mickume/dnd_drow · Datasets at Hugging Face

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The atmosphere grew palpably tense, the words hanging heavily in the air between them. Gale could see the Drow wizard's pride crumble, every ounce of resistance fading away.
Gulping audibly, Dhourn's voice was barely more than a whisper, a defeated surrender, "Forgive me... mistress. I would, of course, be honored to pass my research on to you."
The vivid memory began to fade, the edges blurring as Gale felt himself being pulled back into reality. The intricate details, the emotions, and the intensity of the confrontation all slowly started to dissolve like mist under the morning sun. The weight of the memory, its pressure on his senses, began to lift. A sensation of floating, of being suspended between the past and the present, took over before he was gently deposited back into the here and now.
Gale took a deep, shuddering breath, attempting to anchor himself in the present. The chaos of his thoughts began to settle. Another breath, this one more steady, and the tight coil of anxiety in his chest began to loosen.
He paused for a moment, collecting himself.
Then, another moment.
Then the memory pops into Gale’s head in the middle of the battle.
Backtracking a bit:
Tav had accepted Sovereign Spaw’s quest to kill with enthusiasm.
She had bounded up the oversized fungi to find the myconid leader. She ooh ed and aah ed over the mushroom man’s magic, the spores that the creature implanted in the corpses of its enemies. (Gale thought it was all a touch grim, but Tav seemed plenty happy, so who was he to dull her light - wherever she may find it?)
The Sovereign had spoken to them, then, after the reanimated corpse rose aloft with fungal magic.
Flesh–talker. I show you a memory. Watch and listen.
Gale watched as Tav was gripped in horror as they were shown the memory of the Duergar - dark dwarves - chopping myconid remains. Bits of mushroom flew across their grey faces, streaked with the bright pink blood of the Sovereign’s family.
When Tav opened her eyes again, Gale could see her eyes glistening in the dim light.
The sovereign’s song slowed to the pace of a dirge. It was still in mourning.
I sense your resolve.
Tav nodded. Gale knew the look on her face - she was all in.
You will find Duergar invaders near lake’s edge.
Cleanse the Rot. Destroy them.
There was a bit of silence as they realized what the fungi asked them to do.
"I admit," Astarion said apprehensively, "I like this one’s approach." Tav flashed a smile at the vampire, who continued confidently, "A little genocidal, but effective."
"Not every day I’m rewarded for killing some grey dwarfs," she had said, her eyes sparkling as she spoke to the Sovereign, who seemed to find the young bard’s enthusiasm endearing.
She had also saved a deep gnome from being poisoned to death and didn’t even make a slavery joke - so she was clearly in a good mood.
"We’re going to the beach then!" Tav smiled at the group. "Grab your sunglasses!"
No one else laughed.
Shadowheart had returned to camp at that point, still reeling and heavily wounded from an earlier bulette attack and not quite in the mood "to shed blood on behalf of Tav's whims." Gale noticed (with some relief) that Wyll, despite everything, was up to do exactly that.
"The Underdark... I'd almost forgotten it's possible to find allies down here," Tav reflected as they made their way to the beach.
No one responded, the tension in the air palpable. "Look, maybe this is where we need to go anyway. It’s not like we have any idea where we need to go. And besides-"
"Well, someone’s chatty," Astarion sniped at Tav, arms folded over his chest. He opened his mouth and began to say something catty before Tav shushed him with an urgency that meant he needed to shut up because in front of them, backs facing them...
They stood on platforms overlooking the beach, their watchful eyes scanning the area, the saltwater lapping gently against their boats moored close by. Gale saw Tav process the scene in front of her as the group crouches together tight behind the cragged rocks, staying out of the eye-line of the enemy.
After a plan formed in her head, the Drow turned to her companions, eyes determined, jaw set, and nodded. The group nodded back. Whatever she had in mind, they were ready.
Tav then straightened upright and began whistling nonchalantly as she walked straight past one of the Duergar, who, of course, stopped her immediately.
But let her go once they realized she was a Drow.
Damn, that certainly came in handy.
And when Tav had gotten all the information that she wanted out of them, she walked up behind one - Gekh, Gale thinks the other one called him?
And she shoved him off the platform.
He landed with an oof. And Gale watched in real-time as Tav realized he was still alive.
The Duergar descended on them immediately.
The combat was a maelstrom of weapons, spells, and shouting - the most any of them had spoken to each other since they had arrived. They were lucky to mostly have the high ground, but Gale certainly felt their luck run out when Gekh dusted himself off and began to reanimate a horde of zombies to fight on his behalf.
