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dnd_drow

Dataset card Data Studio Files
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Against his will, thoughts of Halsin race through his mind. First, and oh-so-satisfyingly, of ways to get back at him for stealing his cat. The thought relaxes him and almost brings him comfort in the wake of his ever-impending doom.
His mind wanders to those little wooden ducks Halsin likes to carve away at when he thinks no one is looking. He imagines the big elf’s slack-jawed face when he realizes his precious ducks are missing. It’s almost too good to picture.
The nice feeling can only last for so long though, before waves of pressure start to pulsate from his chest and his navel, all the way to his hips. It’s not particularly painful, but the weight of it combined with the heat is too much for the elf.
Astarion grimaces and turns on his side, balling his fist in his hair and rubbing his thighs for comfort. He’s scrunching the hells out of his beautiful mane, but for now he doesn’t care. He waits quietly for Tav, or Shadowheart, or even Gale to come back, his ego willing to accept healing or remedy from those three and those three alone.
He whimpers in discomfort before reaching down for his favourite blanket... but where the blanket usually sits is just the empty wooden slat he uses for a bed. He panics and sits up. He swears he left it right there, he always leaves it right there.
He lifts every corner of his tent and checks under the wooden slat. Nowhere — inside his tent at least. Outside... Astarion pinches the flap just a little and peeks out through a tiny slit.
Halsin, who’s just made it back to camp, is carrying a large barrel of presumably fresh water. It’s effortless in his grasp, the way his muscles bulge and his chest barely moves despite the strain shows off the elf’s strength. He sets it down next to Gale’s tent but thankfully doesn’t see Astarion in his less-than-noble state.
"Fuck!" Astarion cusses. His teeth clench and a vein nearly bursts in his forehead. This feels like one of those "worst case scenarios’ Tav was describing during their strategy meeting last week. He can’t stand the heat, but he can’t find his blanket. His skin itches more and his patience grows thinner with every second he goes without it.
He swallows his pride and opens the flap again.
"Hal— you! Get over here!" Astarion hisses.
Halsin perks up at the sound, looking around before his eyes land on a familiar face peeking rather adorably from inside his pink and orange tent. With a smile, he walks over to the vampire.
"Is there something you need?"
"Yes. I—I can’t find my blanket. Well, NO— That’s not my MAIN problem. I’ll die if I leave this tent. I think our illithid powers may have run their course," the vampire explains.
From where he is on all fours, the bigger elf looks about a thousand times bigger — taller than the towers in the upper city and twice as thick. Astarion resists the urge to call him some derogatory, tree-related name.
Halsin, decidedly unaffected by the tadpole, frowns in sympathy. "How unfortunate it is to be forced into the shadows again. Thaniel knows all too well what that is like."
Astarion rolls his eyes. He was tired of hearing about that child.
"Has the tadpole stopped moving?" Halsin asks.
"Actually, I... don’t know." Astarion stops for a second and focuses on the feeling behind his eyeball.
With excellent timing, the tadpole wiggles around and almost squeaks a little — a horrifying sound and sensation Astarion has come to terms with. "Oh. Well, there it is. That’s odd. Perhaps w— AAGH!"
Halsin, without warning, grasps the vampire’s underarms and drags him out of the tent. The elves face each other — one dangling in the air, the other looking down at a mass of curly white hair and a pair of naked shoulders. Halsin waits a little and watches for any petrification or disintegration to start. It never comes.
"You stand unshaken despite the sun touching your skin."
"I’m not so much standing as I am hovering, no thanks to you!"
"This is a good thing, no?"
"Nnh! Are you even listening to me?" Astarion struggles indignantly, grasping down the wood elf’s hairy arms. They feel as thick as tree stumps and as tight as thousand year old roots.
"I believe you mentioned a blanket as well."
"I..." Astarion stops for a moment and blinks slowly, looking up and down Halsin’s body.
The world is in slow-motion as Astarion’s eyes roam, taking in the larger elf’s round shoulders and wild, chestnut hair. His strong hands squeeze Astarion’s armpits a little and the tickling sensation makes him squirm in surprise.
"Perhaps we can look for it together." The way his voice resonates low and deep in his chest isn’t lost on Astarion one bit. It rumbles pleasantly down his arms and into Astarion’s chest, leaving him a little slack-jawed.
