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Astarion is feeling very spoiled, indeed.
Gentle, calloused fingertips trail down the center of his bare chest, tickling lightly over the subtle softness of his belly, the fingernails blunt as they gently tease lower. The vampire reclines at his leisure despite the teasing, comfortable in his own nakedness, enjoying the view of his lover. Ren is similarly unclothed, their broad muscular body on full display for Astarion to admire. Oh, his darling is a beauty, he thinks, strong and gold and scattered with freckles like a starry sky. A simple pendant hangs from a delicate chain around Ren's neck, the pretty bauble like a lure where it dangles between their breasts. Astarion sighs contentedly, amused as a flush colors Ren's cheeks at his staring.
The bard tickles those rough, gentle fingertips along Astarion’s spread inner thighs.
"I never would have thought of you as a sadist, darling," Astarion huffs playfully, and Ren smirks at his bravado. They certainly have him at their mercy - teasing and caressing his bare skin, avoiding any place he's hoping they'll touch.
"Why? Am I being cruel?" Ren asks innocently, petting gently down the vampire's thighs a few more times. Astarion sighs again, giving his best pleading expression as Ren caresses the lines of his hips, thumbs mere inches from where he's hard and leaking against his own stomach. Without warning, they reach up to pinch one of his nipples. He can't hold back his gasp, shivering as the sensation washes over his skin.
"Perhaps a little," he pants, biting his lip with one pointed fang as Ren pinches his other nipple, "I'm fine with a spot of teasing, but..." Another pinch, making him lose his train of thought, "...this is m-more akin to torture..."
"I think you can handle it, my love," Ren chuckles, clearly in no hurry to speed things along. Astarion groans in mock frustration, and Ren pauses their movements. "...unless, of course, you want me to stop," they murmur earnestly, "In which case, you know the word that will let me know, yes?" Astarion nods as he feels a surge of warmth in his chest; he relaxes onto the bed, surrendering to his partner’s whims.
"I suppose I am at your mercy, then, my love," he declares, arching one elegant eyebrow, "Do your worst..."
"Oh, I will," the bard replies airily, looking very pleased with themselves.
"I'm sure you shall, darling," Astarion teases back, playfully wiggling his hips. His cock bobs against his belly, actually quite needy if he's honest, but he can endure this game.
Ren shushes him with a laugh, brushing their fingertips over his bollocks in a way that feels dangerous. Astarion's next breath is a soft hiss between his teeth, the muscles in his thighs jumping as he resists the urge to snap his legs closed. Instead, he focuses on keeping himself relaxed, not wanting to give Ren an easy go of it.
Perhaps he is a fool.
Leave it to a master of the lute to have absolutely wicked fingers.
What follows is a pattern of delicious torment; Ren’s touches flow over Astarion’s body, from chest to thighs to belly, and then there is a tease of touches along the underside of his erection, a thumb pressing rather bluntly on the sensitive head, smearing the evidence of his arousal. He chokes on a sound, barely containing a growl of frustration as Ren’s hands move on to repeat the circuit over his body.
The third time they trail blunt nails along the ruddy head of his cock, Astarion whimpers in spite of himself. By the fifth time, he hears himself actually whine. Ugh. Embarrassing. He's made a proper mess of himself, precome trailing from his cock in sticky lines. He's pretty sure he's drooling a little bit, too. It's probably rather pathetic, he thinks, though Ren seems to enjoy him like this - trembling and wet with his own desire for release.
"My cruel, cruel love," he groans, hands clenched into fists at his sides, "Don’t you think-ah! D-Don't you think I've earned mercy, darling? Maybe?" He can hear his own desperation. His brain is so full of static that he doesn't feel embarrassed anymore.
"Hmm..." Instead of providing a proper answer, Ren resumes their gentle ministrations. Astarion keens softly, mouth open, eyes prickling with overstimulated tears as his lover glides both hands along the length of his swollen cock, touch as light as a feather.
Astarion gasps, unsure now if he can indeed endure any more, but not yet ready to properly halt things. Truthfully, feeling this floaty is delightful, even if his prick is so hard it hurts, jumping of its own accord as he pants for breath he doesn't need and writhes in pleasure.
Time is a fickle thing, he thinks eventually. He isn't sure how long he's been on edge, caught in his lover’s wicked, clever hands, hot tears trailing down his cheeks. But he knows that, at some point, resistance will be quite useless. The battle is nearly over, surrender the only remaining option.
"Please," he gasps, "Please...!" He can't think, can't see, can't feel anything except the unbearable pressure in his belly, his balls, the almost-numb throb of his poor cock. If he can't have relief soon, he is fairly certain he will weep openly.
"You've done so well, my star," he hears, Ren’s soft voice like a light in the fog, "You don't have to hold on any longer."
One warm, strong hand wraps snugly around his swollen prick, strokes it once, twice, and then his vision floods white. Sharp-edged pleasure pours through him like lava, leaving him shuddering and moaning in Ren’s arms as the bard embraces him.
For a long moment, he can only shiver and whimper with his eyes closed, face buried against Ren’s neck as they lay together. He's vaguely aware that they’re petting his hair, their mouth soft and warm on his cheek, their tongue tracing over the lines left by his tears, their loving words muffled against his skin.
Eventually, his eyes blink open. Ren is still holding him, cradling his face in their hands, murmuring his name. The vampire licks his dry lips, clears his throat rather unnecessarily, and smiles.
"Are you alright?" Ren asks, their eyes full of a mix of emotions, "Was that...?"
"I feel resplendent, my dear," Astarion chuckles, watching as his lover's expression changes from concern to something more playful, "It would take a lot more to be too much, I assure you."
The bard snorts in amusement, cupping his jaw and kissing him slowly.
"I'll keep that in mind for next time," they whisper, sweet and dangerous, and Astarion’s smile widens.