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“Have you ever seen one of these before, Halsin? It’s called a bed.”
Halsin laughs, taking the blow in his stride and dropping his pack to the floor beside the wall. “Trust me. I have seen many beds.”
In the Elfsong Tavern one could hardly expect the extravagance of the Upper City but that still doesn’t stop a mild look of distaste from appearing on Astarion’s face when he pushes past the giant. The room is plain; with floorboards that creak under his foot and a bed that has undoubtedly held many pairs of passionate lovers.
Still. It will do.
“Then you won’t mind taking the floor. Unless—,” Astarion turns and with practiced theatrics falls onto the bed. “You’d rather spend your night in the city with your face up a maiden’s skirt?”
“The floor is just fine, Astarion. I am not quite as young as I used to be,” Halsin replies. He’s already laying out his bedroll over the wood.
It’s late in the evening. Late, to the point where even the bustle of the tavern has begun to quiet, the people choosing to leave for their own beds rather than to stay until dawn greets them.
Their own day had been long and Astarion is too ready to roll onto his back and fall into a trance. He’s tired and his body isn’t used to the excursion that is running around Baldur’s Gate. Gods, Astarion may have seen more of the city in the past week than he has in two hundred years.
Even Halsin, the druid with his more callused and weather worn skin, settles himself down on his bedroll with a worn grunt. Astarion can only be glad he’s bunked up with a fellow elf, and thus won’t be privy to the earache that is Gale and Lae’zel’s snoring.
It makes it all incredibly easy to settle down atop the sheets, close his eyes and drift into a deep meditation that is long overdue.
He has needed the rest. And rest he does.
Until several hours later, Astarion is pulled from his meditation too early.
He wonders for a moment if it had been a ruckus outside that had disturbed him, but no, the streets in even this part of Baldur’s Gate are silent in the thick of night.
Astarion’s answer is provided on the next inhale.
Arousal.
It’s heavy in the air; trapped in the room, masculine and thick and becoming ever more addicting the more Astarion inhales.
He rolls to his side and peers over the edge, already knowing the source would be lying but an arm's length away.
Halsin’s cock has made a tent in his pants. It pushes tight against the cotton, confined and drooling the very arousal that had peeked Astarion’s attention. There’s enough of it for a wet patch to have formed where his precum leaks, and good gods , Halsin’s breathing makes the fabric strain against the glands.
Astarion had always…presumed Halsin had one of those fat cocks you’d struggle to wrap a hand around. And now he’s been presented with proof of it, the vampire is suddenly rather hungry.
He reaches over the side of the bed and swats at Halsin hard enough to have the elf jerking out of his meditation.
“A—Astarion? Is there something wrong?” Halsin’s voice is low and groggy and yes, Astarion could do with the man purring in his ear.
“Do you want to have sex?” Astarion asks. Straight to the point.
“I—. Is it not the middle of the night?”
“Then perhaps you should stop your cock from waving at me,” Astarion states.
Too many decades in nature has made Halsin far less self-conscious than he ought to be. Instead of cupping his crotch and hiding, the giant simply shifts hips until the tent disappears.
Now, his cock is a thick line bulging against his thigh.
Instead, Halsin observes him. He may not have been privy to all of Astarion’s conversations with Tav, but he knows enough. Enough to have pieced together that despite Astarion’s gusto for flirting, he has a preference for keeping his thighs shut.
Still, Astarion is rather bored of fisting his own cock. And certainly aware of his own wants better than Halsin’s careful eyes. Astarion is not in the mood to be coddled.
“You would like to have sex,” Halsin repeats and Astarion’s eyes roll.
“Gods, did I not make it obvious enough? I can smell you,” he leans over to purr. “Darling, I didn’t think our trances were that filthy, but here you are! And I’m feeling…rather inclined to experience that.”
Astarion gives a broad sweep of his hand.
They both know he’s referencing Halsin’s cock.
He pulls another face. “Perhaps age really has caught up to you. If it rains tomorrow we’ll know it’s the city weeping in mourning.”
Halsin laughs at that.
Astarion hadn’t noticed before how Halsin’s joy makes his whole body move. The shake in his shoulders and the wobble of his fat pecs under his shirt. His cock bobs for a moment, until Halsin sits up properly and makes to stand up.
