[Some other time does promise another time, the idea that this could and should happen again, and far be it from Astarion to argue the point further. Maybe "some other time", and Winter really will have him begging for some kind of release; and Astarion, as much as he'd rather not in literally almost any other circumstance, would happily oblige him.
But yes, the future is the future. What a sight Winter is now, his hair cascading over a shoulder as he lowers his mouth to Astarion's aching cock. When he feels that first brush of his lips, a plush kiss against his head, even that small amount of contact is enough for him to exhale hotly; he squirims a little more, one hand coming up to grip the side of the pillow his head rests upon, and then the man takes him in properly, and a low groan of anticipation rumbles from his chest.
[ And just like that, such thoughts of next times and laters fly from his head. Astarion is all he’s thinking about now, the heat and weight of him in his mouth, that low groan, the sweet words of encouragement. Divine, all of it. Perhaps it’s blasphemous to apply such a word to a vampire, but it’s true.
Winter gives a little hum of satisfaction, a sound no doubt felt more than heard with his mouth so blissfully occupied. Bracing a hand on Astarion’s hip, Winter continues to swallow him down until he has the whole of him seated in his mouth, down to the hilt. Then he begins to move, a steady rhythm to start, head bobbing. He wants to hear more of those heavenly sounds, more of those darling words, and he has confidence enough in his own mouth to draw them out of the vampire. ]
[The hand on his hip is a weight that doesn't quite pin him down, but it's close enough to feel the same kind of salaciousness from it. Properly wrapped in Winter's throat, the whole length of him... "Divine" is absolutely a word he would use to describe it, blasphemy be damned.
If he wants to hear more sounds pealing out from the back of his throat, he won't have to work too hard to do it. The vampire parts his lips and lets loose a whine of encouragement, and the movements of Winter's mouth and tongue, gliding up and down his cock, make liquid heat pool just below his belly. That wonderful tension winding itself up tighter with every moment that passes. He's hard and heavy in his mouth -- practically throbbing.
Suddenly, he isn't content with pawing at the sheets and pillow with his fingers. No, he wants to touch him, as much as he can manage, and both hands drift down to slide his fingers into Winter's dark hair, gently stroking.]
[ Gods, it is glorious seeing Astarion is such a state, and better still is knowing that he's the one who put him there. Every noise is music to his ears, every twitch and pulse and throb a sign for him to keep going, to coax the vampire to the brink with clever lips and tongue.
And Astarion only encourages him further with fingers in his hair, enough to make his own pulse thunder in his ears, his own arousal left unattended and straining against his breeches for now — a sweet sort of torture on its own while he indulges his partner. He could answer those lovely words, slip some response into Astarion's mind while his mouth is busy, but it's more fun not to. More fun to let his actions speak. So, he groans in response, lets the sound vibrate around Astarion's cock, and redoubles his efforts to bring him to the brink, tongue pressed against the underside of his shaft as he swallows against him.
[Running his touch through Winter's hair has turned into his fingers idly massaging at his scalp, probably mussing those long black locks without meaning to. The heat and want coils inside of him, burgeoning more and more until it threatens to become a swelter. His whole body's aflush, and he still squirms pleasurably, slightly, under him.
And it would be so easy to let himself go, to cant his head back and close his eyes again (he does this, anyway), and to try to arch himself more into Winter's mouth (he nearly does this), to let the man bring him to the very brink, and possibly go tumbling right over it. He's always been a self-indulgent sort.
But maybe that's exactly why, when the heat inside of him stokes all the more heated, and another vibration runs along the length of him, Astarion's fingers grip into Winter's hair a little tighter, and in that same, ragged breath-]
[ He can feel the peak approaching, watching Astarion squirm and throw his head back. There's no doubt that he's mussing his hair, those deft fingers working almost without thought against his scalp, but Winter welcomes it, the chance to let Astarion make him look a mess in some form or other.
The warlock is practically poised to dive back in, to give another urging swallow around Astarion's length, when he is stalled all at once by the sudden way fingers close around his locks and—
Not yet.
Winter pauses, then backs off, slipping Astarion free from his mouth with a wet, lewd little sound, and a slight gasp. Icy eyes travel the length of the vampire's slender frame, from aching cock to heaving chest, finally coming to rest on his face. ]
[He glistens with Winter's saliva, matching the way the warlock's lips shine from the effort, and this is a sight that he'll be committing steadfastly to memory for a while to come. But instinctively, his body and mind call him a traitor for severing the warm, dizzying stimulation of the man's mouth, and it takes a fair amount of willpower to not tell him immediately that he's changed his mind.
