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Astarion hated being left at camp.
No actually scratch that, he DESPISED getting stuck at camp. Granted it was much nicer of an accommodation than what they had been used to for weeks on end. Thankfully, the elf song tavern was nothing short of comfortable beds and now home to a fireplace that wasnt constantly under threat of expelling from a mere gust of wind or unpredicted rain shower.
But despite the warm environment and cosy atmosphere, he was still very much bored.
There were only so many times he could play-pretend preening in a looking glass, read a book, indulge in a full-bodied glass of red or clean and admire his daggers before it became tedious. Sometimes he would try and cause some light mischief around camp, whether that be a light fingered pick-pocketed of a few collated items in camp or bothering some of the others also left behind (Gale was a particular favourite target to wind up). Karlach in particular made for fun company in these cheeky endeavours, that is before her overbearing bundle of energy became far too much to handle for one day.
By far the one he spent most time with was, unsurprisingly, his lover and partner, Cicero. Because when he was here at least then he would get the attention he wanted, with some kisses, cuddles and even the sappy, loving conversations he adored to top it off.
But he wasn’t here at camp now unfortunately. So not only was he bored, but he also couldn’t get a quick snack from his boyfriend. Also lovingly referred to as his own personal juice box. Upon that thought, His stomach began quietly clawing and gnawing at the walls in attempts to make his hunger known, having not quite feasted properly for almost 24 hours. After all, the streets of Baldurs Gate didn’t really meet his dietary requirements like back in the wilderness.
Ah fabulous! Now he was bored AND hungry.
The others left behind in camp had all decided that they too were bored and what better way to entertain themselves than to go and drink themselves into a stupor. Why not utilise the fact that they were sheltered above the Elfsong tavern after all and not exploit that for all it’s worth? A compelling argument for sure, and Astarion was half-tempted to join them at first. But he decided against it when his stomach growled at the thought of being in such close proximity to a bunch of exposed necks with the deafening sound of quickened heart rates from intoxicated dancing.
Not to mention taverns had somewhat lost their appeal given the rather heinous memories they brought back when he stayed in them for a short while. Though, being in the presence of company, with people he - ugh- apparently very much cared for did soften that sensation. They were becoming a lot less daunting than when they first entered the lower city and Astarion would have to excuse himself to take a moment away from the bustle to calm himself. To remove himself from a situation that would trigger his traumatic memories to replay clear as day as if he were trancing. Weirdly enough, killing Cazador also helped with that.
Huh… that was the first time in about 2-3 days that he had thought about him. That’s good. He made a mental note to tell Cicero about that.
He made some dramatically, snarky reply, he honestly couldn’t quite remember what exactly, Then got called a “grumpy sod” by his second favourite cleric before they all disappeared eagerly. Now left alone to skulk around the room, pursuing one distraction after another distraction.
Because truthfully, however peckish or bored he was, nothing quite compared to another discomfort that had been growing for the past couple of hours. He felt it come on earlier and had been trying to stifle it despite its insistency not to leave his mind. Something he couldn’t quite deal with in its inopportune timing with everyone around.
Because, as it turned out, he was incredibly horny. More so than usual. And was now left alone to his own devices.
To be fair, his current choice of novel to try and distract himself was, in hindsight, a rather poor one. In fact, it was only exacerbating the problem, shifting uncomfortably as his eyes scanned the poorly written smut that was beginning to cause him to get more and more wound up. Under usual circumstances, he would ridicule the attempted purple prose of the writing style in a mere smut book. Yet instead his lust-fuelled brain decided it more than sufficed for peddling and indulging his depraved fantasies that were growing with each page. Eventually he threw it away, discarding it to the side and cleared his throat in attempts to settle himself.
His mind began whirling with the possibilities of how exactly he could utilise this empty room to his advantage. He settled his eyes upon his own bed and his mind went rampant with inappropriate thoughts when he noticed what was lay across it.
Cicero’s lounge shirt, half of his camp ensemble, sprawled across his own bedsheets from being carelessly thrown upon them.
What was it doing there? Had he thrown it on Astarion’s bed after they had shared it last night? But he slept shirtless at night and his night trousers were nowhere to be seen so realistically it should’ve been on his own bed.
Now Astarion wasn’t a firm follower of the Gods, nor did he really have much nice to say about them even when his boyfriend was a devout cleric of Ilmater, but even he knew divine intervention when he saw it. And Cicero’s shirt was a prime example of something begging to be used. So he walked over to it and picked it up, holding it in both hands, stroking the fabric with his thumbs as he examined it. It was nothing too remarkable since fashion was, admittedly, not necessarily one of Cicero’s strong suits. The off-white fabric almost transparent with how thin it was, fitted so that his chest was more than exposed, and it easily flowing in a strong wind.
And it looked absolutely delectable upon him.
His vampiric senses meant he was very easily overwhelmed by strong scents, both good and bad. He could tell from the overpowering musk alone that Cicero had worn this shirt for quite some time and that it was probably in very much need of a wash soon. Not that it smelled bad, far from it, it was actually rather pleasant.
But what disgusted him more than anything else, was how the smell turned him on as much as it strangely comforted him. Bringing it up to his face to better bury his nose into, closing his eyes and letting the smell of his love fully encapsulate his senses until he exhaled a slight moan. Wanting nothing more than to nuzzle against Cicero right now, pining for the man to be here like a wife whose husband had been away at war for years.
His prick twitched in his trousers in betrayal to his mind at the disgusting act he was engaging in but he tried to ignore it. It wasn’t even entirely just sexual, though he felt the familiar rush of adrenaline and want run through his veins, it also really did provide solace to him. Now acutely aware of how much he missed him when he was away.
Gods he was Pathetic. It was lucky no-one was around to see this pitiful display.
That was when he caught a slight whiff of something that made his eyes widen in carnal need. A hint of the very faintest of scents that only his heightened senses could detect. It made his mouth salivate like a dog and his stomach grumble again. Pulling it back from his face to pin-point the exact area where the familiar, delectable scent radiated the most. Upon his inner collar lay a couple of accidental splotches of blood that most likely dropped onto it when Astarion fed the other night.
An itching urge piloted his mind as he looked down at the shirt. Part of him had to refrain from touching himself with the fabric itself. Using it to stimulate his hardened cock over and over again until he came all over it. Claiming it with his very seed, leaving his mark before Cicero returned, naughtily watching as he unknowingly put it on. Wearing his cum like it was a wedding band around his finger, showing to everyone that he was Astarion’s… He was his and he was his and Oh yes~
He took a deep breath in attempt to control the horny, degenerate thoughts rampant in his mind. Instead finding his body moving before his brain could register what he was doing. Untucking his shirt and pulling it over his head and off in one smooth movement. His bare skin on display for a moment before he subconsciously put on Cicero’s shirt. Due to Cicero’s ever so slightly larger frame and height, it was a little bit big for him. Extremely cosy to wear though, arguably much more than his own clothes.