“I would not miss the opportunity to enjoy the pleasures of the flesh. It is how Silvanus intended us to be.” The man knows how to put those oversized fingers to work, for he makes swift work of the lace on his shirt, slipping the tunic over his head and exposing the abundance of hair across his chest.
“If you are willing, Astarion. I would be delighted to have you.”
“Have me? Oh darling, you best ravish me,” Astarion smirks. He’s fumbling out his own sleepwear too, kicking his pants down and whipping his shirt off. His clothes land on Halsin’s bedroll and the thought that even once they’re done rolling in the sheets…that his clothes would soak up the druid’s scent, has Astarion swallowing.
The vampire is busy fumbling with one arm off the bed and down in Halsin’s pack, about to comment on the bottle of oil he inevitably finds that would be rather useless in a fight, when the druid drops his pants and Astarion is left blinking in silence.
“Oh…” he finally manages, eyes glued to the fat cock bobbing between Halsin’s thighs. It’s exactly what he expected it to be. It’s drooled precum on his thigh and his stomach, wet smears that glisten when the moonlight hits the skin. “Hells, if you know how to use that thing correctly you’ll have to carry me tomorrow.”
Halsin chuckles and Astarion watches his cock twitch. “I had learnt that vampires have superior healing.”
“Like I said, darling. If you use that cock of yours correctly.”
Halsin fists his own cock, thumb dragging up the thick vein on its side and then circling over the mushroom tip. He lets go, and his cock slaps down into his thigh, too heavy to do anything but droop.
The druid wraps his hand around his cock again, grunts from his own pleasure and then looks at Astarion, eyes going dark at what he sees.
“Would you like me to assist—.”
“Hm? Oh…no - no, I’m fine,” Astarion sighs.
He’s got oil on his skin and two fingers deep inside him. Astarion leans against the headboard, spread his legs wider and fucks himself.
He’s unashamed.
Confident, even.
“Like what you see, darling?” he whispers, lifting his leg and placing one delicate foot in the middle of Halsin’s chest when he comes in close. The druid’s hand wraps around his ankle in return, happy to hold even just this part of him as Astarion tips his head back and groans at the feeling of spreading himself.
“Of course.”
“Mm, I know.”
Astarion’s cock is hard against his stomach, pale and pretty like the rest of him. With his free hand Astarion dances his fingers over it, down to his balls to give them a soft squeeze and then rails himself on his other fingers hard enough to get the oil squelching.
He’s stretched. Just about. And with a hooded gaze, he looks to Halsin who has a gold shimmer in his eyes.
“I’m here for your druid cock, not whatever monstrosity your Wild Shape carries,” he shoots at the man who appears to blink himself out a brief daze before crawling up onto the bed.
Astarion’s leg, foot still against Halsin’s chest, bends. It exposes him further and he finds himself laughing at Halsin’s groan at the sight of two wet fingers hooked into his hole.
When Astarion removes them, leaving his hole with a slight gape, he makes a show of smearing the remaining oil into Halsin’s chest and smiling at the way the druid immediately pushes in closer.
He feels the slap of Halsin’s obscene cock against his rim. Feels the way the tip kisses it, smearing oil and precum together. He feels that first suckle, where Halsin has pushed in enough to force Astarion to open up just a little, to have that tug of his opening around Halsin’s cock.
Astarion drops his head back. His smile becomes less seductive and more hazy as Halsin rocks into him bit by bit.
“Mmn…” he hums. “Yes… fuck.”
His silky insides clench down on Halsin’s cock, pulling it in deeper and giving Astarion more of that insane stretch.
Halsin is delicious to take. He’s thick, so, so thick and Astarion relishes the feeling of him. How he presses into Astarion’s walls with every slide deeper in.
Astarion’s foot slips, falling from Halsin’s chest and the two both grunt at the suddenness that it causes; Halsin having been pulled forward a little too quick and now left moaning at the tightness clinging to his cock.
And Astarion, who has taken Halsin to the hilt and now has a cock nudging somewhere deep in his guts.
“O-Oh…” he stutters out.
Astarion places his palm on his own stomach, as if to feel just how far Halsin has stuffed him. Then he drags his hand up, to replace where his foot had been. He feels the tension of Halsin’s abs under his touch and gives the man’s belly an appreciative squeeze.
Halsin is certainly the hairiest and unelf-like elf he’s ever fucked, but there’s something so deeply appealing about him.
He’s definitely got the biggest cock too.
One that’s pressed up against Astarion’s prostate and making every exhale of his weak.