But he manages, and his fingers loosen in his hair, considering him from below. He's so, so beautiful, and in this moment, he's all his -- he doesn't want to rush through to his climax, more keen to make this last if he can.]
More like... I'm greedy. I want a little bit of everything.
[He smirks up at him, despite himself, he cheeks still flushed and his breathing still a bit ragged.]
But I think, mostly, I want to come when you're inside of me.
[ I’m greedy. The corner of Winter’s mouth lifts, smirk not quite as sharp as some of the ones he’s worn before, as if to tell Astarion there’s nothing wrong with a little greed. How can there be when he’s taking something for himself for the first time? ]
Oh, very greedy indeed, if you want me inside of you.
[ Winter angles his head to press a kiss to the inside of Astarion’s thigh before extracting himself from the apex of his legs, easing his way back up the length of the vampire’s body to claim his lips in a brief, but searing, kiss. ]
[Yes, he suspects Winter won't have a problem with it. The very thought feels as though it sets his nerves alight, and that's before he eases himself back up to grant Astarion another heated kiss. Another wave of hot anticipation roils through him, making his now-deprived cock throb again with want.]
Mm, good. [He licks his lips a little after he pulls away, as though his kiss might taste as sumptuous as blood. Maybe it is.] Besides, that means I get to tend to you a little, too.
[Quite boldly, without fanfare, he reaches down to cup Winter right between his legs, where he can feel him bulging.]
[ He might never tire of how delectable Astarion looks beneath him, tongue swiping over his lips as they part. Gods, he’s magnificent, and Winter has half a mind to say so but then the vampire’s hand dips between his legs. All thoughts simply fly from his head at the bright spark of pleasure the contact brings, and he drops his weight onto his elbows, bowing his head to rest against Astarion’s shoulder with a low groan. ]
Mmmn.
[ That’s it, that’s all he has to say for the moment, rocking his hips into that touch. He’s really been left wanting, and while he doesn’t mind it, Astarion’s teasing is liable to drive him crazy. ]
[He says with an eager lilt, palming him again for good measure, simply enjoying the reality of having the warlock hunched over him like this. He nuzzles into his neck and hair for a moment, taking in his scent, but he'll be merciful and not make him wait for much longer.
Those hands, deft and dexterous as always, then move to undo the fastenings of his trousers, quick to push his pants and underthings down to reveal Winter fully. Astarion will take more than a moment to appreciate the sight, too, feeling hot anticipation roil inside of him at the sight, his own cock absolutely aching.]
Oh, yes, you're perfect.
[And too tempting to not touch. The vampire takes him in his hand, curling around the base of his shaft and sliding slowly, slowly upwards. It's nigh teasing.]
[ Winter straightens to let Astarion work. There really are some perks to bringing a rogue to bed, not least of which are those dexterous fingers, divesting him of his trousers in record time. He gives a little sigh of relief, free from the constricting fabric, and after a bit of shuffling around, he kicks the offending garments off the side of the bed. No need for those now.
For the moment, he stays where he is, letting the vampire’s eyes rove over him, letting his hands wander where they please.
Though the latter proves to be a mistake (a wonderful mistake), as Astarion opts to tease, the motion of his hand along his length agonizingly slow. ]
Gods damn it, Astarion. [ His voice is low, strained. ] I guess I invited this, didn’t I?
[Hard to know where to look. At his own hand, giving Winter's cock the attention it deserves with long and languorous strokes, or at the man's expression, looking all the more wonderful as the seconds pass.
In the end, he angles his head up to look at him, grinning crookedly, but not without a deep well of affection churning inside of him, all the same.]
Oh, you did. And of course I'll oblige you.
[Another stroke down and up, then he runs his thumb over the head of his cock, picking up a glisten of precome along the way. Teases-]
[ Ah, yes, this man is going to be the death of him, if the torturous pace he sets is any indication. It's contact, warmth, and friction, all things that Winter is so, so clearly wanting, but by the gods, is it slow and teasing.
He tips his head back, groaning in agony just as much as ecstacy. Rude, Astarion! ]
I don't know if I'll survive it if you keep teasing me like that. Besides, didn't you want something from me?
[Oh, yes, he'll remember this evening for years and years to come, he thinks. If not for how Winter looks and feels beneath his touch (though certainly that, too), then because of how he sounds.]