Ugh… was he really sat here pathetically playing with the shirts hem like a teenage girl wearing their boyfriends oversized clothes?
The rise in his increased arousal as of recent could be chalked down to the fairly new discovery of both intimacy and sex in Cicero and his own relationship. Intimacy had never felt more enticing, even in forms that were completely unrelated to sexual desires. To be gently touched, held, caressed, adored and praised was exhilarating beyond any forced orgasm coaxed from his body during the nights of pursuing victims. Ecstasy was reached from just being in the presence of his beloved, not from a quick fuck he was used to fulfilling as part of a mental checklist to get fed. For a meal that consisted of a putrid, disease-addled rat that was more matted, dampened hair than meat. Sex was a dance he knew how to perform effortlessly without so much of a misstep in the timing, and each and everytime the result was the same. Disassociation complete with the absence of satisfaction but still capped off in a fatigued, exhausted state with dripping orifices and hair, aching tongue and overworked limbs.
But things were different with Cicero. Sex was enjoyable, it was something he had once again found fun in. The first time they had actually had sex, just after Astarion had shown Cicero his grave, was when he realised his relationship with sex could be something different than what he had ever imagined. Gods… he could swear his heartbeat almost fluttered from the thought of it alone. It was passionate, gentle, slow and so tender. A pace so unlike what he was used to.
It was every bit as fantastical as the made-up silly little fantasies he once dreamt about as a young boy. The very same where his charming, slightly roguish, Prince would come along and sweep him off his feet. Kissing him like he was the most precious item in existence worthy of being treasured. Holding him softly until his cheeks flushed furiously at the touch. Making love to him under a field of stars or any other ridiculously cliche example his hormone-riddled brain could just about create. And it was ironic how Cicero fit that type perfectly.
He could feel the ghostly sensation of a blush across his face when he remembered the moans that spilled free from him and into the night air. It was miraculous that they hadn’t been discovered that night and shamed or even charged with public indecency. The elicited whispers and pleas for more as he pulled him impossibly tighter, wrapping his limbs around until there was no semblance of where Astarion began and Cicero ended. He remembered Cicero’s surprised gasps of pleasure and the way he stared deep into his eyes, checking he was okay, assuring him with kisses and words. Of course, Astarion reciprocated just as much, checking up on the man he loved with the same loving reassurance.
Perhaps their lovemaking being as romantic as it was was a result of Cicero’s own shared similar struggles when it came to practising said coitus. Though albeit somewhat differently. Having only recently become familiar with desire and finally acquainted with sexual urges after a self-proclaimed lifetime of chasing after it in hopes of tasting it himself. A bold world he had often fondly observed from afar, sometimes thrusting himself into the direct fray to undesirable consequences. Nothing but emptiness and a strong feeling of being broken as he lay naked in the bedsheets without the supposed post-coital afterglow that so many revered.
It was in the forest clearing that he had confessed the confusing state of where his sexuality lay. The bodily want to have sex when his mind, for some reason, completely shut away from the idea. Resulting in large scale panic attacks instead. Truly, it put a proverbial spanner in Astarion’s plans of well-prepared manipulation. In his plan of engaging in carnal acts with himself at the very centre of the exploitation as he was so frequently used to being. He were forced to take a slower approach, and he had no idea that he would end up falling for him accidentally.
Astarion was the very first person to awaken Cicero’s long-dormant lust. Just when he had come to terms that he would never want nor enjoy sex, Astarion ruined that very line of thought. There was something innately beautiful in that. Something he cherished deeply and would honour for the rest of his existence.
But Cicero was also, of note, just as vocal as Astarion, though not in the same vein as the natural sounds of pleasure in the form of grunts, gasps and groans. He would mumble, whether accidental or not, compliments like well-constructed poetry. It would be so incredibly annoying if it didn’t arouse and flatter Astarion as much as it did. The praise was delightful as it was erotic. He didn’t even need to fish for it like he had strived ceaselessly for in that first decade of his enslavement in hopes to ease the burden of his actions. Pretending like they cared just the slightest about him to make it all the more easier to carry out. Cicero just gave it to him, gifted it like a comforting blanket of treasured terms and words to make him almost burst from the love he wasn’t used to receiving but loved all the same.
They joined together so beautifully that night beside his grave, fitting together like their bodies were only meant for eachother. The final long lost and forgotten jigsaw piece found and slotted in. Astarion had never quite reached a climax of such magnitude like it and neither had Cicero. Both lay panting, basking in the afterglow that he finally experienced after years of being was assured of its existence. The two smiling at eachother before getting magnetised in for another kiss.
He came back to himself once he stopped his day-dreaming, or rather slowed it down somewhat as a better idea came to him. Thankfully, he was alone in the room to indulge in said idea, though time was much more limited than he would have otherwise preferred.
And so he began to rid himself of the trousers that were beginning to feel impossibly tighter than before. Kicking them off ungraciously and now clad only in his self-embroided briefs and this shirt before collapsing onto his bed. Running a hand across the expanse of his porcelain chest as the other began rifling through the adjacent bedside table drawer. Searching for the oil he had brought everywhere on this journey for instances such as this. As well as getting used to help concoct his own perfume.
His thoughts began to wander again as he began fantasising about certain scenarios with him and his lover. His hand edging nearer to the place he wanted it most. Beneath his underwear, his cock stirred with small twitches, awakening ever so slightly as his thoughts began racing over eachother in desperate attempt to be at the main forefront of his hazy, lust-filled mind. The hand that was now toying with the ridges of his sleek and toned stomach before the tips of his fingers started to glide beneath the waistband of his underwear.
But before he could venture further down, he retracted his hand and brought it back up to play with his lower lip instead. Resisting the urge to touch himself, if not just to tease himself by stimulating his mind and replaying those very nights outcomes in vivid clarity. Steadying his breath as he turned over onto his front instead, pressing his face once more against the fabric of Cicero’s shirt and grasping at the pillows. Half-tempted to start grinding against the bedsheets like a desperate humping dog in heat to somewhat ease the starting of an erection. To seek a brief moment of respite, of relief.
This train of thought had him suppress an almost giddy giggle at the sheer prospect of what he was all of a sudden turning into. Dropping his face into his arm and smiling against the flesh with a slight laugh. Acting like a touch-starved virgin too scared to navigate his own body that he only just become reacquainted with. Though he supposed he was in a way… Still re-discovering, both by himself and with the assistance of Cicero, what his body ached for, which parts stimulated him most, which areas had him drooling onto his pillow where Cicero’s soft mouth and gentle fingers lightly caressed. What a sight he was in those moments, almost coming in his trousers from the fleeting touches in erogenous zones that he didn’t know were so sensitive.
