Steve, confused, still holding her bag in her hands, and Steve is covering his face, holding a tape before he shouts something Eddie can’t hear and throws the tape across the store.

Eddie’s vision swims and he pulls out of the parking lot without buckling his seat belt.

———————

He doesn’t see Steve for another four days.

He doesn’t really have to. It’s not like they tend to hang out every day. (Every other day, maybe. Sometimes more. But they don’t have a strict schedule, and Steve doesn’t come inside when he drops the kids off at Eddie’s for Hellfire on Thursday.)

Four whole days.

Is it pathetic that he misses him? Probably. It’s only four days, but Eddie feels hollow, like something is missing just because he hasn’t heard Steve’s voice.

Steve seems to feel the same way, which doesn’t really make Eddie feel better, even though his heart fucking soars when he opens the door to his apartment to find Steve standing there, his hair damp from the rain. He’s somehow looking up at Eddie despite being almost the exact same height as him.

“Hi,” Eddie says quietly, holding the door open. Steve rocks up onto his toes, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket, and he glances past Eddie into the apartment.

“Is Wayne here?”

Eddie blinks, his heart falling, and Steve seems to notice it, because he hurriedly says, “I’m not— I just wanna talk to you, like, alone. I just… wanna make sure.”

“Oh.” Eddie blinks again. “No, he’s— he’s at work.”

“Okay.” Steve pauses, swallowing, swaying. “Can I… Can I come in?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says after staring at him for a moment. “Yeah, come in.”

Steve exhales as he enters, pushing his hair back. His jacket is spotted with rain. Eddie forgot it was raining at all. He can’t hear rain much in this apartment. Unless it’s pouring.

“Talk,” Eddie says, heading into the kitchen. The kettle isn’t boiling yet, and he feels underdressed next to Steve, who’s wearing jeans and a tucked-in button-down, his jacket neatly pressed except for the rain. Eddie’s just in sweatpants and a grey sweater that’s two sizes too big.

“I, uhm.” Steve hesitates, taking a breath.

Eddie leans against the counter next to the stove, crossing his arms, looking up at him.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” Steve says, leaning against the wall across from Eddie. It’s a small kitchen. Their feet are almost touching.

Eddie doesn’t say anything.

“I was…” Steve pauses, swallowing anxiously, his hands shifting in his pockets. “I was upset, and I lashed out at you, and I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”

Eddie looks into his eyes. They’re shining again. They always are.

“I don’t get why you were upset,” Eddie says quietly, feeling like he’s confessing something. He often doesn’t get why people feel certain things. Why people get annoyed at him for the things he does when he isn’t hurting anyone. Why people laugh when there’s nothing to laugh about. Why people get upset when he tries to help them.

Especially with something like all this with Steve. He and Nancy would be perfect together. Nancy Wheeler and Steve Harrington. White picket fence and a soccer team of children and yearly vacations and everything someone like Eddie Munson could never have.

He hasn’t told anyone that he doesn’t understand what they’re feeling in a long time. The last few times he told them they’ve scoffed and rolled their eyes and accused him of lying to get away with being an asshole, even when he was so adamant he worked himself to tears.

But Steve doesn’t do any of those things. He looks at Eddie and believes him.

“I don’t like Nancy anymore,” Steve says. He sounds close to tears. “And it just… pissed me off that you just didn’t believe me.”

He must see the doubt on Eddie’s face.

“I don't like her anymore,” Steve says. “I swear.”

Eddie looks back and forth between his eyes.

“I see how you look at her, Steve,” he says softly, and he wants to go throw himself out the living room window. Because he sounds so desperate, so fucking honest, and Steve can probably see right into him.

“How do I look at her?” Steve asks desperately, his head tilting forward.

“Like she’s perfect,” Eddie says, his arms uncrossing. The kettle is starting to boil, the whistle low and quiet. “Like she’s fucking flawless, like she’s… the fucking sunset or something.”

“Eddie,” Steve says weakly, his shoulders slumping.

“I don’t get it,” Eddie says adamantly. The whistle is growing in pitch. “I don’t get why you don’t like her, she’s— she is perfect, she’s the one for you—”

“No, she’s not,” Steve says angrily.

He doesn’t even seem to notice the kettle whistling loudly, screeching at them, and Eddie huffs, turning away.

“Jesus,” he mutters, turning off the burner. “What do you want from me, Steve?” he asks, pulling the kettle off the burner, feeling it vibrate as it whistles.