Halsin shifts, hips pulling away until Astarion’s rim is only tight around the very tip of him. Then he thrusts in deep and sets up a punishing pace that has Astarion’s hand falling from his stomach.
“Mn…”
Astarion is rocked into the bedding, legs spread wide, feeling Halsin plug him up and then leave him empty. His balls bounce off Astarion’s taint and the vampire moans, happy to have coaxed Halsin into treating him.
He squeezes around Halsin’s cock and they both moan. Astarion can feel the fat vein on Halsin’s cock as it pushes into him.
“Good boy.”
Astarion’s entire body suddenly shakes. His toes curl and for a moment he goes cross-eyed, unable to blink properly. It’s not an orgasm, though the heat that rocks through his body is intense.
Cazador has called him ‘boy' over the centuries. He’s made Astarion feel young and small and stupid, and boy has only ever reminded him of his place beneath his master’s feet.
Now it’s…
It’s different.
Good.
Boy…it feels not like poison dripped onto his skin. It doesn’t burn or hurt. No. It feels like honey. Fresh and soothing.
Rewarding.
Like a prayer.
Like pleasure.
It makes Astarion’s cock throb.
“Astarion?” Halsin murmurs, clearly a little concerned.
Astarion clings to him. “Say it again!” he gasps, barely able to get the words out around his breaths. “Say it. Again!”
Halsin squeezes Astarion’s hips tight enough to get the vampire’s flesh bulging between his fingers. It keeps Astarion secure as he’s rocked into; fucked deep by a man who knows the art of pleasuring another body.
“Good boy.”
Astarion squirts a splattering of precum onto his stomach.
Halsin’s voice is deeper and rougher now. He stares down at Astarion with dilated eyes and tanned cheeks dusted with red. The druid’s heart races.
It’s not just Astarion whose nose is good. Halsin can smell his pleasure too.
He knows exactly what those words did to Astarion.
Halsin presses his hands into the back of Astarion’s thighs and pushes them back. And back. And back.
Until Astarion has his knees against his chest and toes wiggling next to his white curls. He’s been packaged up by his own body, weight on his shoulders and ass left up and exposed for Halsin to abuse.
Astarion makes a noise. It comes out like a squeal. His breath half stuck in his chest and unable to get a sound out without it sounding broken and high-pitched.
Oh.
He can’t do anything.
Halsin fucks into him, sliding deep and deeper than before, horrendously thick and so devastatingly good.
Oh…
“Ngh!”
Astarion gets his hole reamed open and gets praised for it. It’s like water down a parched throat; wonderful, to be told how good he is.
“You’re being so good for me.”
Yes…
Please.
Astarion blinks when his vision gets blurry.
Halsin continues to work, hips snapping and slapping off Astarion’s ass. He chases pleasure for the both of them with his body and gets Astarion extra shivery with his words.
Astarion knows what this position is. He knows he’s been bundled up into the perfect mating press by a giant elf more than capable of holding him down and pumping him full.
He…rather likes that.
No. He more than likes it.
He can hear the sound of his own cock. It slaps against his stomach with every thrust and when Astarion blinks down at it he sees the sticky string of his precum connecting the tip to his stomach. His cock is flushed and his balls ache.
Gods… Astarion is dribbling with no stimulation to his cock, whilst Halsin gets to drool his precum into the vampire’s walls and mark him up.
Tears cling to his eyelashes until Astarion’s face scrunches and they fall down his cheeks in rivers of pleasure. His fingers scramble to dig their nails into the meat of Halsin’s shoulders and he clings to the elf who has spread his rim open and made Astarion shake.
He clings. Until he cannot. Astarion’s arms quickly falling back down.
His lips part, voice a broken wail as Halsin makes him take it nice and deep and hard enough to have Astarion’s feet bouncing by his ears. It should perhaps be humiliating, to be folded up so tight—a porcelain package to be consumed—helpless and made to take Halsin’s cock over and over and over again. And yet it’s Halsin's rumbles of pleasure and the way his lips tilt up, not in mockery, but respect, that washes any embarrassment away.
Halsin may be fucking him dumb. He may have his cock so far up inside Astarion that the vampire will be dripping his release for days once they’re done. He may purr “good boy ” into Astarion’s ear and leave him shaking from the way those words cause a rush of heat through him.
But he does so whilst acknowledging them as equals.
“Good boy, taking me so well.”