Each sexual endeavour was almost like a game. Each new experience was even better than the last as they made love like star-crossed lovers desperate to make their last night special before they were forced to say their goodbyes. Relishing absolutely every part of the exploration together, each newly discovered landmark and biome more exciting than the last. Even when the rare pitfall and unpleasant find in eroded land devoid of rich diversity led to accidental dissociation from either party, was it still fondly learnt from.
Honestly the state he found himself in was downright ludicrous. But it was also, quite truthfully, exhilarating.
He decided enough was enough and that he was going to enjoy the sensation of preparing himself. In the process of undoing the small vial’s lid of oil to pour onto his fingers when he heard footsteps outside the door that stopped him in his actions. Placing it back onto the side with a frustrated sigh, lying back down onto the picking up the book he had discarded earlier in attempts to show he wasn’t in the middle of trying to fuck himself open.
The door opened and one person entered into the room. To his wonderful surprise though, the intruder was none other than Cicero, his beloved finally home. Alone.
Oh this was ideal. This was perfect. Astarion smiled to himself as his mind began to wander again.
“Star?” Cicero called out to the room, unable to see Astarion from behind the folding screen that separated his bed from the rest of the room.
“Over here love.” Astarion sang, lifting himself up so he was sat up on his elbows, one leg raised up as he kept the other outstretched.
Cicero walked across the room as he began speaking. “I was trying to find you. The others were all downstairs and said you were being grumpy and refusing to come down for some reason. I said I’d be the one to bring you down even if-“
He stopped midway through his sentence when he finally walked past the divider and set his eyes upon Astarion. Freezing for a minute to fully take in the sight that was on offer before him. Astarion the very definition of allure, practically smouldering at him in this seductive pose.
“Darling… I was just thinking about you.”
Cicero crossed his arms and couldn’t stop the smile forming on his lips. “Were you now?”
“Mmm indeed I was, my beautiful boy.”
“Appropriate enough to share?” Cicero questioned.
Astarion smirked as he stood up from the bed. “Not entirely to be honest.”
“Interesting” Cicero pointed to Astarion with a knowing smirk of his own. “I suppose this is the point where I ask; is that my shirt?”
“What? This little thing?” A smug look spread across Astarion’s face, his voice husky and tone lowered to one of complete irresistible sensuality.
“Maybe…”
“Any particular reason you’re wearing it and…” A faint red tinge begins to settle across his nose and cheeks as his eyes wander down his body briefly. Drinking in the sight of him in his underwear, at the outline that really didn’t leave much to the imagination. The glance down towards his crotch brought another wave of desire to wash over Astarion’s senses, his stomach prickling pleasurably with that warmth he was now addicted to.
Cicero cleared his throat. “… not much else?”
“I was playing dress-up.” Astarion replied like it was the most obvious answer in existence.
“Ah I see, just like the time when you were parading around in the wavemothers dress?”
“Exactly that. Yet you enjoyed it a lot last time If I recall correctly.” Astarion batted his eyelashes with pretend innocence, standing up now.
“I did… maybe just a little. Though this time is a little different, I can’t recall you being in such a…” He gestures up and down his body again. “Unfinished state like you are now.”
“Well given what I was planning on doing before I was so rudely interrupted, it wasn’t as if that really mattered.”
Astarion noted the movement of Cicero’s line of sight to look at him before glancing at the bedside table with the oil bottle so purposely perched on the surface. A tell-tale sign of what he was to indulge in. Cicero’s eyes widened slightly as it dawned on him what he had interrupted, cheeks burning in the most delicious embarrassment. He tried to cover it up with a laugh instead.
“Ohhhhh thats why you were up here.” The insinuation was not lost on Cicero, who parted his lips slightly and exhaled. “Well I see you’ve put your time to good use.”
“Not yet I haven’t.” Astarion mumbled low. “I haven’t even mentioned how you’ve kept me waiting here all day. Left with nothing but this shirt, which was also thrown on my bed may I add, to keep me company.” Astarion leant back against the bed-frame, idly fiddling with the collar of his shirt. Looking down at it and brushing his thumb over a small dark crimson droplet stain. “And I’m not sure you were aware love, but some of your blood has stained the inner collar.”
Cicero smirked. “I apologise for the mess of my own collar, though I do imagine that was probably due to your messy eating.”
“Messy eating?!” Astarion feigned shock with a theatrical hand pressed against his chest. “Hardly. I think you did it purposefully.”
“Ah yes, because It was all a pre-meditated move that I would come home to see you wearing my shirt and just your underwear.” Cicero continued staring at Astarion with a smirk, tapping his own head playfully and sarcastically. “I’m quite smart like that, obviously, I can’t believe you saw through my ruse!”
Astarion took this moment upon him to do what he did best. Flirt.
“Oh? Would you prefer it if it was just your shirt.” He brought his hands down his body in a show of seduction, turning around with a purposeful sway of his hips. His thumb hooking into the side of his underwear and pulling ever so slightly down to expose more skin without showing anything more. A provocative sidelong glance paired with the action all hand-crafted to entice further.
“I can make that happen too, you know. Say the word and I’ll rid myself of this offensive layer.”
Cicero shook his head with a hummed laugh, stepping forward to press his chest against Astarion’s back. The vampire leant his head back against his chest with a pleased sigh, losing himself in the gentle caresses of Cicero as he began stroking his waist and arm.
Astarion was very aware of his arousal now. Very much failing to hide it any longer as he felt himself grow harder against his caged thin barrier of fabric. Now more than obvious as he glanced down to eye it up. Hot and heavy, hard and begging for relief after such relentless teasing of his own mental play.
Cicero also looked down to observe the state of his erect cock, purposely bringing his hand down to rest upon Astarion’s lower stomach but no lower. Rubbing gentle circular motions to stimulate him even more in which Astarion merely responded with a delighted hum.
“What’s got into you? What’s got you so riled up today?”
“Nothing that you aren’t the blame for.” Astarion twisted around in his grip, their faces now close. “It’s almost like you’re trying to make it impossible for me to think straight even when you’re not around.” Astarion laughed lightly before exhaling the next words from his lips, his eyes dropping to eye up Cicero’s mouth. “Your scent is intoxicating. The mixed combination of your own musk and your blood is like an aphrodisiac. I’ve been sat here so pent up for Gods knows how long.”
Cicero took a shaky breath as Astarion pressed his own erection against where he felt Cicero’s own was beginning to harden. Ever so slightly grinding against him with an obvious lack of shame.
“I had no idea such a small thing like my shirt could have such an effect on you Melith nin.”
Cicero brushed his nose against Astarion’s, the vampire biting his own lip to stop himself keening pathetically at the smallest of contact.
“No?” Astarion looked up at him through half-lidded eyes, unable and unwillingly to try and stop the look of utter debauchery veiling over his face. His voice gravelly as he spoke aloud. “I suppose…you could make it up to me.”
“Oh? What did you have in mind?”
“I think…” Astarion mumbles against his neck. “I deserve a reward for waiting so patiently for you. While you went out and did all the hard work without me…” Astarion pouted playfully, his tongue flicking out between his teeth to teasingly brush up against Cicero’s lower lip and eliciting a shaky groan from the half-elf.