“I don’t want anything from you, I want you.”

The kettle falls quiet.

The kitchen is silent.

Eddie blinks at the kettle, the words washing over him like cold water, and he almost drops the kettle as he sets it down heavily. It lands loudly on the stove, clattering on the burner, and he turns around to look at Steve.

Steve’s eyes are wide as he realises what he’s just said, and Eddie isn’t breathing, and he’s trembling, and Steve takes a sharp breath before he turns away.

Eddie reaches out and grabs his shirt, pulling him back.

Except he doesn’t do that.

He yells, at the top of his lungs, as loud as he can, I want you too. I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything.

Except he doesn’t do that either.

Steve leaves, slamming the door shut behind himself.

Eddie lets him.

———————

Six days.

Six fucking empty days.

Wayne notices that something is off, but he doesn’t ask, because he knows Eddie won’t tell. If he were to ask, Eddie would probably just burst into tears, and Wayne had never known what to do when Eddie cries. It’s not like Grandpa Munson was a touchy-feely guy. Wayne’s always just brought him tea and tissues and given him a hug if he wanted one.

Eddie covers it up when the kids come over to the apartment to hang out. Lucas tells him he asked Steve if he wanted to come up to say hi, but that Steve has errands to run. Eddie just quips that Steve is a big boy, all old and mature. The kids laugh, living in their sweet, sweet ignorance.

When the kids aren’t over, and Corroded guys aren’t over, he’s holed up in his room, staring at the ceiling with his headphones on. (He can’t use his speakers anymore because of complaints from the neighbours.) Trying to let the music drown out the words that are bouncing around his skull like a pinball.

I want you. I want you. I want you.

On the seventh day, Robin calls him.

He doesn’t want to answer the phone, but he trudges up out of bed, pushing his hair out of his face. He’s still wearing the same sweater.

She tells him the Party’s having a movie night at Steve’s.

Eddie’s chest aches at the sound of Steve’s name.

You’re gonna be there, she says, because she seems to know how his brain works better than anyone else he’s met. You’re gonna be there gets him to change his sweater.

His eyes meet Steve’s when he goes inside, but they both look away, and Eddie immediately swerves to the other side of the living room, scooping El into his arms and cackling evilly when she screams his name.

Steve sits with Robin on the sofa. Eddie can tell Robin knows something is up, but he can also tell that Steve hasn’t told her anything because she glances at Eddie, then at Steve, and Steve ignores her, his eyes trained on Dustin as he argues with Will about something.

The lights shut off when the movie starts.

Steve leans against the armrest of the sofa, Robin leans against him, and Nancy leans against her. Jonathan and Argyle are on the floor, Jonathan’s head on Argyle’s shoulder. The kids are all on the floor, tangled and piled on top of each other like a litter of puppies.

Eddie doesn’t even know which movie is playing. He keeps looking at Steve.

He feels like his veins are filled with wax, his body tense and stiff and so anxious he’s shaking a little bit.

I want you.

Eddie looks over at him again, the words echoing in his head, in the exact cadence and emphasis that Steve spoke in, adamant and angry and desperate.

Steve’s eyes meet his across the room. They’re shining. Reflecting the flashing lights of the movie.

Eddie tilts his head, gesturing silently, weakly, toward the kitchen.

Steve inhales, his jaw working, and he sighs quietly, squeezing Robin’s arm and moving to get up. She looks up at him, then at Eddie, then at Nancy, moving so Steve can get up, pulling Nancy closer.

Eddie gets up quietly, stepping behind the sofa so he doesn’t get in anyone’s view of the movie before he follows Steve down the hall to the kitchen, shutting the door behind them.

Steve crosses his arms when he enters the kitchen like he’s protecting himself, looking sulky and upset and so small it makes Eddie want to cry. He leans against the island, looking at the floor, biting his lip, and Eddie steps to be in front of him, leaning against the wall.

They're both quiet. Eddie can almost hear the movie, muffled and quiet through the door and down the endless hallway. Eddie can almost hear his own heartbeat. He listens to Steve’s breath.

“Did you mean it?” he asks softly, almost whispering.

Steve looks up at him, his eyes flicking back and forth between Eddie’s before he looks away, at the floor, his eyes moving like he’s looking for something.

“Steve,” Eddie says weakly when Steve doesn’t say anything. “Did you mean it?”

Steve takes a sharp breath, his lip trembling.

“Yes.”

Eddie exhales.