Hmm. I suppose I did.
[Said lazily, as though he'd forgotten. He hadn't. Astarion drags his hand up slowwwwly once more, but after that? The vampire's kind enough to cease his torturing. He looks up at him, pupils dilated, gaze cocksure but still wanting.]
In that case, it's your turn to oblige me properly.
[ "I suppose," he says, like Winter can't see how badly he's still wanting with his own two eyes. Winter gives a small, but strangely fond, roll of his eyes, before dipping down to claim Astarion's lips in yet another kiss, bodies pressed together atop the sheets.
While he indulges in the vampire's mouth for a spell, basking in the heat of bare skin on bare skin, one of his tendril tattoos unwinds itself from his arm, reaching for the drawer of the bedside table. After a bit of rummaging, during which Winter is only definitely only slightly distracted, the tentacle comes up with a bottle of lube in its grip, ushering it to the warlock's hand.
At that point, Winter finally breaks the kiss, settling back again to kneel between Astarion's legs, tipping the contents of the bottle onto waiting fingers. ]
[Eased back down, bodies pressed together in that rapturous warmth again, and spoiled with another kiss. Astarion feels so pampered right now, which perhaps only adds to the growing sense of need burgeoning inside of him. Yet at the same time, he could remain like this for hours, just close and kissing, and feel contended. Feel oddly... safe.
How long since he's felt safe, anyway? Secure? Gods, this man is a blessing.
When Winter retrieves the lube--in a very fascinating way, at that--Astarion just hikes himself up on an elbow to watch.]
Mm, I know. [this man, please] But... not quite as captivating as you, my dear. And that is a very high bar to clear. I don't give such compliments out thoughtlessly.
[Even he's already called Winter beautiful a handful of times now, but that's neither here nor there.]
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But yes, the future is the future. What a sight Winter is now, his hair cascading over a shoulder as he lowers his mouth to Astarion's aching cock. When he feels that first brush of his lips, a plush kiss against his head, even that small amount of contact is enough for him to exhale hotly; he squirims a little more, one hand coming up to grip the side of the pillow his head rests upon, and then the man takes him in properly, and a low groan of anticipation rumbles from his chest.
Oh, he feels so good already.]
Yes. Just like that, love.
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Winter gives a little hum of satisfaction, a sound no doubt felt more than heard with his mouth so blissfully occupied. Bracing a hand on Astarion’s hip, Winter continues to swallow him down until he has the whole of him seated in his mouth, down to the hilt. Then he begins to move, a steady rhythm to start, head bobbing. He wants to hear more of those heavenly sounds, more of those darling words, and he has confidence enough in his own mouth to draw them out of the vampire. ]
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If he wants to hear more sounds pealing out from the back of his throat, he won't have to work too hard to do it. The vampire parts his lips and lets loose a whine of encouragement, and the movements of Winter's mouth and tongue, gliding up and down his cock, make liquid heat pool just below his belly. That wonderful tension winding itself up tighter with every moment that passes. He's hard and heavy in his mouth -- practically throbbing.
Suddenly, he isn't content with pawing at the sheets and pillow with his fingers. No, he wants to touch him, as much as he can manage, and both hands drift down to slide his fingers into Winter's dark hair, gently stroking.]
Ahh, you spoil me, you're so good to me.
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And Astarion only encourages him further with fingers in his hair, enough to make his own pulse thunder in his ears, his own arousal left unattended and straining against his breeches for now — a sweet sort of torture on its own while he indulges his partner. He could answer those lovely words, slip some response into Astarion's mind while his mouth is busy, but it's more fun not to. More fun to let his actions speak. So, he groans in response, lets the sound vibrate around Astarion's cock, and redoubles his efforts to bring him to the brink, tongue pressed against the underside of his shaft as he swallows against him.
He'd so hate to disappoint. ]
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And it would be so easy to let himself go, to cant his head back and close his eyes again (he does this, anyway), and to try to arch himself more into Winter's mouth (he nearly does this), to let the man bring him to the very brink, and possibly go tumbling right over it. He's always been a self-indulgent sort.
But maybe that's exactly why, when the heat inside of him stokes all the more heated, and another vibration runs along the length of him, Astarion's fingers grip into Winter's hair a little tighter, and in that same, ragged breath-]
Not yet. Don't make me come just yet-
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The warlock is practically poised to dive back in, to give another urging swallow around Astarion's length, when he is stalled all at once by the sudden way fingers close around his locks and—
Not yet.