"Fine, just p-put me down... now..." Astarion demands him, trying to keep some modicum of control in the midst of these strange feelings.
He feels the most violent flaring of heat in his guts and the most impure of undressings forcing themselves in his mind. His brain is trying to carve out every inch of Halsin he can, taking that slightest peek of hairy chest through his collar and continuing the map of his naked body mentally.
Halsin obeys, setting him down gently. 
Astarion’s shoes barely make a soft pap on the ground before his face burns, his tongue drools a little bit, and he totally loses control of his thoughts.
"What colour was i- it? " Halsin’s croaks, his eyes widening in shock as Astarion, in all his half-naked glory, dives back into his arms — pressed snug to his chest like he’s trying to go skin-to-skin with him. 
Astarion rests his chin between Halsin’s pecs, looking up at him with eyes darting insatiably between Halsin’s face, neck, and body. His eyelashes flutter with the effort. He looks prettier than one would think, possessed by lust and longing.
The vampire’s pupils grow into swirling dark pools of ink and his tongue licks his teeth lazily. His lips are slack and plump and covered in drool. Halsin remembers seeing a similar hazy-eyed, brood mare-ish look in female bears during mating season.
Astarion’s hands run feverishly up and down Halsin’s back, tracing the broad musculature of his back and the curve of his waist through his shirt. He claws him impatiently — he’s trying to scratch mating lines into Halsin’s skin and they haven’t even done anything yet.
"Hnnnh... Halsin..." Astarion moans.
"You must be out of sorts without it," Halsin says calmly, trying to rationalize things before the pale elf pounces on him and drinks all his blood.
Astarion scrunches his nose and shakes his head indignantly. It would be cute if the tension weren’t so thick all of a sudden.
"No?" Halsin says, trying to gauge what’s going on in the vampire’s head.
Astarion looks down at the bulge in Halsin’s trousers — his curly hair and his thin, white shoulders are the only things Halsin can see when Astarion wraps a leg around him and grinds his throbbing, clothed pussy across the man’s hardening length.
"GODS! Astarion— fuck!" Halsin cusses.
Astarion’s lips are two inches away from Halsin’s chin when he whimpers something unintelligible. Halsin stops listening.
SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!
"NNNH!! Hhh— nnh— uhh!"
Astarion’s mind is clouded with lust. A few rational thoughts run through it — " How did we even get here? Why am I on top of the druid? And what in the hells has gotten into me?! " — before they disappear into the mist and decidedly irrational ones take their place.
His ass claps against Halsin’s thighs as cock spears into him at a rate his mouth can’t keep up with. "Hnnnh! Nnh! Ha! Ah! Hnn!" Astarion cries out despite himself. The force of each pounding makes his clit throb — it’s too much — it’s not enough — he wants more.
"Shh," Halsin hushes to him, not so much silencing him as trying to comfort him. He runs a hand through Astarion’s messy hair. The sweat on his forehead has trapped a few strands, his ivory curls pinned to his hot, wet skin. Halsin pushes them out of his eyes and wipes the desperate tears that have run down the vampire’s cheeks.
His other hand rubs Astarion’s knee assuredly. He could do much worse this evening than helping his friend sweat out his fever, as unorthodox as his symptoms were. Besides, he’s barely lifted a finger. Astarion, ever self-sufficient, took it upon himself to strip Halsin’s cock since he climbed on top and sank down.
"Nngh!!" The pale elf whines, upset with something. Halsin looks down through the barrel of their intertwined bodies to see what’s wrong. In the madness of it all, his cock slipped out of Astarion’s slick hole and is now sitting hard and heavy on his thigh with nothing but a string of cum attaching them.
Before Astarion can grab it, the tanned elf reaches down to grip the base of his cock, holding it steady for him. The tip brushes against Astarion’s swollen clit, a sensation they both sigh at. Halsin grows a bit hesitant, after all he is a large man in more ways than one and there is only so much one can cram in themselves before they break.
Astarion, however, has been going at it for an hour now, whimpering and sobbing and screaming "Yes!" over and over again without stopping. His body is pushing as hard as it can, his juices running down and drawing thick strings of slick and precum between them whenever their skin pulls apart. The sound of it is thick, loud, and impossibly lewd.
"Nnnnuhh!!" The elf sinks down on his cock with tear-inducing relief. The slide is easy and fills him with delight. Halsin is perfect — his cock is perfect — a phrase repeats in his head again and again: he loves Halsin, loves him so much.
SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!
"Fuck! Ohh, fuck! You feel — so good! Y’make — m’feel so good!" Astarion picks up the pace, his lips falling behind his tongue, unable to enunciate properly. "I love you — I "ove you!" His voice cracks nearly in half. He’s crying earnestly now, his pussy gripping Halsin’s cock with desperation.
Halsin gently shushes him again and grips his thighs for support. Hearing "I love you" come out of Astarion’s mouth makes him smile, but he knows he’s just gone mad after riding him for an hour now. Halsin wonders if he should be the responsible one and end it before the vampire gets a cramp, passes out or, even worse, kills himself with how hard he’s fucking himself on his cock.
For now though,  Astarion is too damn cute to resist — and who is Halsin to deny him nature’s pleasures?
"Please! I want, I want— mmph!" Astarion is silenced by Halsin’s tongue, the muscle smacking wetly against his.
A second, blissful hour of Astarion’s mysterious illness has flown by.
"Mm! Mm—nngh—mmm!" Astarion loosens his jaw as Halsin laps him up greedily. The tan elf moves in big circles from corner to corner of Astarion’s mouth like it’s oozing sweet syrup. He’s vigorous, almost violent with it, as if he’s trying to scoop up the imaginary sap with his tongue.
Halsin, impossibly close and caging him in with his powerful body, can see Astarion’s giddy little smile and hear him humming in uncharacteristically innocent joy.
Astarion’s toes curl in anticipation for what’s about to come. His breath is quick and shallow with excitement. He can’t wait for Halsin to fuck him deep, he loves him so much, wants all of him, right here, right now, deep inside.
"MMM!" Astarion shrieks into Halsin’s mouth when he pushes his thighs apart with ease. His knees touch the ground and he squeals from the sensation of his pussy stretching open. Halsin’s cock sits heavy and firm on the milky white fat of his cunt, looking like some nasty pervert’s idea of a sword and sheath.
"Don’t look..." Astarion pleads, an inkling of his true self bubbling up and trying to stop him from further humiliating himself. He weakly pushes on Halsin’s arm to get him to listen. Not that covering up would help now , but he gets embarrassed at the thought of Halsin peering inside him — the blazing hot walls oozing and crying out to his animal instincts for relief. 
"I can’t help myself. Your beauty rivals that of the forest and all its creations," Halsin waxes on, the bass of his thick, aroused voice coursing straight through Astarion’s ears and into his throbbing pussy. 
Normally he scoffs and rolls his eyes when Halsin starts going on about trees and ducks and rivers and whatnot; but to his horror, fresh tears spill down his face at the wood elf’s words, his entire body growing hotter and needier for him with every passing second.
To top it off, Halsin plants a kiss to his forehead and brushes his curls behind his pink, flushed ear.
"Ooh— I love, I love you! I love you, Halsin!" Astarion sobs, pupils unnaturally glassy and large, pleading to Halsin with round eyes and spreading his cunt as wide as he can.
He somehow fights the urge to rub his clit like a maniac and squirt all over his bedroll right then and there. No... he wants to keep it for Halsin, only for him, wants to come on his cock and his alone. He bites his lip and giggles at the thought, hot and lusty through his nose.
"Deep breaths now... that’s it. You look healthier already," Halsin smiles. Still his good-natured self, he’s fully under the impression that Astarion is sick and just needs to sweat the illness out.
Somewhere deep down in his psyche, Astarion’s intellectual side is clawing and gnawing at the gate of his mind trying to break free and stop him from being such a depraved whore in front of somebody the group worked so hard to earn the respect of. His body doesn’t listen, instead opting to throb and gush and plead for this man like he’s in heat.
A third hour goes by, but not without some unnecessary torment on Astarion’s end.
"More! H-Halsin! Unh— Hnnh— Ha, ah! More! Nnh, hnn..."
Astarion’s mouth hangs open from the prolonged torture of their delayed orgasms — it’s so big, his throat hurts from crying, and his heart can’t take the anticipation of Halsin’s thrusts. The druid is going at an agonizing pace, slow and hesitant, as if he’s trying to not to hurt the smaller elf. It doesn’t help that Halsin’s balls press against his asshole and tease him with the promise of something more, something intense.