The floor is solid beneath his feet.

Holy shit.

He steps forward, looking at Steve’s face. His eyes are squeezed shut.

Eddie reaches up to his cheek, wiping away a tear, and Steve startles, his eyes flying open to look at Eddie, his eyes filled with tears, scared and desperate. He’s breathing hard, blinking.

“I want you too,” Eddie whispers.

“Don’t fuck with me right now, Eddie, please.” Steve’s voice squeaks, breaks and chokes, and Eddie reaches up to hold his face between his hands, wiping away the tears that fall from his eyes. Steve is gasping for breath, and Eddie presses a hand firmly against his chest as it rises and falls quickly.

“I’m not fucking with you, Stevie,” he murmurs. Steve’s hands grab at Eddie’s waist, gripping the fabric of his sweater. (This one is black.) He’s holding him too tightly, but Eddie doesn’t mind. “I want you, I’ve wanted you for so long.”

Steve closes his eyes hard, his brows furrowing as he pants, and Eddie leans close, pressing their foreheads together, murmuring to him. Breathe, Steve, slowly. You got it.

It takes a while for his breathing to slow, and Eddie slides his hand up his chest when it does, moving it up over the collar of his sweatshirt, over his neck, to his cheek.

“Why’d you push me to go with Nancy?” Steve chokes, blinking tears out of his eyes, and Eddie’s eyes burn, aching because he can’t explain it.

“I don’t…” He hesitates, shrugging weakly, holding Steve’s cheeks carefully, tenderly. He sighs, letting his head fall forward so their foreheads meet as he thinks. “Because boys like me don’t get things like this,” he says softly, quietly.

“Yes, they do,” Steve whispers.

Eddie’s eyes squeeze shut.

They’re quiet for a moment, sharing breaths, until Eddie slowly slides his hands across Steve’s neck, hugging him tightly, and Steve’s arms wrap around his waist, pulling him against himself harshly, strongly. A soft sound escapes Eddie’s throat, and his eyes burn more, and he buries his face in Steve’s neck as Steve’s shoulders shake.

Their friends are down the hall. Anyone could come in for chips or soda or water, and find them here, crying in each other’s arms, and the thought of the absurdity of it makes Eddie laugh. Steve’s hand slides over his back, holding him so tightly Eddie can barely breathe.

“Holy shit,” he breathes, burying a hand in Steve’s hair. “Holy shit, holy shit.”

“Eddie,” Steve says softly, pulling away and looking at him, and he lifts his hands to Eddie’s face, wiping his tears away so tenderly it just makes Eddie cry more.

Eddie’s eyes flutter shut when Steve pulls at his face, pressing a hard, lingering kiss to his mouth, and when they part, Eddie gasps, opening his mouth for him and pulling him closer until Steve kisses him again.

Steve’s hands reach down and pull at Eddie’s legs, picking him up with unfair ease, and Eddie clutches at him desperately as Steve turns to set him on the counter. Eddie’s legs wrap around him tightly, whimpering when Steve’s hands press to his back and waist and his hips.

“‘M sorry,” Steve breathes between frenzied kisses. “‘M so sorry.”

“Me too,” Eddie says, panting. “I’m sorry, Stevie, just… I need…”

“Breathe,” Steve says weakly. Eddie closes his eyes. He didn’t even realise it, but he’s gasping for breath, each one getting caught in his throat, hiccupping and choking, and he grips Steve’s shoulders tightly, so hard it probably hurts, but he can’t let go, and Steve doesn’t say anything except, “Breathe.”

Eddie hugs him tightly, desperately, and Steve hugs him back just the same, pressing a hand to the small of his back. Eddie is swaying back and forth, which he doesn't realise until after a few seconds, and he stops himself. It makes people seasick, distracts them, he's heard it all, and he's just gotten Steve's arms around him. He doesn't want to mess this up.

But Steve tugs at his back, stepping closer to the island so his chest is pressed to Eddie, and he starts to sway. Eddie buries his face in Steve's neck, his eyes stinging, and he lets Steve move him, weight dropping off his shoulders, his breaths coming out easier and easier until he's breathing normally. They don't stop swaying together, rocking back and forth slowly, carefully, until Eddie lifts his head and touches his face. His skin is tacky with drying tears, the streaks shining in the dim light of the kitchen. Eddie wipes them away before he leans in and kisses him softly.

"Do you wanna go finish the movie?" Steve asks when they part, his lips still brushing Eddie's as he speaks.

