[ Astarion pulls away, and it really does feel like a loss — the edge of which is dulled only because the vampire stays close, Winter's hand still curled into the fabric at his back.
He does feel a little lightheaded, and that might be the blood loss, or it might be... everything else. The soft purr of Astarion's voice, the look in his eyes, and the red painted across his lips. Whatever it is, Winter can't quite help himself but take Astarion's chin in the fingers of his free hand, his touch light. ]
You are a sight. Perhaps I'd like to taste you in return.
[ With his own blood fresh on Astarion's lips and all. ]
[He hasn't the will to resist, much less pull away, when Winter takes his chin. Maybe it's having just fed, or maybe it's... everything else. But this man is quite unfairly handsome, it's hard to do anything else but look away.
Distantly, Astarion remembers this is why he thought doing this in one of their rooms might have been dangerous, but the thought barely scratches the surface of his cognizance. He finds he doesn't care as much as he thought he would.]
Would you?
[His hand's still on his chest, but it raises up instead, fingers carding through long locks of black hair.]
[ And he does, tilting Astarion's head up so that their lips can meet.
Spurred by the slight hint of that coppery tang on the vampire's lips, Winter seeks entrance to his mouth almost instantly, lips parting and tongue gliding over the line of the other's mouth. ]
[His smile curls into the kiss, clearly glad that Winter decided to follow through. He pauses only long enough to let him pick up the taste of his own blood with the tip of his tongue, feeling its brief caress over his lips.
And after that? There's nothing shy about the way he parts his mouth to let him in, and he's sure he doesn't have to remind him to watch the fangs. His own tongue pushes forward to meet his, boldly, something of a challenge.]
[ If it's a challenge, then Winter meets it gladly, tongue swirling with Astarion's to take the taste of his blood into his own mouth. It harkens back to their earlier kiss in some ways, but so much better in many others — not least of which being that they chose this.
He makes a low, breathless sound into the kiss, lets Astarion drink it down while tongues and lips move together. The hand at Astarion's back flattens, pulling him closer. One of them will need to come up for air at some point, but Winter means to make this last as long as possible. It's too delectable to stop now. ]
[Oh, good. Winter doesn't disappoint in his boldness, but Astarion expected nothing else. He allows their tongues to dance, for the other to fully taste every lingering droplet of copper, and tilts his head as though to encourage it even deeper.
Pulled close, it's his turn to make a noise that almost sounds like a titter of a laugh, muffled and lost in the warlock's mouth. His hand moves to settle at the nape of his neck instead, fingers still sliding into his hair. He likes the sensation.
He also doesn't need to pull away to take a breath, so he'll happily go on for as long as Winter allows it.]
[ He also likes the sensation of Astarion's fingers in his hair, and it causes him to melt into the other man all the more. A shame that the pesky need to breathe finally rears its head, and Winter has to breath the kiss.
He stays very close, though, their faces a whisper away. There's a bit of red smeared across the corner of his own mouth now. Perhaps Astarion can do something about that eventually. ]
[He's the dangerous one? He finds that incomprehensibly funny, and he chuckles again, a sound which fans his breath against Winter's all too close lips.]
That's funny, I was just thinking that about you.
[And perhaps he should be thinking about it more. About how he wasn't certain how he would feel, simply (heatedly) kissing someone after all of his past experiences had been tainted by what he had to do for Cazador. Manipulation. Seduction. Luring sometimes perfectly innocent people away to their unlives.
It should taint the whole thing. And maybe if he falls into the rabbit hole of rumination, it will. But it feels nice now. Being held close by someone like this now. Even if Winter is a very dangerous fellow, indeed, making it feel all too easy to do so.
So he pushes all such thoughts aside. He can worry about that later. Instead, he gives a little tug of Winter's hair — not too hard, just enough so that he tilts his chin at a slightly higher angle. All the better for Astarion to dart his tongue out and lick the excess red away in a generous lave.]
[ Oh, the warlock knows quite well that he’s dangerous, in many senses of the word, but it takes a certain kind of person to get him to drop his guard so thoroughly, to bear his throat and put himself in a perfectly vulnerable position. And one that he’s willing to revel in, no less.