Winter pauses, then backs off, slipping Astarion free from his mouth with a wet, lewd little sound, and a slight gasp. Icy eyes travel the length of the vampire's slender frame, from aching cock to heaving chest, finally coming to rest on his face. ]
Had another idea of what you want, hm?
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But he manages, and his fingers loosen in his hair, considering him from below. He's so, so beautiful, and in this moment, he's all his -- he doesn't want to rush through to his climax, more keen to make this last if he can.]
More like... I'm greedy. I want a little bit of everything.
[He smirks up at him, despite himself, he cheeks still flushed and his breathing still a bit ragged.]
But I think, mostly, I want to come when you're inside of me.
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Oh, very greedy indeed, if you want me inside of you.
[ Winter angles his head to press a kiss to the inside of Astarion’s thigh before extracting himself from the apex of his legs, easing his way back up the length of the vampire’s body to claim his lips in a brief, but searing, kiss. ]
I would love nothing more.
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Mm, good. [He licks his lips a little after he pulls away, as though his kiss might taste as sumptuous as blood. Maybe it is.] Besides, that means I get to tend to you a little, too.
[Quite boldly, without fanfare, he reaches down to cup Winter right between his legs, where he can feel him bulging.]
Right?
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Mmmn.
[ That’s it, that’s all he has to say for the moment, rocking his hips into that touch. He’s really been left wanting, and while he doesn’t mind it, Astarion’s teasing is liable to drive him crazy. ]
Haah. I think it’s high time these trousers go.
[ Free Him. ]
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[He says with an eager lilt, palming him again for good measure, simply enjoying the reality of having the warlock hunched over him like this. He nuzzles into his neck and hair for a moment, taking in his scent, but he'll be merciful and not make him wait for much longer.
Those hands, deft and dexterous as always, then move to undo the fastenings of his trousers, quick to push his pants and underthings down to reveal Winter fully. Astarion will take more than a moment to appreciate the sight, too, feeling hot anticipation roil inside of him at the sight, his own cock absolutely aching.]
Oh, yes, you're perfect.
[And too tempting to not touch. The vampire takes him in his hand, curling around the base of his shaft and sliding slowly, slowly upwards. It's nigh teasing.]
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For the moment, he stays where he is, letting the vampire’s eyes rove over him, letting his hands wander where they please.
Though the latter proves to be a mistake (a wonderful mistake), as Astarion opts to tease, the motion of his hand along his length agonizingly slow. ]
Gods damn it, Astarion. [ His voice is low, strained. ] I guess I invited this, didn’t I?
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In the end, he angles his head up to look at him, grinning crookedly, but not without a deep well of affection churning inside of him, all the same.]
Oh, you did. And of course I'll oblige you.
[Another stroke down and up, then he runs his thumb over the head of his cock, picking up a glisten of precome along the way. Teases-]
Unless you'd like for me to stop?
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He tips his head back, groaning in agony just as much as ecstacy. Rude, Astarion! ]
I don't know if I'll survive it if you keep teasing me like that. Besides, didn't you want something from me?
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Hmm. I suppose I did.
[Said lazily, as though he'd forgotten. He hadn't. Astarion drags his hand up slowwwwly once more, but after that? The vampire's kind enough to cease his torturing. He looks up at him, pupils dilated, gaze cocksure but still wanting.]
In that case, it's your turn to oblige me properly.
[Please.]
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While he indulges in the vampire's mouth for a spell, basking in the heat of bare skin on bare skin, one of his tendril tattoos unwinds itself from his arm, reaching for the drawer of the bedside table. After a bit of rummaging, during which Winter is only definitely only slightly distracted, the tentacle comes up with a bottle of lube in its grip, ushering it to the warlock's hand.
At that point, Winter finally breaks the kiss, settling back again to kneel between Astarion's legs, tipping the contents of the bottle onto waiting fingers. ]
Gods, you're beautiful.
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How long since he's felt safe, anyway? Secure? Gods, this man is a blessing.
When Winter retrieves the lube--in a very fascinating way, at that--Astarion just hikes himself up on an elbow to watch.]
Mm, I know. [this man, please] But... not quite as captivating as you, my dear. And that is a very high bar to clear. I don't give such compliments out thoughtlessly.
[Even he's already called Winter beautiful a handful of times now, but that's neither here nor there.]