“Mn! Hn! Hn!”
Astarion’s tongue feels heavy. But with him positioned as he is, he’s trapped, unable to turn his head in any direction and left exposed, crying and snotting and now drooling beneath Halsin. The spit escapes from the corner of his mouth and trickles down in the same tracks as his tears.
Halsin seems to fuck him harder for it. He gives Astarion more.
And Astarion loves it.
He loves it even more when Halsin leans down, gets their sweaty foreheads touching and tells him how well Astarion is doing through their wet kiss.
Astarion mouths at Halsin’s lips, babbling, weak from the pleasure from having the druid buck into him like a beast.
Halsin drills into him, fucks him hard and deep and keeps going even when Astarion’s noises turn into weird embarrassing hiccups as he balances on the edge of his orgasm.
His cock throbs. Heat throbs through him. His fingers tingle and Astarion isn’t sure if his eyes are open or not when Halsin slots their tongues together.
He’s going to cum.
He’s going to cum.
Oh…
Astarion has nowhere to go when he cums. And so he does, gasping into Halsin’s mouth, eyes in the back of his head and cock spurting onto his stomach.
“Such a good boy,” Halsin whispers and Astarion’s cock twitches and his toes cramp. He feels overwhelmed. Hot. Overstimulated. Pleasure throbbing through him.
“Ngh! Nh! Gh…ah!”
Halsin fucks him through it - feeds Astarion his cock again and again, pushes against those sensitive walls and bounces against his prostate until the vampire is twitching.
Halsin fucks.
And Astarion takes.
Until that steady, strong rhythm begins to crumble and Halsin’s thrusts become short and uncontrolled. His grip on Astarion’s body becomes tight and his arms shake.
Halsin cums with a long groan, his eyelids fluttering and his hips rocking. He buries himself deep, Astarion’s rim wrapped around the base of his cock, and spills his load.
Astarion whimpers.
Halsin not only fucks like a beast. He cums like one too.
Astarion milks him for everything he has; his own body clenching and unclenching around Halsin’s cock until the druid pulls loose with a wet plop, leaving a lewd gape behind.
Halsin sits up and Astarion can see the man swallow at the sight of what he’s made of the vampire.
His rim…likely puffy and red, wet and glistening and mouthing at nothing.
Halsin moves out of the way a second later. Exhausted, but with enough Halsin still bouncing around in that skull of his to help Astarion to stretch out his legs.
It’s Astarion’s turn to groan.
Then Halsin plops down beside Astarion in a room that reeks of sex. It’s a slow recovery for the both of them and neither wants to move.
Astarion comes down from his orgasm one inhale at a time, chest still heaving with breaths he doesn’t need.
Hells.
Fucking…hells.
He laughs. A little mad. A little delirious. He laughs between his breaths and breathes between his laughs.
Astarion slaps his hand against his forehead and then drags it away with all the beads of sweat clinging to it. His body is tired, aching, and wet. The muscles in his thighs protest when he stretches his legs out and there’s a pleasant soreness between them.
And whilst his skin has a sheen of sweat on it, it’s between his legs that he’s truly wet. Halsin’s cum is deep inside him. He’s painted him white where Astarion can’t see, and the more Astarion lies, lazy and weak, the more he feels as the cum begins to trickle down and out of him.
Gods…
“Are you alright?”
Astarion peeks to his right, where Halsin is just as limp and relaxed as he is. His chest hairs are stuck to his skin and his cock is soft and wet between his legs. He looks happy. Content.
Astarion snorts.
He rolls to splay himself across Halsin. They’re both sweaty. Sticky. And Astarion can feel himself dripping between his legs.
“You know darling, I’m rather disappointed we haven’t done this before,” Astarion smirks and gives Halsin’s fat nipple a pinch. “Had I known you’d be more like this, we could have fucked our way to Baldur’s Gate instead of walking.”
“There is still plenty left in our journey,” Halsin murmurs back. He’s letting Astarion play around with his chest, watching as the vampire now draws circles around the areola.
“Hm, yes. Those pesky tadpoles. The likely end of the world. It’s not easy work,” Astarion sighs. “But you, sweetheart, bending me over when I next want, we can make this easy…and recurring. Yes?”
He lowers his chin down to Halsin’s pec, and busies himself in rolling his tongue over the druid’s nipple.
Astarion can feel Halsin’s rumble of a laugh through it.