Astarion does it easily. So easily that perhaps he should be more concerned.
He’s not.
That little tug on his tresses pulls a soft gasp from him – after having Astarion’s fangs in his neck, he’ll make no secret of liking his hands in his hair, too – and he tilts his head obligingly. He’s rewarded with the slick heat of the vampire’s tongue on his skin, laving away at the corner of his mouth. A corner that lifts devilishly. ]
[It's such easy habit to be attuned to what someone likes, for good or ill -- and Astarion very much can tell that Winter likes fingers in his hair, maybe a little tug here or two.
Those fingertips trail up just to press gently into his scalp, massaging lightly as he considers that question with less weight than he would normally.]
That depends. [His smile watches Winter, his red eyes piercing.] How much are you willing to give?
[Blood? The fact that he’s still willing to let Astarion drain him further is nearly touching, and he laughs a little, fangs gleaming.]
Oh… Well, tempting as it would be to bite you again, drinking until I’m dizzy, that isn’t precisely what I meant.
[Which leaves the other option, clearly. He trails his fingers through Winter’s dark hair, assessing his gaze, and mulling over his own quiet thoughts in his head.
Should he? Shouldn’t he? My, but it’s tempting, and it’s been too long since he’s been tempted. And maybe that’s telling — or maybe it’s a warning sign.
Gods. Or maybe, for once, he decides he just doesn’t want to give a damn.]
…I want your body, love. Let me taste other parts of you.
[ One has to cover their bases in this sort of thing, okay?
It's clear that the vampire has to give it some thought, and Winter is happy to let him have those moments. Eventually, Astarion clarifies in the best way possible, and Winter has no reason to want to tell him no. I want your body, love. What an absolutely lovely set of words. ]
Gladly, darling.
[ He loops his arm more firmly around Astarion's waist, taking him with him as he lays back on the couch. As they settle, Winter with his back on the couch cushions, and Astarion warm on top of him, he finds the vampire's lips again, a bit of heat seeping into the way he kisses him now. ]
[And down he goes with a little noise that could almost be a titter, though the sound is cut off by the way his body presses against the other man. He's so warm, he thinks, pleasantly.
Their lips meet again. There's more heat to it this time, but that's understandable when one is on top of the other. Astarion opens his mouth, letting him in nigh immediately, while his hands meanwhile seek elsewhere... Anywhere, really. One with his fingers still seated in the dark forest of the warlock's hair, the other deciding where to find purchase. It trails down, down, until it finds a place snug against Winter's hipbone, fingers flexing into the material of his trousers.
Hums quite contentedly, but eventually he does figure he might as well ask-]
You can tell me where you like to be touched if you like.
[Or he'll just figure it out himself. He's good at that.]
[ With access so freely given, Winter's tongue curls past those wicked fangs to drink deep of the taste of the vampire's mouth. It's a taste he's rapidly coming to enjoy, with or without the coppery tang of blood on his tongue. His own fingers slide into snow-colored tresses as they kiss, fingertips pressing against Astarion's scalp. His other arm stays looped around his middle for now.
He shifts under the other man, encouraging that touch at his hip, that touch that makes a little wave of anticipation roll through him. When they break for Astarion to speak, the warlock's lips find the corner of his mouth, the line of his jaw. He chuckles softly, breath huffing against the vampire's skin. ]
And deny you the chance to find them for yourself? Perish the thought.
[ Another small laugh, this one accompanied by the soft scrape of teeth. ]
[He loves how neither really wants to pull away, even after the kiss breaks; how Winter's lips still rove down the line of his jaw, or the way his teeth scrape across his skin in a teasing fashion.]
Oh, have I?
[As though he hasn't already figured it out. The hand in his hair drifts back up to the warlock's scalp, massaging gently for a moment, before his fingers curl and catches on dark strands, tugging a little.]