"I don't even know what movie it is."

"Me either. Do you wanna go be confused together?"

"Yeah. That sounds nice."

They pause to sip at a glass of water together before they head back to the living room, their fingers laced. No one pays them any mind except Robin, whose eyes catch their hands, and she raises an eyebrow, smiling up at Steve as he sits next to her again. Robin moves, nudging Nancy so she shifts to lean against the opposite armrest, and Eddie squeezes in between Steve and Robin. Steves's arm makes its way around Eddie's shoulders as they look at the television. (Eddie can't even guess what's happening in the movie.)

Eddie closes his eyes, leaning against Steve, pressing his face into his chest, and he pulls one of his legs up, setting it across Steve's. Steve pulls him in closer, tighter, his cheek resting on Eddie's head.

Eddie shifts to face him, nuzzling into his chest and wrapping an arm around his waist, cuddling as closely and as tightly as he can as he takes a long, deep breath and exhales slowly. Steve smells like his cologne. Eddie wants to keep the smell. Maybe find it on his pillows.

He falls asleep to the sound of Steve's heartbeat.

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secret-smut-sideblog · 3 months

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Bite The Hand

Astarion x F! Dark Urge

18+ feelings developing, sad durge stuff, bondage, roughness, fingering (f!) oral (f!), p-in-v, slight ass play, blood drinking, two bloodthirsty idiots falling for eachother

"You're sure?"

Her eyes heavy, but trusting. "Yes, wrists bound."

He had been trying to get her to spend the night with him again, though he would never admit how eager he had been.

He had become quite infatuated with her. Them being, well, together. Whatever that means. Even talking her through her little murder attempt. His murder attempt. Gods would anything ever be simple.

When he would dance around the subject of spending time alone together again he would see her jaw clench just slightly. Maybe another night. She'd reassure.

He understood her hesitation, of course. Hells she had tried to kill him in his sleep not long ago. But despite himself, he wanted to be near her. To spend time with her, away from the others.

Though her base nature was sinister, she shined with goodness. Honestly, she could do with more mean, in his opinion. Though he had been coming to understand it was a concentrated effort for her.

Only in small moments she would allow herself to dip into her malicious nature and it drove him mad. And Gods, the way she kissed him... lips plush, heavenly. She was designed to ruin men like him. He was hopelessly enthralled.

So when she had finally relented and agreed to spend the night with him, his chest thrilled. With one catch.

"Darling, I hardly think that's necessary. You know I ask before I bite."

The corner of her mouth twitched in a smile. Eyes lightened slightly. He preened at making her brighten.

"I'm serious asshole," He breathed a laugh. "It would give me peace of mind, at least."

Her eyes softening again. "I do want to spend time with you, truly. I just dont trust myself right now." Tears threatening the corners.

"I would never forgive myself if I-"

"Oh, hush," He soothed, pulling her into him gently. "I'll do it, dont worry." He murmured into her hair. Tiger lily. Blood orange. Gods, even her scent was like a drug. He resisted burying his face in her.

With the nightly insect song outside his tent, he teased her. Revelled in her.

Sitting cross legged on the floor of his tent, her wrists being expertly bound by him. He hovered around her, making like it was a sensual thing they had agreed to. Making it a game. He purred sweet words in her ear, fingers working. Vexed her. Savoured in her blush.

"You're so full of it." She laughed, the tips of her ears deliciously flushed.

He pulled his hand to his chest, mock offended. "Darling, the only thing I am full of is your hot blood." He admonished. She snorted, her foot gently kicking his side.

He had kept focus on his technique but found it difficult. The sight of her long slender hands. Silk soft. Patterns of vitiligo, light and dark. Claws long and sharp. Delicate but deadly, being bound by him.

"You seem... distracted." She smiled, a wicked gleam in her eye.

He shot her a look, only making her smile wider. Rearranged to be sitting on her knees, back arched just slightly. Oh he loved when she got like this.

"What makes you say that, my sweet?" He intoned, caging her thighs between his, rope twisting and pulling.

"You know," She leaned forward, lips delicately tickling his neck. Her heat permeating him. "You're not as slick as you think you are."

He held back a shiver as she ghosted her lips against his skin, trailing up to his ear. Her sweet voice a deadly tonic.

"You have tells, frywm wlas." He squeezed her thighs between his at the pet name.

She had teased previously that he was so pale that he was fresh snow, repeated it back to him in infernal. That she loved to see him drenched in blood in the same way. Hells below, that had fed his nighttime fantasies for weeks.