"Please! Halsin, please! UNNH! Please, please, please, please..." Astarion trails off, his cries blending together and turning into high-pitched squeals. A drop of sweat rolls down his temple, accentuating his neediness. It’s not enough. He gasps for air and his chest trembles with desperation. He’s about to start full-body sobbing.
"Shhh," Halsin coos at him. "Are you certain?"
"YES! Yes! Yes! Yes, yes, yes, yes!" Astarion yelps like he only has five seconds to tell Halsin what he really wants before the world blows up into smithereens.
"Fuck..." Halsin cusses under his breath. Grabbing the root, he slides in easily and the length from tip to hilt acts as some sort of powerful psychedelic in Astarion’s bloodstream — the vampire grits his teeth and his stomach swirls with ecstasy.
"NNNnnnnnhh!! Hh! Hhn! Nh!" Astarion shrieks and hyperventilates through his teeth. He claws Halsin’s biceps and nearly breaks the skin. "Nnhhfeels so good! More! I need you— need you— cum in me, cum inside, please, please!" He weeps in agony. His womb feels useless and empty without Halsin’s cum.
The druid digs his hands on both sides of Astarion, effectively trapping him in his arms, and gets into a wide enough stance for him to be able to snap his hips forward with ease.
"YESSS!!! AH! AH! UNH! AH! YES!" Astarion screams in delight. 
Astarion’s animal brain is elated when the man finally starts fucking him the way he needs. The force and the weight and the speed feels too good. He’s impossibly thick and long, kissing his cervix over and over again with his tip. Halsin is amazing, his hero, his everything.
"No tears now. You’re doing very well," Halsin grunts to the tired little elf.
"UNNH!! UNH! HHA! HA! HA! UNNNGHH!" Astarion sobs, holding onto him for fear he might send him careening through the tent.
PLAP! PLAP! PLAP! PLAP!
Spurred on by Astarion’s cute show, the druid pipes him with all the strength he can muster. The vulgar sound of their bodies clapping together sends Astarion into a horny fugue state.
"Nnh! Ah! Unh! Ha-ah, ha, ha— unnh!!" Astarion nearly faints. His face is flush with hot tears and his tongue licks the air pathetically.
Halsin leans down and kisses Astarion, hoping to raise his spirits. Astarion mewls and writhes underneath him. He’s so lucky to have such a kind lover. His thumbs rub on Halsin’s arms and his hips wriggle, trying to milk his cock in return.
"Damn," the druid growls and stops in his tracks. He came dangerously close to cumming just then. If he’s to help Astarion with his fever, he mustn’t end it all so soon. He leans back on his haunches and grabs the vampire by his hip bones, prompting an upset whine.
"No! Nno! Fuck me!" Astarion struggles, clawing the druid’s wrists and jerking his waist in circles, trying to sink back down on him and stay there forever.
"We must do this properly," Halsin insists.
Before Astarion can even think about what that means (or think at all), Halsin grips the back of Astarion’s knees and effortlessly bends him in two. If his knees were any closer to his ears, he’d be wearing them as earmuffs. His feet dangle uselessly in the air.
"Mmmf," Astarion moans, biting his lip. It’s a bit uncomfortable. He’s never, ever been fucked like this before. But it doesn’t matter — he loves Halsin, so so much...
"Good boy." Halsin praises him before standing on his feet. He crouches, adjusts the angle of his hips, and grabs Astarion’s knee with one hand before slapping his cock against his slit with the other.
Astarion whines. "Mnnn! Put it back... I’ve been good... so good—"
Halsin is two steps ahead of him, gliding in deep and smooth.
Astarion’s mouth drops open. Halsin plants his hands on the back of the vampire’s knees, locking him in place and finding his speed immediately.
WHUMP! WHUMP! WHUMP! WHUMP!
Astarion is in heaven — every thrust is tip to hilt, tip to hilt, tip to hilt from this angle. Halsin’s balls slap obscenely against Astarion’s ass to a feral, uncouth beat. He considers begging him to go slower just so he can breathe properly. But it feels so... so...
"YES!! SO GOOD! S—SO GOOD! UNH! UNH! FUCK! UNH! HA! HA!" Astarion’s head jerks back as a barrage of moans tear themselves from his throat. His pussy is soaking Halsin’s cock and stirring him up more — it’s no use asking him to slow down now. His clit is throbbing so hot and hard it feels like an active bomb.