“You know how much I adore killing people and yet you still left me behind like a pet without so much of a treat.” He whined, sounding as petulant as he could purposely muster.
“And how can I remedy my mistake for you.” Cicero bowed his head slightly, pressing his forehead against Astarion’s, the elf letting out a purred sound at the contact. “What would you like of me?”
Astarion’s stomach flipped and lit with a pleasant heat, one that was continuing to crawl down his body in a tortuously agonising pace, his cock throbbing with want. The hunger directed at Cicero’s crotch as he pushed against it again, revelling at the brushing sensation of their concealed arousals. A fanged grin spread its way across his features, unable to keep the teasing element from his lips. “I think your cock will suffice.”
Cicero’s eyes widened like those of a doe in headlights. Astarion could never tire of seeing his bashfulness when it came to sex, how adorable it really was to behold. The half-elf smiled with a fierce blush that absolutely compensated for Astarion’s own lacking ability for his cheeks to flush.
“Certainly quite forward of you. I like it.” His face went more serious for a moment. “Is that rwhat you want?”
Astarion nodded hastily, too pent up to care about how desperate he appeared. “It really is… I’m craving you my dear.” His hand coming up to wrap around Cicero’s neck as he brought their faces closer. He stifled his lust for a moment as he gazed into Cicero’s eyes, adding with a serious look. “Only if you want to do this too though.”
Cicero nodded. “I do… my love. I really, really want to.”
The last few words were all but swallowed up when Astarion leant In to kiss him. Their lips gliding together in complete harmony as they immediately found the rhythm and tamed it to their whims. Cicero parting his lips only for Astarion to take the hint and gift him his tongue in return. Exploring his mouth with the same level of enthusiasm as every endeavour on their journey of shared intimacy. Hands gripping tighter, hair threading around fingers in desperation to keep the other close, all but losing themselves alone in this one kiss. A kiss that said more than any other movement or action could, one of a complete belonging. Cicero’s breaths greedily stolen by Astarion as he craved the sensation of the panted breaths, swallowing them as they reminded him once again what mortal breathing felt like. Small hummed noises from their noses making known their enjoyment of the kiss that could barely be heard beyond the wet smacks of their mouths and the rustling of bunched fabric in frantic hands.
Astarion’s hand crept down Cicero’s body making sure to caress every part before reaching its destination. Slowly, he cupped it so that he was now palming at his crotch, unsurprised yet delighted all the same to find him fully hard beneath his trousers. He couldn’t help but toy with him, consuming the deep groan from Cicero’s throat as he did so with voracious, starving attempt. The kiss turning less and less composed as arousal began fuelling their systems. Almost messily losing their rhythm in the reckless pursuit of more pleasure. It was so unlike the kisses Astarion could skilfully manipulate for the others pleasure, performed so perfectly without a single flawed move in sight. But with Cicero he easily forgot everything he had once taught himself, willingly allowing himself to fall prey to pleasure. No need of required performance with intent to impress, all that was needed of him was for him to enjoy himself. Even at the expense of a sloppy, disarray of a kiss.
And he was going to take that with every inch of his being.
At some point in the union of their lips, Astarion found himself pushing Cicero onto his bed and straddling him in the process. Pulling away his mouth, a small string of saliva connecting them still before he began kissing and licking along Cicero’s strong jaw. Eager to taste every inch of him like so many times before.
“We have time. The others are all drinking downstairs drinking and by the looks of things, I don’t think they have any plan to leave anytime soon.” Cicero muttered, almost out of breath. Watching as Astarion’s adept hands began swiftly playing with his shirt, pulling it off and over Cicero’s head in one swift movement. Astarion clothed torso against rubbing up against Cicero’s bare one.
“Darling at this point I don’t give a fuck if they watch me ride your cock.” Another grind down in Cicero’s lap coaxed another moan from the half-elf’s lips. His own voice hushed and needy. “I need you inside me desperately.”
“Fucking hell.” Cicero moans in response. “Desperate Astarion is so attractive.”
“As are you my dear.”
Astarion bites his lip before his hands begin hastily grabbing for Cicero’s own trousers, eagerly untying the laces at the top. He stops though when Cicero begins to stroke his hair lightly, speaking out a gentle tone.
“Astarion. Slow down love.” The half-elf hooked his hands underneath Astarion’s arse, squeezing softly. “Can you lie down for me?”
With another wave of desire rushing over him he nods, letting Cicero help move him to lie on the bed. Soft fibres against his back, Cicero kneeling between his open legs and looking down with a smile, then leant forward and brought their lips together in a chaste kiss. Slower and more gentle than before.
Astarion brought his hands to cradle the clerics face as they kissed. And Cicero brought his hands to pull at the hem of his shirt.
“Darling.” Astarion gripped the hands that began toying with the shirt he had claimed, preparing to take it off him. Cicero gave him with an inquisitive look.
He almost surprised himself with the move. But the shirt he adorned was far more comforting than he had anticipated. Like a security blanket that was made of purely Cicero, providing an incredibly soothing sensation that no other item had ever done before. His skin absorbing the scent of his beloved, insatiable in its pursuit. Desperate to feel him at all times, his embrace, his touch, his caress.
Astarion swallowed. “I’d like to keep it on please, if that’s alright with you.”
“Of course it is.” Cicero smiled and nuzzled his face against Astarion’s cheek. “To be completely honest, I think it suits you so much better.”
“Hardly a surprise my dear, almost everything does.”
“Modesty also suits you.”
Astarion laughed, planting a delicate kiss against his cheek before adding cheekily. “Don’t worry… I’ll try my hardest not to stain it with my own seed.”
“I don’t know…” Cicero tilts his head to the side before biting his lip and giving him a sly side glance. “Maybe you should.”
“Oh you dirty boy!”
“Only for you.” Cicero presses a light kiss to Astarion’s neck, before whispering in his ear. “It’s almost a shame you’re so undressed already. I’d love to take my time stripping you bare. Expose you before my eyes only… touch every inch of your skin until you begged for more.”
Gods he wanted nothing more than to lie here while Cicero took the time to carefully peel each layer from him, adoring each exposed patch of skin as he did so.
Never before had such words felt so earnest. Never before had anyones words aroused him so easily. The tingling sensation in his belly, the sudden rushes of exhilarating warm pleasure to the spot deep inside his lower stomach almost too much to handle. Cicero began his descent down Astarion’s body, his nose and mouth tickling down the exposed part of his chest in the shirt, making his way down… and down… and down.
“I’ll keep that in mind next time. Just for you.” Astarion sighed and closed his eyes as he enjoyed the sensation of his soft lips. “I must admit. You’re getting quite the hang of this dirty talk.”
Astarion opened his eyes and looked up when he felt the retraction of his lips from his stomach. Met with the unimpressed face of Cicero, squinting his eyes at him with light disapproval.
