Datasets:
mickume
/
dnd_drow

Dataset card Data Studio Files
xet
Community
text
stringlengths
0
41.4k
It’s pulled out from his hand just as quick. The vampire’s mouth curling wide, to see it half empty. "Thought about this a lot have you?" Gale flushes, shaking his head. "Not like this. I uh- more you, before, and in the woods just-" Astarion kisses him again, then. A little rough, tongue dipping into his mouth when he gasped. Pulling back, a little sweeter. "You can tell me all about it later." He breathes, lips still ghosting over his. Later. Gale's mind turns that over for a moment so, so pleased.
Astarion shifts them slightly, catching his now free hand up and out of the way. "Stay... stay right like that, for now." Gale flushes again, but nods.
Watching the elf pour some oil onto his fingers, playing with it slightly, enjoying the light herbal scent, before letting his hand trail past Gale’s hip, reaching under and pressing against the rim. Rubbing his fingers just so, to spread the oil and be an absolute tease, if his little smirk was anything to go by. 
Gale huffed, expecting his antics at this point, rocking his body down slightly. "Go on, I won’t break." Astarion tuts. "Bossy." Pressing a little more, but still not entering. Gale grips onto his shoulder, fluttering his lashes intentionally, his little smile probably giving his play away but he didn’t care. "Please?" Astarion feels known in a way he should hate but decidedly doesn’t. It has him equally starved and satisfied.
Astarion hums, pressing a little more, finger dipping just in, before leaving again. "You said some- something about ruining me." Gale’s breath hiccups slightly as he’s gritting his teeth, trying to shift back onto the hand himself. Astarion seems to have expected it though, he doesn’t succeed to get any more pressure, only the finger tip circling him now. "Now, now. Don’t taunt the vampire, love."
He opens his mouth to protest, beg again, something, but the finger well and truly slides inside right then. Gale groans, back arching slightly as his dick twitches. He’s gasping and swallowing thickly as it continues now, unrelenting. "You make the loveliest sounds, my dear." Smug again, the tone that makes him burn hotter than it has any right to. "I’m happy to help. You just have to ask nicely." They’ve figured each-other out then.
"Keep, ah- more? I want-" The finger curls and he’s blinded with it, hands clenching against the pillows and Astarion, anything he can reach. He makes a low rumbling noise behind his teeth. The slow glide continues, not curling again as much as working him open some more. His whole body feels on fire and they’ve hardly started. It was maddening. Something about this makes Gale think of the practiced methodical way he could tear through enemies, almost always graceful but also instinctive, reactive. Honest in a way he didn’t often move or speak in front of the others. His body and face would almost always flip into some practiced motion, one blink and you’d miss it, but not here. There might have been a bit of theatre tonight, playful exaggeration, but his eyes were so focused. Present in a way he rarely was, just like the last time.
"Hells, that’s good. I, shit." He cuts himself off with a whine as the vampire chuckles, pressing against his prostate again. "Better than trying it yourself?" He smirks. Gale’s not going to distract him with alternative uses for mage hands right this moment. It was better, either way. He nods, chest heaving, leaking with every pass.
"Tell me." Demanding almost at odds with the slow finger, working easily into him now. Gale moans. "S’good. I... more?" Not very eloquent but his hips shift to accentuate his point. Astarion laughs a little, but pulls back enough to side a second in, letting it catch on the rim teasingly first. Gale’s lashes flutter, unable to keep his eyes open.
He can still feel the elf’s eyes boring into him, watching every twitch, every shudder with such wonder it just makes Gale ache worse. His fingers shifting just past where he wants him, but he likes it, even like this. Astarion has his fingers rolling and spreading gently at such an angle that his knuckles keep catching the rim. "Gods, look at you." He sounds as wrecked as Gale feels and it makes him moan, clenching his eyes a little too tight, edges wet now. 
"That’s it." Astarion is hissing, having pulled back to add a third. Letting his fingers press a little more roughly, once, twice. Curling slightly. Gale comes with a gasp, back bowing up into the other man’s side, dick twitching as it spills messily, untouched. Astarion is moaning in delight and surprise. "All nine hells, love." Yes that, Gale thinks, a little deliriously as the fingers slow, but don’t stop. 
He whines but his body keeps rocking back on to Astarion’s hand now, demanding. How is he still... it was never like this. Gale grits his teeth again. "Should just keep you like this... see how many I can wring out of you." His eyes flutter open and the elf’s looking at him, his own mouth dropped open, hips absentmindedly rolling into nothing to the beat of his fingers. Gale shakes his head, moaning again. "No?" He stops his protest, he’s learned that tone by now. 
His body is shaking, he’s still half hard when a hand comes to wrap around him again, gentle, teasing. Gale’s hand clenches in his own hair. His mouth works soundlessly. The hand on his cock leaves him to run across his stomach and chest again, spreading the mess around but the fingers continue, a little slower, letting him regain his senses somewhat. "You. you-" he’s mumbling, he can’t string the thought together well enough. 
The vampire shifts, cock rocking in time against him now. He can feel him making a mess of his hip and thigh too. Hard and hot in a way he’d not been before, from the bath. "Astah-" He’s being kissed again, a little sloppy as the fingers are removed. 
He could sob, suddenly so empty, about to try to beg for them back, grabbing at him around the shoulders and back of the neck until he feels an oil slicked tip rubbing, teasing across his rim. He’s gasping, pulling the vampire back by his hair slightly, gaining a broken noise half muffled into his mouth in return.