When another Duergar began to prepare Silence, Wyll quickly met him with an Eldritch Blast, propelling him off the platform. His body soared through the air, knocked far back by the force of the bolts. Gale heard the clank, scrape crack of the grey dwarf’s armor-laden body landing several meters away, skittering across the beach like a stone on a lake, bones breaking from impact. Gale winced. Then thanked Wyll.
In the chaos, time seemed to stretch and bend. The noises of clashing weapons, shouts, and the hum of magic melded into a distant drone, and every sensation was amplified. But amidst it all, his focus was inevitably pulled towards Tav.
He watched her move with lethal grace, each strike and spell executed with a precision that seemed almost dance-like. The ebb and flow of the battle seemed to revolve around her, and Gale couldn't help but be drawn into her orbit.
Tav lunged forward, her movements a blur of controlled fury. Gale's eyes followed her every step, each one echoing in his mind with the weight of intent. With a swift motion, she cornered a grey dwarf, her blade finding its mark, causing him to stumble back. She didn't relent.
In mere seconds, she had him on his knees, her weapon pressed coldly against his throat. The dwarf's eyes, filled with a mix of rage and terror, locked onto hers.
The image of the dwarf on his knees, Tav hovering above him...
Truth was, ever since their encounter with the Drow wizards, he had found himself replaying the memory of it again and again and again as they walked through the Underdark.
During moments of rest, he would imagine it - tap into the tadpole, letting the memory play like a film. Tav, with her fierce stance, the undaunted flame in her eyes, and that imperious command that made the Drow kneel – it was all etched in vivid detail in his mind.
He could see it with impeccable clarity every single time.
He had memorized it perfectly.
Gale felt himself weave in and out of memory, of daydream and the chaos of battle. He felt his concentration slip, and with that, the spell that he had just cast, as her blade slid across the dwarf’s throat, a spray of red decorating her dark silver-blue face.
It was in one of these moments - when his attention was falling into the cracks of his memory - that Tav whipped out her lyre as she would a sword, her slender silver fingers nimbly plucking the strings. He felt the warm golden wave of Bardic Inspiration wash over him, and he was pulled out of his daydream (his vision ) after he heard her shout, "Gale, Cloud of Daggers, there!" It cut through the cacophony, demanding his immediate response. "Now!"
And without thinking, his mind, so deeply entrenched in the memories of their recent past, responded in kind,
"Yes, Valsharess ."
He didn’t have time to realize his own words before he cast the spell at the undead advancing toward him, the flying weapons slicing into the zombies’ flesh with deadly force. They groaned in... pain? Gale didn’t quite know. But they groaned and collapsed, became undead turned dead again.
Gale felt a distinct shift, a cold draft of realization sweeping over him.
The word echoed in the air, and for a brief, weighty moment, the noise of the battle seemed to fade into the background.
The honorific the Drow had used for Tav.
He had silently mouthed the Drow word numerous times during their walk, valsharess, rolling it over his tongue, val-shar-ess, forming his lips in silent enunciation, trying to capture the exact intonation, the precise blend of respect and deference it conveyed. As if preparing for the right moment when he could say it to her, use it for her (while under her, gasping, moaning, preferably, but he didn’t allow his thoughts to get that far - especially outside the safety of his tent).
And now, in the midst of chaos, with adrenaline pumping and spells flying, it had slipped out, bridging the gap between memory and reality.
The aftermath of the utterance was palpable.
The battle raged on around him, but the world seemed to pause for Gale. His gaze locked onto Tav's, searching her face for a reaction, searching for any hint of anything, dear Gods. Her dagger, her ritual dagger (the one she stole after stripping naked and receiving penance from that Loviatar freak- holy Hells, now was not the time to remember that ), plunged into the shoulder blade of a Druegar.
She wrenched it free by kicking him in the chest, sending him tumbling off the platform. Again.
"You really do love sending people plummeting," Astarion noted dryly.
The world was still. The battle was over.
The weight of Gale's utterance lingered in the air, thick and palpable. A tension, electric and charged, stretched between them, resonating with unspoken understanding.
Tav was the first to break the silence. "I didn't know you were versed in the Drow dialect, Gale."
Her approach was deliberate, reminiscent of a huntress closing in on her mark. Gale, however, remained resolute, not allowing himself to shrink back. The lingering adrenaline from the battle and the implications of his words mixed, forming a potent cocktail of emotions.
Matching her intensity, Gale offered a half-smirk, "The Drow dialect is a complicated one, and there is much to learn," he responded, maintaining direct eye contact.
Tav leaned in, their faces dangerously close,
"Then maybe later, I can help you learn."