“I’m not a virgin.”
“I know, but you get so flustered like one usually.”
“Oh fuck you.” Cicero snorted playfully.
Astarion raised an eyebrow. “Well I am waiting.”
Cicero rolled his eyes with a smile and brought his lips down to kiss at his lower stomach. Starting to pull down his underwear, his cock springing free, now exposed to the air. His arousal now fully on display before Cicero’s eyes, erect and throbbing towards him. The tip shining with pearlescent pre-cum, aching for more touch.
He had done this a million times. He had been on the receiving end of getting undressed more times in his existence than he had ever even breathed. This should be easy, instinctual, hardly anything to bat an eye at.
And yet he looked up at Cicero like he was a shy virgin awaiting some kind of approval comment at his newly exposed position. He couldn’t even bring himself to look at his own freed erection, a feeling very unfamiliar coursing through his body as he lay here. An overwhelming sense of almost… embarrassment at his vulnerability. His chest tightened as Cicero looked down at his body, not for the first time, and still the need to please, to impress was very prevalent. He was trying so hard to break that habit.
But all of that was put at ease the very minute that Cicero smiled at him, one that was full of so much love and care.
“You’re so beautiful Astarion. Every inch of you, inside and out, is incredible. I’m so lucky to have you.”
Astarion grinned and coyly looked away for a brief moment. “I can assure you, my cheeks would be aflame right now if they still could.”
“Is that so? I had no idea I made you blush so much.”
Astarion looked at him through the corner of his eye. Clearing his throat before whispering. “More frequently than you’ll ever know.”
“Good to know, thank you for boosting my ego.” Cicero ghosts his fingers across the veins of Astarion’s arousal, taking in the delightful sound of Astarion’s surprised gasps at the slightest of touches he wasn’t yet expecting. His hands no longer hindered by the fabric as they began exploring his most sensitive area. A whimper barely held back from his lips as all he could make out was the all-encompassing tingle from the waist down. Cicero wrapped his hand around his shaft, gliding his hands up and down excruciatingly slowly, watching as Astarion’s lips parted and his brow furrowed. The pace tortuous, so unlike everything he had ever experienced before… and it was mind-blowing. Their lips so close together but not quite touching, Astarion could do nothing but melt into his touch, his breath tickling Cicero’s lips with each pant.
But before he could enjoy any more of the touch, Cicero pulled away again.
“Do you want me to prepare you?” Cicero asked, reaching for the oil on the table, holding it up before him. “Or would you like to do it yourself?”
In usual circumstances he would be forced to do it himself, having never had the option of someone ever wanting to do it for him before. Whenever Astarion assumed this role with his victims he made sure to prepare himself as quickly as possible, sometimes at the expense of not properly making sure he was fully ready. It was never about him after all, never about his own pleasure. There were many times he would grit and bear through the pain, desperately trying to pinpoint and focus upon the pleasure that was drowning deep under the tearing discomfort and searing burn.
But Cicero was the first to ever ask, to offer even during that night in the graveyard. It took him by surprise and he was floored that anyone would ever want to do that for him. That anybody would enjoy the process of doing it without seeing it as a hassle. The idea of Cicero doing it for him with such enthusiasm made his cock even harder than he thought possible.
“I think you can handle it dear, I’ll just lie back and enjoy the show like you always say I should.”
“Good.” Cicero chuckles. “Now, what position would you like for it? On your back or on your front?”
He didn’t want to look away for a single second. He wanted Cicero to watch his face as it twisted in the anticipatory pleasure.
“On my back.” Astarion decided with a smirk, whispering seductively. “I want to watch you.”
Cicero nodded. “Lift your hips up for me my love.”
Astarion wordlessly obeyed, moving into a position to better accommodate for Cicero’s hand as he poured a generous amount of lubricant onto his fingers. He watched as Cicero warmed the liquid between his fingers, another small example of his unintentional kindness, before bringing it between his legs. Unable to see but able to feel the way he began coating the outside of his puckered hole in the oil. He continued to circle his entrance, gently teasing and It took all of Astarion’s self control not to squirm around in gratification. Cicero met Astarion’s lust-filled gaze, wordlessly asking for permission to continue, to which Astarion nodded mutely, his usual vocal prowess abandoning him in his carnal stupor. Finally, after what felt to be an agonisingly long wait, a finger finally breached inside him.
Astarion felt his eyes roll back in his skull and his mouth open wordlessly at the sensation. His head falling back onto the pillow and rolling onto the side as the digit burrowed deeper inside him, precariously exploring the most hidden away parts of his body. Something about the way Cicero opened him up with his fingers was almost as pleasurable as the actual act of sex itself. It wasn’t treated as an arduous task but instead as a key part of their shared enjoyment. Sweat beginning to form across his hairline as the heat of everything began ramping up.
“Oh Gods…”
He began carefully bringing another finger to stretch him slightly, just enough to push another inside him. The entire lower half of Astarion’s body was practically aflame with the heat of rapture. He was so tender and gentle, slowly working him open until he was comfortable enough to take more. And Cicero made sure to take his time, even when Astarion impatiently asked (not begged, absolutely never begging) him to hurry up. Secretly though, he was absolutely thriving with each carefully added finger, the slight stretch and passing burn a pleasant welcome. As a third finger was added he all but imagined that this was what everyone thrived for in sex.
Gods… it was positivity exquisite.
Body arching beautifully like that of an erotic renaissance painting, a sight and muse that the most famous sculptures could only dream to capture in their work.
But it wasn’t enough… he needed more of him.
His fang snagged his own lip as he bit down in efforts to silence the sounds of debauchery that threatened to expel from his throat. Usually, he exaggerated such moans during the act itself, a flawless performance of heightened enjoyment and complete satisfaction for his partners viewing. An enticing sight. An erotic lie.
But Cicero brought out another side in him he didn’t know existed, or perhaps more apt to say a side of him that he thought died with his mortal life. One consisting of shyness at his genuine sighs and moans of pleasure. Very slight embarrassment at being so open and honest in his enjoyment.
Cicero looked up, noting the way Astarion’s hand covered his face slightly.
“You can allow yourself to make those noises you know Astarion. I… truthfully I quite like the sounds you make.”
Astarion released a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding onto, one that transformed into a soft moan halfway through the exhale. He lifted his head back up to look at Cicero, smiling at him and raising an eyebrow.
“I bet you do darling… but you’re going to have to coax it out of me then.”
Cicero, rather cockily, in response scissored his fingers inside him, stretching him further as the vampire gasped in surprise, a groan escaping him in the process.
“Don’t forget that it’s my fingers that are in your arse. Continue being cheeky and see what happens.”
“Oh trust me darling, I absolutely can’t forget that little fact. You’re positively…” His voice hitched partway through the sentence. “Spearing into me.”
This continued for a few more minutes before he started getting impatient, wriggling about in his grip as another wave of pleasure rolled over his body.