[ The sound that Winter makes in response to the light tug on his hair is felt more than heard. A low, pleased rumble rolling through his chest, up his throat, where it leaves his mouth in a breathless whisper against Astarion's ear. ]
[Oh, yes. He likes that reaction, too; never mind his complicated feelings about being physical with someone, but Astarion is always going to be a little proud about how easily he finds what others like. How he can root them out with just a little bit of exploration on his end.]
Mm, good to know. I'll be sure to keep it in mind.
[His turn to trail his lips against Winter's jaw. He can still scent the little puncture wounds he's left behind in his neck, smelling of copper.]
Now, where else... [The hand at his hip kneads there momentarily as the vampire considers. Higher or lower? Well... How about higher. Into the openness of his shirt, gliding along his chest, sliding in between where their bodies press against each other.] Somewhere here?
[ Oh, Winter enjoys this game very much, letting Astarion's hands and mouth rove all over him in search of the places that are sure to drive him wild. Though Astarion has yet to stumble across another one so soon, the pass of his hand over bare skin makes Winter arch into him. ]
[Astarion grins even wider when Winter flexes into him, splaying his hand further and drifting up higher along his chest. No, it might not be here, but he can still enjoy the feeling of skin on skin.]
What a shame. You're so warm. I can feel your heartbeat.
[And how exciting it is, and always will be, to have someone under him who thrums with the vitality of life. As though he might sample it himself, simply by being near.
Well. He supposes he can rove his hands up and down his chest anytime he likes, so for now, Astarion directs his touch back down low, past Winter's hipbone, and snakes towards his inner thigh, flexing his fingers there.]
[ Wherever the vampire’s touch goes, it leaves a trail of fire in its wake, even through Winter’s clothes – clothes that he is becoming all the more eager to be rid of.
He hums a little, the sound heated, when Astarion’s hand dips southward. Though he’s still off the mark, his touch is enticing. Electric. No matter where it roams. ]
Oh, that’s very good, but no. You’ve gotten colder.
[ He lifts his head to nip at Astarion’s earlobe. ]
[What a tease. That little nip of warmth at his own earlobe sparks a thrill in him, running down the length of his spine. Perhaps it makes Astarion bolder—or perhaps he’s always this bold, possibly getting a very good idea of where this is going—but the vampire drifts his hand up, up, up, pressing his palm against the vee of Winter’s trousers.]
Am I? Getting colder?
[He can tease in turn, too. That said, the “hint” is perhaps all too obvious for someone as experienced as Astarion, and he turns his head, leaning in to breathe his words into the man’s ear.]
What about here?
[Does he mean his hand? His mouth, so close to the contours of Winter’s ear? Both.]
[ Oh, he was so right when he called Astarion dangerous. Those hands, that mouth, they're all conspiring to slowly drive him mad. Astarion palms at his groin, and he'll already find a hint of a bulge there, the motion driving a shuddering exhale out of the warlock.
To say nothing of what those breathless words in his ear do for him, sending a shiver down his spine. ]
[These things combined—from the promising bulge in Winter’s pants, to the shiver he can feel running through him, to the words themselves—earn just another breathless laugh from Astarion.]
Darling. Surely you know me well enough by now to know…
[Drags the length of his tongue slowly, very slowly, along the curve of his ear. And then a little nibble on the earlobe, for good measure.
[ Not Astarion with the three-pronged attack… there’s really nothing Winter can do to resist, but then, he doesn’t really want to resist. He’s not the sort of person who puts his pride on the line in matters of the bedroom, and instead is more than happy to let his partner know when he’s having a great time.
And this is certainly a great start. The warlock’s eyes fall closed, head angling back into the couch cushions, the warm slide of Astarion’s tongue along his ear making warmth and the staticky buzz of anticipation roll through him. ]
I– ah-! Mmn…
[ He’d forgotten about those hands for a second. Astarion is quick to remind him, and the low buzz in his veins becomes a full-on electric bolt. He arches into Astarion again, hips rocking. ]
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He does feel a little lightheaded, and that might be the blood loss, or it might be... everything else. The soft purr of Astarion's voice, the look in his eyes, and the red painted across his lips. Whatever it is, Winter can't quite help himself but take Astarion's chin in the fingers of his free hand, his touch light. ]
You are a sight. Perhaps I'd like to taste you in return.
