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“Is this some kind of a joke?”
The comfortable familiarity of Astarion’s tent, he noticed right away, had been disrupted. His assorted cushions, very deliberate in their typical haphazard sprawl, were pushed aside, jumbled in the tangle of blankets.
The reasons for the chaos were standing beside the mess, Lae’zel’s arms in a customary position crossed over her chest as Halsin rested an absent hand against her hip.
And in front of them, for gods only knew what reason, was a mirror.
“Because I don’t find it particularly funny.”
Astarion brushed past them, intending to bend down and make a pointed effort at returning his tent to some semblance of normalcy, but Halsin caught his wrist before he could make it that far.
“It is not an attempt at humor,” Lae’zel said, stepping aside to let Halsin gently drag Astarion between them.
“It’s a gift,” Halsin finished.
“A gift?” Astarion didn’t bother trying to hide the incredulity in his tone. It was bad enough that he was still having to adjust to running away from the sun again, and an open reminder of the other things he was lacking as a permanent vampire spawn felt particularly cruel. “In case you forgot, I can’t fucking see my—”
Astarion cut himself off mid-rant, his eyes falling angrily toward the mirror only to see…something. Not himself, not really, but standing there between his partners, with their reflections plain to see in the mirror before them, he could almost get…a sense of himself; a hazy outline more easily imagined with Lae’zel’s slight frame against his left side and Halsin’s wide bulk against his right.
“We know,” Lae’zel answered, stalwart despite the ferocity of his attack. “But we can help.”
“If you’ll let us,” Halsin added. “If you’re uncomfortable with the idea, we can pitch this in the river and forget all about it.”
“No!” Astarion blurted, before clearing his throat as he felt heat rise to his cheeks. “No,” he repeated, softer, almost apologetic. “I…want to see what you had in mind.”
With a coordination that felt suspiciously practiced, Lae’zel curled her arm around the breadth of Astarion’s shoulders, and Halsin placed a flat hand atop his head.
For a moment, they just stayed there, letting Astarion’s eyes wander. He couldn’t see his own reflection, and that would never change, but he could see where Lae’zel’s fingers curled against his bicep, and feel her arm against his back. When his gaze lifted, it remained for a long moment on Halsin’s hovering hand before idly comparing his own apparent height to theirs.
It was one thing to look down at Lae’zel, and up at Halsin, but another entirely to see the way that he fit between them. The way that they saw him.
“Keep going,” he murmured.
As Halsin dropped to his knees, careful not to obscure Astarion’s view, Lae’zel stepped behind him, both hands rising to bury in Astarion’s curls.
“Your hair is getting longer.”
Her fingers dragged back along his scalp and the back of his neck before Astarion felt them slip from the ends of his hair, his eyes glued to the mirror to watch as they stopped just above the line of his shoulders.
“Can you…” Astarion paused, lifting both arms to help Halsin take off his tunic and toss it aside. “Cut it soon?”
He watched Lae’zel’s reflection nod, once, curt.
“And can you do this again?” he whispered, “when you do?”
At that, Lae’zel’s expression softened, and Astarion caught Halsin’s widening smile in his periphery as his hands moved to carefully shimmy Astarion’s trousers down over his hips.
“Yes,” she answered, before adding, as her hands rose again, “if you ask nicely.”
Astarion’s half-hearted snort of protest earned a smirk from Lae’zel, and the smug satisfaction in her gaze only increased as she brought her fingers to bracket Astarion’s ears, earning a hitched breath.
“Your ears are smaller than Halsin’s,” Lae’zel continued, matter-of-fact. “But longer.”
Her fingertips slid out from the shell of his ears, stopping when they touched together at the tip, a few inches away from where they’d started.
“Oh gods.” Astarion’s nose wrinkled. “That’s horrid.”
“They’re charming,” Halsin piped up, rising to his feet again. “And mostly hidden by your hair, if that helps at all.”
Astarion’s eyes narrowed, and he considered the mental picture he’d been building for a long moment before sighing. “I suppose it does.”
After a brief glance between them, Halsin moved to take Lae’zel’s place at Astarion’s back as she shifted to his side. He eyed them both, one eyebrow cocked, but his eyes fell back to the mirror as Halsin dropped his chin to rest on his shoulder.
“Can I touch you?”
The question made Astarion realize that for the first time since they’d started this whole thing, no one’s hands were on him, and he answered with more desperation in his voice than he had wanted to admit aloud.
“Yes. Keep—keep going.”
Lae’zel and Halsin moved in tandem once again, Halsin’s broad palms slotting beneath Astarion’s arms for a brief, ticklish moment before they began to skim downward, tracing the sides of his chest, and waist, and hips, each additional inch drawing a silhouette atop his blank reflection.
When Halsin reached the inside of his thighs, Astarion couldn’t quite bite back a moan of approval, the tendrils of heat that had been curling slowly in his chest descending in a sudden, messy tangle to the pit of his stomach. His head fell back to rest against Halsin’s shoulder, breaking the illusion of his partners’ touch, until Lae’zel dragged it back up with a hand in his hair.
“Your hair is white,” she said, only a half-successful distraction as Halsin finished tracing Astarion’s bare feet and then, with no apparent purpose except to tease him further, moved back up to press his fingertips into the soft weight of Astarion’s thighs. “Your eyes are red.”
“Yes, and my teeth are sharp,” Astarion finished, sounding entirely too breathless to be effectively sardonic.