“Yes alright Darling I’m quite ready for you. Let’s move onto the main event shall we?”
Cicero smiled and removes his hand that now started travelling down to his trousers in efforts to remove them. But before he can, Astarion uses his agile strength to flip their positions so that he’s now above Cicero, looking down at him with a victorious smirk at the half-elves surprised expression.
“Ah ah ah pet, none of that.” Astarion chastised lightly, his mouth kissing lightly at his cheek before moving it down to his bare chest. Brushing his nose against the soft hairs scattered across the expanse of his chest, admiring the texture of his body hair that his elvish body could never grow. Honestly it was a little embarrassing how much he swooned over it.
He follows that trail of light, fair hair down to his stomach. Continuing to rub his face against it before looking up with a glint in his eye.
“What? You think I’m just going to let you have your way with me without giving you a taste of your own medicine first?” Astarion laughed playfully, before nimble, dexterous fingers began skilfully undoing his trousers without even looking. “What a silly little boy you are, thinking you can tease me without it being reciprocated back.” Brushing his fingers up and down the tented arousal. “You forget who falls to their knees first in our relationship.”
“Trust me, I don’t.”
Astarion whispers. “Good boy~”
“Astarion-” Cicero mewls and bites his lip as his trousers were pulled down, his arousal covered only by his underwear that was painfully straining against it, a small wet patch beginning to stain the fabric.
Astarion looks up at him through his thick eyelashes before pulling down his underwear and discarding it off to the side. Cicero’s blush only worsened now that he was fully exposed before his boyfriend. But Astarion wasn’t looking for that, he was distracted by something else entirely instead.
Cicero’s gorgeous engorged prick, throbbing so unashamedly before him.
“So well endowed. So very beautiful. It’s cruel irony that you found your calling as a cleric rather than a bard.”
A carnal hunger overtook his senses, an urge to taste him, his tongue in dire need to stroke along the shaft of him. His mouth practically watering at the mere sight of his beautiful prick. His own needs abandoning him momentarily as he wanted to please his lover, to hear his moans of desire instead.
And so he indulged, leaning forward and wrapping his lips around his cock, taking him deeper into his mouth with an hummed groan of his own. Bobbing his head up and down as he coated the entire length in his saliva. Relishing in the feel of him, each subtle twitch of his cock so incredibly erotic. Truthfully he lost enjoyment in doing this kind of act long ago, or so he thought before Cicero. Now he loved it and got so very easily carried away when the half-elf’s moans began hitching over the other. Truly it was beginning to become just as enjoyable as receiving.
Not that he was necessarily going to tell Cicero that.
Cicero’s breathing intensified, his chest rising and falling at an irregular pace as Astarion’s continued the most skilled movements of his mouth. His tongue running along the underside before circling around the softness of his head, applying a pleasant amount of pleasure as he did so. Swallowing the pearly beads of pre-cum adorning the tip like it was the ambrosia of the Gods. There was the sound of Elvish that Astarion could no longer translate in the air as Cicero mumbled softly to himself. But Gods did it sound divine on his tongue all the same.
He really could very well get carried away with this very act and he very much wanted to, but the ache between his own legs began to make itself known again. Reminding him exactly what they had set out to do together. To have him painting his throat would not do, not now anyway.
He pulled away just as Cicero’s moans began to amplify, resulting in a breathy whimper from the half-elf at the loss of Astarion’s warm mouth around him.
“Hush my dear, I’m about to gift you something so much better.” Astarion cooed, placing a quick kiss to his lips. “And I have quite the positive feedback to back my claims.”
The elf began straddling Ciceros lap, the half-elf moving to sit up and wrap his arms around him as he did so. His lips exploring Astarion’s neck as the vampire began grinding against his arousal that was pressing up hard against him.
“Nghhh~ Astarion love…” It was Cicero’s turn now to whine, his cock beginning to slide between Astarion’s cheeks. The vampire purposely rubbing himself against it teasingly, slickening himself with the combined fluids of his own saliva and his oil. Sliding against him so easily, now making quite the mess.
“I love watching you lose your composure before me.” Astarion mumbled, grabbing at Cicero’s hair possessively, pulling free his signature ponytail to better tangle his hands through his locks. Cicero merely responds by doing the very same, passionately grasping at his curls.
The vampire lifted himself in Cicero’s lap, he pressed his forehead against Cicero’s as he positioned himself atop him. The head of Cicero’s cock poking at his readied hole, ready to breach inside and his legs almost quivering in anticipation. His eyes darted up to Cicero’s face, their eyes meeting, a gaze of pure devotion paired with gentle strokes of the others face.
“What do you want Melith Nín?” Cicero asks breathily, gliding his finger across Astarion’s lower lip.
What does he want? A question he had once dreamt about. One that he had awaited centuries to hear asked. But now there couldn’t be a more obvious answer.
Cicero. He yearns for Cicero. He yearns for him. His beloved, his partner, his soulmate. He yearns for the unique fragrance of his skin. He yearns for his touch in any capacity. He yearns for his love and his adoration and his care and his embrace and his attention at any given time that he so gracefully provides him.
He yearns,
He craves,
And he wants-
“I want you.”
“Then take me.” Cicero smiles. “Take exactly what you want.”
Then slowly, their bodies finally join as one.
Astarion lowers himself onto him, every inch that enters him causing a breathy sigh to escape his chest. Cicero groaning as he gets enveloped by a tight, wet heat. He keeps going, further… and further and honestly having some inside him like this has never felt more right. Quite easily taking him after such a long time of careful preparation. The vampires painted nails digging deep into the skin of Cicero’s back, indenting the skin with almost enough strength to leave behind more permanent marks across Cicero’s already decorated body of scars. Astarion is certain that he loses part of himself to the sensation, helpless to the gratification. Every throb of his boyfriends cock could be felt as it was nestled deep inside. Finally bottoming with a husky groan, filled to the brim, the stretch overwhelming in the very best way possible.
They sit like that for a few minutes as they get accustomed to the closeness, as Astarion gets used to the feeling. Holding eachother close as they become one breathing entity. The only sounds to be echoed around the room is their light pants and heavy breathing.
Astarion lets out a shaky exhale, a sound of smile upon his lips as he mutters against Cicero’s neck. “Why did we never do this earlier?”
Cicero laughed deeply before kissing along Astarion’s jawline. He chokes back a moan like his life depends on it and Cicero immediately follows with another deep thrust inside him that forces that moan free despite his best efforts.
Before long, their bodies become slick with sweat, perspiration droplets settling upon skin like morning dew upon the waxy cuticle of a leaf. Astarion knew his hair was completely dishevelled, his usually perfected curls now messy and out of place. Small strands falling in front of his own eyes, blinding him just as much as the delirium was making his vision hazy.
“Ah Cicero…” Astarion groaned. “Harder pet… ~ah~ harder.”