[ With his own blood fresh on Astarion's lips and all. ]
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Distantly, Astarion remembers this is why he thought doing this in one of their rooms might have been dangerous, but the thought barely scratches the surface of his cognizance. He finds he doesn't care as much as he thought he would.]
Would you?
[His hand's still on his chest, but it raises up instead, fingers carding through long locks of black hair.]
Perhaps you should.
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[ And he does, tilting Astarion's head up so that their lips can meet.
Spurred by the slight hint of that coppery tang on the vampire's lips, Winter seeks entrance to his mouth almost instantly, lips parting and tongue gliding over the line of the other's mouth. ]
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And after that? There's nothing shy about the way he parts his mouth to let him in, and he's sure he doesn't have to remind him to watch the fangs. His own tongue pushes forward to meet his, boldly, something of a challenge.]
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He makes a low, breathless sound into the kiss, lets Astarion drink it down while tongues and lips move together. The hand at Astarion's back flattens, pulling him closer. One of them will need to come up for air at some point, but Winter means to make this last as long as possible. It's too delectable to stop now. ]
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Pulled close, it's his turn to make a noise that almost sounds like a titter of a laugh, muffled and lost in the warlock's mouth. His hand moves to settle at the nape of his neck instead, fingers still sliding into his hair. He likes the sensation.
He also doesn't need to pull away to take a breath, so he'll happily go on for as long as Winter allows it.]
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He stays very close, though, their faces a whisper away. There's a bit of red smeared across the corner of his own mouth now. Perhaps Astarion can do something about that eventually. ]
You are... a dangerous man. I like it.
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That's funny, I was just thinking that about you.
[And perhaps he should be thinking about it more. About how he wasn't certain how he would feel, simply (heatedly) kissing someone after all of his past experiences had been tainted by what he had to do for Cazador. Manipulation. Seduction. Luring sometimes perfectly innocent people away to their unlives.
It should taint the whole thing. And maybe if he falls into the rabbit hole of rumination, it will. But it feels nice now. Being held close by someone like this now. Even if Winter is a very dangerous fellow, indeed, making it feel all too easy to do so.
So he pushes all such thoughts aside. He can worry about that later. Instead, he gives a little tug of Winter's hair — not too hard, just enough so that he tilts his chin at a slightly higher angle. All the better for Astarion to dart his tongue out and lick the excess red away in a generous lave.]
Me? I'm just hungry.
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Astarion does it easily. So easily that perhaps he should be more concerned.
He’s not.
That little tug on his tresses pulls a soft gasp from him – after having Astarion’s fangs in his neck, he’ll make no secret of liking his hands in his hair, too – and he tilts his head obligingly. He’s rewarded with the slick heat of the vampire’s tongue on his skin, laving away at the corner of his mouth. A corner that lifts devilishly. ]
Still? Hungry for what, might I ask?
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Those fingertips trail up just to press gently into his scalp, massaging lightly as he considers that question with less weight than he would normally.]
That depends. [His smile watches Winter, his red eyes piercing.] How much are you willing to give?
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[ Oh, of course he leans into that touch. Astarion has put himself on the fast track to discovering the things Winter likes. ]
Of my blood? Not so much as to be dangerous to me. Of my body? Well, consider it all yours.
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Oh… Well, tempting as it would be to bite you again, drinking until I’m dizzy, that isn’t precisely what I meant.
[Which leaves the other option, clearly. He trails his fingers through Winter’s dark hair, assessing his gaze, and mulling over his own quiet thoughts in his head.
Should he? Shouldn’t he? My, but it’s tempting, and it’s been too long since he’s been tempted. And maybe that’s telling — or maybe it’s a warning sign.
Gods. Or maybe, for once, he decides he just doesn’t want to give a damn.]
…I want your body, love. Let me taste other parts of you.
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It's clear that the vampire has to give it some thought, and Winter is happy to let him have those moments. Eventually, Astarion clarifies in the best way possible, and Winter has no reason to want to tell him no. I want your body, love. What an absolutely lovely set of words. ]
Gladly, darling.