Lae’zel ignored him, her finger carefully circling a spot beneath his left eye.
“You have a mole here.”
“I didn’t need to know that.”
Lae’zel silenced him by pressing her lips to the same place, and when Astarion unthinkingly smiled at the gesture, she ghosted her fingertips along the sides of his mouth.
“Deep smile lines.”
“Deep?”
“An asymmetrical nose.”
“Asymmetrical?”
Halsin’s low chuckle was entirely too close to the dip of Astarion’s hip, and any pretense that the older elf had for remaining on his knees disappeared as he tucked his hands into the waistband of Astarion’s underwear.
“Yes, please,” Astarion said, exasperated, when Halsin lifted a questioning brow. “Distract me from all the awful things Lae’zel is saying.”
He watched Lae’zel’s eyes roll in her reflection, but when he offered a toothy grin and a wink, her feigned scowl gave way.
“You know,” Astarion continued, as Halsin returned to the bare cleft of his thigh. “I can see that part of myself.”
“Mm.” Halsin looked up through his lashes, nose pressed to Astarion’s half-hard cock as his lips moved over his skin in the shape of his words. “Would you rather I didn’t touch you then?”
“Well now…” Astarion swallowed around the lump in his throat, Adam’s apple bobbing as Lae’zel leaned in to drag her teeth over the tip of his ear. “I didn’t—I didn’t say that.”
Lae’zel was behind him again now, her hands splayed low over his belly as Halsin wrapped both hands around his thighs to hold him steady. Astarion stared straight ahead, taking in the conspicuous gap between Lae’zel and Halsin with a slight frown before reaching up to grab Lae’zel’s wrist.
“Can you hold…” He guided her hands to the outside of his hips, watching her fingers curl as he felt them dig into his skin. “Here.”
The new sense of his own width allowed him to see how dwarfed he was by the breadth of Halsin’s shoulders and the realization made a low groan rumble from his chest. Halsin answered the sound by allowing his tongue to loll out and catch the pre-cum dripping from Astarion’s cock. He looked down, enamored by the sight, but a brief thought crossed his mind, and Lae’zel spoke it aloud before he could manage to.
“Wait a moment, Halsin. Turn him.”
Halsin hummed in acknowledgement, a low vibration traveling from his parted lips to the now fully erect length of Astarion’s cock.
Quickly, but with much less coordination since the movement was impromptu, and since they were all now openly aroused, they rotated, until Astarion could see the way that Lae’zel’s breasts pressed flat against the invisible wall of his back and Halsin’s lips stretched to accommodate the nonexistent reflection of his cock.
“Any more flattering descriptors this time, darling?” Astarion asked, breathy and unabashedly dramatic as he eyed the view that the mirror provided, his head knocked sideways to rest against Lae’zel’s as he rocked his hips against Halsin’s extended tongue.
Lae’zel gripped tighter to his hips, claws pricking just hard enough to send a shock of pleasure up the line of his spine. Her eyes were trained downward, watching as Astarion used Halsin’s offered mouth to chase the burn of arousal.
“Proportional,” she said, finally, her lips curling against his cheek when Astarion scoffed in only half-mock outrage.
“Halsin, please, spare me.”
He pulled away, voice low and rough around the edges as Astarion watched a mixture of spit and pre-cum drip from his bottom lip.
“You have a lovely cock, my heart,” Halsin soothed. “It has never left me unsatisfied.”
“See?” Astarion huffed, accusatory. “Lovely. He could teach you a thing or two.”
“I am not a woman of empty words,” Lae’zel answered, before adding, “but Halsin is correct. It has never proven unsatisfactory.”
That said, Lae’zel lowered one of her hands, using it to wrap loosely around the base of Astarion’s cock and guide it back to press against Halsin’s swollen lips. Astarion let her lead his movements, using her guidance as an opportunity to look back into the mirror again.
As soon as Halsin’s lips were stretched midway up Astarion’s shaft, Lae’zel returned both hands to his hips, using her grip to guide the push and pull of his cock over Halsin’s tongue. With a brief shift, he could suddenly see the bulge of it in Halsin’s cheek, pushing at the soft, wet inside until it was forced to extend, visibly straining in his reflection.
“Gods,” Astarion moaned, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. When he opened them again, the sight was no less overwhelming, and he heard himself whimper as the feverish knot in his gut pulled nearly tight enough to snap. “I’m—do you want me to—”
He couldn’t quite get the words out past the haze of his oncoming orgasm, but he had enough wherewithal to see Halsin shake his head in apparent understanding and having been given permission, Astarion came down Halsin’s throat with a gasp.
As he trembled between his lovers, Lae’zel gently released his hips, her fingers tracing softly over the furrow of his brow, the slack line of his jaw, the way that his lips parted around a breathy moan of pleasure. It was, by merit of Lae’zel and Halsin’s careful, coordinated dedication, the closest that Astarion would ever get to understanding his physical self.
The thought made his heart ache; not quite unpleasantly.
“So?” Halsin asked, chin propped against the sweaty expanse of Astarion’s thigh and gaze warm. “Am I disposing of the treacherous looking glass?”
Astarion snorted, flushing lightly, and he leaned his head sideways to take in the faint slump visible between Lae’zel’s supportive grip and Halsin’s relaxed posture with a sigh.
“No,” he said finally, feeling the way that his cheeks stretched around a smile that only they could see. “Let’s keep it.”