Hundreds of years of seduction had made him a master, but her... she was something else.

"These really should be behind my back you know." She mused, testing the strength of his work as he finished. Hands resting in her lap. Seemed impressed by the intricate ties.

"While I dont doubt that you can do untold damage with all of your limbs tied, I think this should be sufficient." He absentmindedly pushed a lock of her hair behind her ear.

She looked up at him, her eyes soft. Seemed about to say something then bit it back.

"Please, indulge me." He murmured, a delicate prodding. Hand trailing to cup her cheek.

She sighed into his touch, eyes fluttering closed. "Its just, you're so gentle. I've been... well, I dont know if I've ever been touched this way."

His dead heart ached. Struck again by how similar they were.

"Is it okay? The touching, I mean." He whispered.

Her eyes seemed to swim in thought. "I think so. It feels good."

She relaxed, eyes closing again. "I dont feel sick when you touch me. It's a nice break."

His eyebrows threaded together in confusion. Sick?

Another spear through him. "Caron," He tested, "How do you usually feel?"

Her eyes opened in a flash, realizing that she had divulged something that she hadn't meant to. Lips forming a thin line.

Her eyes tried to escape his but he wouldn't let her slip away. "Caron?"

"It hurts, all the time. The nausea is worse." She shook her head gently. "I'm more used to it now, can push it to the back of my mind easier."

He wanted to say something comforting, something profound. But no words would be enough.

"It only stops when I kill. When there's violence." She smiled sadly. "Luckily there's been a lot of that lately. Imagine if we lived in a little house in Lower City... the carnage."

Her effort to lighten the mood struck him a third time. Was... he in her dreaming of the future? Felt a swell in his chest.

"Astarion?" She questioned softly. He realized he hadn't said anything. Leaving her in silence.

"I should go, this was a bad idea." She flustered quietly, started to stand.

He grabbed her hands. "Please," Eyes boring into hers. "Please dont go."

Her eyes went wide, seeing something in his expression, in the strain in his words.

"You dont have to be alone." He pulled her back.

"I dont have to be alone." Shakily, more to himself. The truth.

"And isnt it terrifying?" She smiled knowingly, tears in the corners of her eyes. Sinking back down to him.

His eyes flashed to hers. "Yes."

Pulled her strong into a kiss.

She moaned into his mouth, the softest cry. Turning her head to slot perfectly into him.

His hands in her hair, gripping her waist, her hips. He finally had something, someone. Drinking her in, gorging himself on her soft body.

Needing more, his hands met the front of her tunic, fingers flashing the buttons open.

Trailed his mouth to her neck, the space under her ear, the space where her jaw began.

Her little gaspy breaths permeated his mind. The haze of lust blinding.

"Well I'd like to help, but.." She breathed, could hear the smile in her voice. Tied hands mock straining.

"If you touched me right now I'd go mad." He warned, voice low.

Heard her breath catch. Her pupils widening to saucers.

He pulled her tunic off, now only draped helplessly around her arms. The sight of her soft flesh, ridged spikes leading him down. Her full breasts, the soft curve of her belly, the dip of her waist.

He groaned, low in his throat.

Hungry mouth encasing her hard peak, fingers pinching and rolling the other.

She arched hard into him, the skin of her sternum caressing his clavicle. Shocked again by how soft she was. Lamb's ear.

He laved his tongue up and down her nipple, panting. Already engorged by his devotion.

She writhed beneath him, pushing her chest up into his mouth. Little pleading moans. Legs wrapping around his hips.

Feeling the muscles encasing his hips he moaned. Her legs were deadly strong, he knew. Had watched her kick down a double door with ease to get in a burning building. It would take very little effort for her to gain the upper hand.

But she didn't, just clung to him like a buoy in a storm. If his touch was a relief, he'd give her as much as he could.

His fingers trailed down her front, finding her leggings offering resistance.

"Gods, why aren't you naked already?" He groaned in frustration, yanking the damned things off her plush hips.

"And whose fault is that?" She gasped between his harsh pulls.

"You're right." Leaning forward to purr in her ear. "In the future I'd prefer you come to my tent in just my camp shirt."

"Deal." She licked and bit at his ear, now within her reach.

He shuddered, much to her delight. A little triumphant moan directly in his ear.

His limbs on fire he flipped her onto her belly, her tied hands above her head. Pulled her hips up hard. Seeing the wetness already flowing out of her in rivulets.