astarion wasn't sure how much longer he could handle this.
he sat on the edge of their shared bed, stripped bare apart from his underwear and his legs spread. made to sit, watch and feel as ninleyn took their sweet time indulging in the fantasy he had finally managed to drag out of them.
the silence between them was stretching thin, only broken up occasionally by their heavy breaths and his own softer ones. they were on their knees in between his legs like a prayer, resting and rubbing their cheek against his bare thigh.
their cheeks were flushed a dark blue, contrasting the rest of them which remained a dusty shade. they looked cold as ice, but radiated warmth between his legs. a wonderful sensation, he'll never tire of it.
but as pretty of a sight it was, seeing ninleyn worship him so, he was starting to get impatient. he's unsure of how long they'd been in this position. it could've been minutes — maybe even hours with the way his body almost felt locked in place, but ninleyn made no moves to progress the scene
astarion lets out a little sigh when they start to litter kisses along his thigh. he presses his nails into their scalp to spur them on.
he had half the mind to grab one of their horns and bring them towards his hardening dick in hope they'd start mouthing against the fabric of his underwear, or make an effort to press his foot against their own dick to try and make them want to do more; but the latter wasn't possible with ninleyn between his legs, keeping them spread as they continued to lavish his thighs with attention that sent shivers up his spine and blood to his dick.
he wasn't gonna be able to come from this scene alone, but gods was the thought tempting.
the sight of his lover kneeling so prettily before him; sighing blissfully with lidded eyes as they press into the softness of his thighs. ninleyn must've been testing their own willpower, seeing as they weren't covered in marks already, but the kisses being littered across them surely promised they'd come later.
but he wanted them now.
"will you hurry up and get on with whatever you're planning?" astarion hisses, tone tinged with need. he brings his free hand to rest on the thigh opposite of ninleyn's head and vaguely motions towards his dick, "wait any longer and that precious blood you gave me will go to waste."
"you're so impatient," they murmur against his thigh, giving it another kiss before they gaze up at him, eyes half-lidded, "can't you let me enjoy this for a bit longer? i've wanted to do this for quite some time."
"that's on you, nin. think of how many times you could have been sitting pretty between my legs if you'd spoken up about this fantasy sooner."
"but it's embarrassing," ninleyn pouts, but astarion knows damn well that they haven't had an ounce of shame when it came to their desires for him for a long time now.
his nails dig inches into their scalp, "like hell it is."
they laugh, their warm breath hits astarion's clothed dick, and he shudders.
"you really want me to hurry up?"
"i'm not that far gone, dear."
they smile at him, but he knows they want to smirk. their tail spiral loosely around his leg.
he imagines they want to say.
they make a show of poking their tongue out. astarion's gaze drops towards the forked ends, and he takes a sharp breath when they lick a long stripe up the side of his thigh, the muscles tensing. the tiefling's heritage was apparent when it came to their tongue; a texture reminiscent of sandpaper and adorned with small barbs that served to send more shivers up his spine. their past trysts have made it quite clear how much he loves their tongue.
they lap at his thigh a few more times before they part their lips, pressing them onto his skin and sucking harshly. their other hand finally seeing some use as they bring it to his other thigh, squeezing firmly. they preen at the feeling of small amounts of fat overflowing between their fingers. their grip digs their nails into his skin, sure to leave marks when released.
they hum against his thigh, their pointed teeth ghost over his skin from within the wet heat of their mouth before they sink in. they savor the low moan astarion lets out as they suck. moments pass before they relent, blowing some air onto the slick skin before they lick at it again, the area now reddened from their love bite.
"i kinda wish i had fangs like yours. you'd look gorgeous with blood dripping down your thigh," ninleyn sighs dreamily, switching sides and pressing kisses to astarion's other thigh. his hand is still there from earlier, and they lean in to kiss to one of his fingers. their other hand comes up to rub the bite mark on his other thigh with their thumb.
"there's not a lot of blood in me, love. we
wasting it like that."
another hum against this thigh. their tongue lolls out once again, licking his thigh before they press their lips against his thigh, starting to suck again. they roughly lick and bite at the skin caught in their mouth.
they take their sweet time with this one, the mark left when they stop is much darker than the first. astarion can't even begin to imagine when it might start to heal.
"i know, but i can still imagine," they purr softly, nuzzling at the mark they just left.