[ He loops his arm more firmly around Astarion's waist, taking him with him as he lays back on the couch. As they settle, Winter with his back on the couch cushions, and Astarion warm on top of him, he finds the vampire's lips again, a bit of heat seeping into the way he kisses him now. ]
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Their lips meet again. There's more heat to it this time, but that's understandable when one is on top of the other. Astarion opens his mouth, letting him in nigh immediately, while his hands meanwhile seek elsewhere... Anywhere, really. One with his fingers still seated in the dark forest of the warlock's hair, the other deciding where to find purchase. It trails down, down, until it finds a place snug against Winter's hipbone, fingers flexing into the material of his trousers.
Hums quite contentedly, but eventually he does figure he might as well ask-]
You can tell me where you like to be touched if you like.
[Or he'll just figure it out himself. He's good at that.]
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He shifts under the other man, encouraging that touch at his hip, that touch that makes a little wave of anticipation roll through him. When they break for Astarion to speak, the warlock's lips find the corner of his mouth, the line of his jaw. He chuckles softly, breath huffing against the vampire's skin. ]
And deny you the chance to find them for yourself? Perish the thought.
[ Another small laugh, this one accompanied by the soft scrape of teeth. ]
You found one already, anyway.
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Oh, have I?
[As though he hasn't already figured it out. The hand in his hair drifts back up to the warlock's scalp, massaging gently for a moment, before his fingers curl and catches on dark strands, tugging a little.]
You mean this?
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Oh, yes. I do mean that.
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Mm, good to know. I'll be sure to keep it in mind.
[His turn to trail his lips against Winter's jaw. He can still scent the little puncture wounds he's left behind in his neck, smelling of copper.]
Now, where else... [The hand at his hip kneads there momentarily as the vampire considers. Higher or lower? Well... How about higher. Into the openness of his shirt, gliding along his chest, sliding in between where their bodies press against each other.] Somewhere here?
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Mm, no. Not there.
[ Keep looking. ]
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What a shame. You're so warm. I can feel your heartbeat.
[And how exciting it is, and always will be, to have someone under him who thrums with the vitality of life. As though he might sample it himself, simply by being near.
Well. He supposes he can rove his hands up and down his chest anytime he likes, so for now, Astarion directs his touch back down low, past Winter's hipbone, and snakes towards his inner thigh, flexing his fingers there.]
Closer?
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He hums a little, the sound heated, when Astarion’s hand dips southward. Though he’s still off the mark, his touch is enticing. Electric. No matter where it roams. ]
Oh, that’s very good, but no. You’ve gotten colder.
[ He lifts his head to nip at Astarion’s earlobe. ]
Do you want a hint?
[ (Where his mouth is at right now is a hint.) ]
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Am I? Getting colder?
[He can tease in turn, too. That said, the “hint” is perhaps all too obvious for someone as experienced as Astarion, and he turns his head, leaning in to breathe his words into the man’s ear.]
What about here?
[Does he mean his hand? His mouth, so close to the contours of Winter’s ear? Both.]
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To say nothing of what those breathless words in his ear do for him, sending a shiver down his spine. ]
I should've known you wouldn't play fair.
[ That's not a "no". ]
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Darling. Surely you know me well enough by now to know…
[Drags the length of his tongue slowly, very slowly, along the curve of his ear. And then a little nibble on the earlobe, for good measure.
His hands, both of them, give a squeeze.]
…I never play fair.
is this where we warn for inevitable nsfw
And this is certainly a great start. The warlock’s eyes fall closed, head angling back into the couch cushions, the warm slide of Astarion’s tongue along his ear making warmth and the staticky buzz of anticipation roll through him. ]
I– ah-! Mmn…
[ He’d forgotten about those hands for a second. Astarion is quick to remind him, and the low buzz in his veins becomes a full-on electric bolt. He arches into Astarion again, hips rocking. ]
I expected no less.
yeah,
INEVITABLE NSFW THEN
nO ONE LOOK
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love a reason to use this icon
it is nice to look at thank you
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