"I warned you." He groaned low to her gasp.

"Oh no, whatever shall I do..." She teased, waving her ass back and forth at him.

He growled deep in his chest, diving on her. His mouth seeking and ravenous on her cunt.

She swore in infernal, hips quaking. Her tied hands pounding down against the ground. She pushed into him harder, hips greedy.

He was gone against her, tongue lapping and hot. A frenzy. Hooking his arm around her as her hips threatened to give out. Suckling down around her hard clit, nibbling. Smiling into her as he heard more vulgar language.

Finally coming up for air he teased his two fingers inside her, other hand gently circling her tight asshole. Reveling in the little gasp that left her.

"It seems like you want more, my hellion."

Her tail lashed around him in frustration, only deepening his smile.

"You're the devil, you know that right?" She groaned into her arm as his fingers curled into her.

He laughed at the irony. On his knees he trailed a hand down her spine, fingers picking up pace. She was so warm, a furnace against his body.

"Astarion," She groaned, hips driving into his hand. Oh he would never tire of the way she said his name.

"Yes?" He purred.

"If you dont fuck me right now I'm going to kill you."

Knew she meant it as a joke. Probably. The danger thrilled hot in his pelvis. Painfully aroused, he finally freed himself.

Lining himself up to her, gripping her hip. Heard her groan in pleasure at his rough hold.

Slowly he sank into her, hips already threatening to slam down. Gods she was perfect. The pressure unbelievable, the muscles of her gripping him already.

Fully buried, his eyes fluttered shut. Not even started and he was already in ecstasy.

"You're so beautiful." She breathed. Opening his eyes he saw that she had twisted to look at him. Her eyes glowing a haunting green in the dim light. He could always find them in the dark.

Fondness for her spilling in his chest he leaned forward, catching her around her neck. Pulling her up to him in a deep kiss.

Hips slowly starting to roll into her, he kiss her, savoring.

Her mewls into his mouth a sirens call, back arching against him. His hand still on her throat, applying gentle pressure. Other reaching down to swirl circles on her clit.

Could feel her body shaking, her clenches around him getting stronger. Still he kept a languid pace, hand on her neck arching up, pulling her throat free for him. But he didnt bite down. Not yet.

"I want you to bite me when I come." Her voice, dark. His hips stuttered, concentration briefly broken.

"Yes," Was the only response he could muster. His voice a groan.

Her gasps getting closer and closer, a birds eye view of her chest heaving. Hands straining against his bonds. Head thrown back against him, breathing in her scent fully. Hitting the back of his throat, making him salivate.

Hand a blur against her clit he couldn't take it anymore, needed to taste her, needed her to come all over him.

She tried to lurch forward as it hit her but he wouldn't let her escape. Hand still steady on her shrieking throat he bit down hard. Pulling her molten blood into his throat.

The supernova of pleasure in it hitting the back of his skull like a hammer. Eyes rolled so far back he thought he might go blind he released. Her vice grip around him wrenching him for all he was worth. A loud whimpering cry wet against her throat. Hand pulling her further back into him. Couldn't get enough, not ever.

Her tied hands swung back and hooked behind his head, holding him there as she writhed and begged. His hips still pushing into her. "The blood, the blood," She moaned, her voice a tempest as she clamped down around him in her final throes.

Sitting back on his haunches he let her fall into him. Her gasps against his chest.

She let her full weight against him, head lolling into the curve of his neck.

He hushed and cooed into her, one hand pulling the hair from her face, other freeing her from her restraint.

Her hands falling free she cupped the back of his head, holding him so sweetly.

"Can we lay down?" She asked, voice still little more than a breath.

"Of course." He crooned, pulling her down onto his bedroll. Laying on his side next to her.

"Oh come on," She groaned in frustration. Pulling him into her, their limbs tangling.

He blinked, about to pull away but her hand gently scratching his scalp melted him. His head coming to rest on her chest. The drum of her heartbeat a song. So so warm.

They lay like that a while, a tranquil silence. Intertwined bodies finding eachother.

"Thank you." She whispered, could hear her heart picking up speed. "For trusting me."

He huffed against her. "I could say the same. You're not uniquely troubled, you martyr." Her laugh shaking his head.

"But you're welcome. It's easy with you."

Part 3

#theyre so in love its fucked up. idiots #sprays them with water like bad cats #astarion x dark urge #astarion x tav #astarion smut

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