The atmosphere grew palpably tense, the words hanging heavily in the air between them. Gale could see the Drow wizard's pride crumble, every ounce of resistance fading away.

Gulping audibly, Dhourn's voice was barely more than a whisper, a defeated surrender, "Forgive me... mistress. I would, of course, be honored to pass my research on to you."

The vivid memory began to fade, the edges blurring as Gale felt himself being pulled back into reality. The intricate details, the emotions, and the intensity of the confrontation all slowly started to dissolve like mist under the morning sun. The weight of the memory, its pressure on his senses, began to lift. A sensation of floating, of being suspended between the past and the present, took over before he was gently deposited back into the here and now.

Gale took a deep, shuddering breath, attempting to anchor himself in the present. The chaos of his thoughts began to settle. Another breath, this one more steady, and the tight coil of anxiety in his chest began to loosen.

He paused for a moment, collecting himself.

Then, another moment.

Then the memory pops into Gale’s head in the middle of the battle.

Backtracking a bit:

Tav had accepted Sovereign Spaw’s quest to kill with enthusiasm.

She had bounded up the oversized fungi to find the myconid leader. She ooh ed and aah ed over the mushroom man’s magic, the spores that the creature implanted in the corpses of its enemies. (Gale thought it was all a touch grim, but Tav seemed plenty happy, so who was he to dull her light - wherever she may find it?)

The Sovereign had spoken to them, then, after the reanimated corpse rose aloft with fungal magic.

Flesh–talker. I show you a memory. Watch and listen.

Gale watched as Tav was gripped in horror as they were shown the memory of the Duergar - dark dwarves - chopping myconid remains. Bits of mushroom flew across their grey faces, streaked with the bright pink blood of the Sovereign’s family.

When Tav opened her eyes again, Gale could see her eyes glistening in the dim light.

The sovereign’s song slowed to the pace of a dirge. It was still in mourning.

I sense your resolve.

Tav nodded. Gale knew the look on her face - she was all in.

You will find Duergar invaders near lake’s edge.

Cleanse the Rot. Destroy them.

There was a bit of silence as they realized what the fungi asked them to do.

"I admit," Astarion said apprehensively, "I like this one’s approach." Tav flashed a smile at the vampire, who continued confidently, "A little genocidal, but effective."

"Not every day I’m rewarded for killing some grey dwarfs," she had said, her eyes sparkling as she spoke to the Sovereign, who seemed to find the young bard’s enthusiasm endearing.

She had also saved a deep gnome from being poisoned to death and didn’t even make a slavery joke - so she was clearly in a good mood.

"We’re going to the beach then!" Tav smiled at the group. "Grab your sunglasses!"

No one else laughed.

Shadowheart had returned to camp at that point, still reeling and heavily wounded from an earlier bulette attack and not quite in the mood "to shed blood on behalf of Tav's whims." Gale noticed (with some relief) that Wyll, despite everything, was up to do exactly that.

"The Underdark... I'd almost forgotten it's possible to find allies down here," Tav reflected as they made their way to the beach.

No one responded, the tension in the air palpable. "Look, maybe this is where we need to go anyway. It’s not like we have any idea where we need to go. And besides-"

"Well, someone’s chatty," Astarion sniped at Tav, arms folded over his chest. He opened his mouth and began to say something catty before Tav shushed him with an urgency that meant he needed to shut up because in front of them, backs facing them...

They stood on platforms overlooking the beach, their watchful eyes scanning the area, the saltwater lapping gently against their boats moored close by. Gale saw Tav process the scene in front of her as the group crouches together tight behind the cragged rocks, staying out of the eye-line of the enemy.

After a plan formed in her head, the Drow turned to her companions, eyes determined, jaw set, and nodded. The group nodded back. Whatever she had in mind, they were ready.

Tav then straightened upright and began whistling nonchalantly as she walked straight past one of the Duergar, who, of course, stopped her immediately.

But let her go once they realized she was a Drow.

Damn, that certainly came in handy.

And when Tav had gotten all the information that she wanted out of them, she walked up behind one - Gekh, Gale thinks the other one called him?

And she shoved him off the platform.

He landed with an oof. And Gale watched in real-time as Tav realized he was still alive.

The Duergar descended on them immediately.

The combat was a maelstrom of weapons, spells, and shouting - the most any of them had spoken to each other since they had arrived. They were lucky to mostly have the high ground, but Gale certainly felt their luck run out when Gekh dusted himself off and began to reanimate a horde of zombies to fight on his behalf.