“Getting tired are we darling?” Cicero tutted mockingly. “Need me to go on top instead? Would you much prefer your big strong man to take the lead?”
“Oh not at all my boy… I just know how much you love listening to my commands…” Astarion licked along his jawline. “How much you love breeding me.”
Cicero’s cheeks reddened, narrowing his eyes and thrusting upwards with one particularly hard thrust. One that caught Astarion by surprise, gasping loudly at the delicious feeling.
“Mmm… oh you really did like that didn’t you?” Astarion played more, though his bravado was falling short somewhat when he couldn’t stop the flurry of whines and moans from littering his words with each move of Ciceros hips. The half-elf brought his lips up to Astarion’s ear, lightly caressing the pointed tip with his tongue before moving down and nibbling at his lobe. The heightened sensitivity from such an action, a highly erogenous zone of the elf they had discovered one night quite some time ago accidentally, dragged another moan from him.
“That mouth of yours will be your undoing one day you know.”
Astarion continued riding him, bringing his face closer to Cicero, lips lightly touching his before biting down on his lower lip ever so slightly.
“Then maybe you should busy it somehow instead.”
Their lips met again, tongues fighting for dominance as the only piece of clothing still worn between them, Cicero’s shirt, was now falling off Astarion with each movement. It’s slighter larger size more than obvious as his pale shoulder slips free. Cicero leans forward and applies his attention to the newly exposed skin.
Astarions own breath began failing him though he needn’t require it. His cries of complete ecstasy falling from his throat with reckless abandon, mixing with Cicero’s own groans in the air. Astarion isn’t the voracious predator that his body evolved to become when with Cicero. Instead, he’s a prey animal ensnared in Cicero’s trap, awaiting to be skinned and tortured but instead took home and recuperated until he’s healed to full health. Looked after in a world that has never done such a thing for him before.
“What do you do to me.” Cicero whispers against his hair.
“Feelings ~ ah~ very mutual, my darling…”
How this man could possess his body without it feeling like an invasion like so many before was beyond his comprehension. How he could bare himself in the most exposed positions possible, and enjoy every single second by his hand, was nothing short of groundbreaking.
Perhaps it was because every time Astarion was the one to hold the strings. Even when he ventured into the most vulnerable areas of his psyche, as he gave himself away to the man he loved most, eagerly letting him explore each and every crevice deep inside him, he was the one still holding the power. Not the power he once strived to own and dominate in order to satiate the demons in his mind that clawed and strived for safety.
No… it was a completely different power. Though he still had yet to really understand himself exactly what that was.
Each loving thrust was paired with a kind word, a devastatingly tender yet unconscious caress. He was gifted with another whisper in his ear.
“Astarion love… you’re doing such a good job… you’re such a good boy…”
He is? Oh Gods… what a thing to get told in his blissful haze.
“~mmm again… please~ say it again.” Astarion all but begged now for the praise.
Cicero replied eagerly. “You’re doing such a good job for me…My special boy… my love… my precious darling.”
A high pitched whine escaped his throat at those words. Bouncing in his lap more in efforts to chase that simmering spark in his core. Toes curled with each wave of pleasure that was continuing to build inside his body. Elvish he didn’t even remember began to pour from his lips with each brush inside him. Rolling off his tongue like delectable honey he once adored. The remarks apparently meant something of effect, given the way Cicero keened against his neck, replying back in their native tongue with words of fine grandeur he couldn’t really make out. And it sounded so beautiful coming from his lips.
Never before had he wanted to just revel in this sensation, to be connected to him like this forever. He didn’t want this moment to ever end… he didn’t want to loosen his hold around him… he didn’t want to be separated from him for a mere second. He wants to stay joined with him like this for eternity. Cicero chases away those fears, he obliterates those demons that demand so much of his pain, He slaughters anything that threatens his life.
Astarion’s parted lips cried out Cicero’s name and an assortment of loving pet names like that of a divine prayer. Not too dissimilar to that of Cicero’s own cleric prayers to Ilmater, though admittedly embellished with a few more gasps, whines and moans littered throughout. A symphony of devotion to the one he loved most. A guttural wail let out when Cicero hits that spot deep inside him that he so generously continues to aim for. And he takes it again and again and again until nothing matters but this.
That is until that pesky problem that he had long forgotten about until now begins to emerge. As he hears the blood rushing down Cicero’s body with urgency, the smell of it beneath the skin inside his veins. His stomach lurches with lust and hunger in a twisted combination. Ahhh Gods… he wants for nothing more than to taste him.
“Darling~” Astarion all but whispers, nearing that pinnacle he so craves yet also wants to avoid for fear of this all ending so soon.
Somehow, Cicero understands exactly what he wants. He doesn’t use the tadpole, he doesn’t read his mind but it’s like he does. Cicero guides his head so that his mouth now is mere inches away from the artery by his neck. Astarion can all but make out the teeth marks that are healing from the other night and he wants to make more. He feels the hand on the back of his head caress his hair before pushing his mouth further down so that his lips caress the skin.
“Feed from me. Take what… take what you need.” Cicero moaned softly.
It appeared that Astarion wasn’t the only one desperate for the feeding to commence. So Astarion decided to indulge both him and his stomach and bites down eagerly. Enlarged canines penetrating flesh in tandem to the spearing sensation occurring in their sex. The blood hits his lips and he’s losing himself, he feasts, he devours, he downright gets thrown into the frontlines of complete hedonism. Suckling against his neck like that of a newborn, pleasured hums from his nose and throat as he continued swallowing it all down. And apparently his small satisfied noises are enough to please Cicero, based on his less-than-subtle groan.
He can taste their sex in his blood, he can taste the passion, the spice, the sweetness, the most divine tastes that simultaneously sparks his tongue like electricity. It almost stings as much as it’s utter bliss, the life-essence practically reminding him what it was to feel alive again. He’s quickly becoming obsessed, but he knows how to pull himself away before he goes too far. He’d learnt that lesson the morning after his first feed, when his face became acquainted with the strength of the newly resurrected, disgruntled Cicero’s right hook.
The coil strung tight inside him begins to unravel. The expanding swell of pressure holding back the dam of his ecstasy, threatens to burst. He’s close, so incredibly close that his release is just within arms reach. His grip around Cicero’s body only tightens.
Cicero panted against his neck, his voice muffled as he too was nearing his own climax, stifling it for a moment as he asked the very distracted Astarion an important question. His own head spinning from the love-making and the blood loss.
“Where do you want it?”
Astarion pulls himself away from the wound, his mouth stained with blood and strings of his saliva stretching from his own lips and Cicero’s neck, the spittle dyed a pinkish red. He knows he must look a complete mess but he doesn’t care. His gaze meeting Cicero’s with half-lidded eyes of lust.
“Inside darling.” Astarion commands with an inherent desperation, a need to feel all of him.
With a nod, Cicero reaches down between their bodies, ignoring the pre-cum from Astarion’s arousal trapped between them that stained both their stomachs, and wraps his hand around Astarion. Beginning to stroke him in time with the thrusts.