When another Duergar began to prepare Silence, Wyll quickly met him with an Eldritch Blast, propelling him off the platform. His body soared through the air, knocked far back by the force of the bolts. Gale heard the clank, scrape crack of the grey dwarf’s armor-laden body landing several meters away, skittering across the beach like a stone on a lake, bones breaking from impact. Gale winced. Then thanked Wyll.

In the chaos, time seemed to stretch and bend. The noises of clashing weapons, shouts, and the hum of magic melded into a distant drone, and every sensation was amplified. But amidst it all, his focus was inevitably pulled towards Tav.

He watched her move with lethal grace, each strike and spell executed with a precision that seemed almost dance-like. The ebb and flow of the battle seemed to revolve around her, and Gale couldn't help but be drawn into her orbit.

Tav lunged forward, her movements a blur of controlled fury. Gale's eyes followed her every step, each one echoing in his mind with the weight of intent. With a swift motion, she cornered a grey dwarf, her blade finding its mark, causing him to stumble back. She didn't relent.

In mere seconds, she had him on his knees, her weapon pressed coldly against his throat. The dwarf's eyes, filled with a mix of rage and terror, locked onto hers.

The image of the dwarf on his knees, Tav hovering above him...

Truth was, ever since their encounter with the Drow wizards, he had found himself replaying the memory of it again and again and again as they walked through the Underdark.

During moments of rest, he would imagine it - tap into the tadpole, letting the memory play like a film. Tav, with her fierce stance, the undaunted flame in her eyes, and that imperious command that made the Drow kneel – it was all etched in vivid detail in his mind.

He could see it with impeccable clarity every single time.

He had memorized it perfectly.

Gale felt himself weave in and out of memory, of daydream and the chaos of battle. He felt his concentration slip, and with that, the spell that he had just cast, as her blade slid across the dwarf’s throat, a spray of red decorating her dark silver-blue face.

It was in one of these moments - when his attention was falling into the cracks of his memory - that Tav whipped out her lyre as she would a sword, her slender silver fingers nimbly plucking the strings. He felt the warm golden wave of Bardic Inspiration wash over him, and he was pulled out of his daydream (his vision ) after he heard her shout, "Gale, Cloud of Daggers, there!" It cut through the cacophony, demanding his immediate response. "Now!"

And without thinking, his mind, so deeply entrenched in the memories of their recent past, responded in kind,

"Yes, Valsharess ."

He didn’t have time to realize his own words before he cast the spell at the undead advancing toward him, the flying weapons slicing into the zombies’ flesh with deadly force. They groaned in... pain? Gale didn’t quite know. But they groaned and collapsed, became undead turned dead again.

Gale felt a distinct shift, a cold draft of realization sweeping over him.

The word echoed in the air, and for a brief, weighty moment, the noise of the battle seemed to fade into the background.

The honorific the Drow had used for Tav.

He had silently mouthed the Drow word numerous times during their walk, valsharess, rolling it over his tongue, val-shar-ess, forming his lips in silent enunciation, trying to capture the exact intonation, the precise blend of respect and deference it conveyed. As if preparing for the right moment when he could say it to her, use it for her (while under her, gasping, moaning, preferably, but he didn’t allow his thoughts to get that far - especially outside the safety of his tent).

And now, in the midst of chaos, with adrenaline pumping and spells flying, it had slipped out, bridging the gap between memory and reality.

The aftermath of the utterance was palpable.

The battle raged on around him, but the world seemed to pause for Gale. His gaze locked onto Tav's, searching her face for a reaction, searching for any hint of anything, dear Gods. Her dagger, her ritual dagger (the one she stole after stripping naked and receiving penance from that Loviatar freak- holy Hells, now was not the time to remember that ), plunged into the shoulder blade of a Druegar.

She wrenched it free by kicking him in the chest, sending him tumbling off the platform. Again.

"You really do love sending people plummeting," Astarion noted dryly.

The world was still. The battle was over.

The weight of Gale's utterance lingered in the air, thick and palpable. A tension, electric and charged, stretched between them, resonating with unspoken understanding.

Tav was the first to break the silence. "I didn't know you were versed in the Drow dialect, Gale."

Her approach was deliberate, reminiscent of a huntress closing in on her mark. Gale, however, remained resolute, not allowing himself to shrink back. The lingering adrenaline from the battle and the implications of his words mixed, forming a potent cocktail of emotions.

Matching her intensity, Gale offered a half-smirk, "The Drow dialect is a complicated one, and there is much to learn," he responded, maintaining direct eye contact.

Tav leaned in, their faces dangerously close,

"Then maybe later, I can help you learn."

astarion wasn't sure how much longer he could handle this.

he sat on the edge of their shared bed, stripped bare apart from his underwear and his legs spread. made to sit, watch and feel as ninleyn took their sweet time indulging in the fantasy he had finally managed to drag out of them.

the silence between them was stretching thin, only broken up occasionally by their heavy breaths and his own softer ones. they were on their knees in between his legs like a prayer, resting and rubbing their cheek against his bare thigh.

their cheeks were flushed a dark blue, contrasting the rest of them which remained a dusty shade. they looked cold as ice, but radiated warmth between his legs. a wonderful sensation, he'll never tire of it.

but as pretty of a sight it was, seeing ninleyn worship him so, he was starting to get impatient. he's unsure of how long they'd been in this position. it could've been minutes — maybe even hours with the way his body almost felt locked in place, but ninleyn made no moves to progress the scene

astarion lets out a little sigh when they start to litter kisses along his thigh. he presses his nails into their scalp to spur them on.

he had half the mind to grab one of their horns and bring them towards his hardening dick in hope they'd start mouthing against the fabric of his underwear, or make an effort to press his foot against their own dick to try and make them want to do more; but the latter wasn't possible with ninleyn between his legs, keeping them spread as they continued to lavish his thighs with attention that sent shivers up his spine and blood to his dick.

he wasn't gonna be able to come from this scene alone, but gods was the thought tempting.

the sight of his lover kneeling so prettily before him; sighing blissfully with lidded eyes as they press into the softness of his thighs. ninleyn must've been testing their own willpower, seeing as they weren't covered in marks already, but the kisses being littered across them surely promised they'd come later.

but he wanted them now.

"will you hurry up and get on with whatever you're planning?" astarion hisses, tone tinged with need. he brings his free hand to rest on the thigh opposite of ninleyn's head and vaguely motions towards his dick, "wait any longer and that precious blood you gave me will go to waste."

"you're so impatient," they murmur against his thigh, giving it another kiss before they gaze up at him, eyes half-lidded, "can't you let me enjoy this for a bit longer? i've wanted to do this for quite some time."

"that's on you, nin. think of how many times you could have been sitting pretty between my legs if you'd spoken up about this fantasy sooner."

"but it's embarrassing," ninleyn pouts, but astarion knows damn well that they haven't had an ounce of shame when it came to their desires for him for a long time now.

his nails dig inches into their scalp, "like hell it is."

they laugh, their warm breath hits astarion's clothed dick, and he shudders.

"you really want me to hurry up?"

"i'm not that far gone, dear."

they smile at him, but he knows they want to smirk. their tail spiral loosely around his leg.

he imagines they want to say.

they make a show of poking their tongue out. astarion's gaze drops towards the forked ends, and he takes a sharp breath when they lick a long stripe up the side of his thigh, the muscles tensing. the tiefling's heritage was apparent when it came to their tongue; a texture reminiscent of sandpaper and adorned with small barbs that served to send more shivers up his spine. their past trysts have made it quite clear how much he loves their tongue.

they lap at his thigh a few more times before they part their lips, pressing them onto his skin and sucking harshly. their other hand finally seeing some use as they bring it to his other thigh, squeezing firmly. they preen at the feeling of small amounts of fat overflowing between their fingers. their grip digs their nails into his skin, sure to leave marks when released.

they hum against his thigh, their pointed teeth ghost over his skin from within the wet heat of their mouth before they sink in. they savor the low moan astarion lets out as they suck. moments pass before they relent, blowing some air onto the slick skin before they lick at it again, the area now reddened from their love bite.

"i kinda wish i had fangs like yours. you'd look gorgeous with blood dripping down your thigh," ninleyn sighs dreamily, switching sides and pressing kisses to astarion's other thigh. his hand is still there from earlier, and they lean in to kiss to one of his fingers. their other hand comes up to rub the bite mark on his other thigh with their thumb.

"there's not a lot of blood in me, love. we

wasting it like that."

another hum against this thigh. their tongue lolls out once again, licking his thigh before they press their lips against his thigh, starting to suck again. they roughly lick and bite at the skin caught in their mouth.

they take their sweet time with this one, the mark left when they stop is much darker than the first. astarion can't even begin to imagine when it might start to heal.

"i know, but i can still imagine," they purr softly, nuzzling at the mark they just left.