“Ha~Ahh~ Cicero~ Please!”
Pants are freely escaping his throat and he can’t stop them, whimpers and whines that he used to hide are coming out at full force and he doesn’t want to stop them.
“Star~”
It’s almost a race to who will reach their pinnacle first. His movements become sloppy in this stumble to the finish line as Cicero hand keeps moving and keeps feeling so- so good. Rampant through his body is the electric feeling of desire, the desperation to feel his heaven by his hand. His mind is a jumble of incoherency, his mouth unable to shape anything but the whines of a man close to the edge. His brain can only make out one clear statement.
I love you.. I love you… I love you…
“I love you…”
Astarion’s climax hits him hard, his head thrown back as he spills in Cicero’s hand, painting it white. Bliss… utter bliss takes over every fibre of his being. A smile, an earnest, genuine smile is unabashedly sculpted across his face as he orgasms. The smallest of exhales and whines escaping through his parted lips. He’s in pure rapture as his vision whitens and his head buzzes nicely. He can just about make out the distant sensation of Cicero’s out of time thrusts.
With a few more pumps that is when he feels Cicero fill him. Another rush of ecstasy coursing through him as he feels every inch inside him taking his warm seed. After a satisfied sigh at the sensation, Astarion fell backwards onto the bed again, lay on his back with his head perched upon the soft pillows. Cicero followed naturally, given that they were still very much joint together. Slowly pulling out out of him so as not to overstimulate him, his cum flowing out as he did so. Astarion exhaled deeply, still coming down from the high he was newly addicted to and adamant to revel in every second. His tired pants of breath from deep inside his chest the only sound in the room.
As he comes back to his immortal body, Cicero is already kissing his face. Decorating each surface of skin with light brushes of his lips. The way this man showered him in affection was precious, infectious even. Astarion couldn’t help but sigh at the loving intimacy of this moment.
Though not without a brazen comment first.
“Are you trying to suffocate me with your kisses?”
Cicero stops and pulls away slightly. “I apologise, would you like me to stop?”
“Ah Ah hold on.” Astarion’s arm flings around Cicero’s neck, pulling him back down. “I didn’t say that.“
Cicero smiles and presses another kiss to both of Astarion’s cheeks and his forehead before pressing another kiss against his lips. Astarion hums in response, noting that his blood-stained lips don’t seem to put the half-elf off at all. But before they get carried away Cicero abruptly pulls back with wide, perturbed eyes in an instant that made Astarion frown in concern.
“What?” Astarion urged, lifting himself onto his elbows.
“Did we use protection?!” Cicero quipped before his worried face morphed into one of childish delight.
Unfortunately, Astarion couldn’t quite the stop the laugh from escaping from his lips at the terrible joke. He quickly tried covering it up with a squint of his eyes and a loud clearing of his throat.
“Funny darling.” He said as deadpan as he possibly could.
“I know I am.” Cicero giggles mischievously before running a hand through Astarion’s hair. “You know, I was considered quite the comedian upon my crew.”
“We’re they forced to admit that to you because you were their captain?”
“No!” Cicero shook his head then stopped deep in thought, realisation spreading across his face. “Shit… Maybe. There was that one time I challenged and won a fist-fight against my Gunner on the deck for saying I only had dad jokes… I guess they may have learnt not to do it again after that.”
Astarion hummed a laugh. “The more I hear about your pirate adventures the more I’m reminded how much of a swashbuckling, rambunctious scoundrel you really are despite your pretty face.”
“And I’m reminded how much of a prissy, pompous boy with a pretty face you are. So I suppose we’re even.”
Astarion smirked. “Touché darling.”
Cicero kisses his forehead again. “Now let me clean you up.”
“Gods you treat me like a pillow princess.”
“Any objections to that?”
Astarion rolled his eyes playfully. “Not necessarily. If you insist upon lavishing upon me then who am I to get in the way of that.”
“Exactly. I can’t help but just treat you can I? And… quite honestly I think you deserve to be one.” Cicero responded with a smirk, standing up to go and retrieve a wet cloth to clean them up, disappearing from behind the privacy screen to his bed.
Astarion looked down at the shirt he was still wearing, noting the small splatter of his own release that had accidentally landed upon Cicero’s shirt.
“Unfortunately it seems I may have left my mark upon your shirt darling. But I promise I will wash it later before you start.” Astarion pulled the shirt off finally and dropped it to the side. “Though you should be thanking me, it was certainly in dire need of one soon.”
“Are you implying that I stink?” Cicero laughed boisterously as he returned with a damp cloth in hand, as well as two new pairs of underwear for the both of them. Kneeling down onto the bed to begin gently wiping Astarion down.
And secretly, the vampire adored being pampered like this.
“Oh Heavens no my dear! What do you take me for!?” Astarion’s replied with feigned shock. “I’m just making a comment that it was starting to get a little… ripe is all. Though I’m sure you’re quite used to that, being on the seas for some time without a proper bath.”
“Didn’t stop you from sticking your nose in it and wearing it though did it?” Cicero grinned as he finished cleaning the pair of them up, throwing on a pair of underwear before dropping Astarion’s on his chest. “I see right through your little facade, you can’t fool me.”
“No idea what you mean.” Astarion snorted as he pulled his own underwear on. “Now are you going to lie down and cuddle me or shall I go find someone else to fulfil my post-coital, newly-discovered craving for intimacy?”
Cicero mumbled the incantation for lesser restoration as he casts the spell upon himself. Afterwards looking down at Astarion with a smile upon his lips. Lying down beside him, wrapping his arms around Astarion as he did the same back. Entangled in the webbing comprised of each others limbs. A hum leaves the vampires lips.
“I hope this is sufficient?”
“Indeed it is, my love.” Astarion whispers, unable to hide the joy in his expression. The smallest of laughs expelled from his throat as his thoughts wandered upon what they had just experienced together.
“I…I very much enjoyed that… you know.” He says with a slight authentic coyness to his voice that he hadn’t recognised since before his death. A shyness, a bashfulness that made him remember the feeling of blushing again. “Sex… without the need to perform. To just… enjoy every second selfishly… with you.” He looks away again, the smile widening. “I didn’t think I could ever feel like this again.”
“That makes me really happy to hear Astarion.” Cicero blushes slightly, looking away shyly. “I… I also really enjoyed it.”
“Gods listen to us. We sound like two lovesick teenagers right now. I’d be spewing up your blood right now in disgust if I didn’t find it so…” Astarion rolled his eyes playfully and cleared his throat. “Endearing.”
“I love you too much to care how sappy we sound, honestly.”
Astarion looked up at Cicero, pressing their foreheads together as he stared deep into his beloved eyes. Full of nothing but comfort and love.
“I love you too.” He whispered, before bringing their lips back together. Ready to lose himself willingly all over again to this feeling.