It’s like lighting a match. "Starion for the love of- please. How many- please? Surely ’s not that fun to-" He breaks off into a ragged gasp as the vampire lifts his hips slightly and rocks himself up and in. The groan and growl pressed into his skin, the second pass sinking deeper a wet gasp against his throat, turning into a whine. Astarion shakes his head, breathing him in, still smelling sweet from the bath, but a lot more like them. "It’s always fun, my dear wizard."
This was nothing like fingers, almost too much, especially as oversensitive as he was, but the glide was perfect. His thighs shake continuously as he can hear them move together obscenely. "Shit. Keep, just keep-" The rest of the sentence lost, caught somewhere in the back of his throat. That gets him a delighted little laugh again against his neck, gentle in a way the vampire’s hips were decidedly not, as he’s manhandled slightly back, Astarion pressing roughly against his prostate again. Gale’s mouth was caught open, air punching out of his lungs, but otherwise silent. 
Gale’s eyes are crinkling closed, fluttering open, his focus constantly pulled between the fire running through his veins and watching a little curl of Astarion’s hair, dropped forward across his brow, sway with every thrust. He misses whatever the vampire’s said to him, catching only the satisfied little smirk. He tries to focus.
"I, uh- I could al-always stop, hum? Can’t be that good if you’re this qui-" Gale moans shaking his head, interrupting him but can’t string any words together, he knows it’s an empty threat. The hips moving against him just beginning to border on sloppy, too close to stop himself even if he wanted to torture the wizard some more. "Fine, fine, but you- you have to come just like this," A grin and harsher thrust. "again." Gale’s nodding, hands petting and gripping around a bicep, his hair, anything to encourage him, mindlessly. 
Astarion’s kissing him, then, swallowing both their noises between them. Nose brushing against his, lips dragging though his beard, over his chin. He’s losing himself inside the warm, wet heat, unable to fully maintain his composure, sharp little inhales as if it burns this deep but he can’t get enough. He’s shaking too, having to adjust his grip momentarily but not missing a beat. 
It was just so fucking good. He does take him so well, just like he knew he would. His lovely, sweet little wizard. He clenches that and several other things, too full of feeling, behind his teeth. Let's it all roll into one long rumbling groan.
Gale’s blindingly hard again and it’s pressing against the elf’s smooth skin every few rolls, hips working to try and catch more friction. He might be trying to say words, or just whining and moaning softly, he can't tell. It's so good and yet still almost not enough, somehow. He shifts himself slightly, desperate and rocks himself back finally finding the perfect rhythm to catch against Astarion’s skin on the upstroke with him. Astarion’s gripping him tighter, meeting him as he impales himself down, striking true every time. His throat makes an aborted click around a gasp, mouth hung open again.
"Fuck," the vampire’s hips stutter against him slightly. "Gale, please, come on." 
Gale breaks, of course he does, between the sound of his name and vampires desperation. It has him coming half dry and a little painful, actually sobbing momentarily as Astarion whines and buries his face in his hair. The rolling clench of his insides has the elf pinning him down as his hips keep working and mumbling something, over and over. 
Gale sniffles, carding his hands through his hair, gentle along his ears, just to feel the tremor rock each thrust. He’s a little sore, it’s bordering on painful now but watching the other lose himself like this is worth it. 
As the rushing in his ears subsides somewhat he finally hears the small, broken, shattered "thank you's, as the vampire empties into him. Gale peppers kisses everywhere he can reach at that point, how could he not? He can feel the dampness against his neck, tears or drool or both. Vampire still shuddering with every breath. Rubbing his face into him quietly.
It takes them a moment to come down, Gale wincing slightly as they uncouple. The ache is not entirely unfamiliar and has him stretching, satisfied in a way he’s not felt in a long time. 
Astarion flicks his finger through the mess to lick more of Gale’s spend humming to himself softly, pleased and soft. Gale’s still blissed out enough he just watches, blinking slowly. Astarion’s head tilts as his eyes rake over him, like he wants to say something, but doesn’t. Instead he sniffs, sitting up slightly, looking down at them. 
"Well, I’m a mess... and it’s all your fault. Again." Gale chuckles shaking his head. He waves a hand, spell cleaning both of them off and drying the bedding. Grabbing up and reeling him in again, the vampire comes surprisingly easily. "Better?" Astarion looks a little put out, huffing. "...Now we’re maybe too clean." The feral little glint is there again, flickering over his thighs. 
Gale grins. "Give this old, mortal man at least a couple hours, then you can try and make a new mess." Astarion gasps, half theatre, half delight. "You fiend! ... how long?" Wiggling his eyebrows, Gale laughs and pulls him in under a blanket. "Nap first. More debauchery later." The elf stills in his arms, Gale almost worried he's overstepped before a hand comes down around him, little awkwardly, as the vampire relaxes again.Astarion lets himself lay against him, enjoying the sound of the wizard's slowing heart and blood. "I suppose I could be convinced." Fingers card through his hair, he sighs. Alright, he can admit, the man doesn't always have the worst ideas.
Cold liquid splashes over Tav’s face and neck. He stands there, blinking red wine out of his eyes, as Rolan stalks away from the bar with an aggrieved huff, tail swishing.
The guilt churning in Tav’s stomach is familiar. It’s always like this, isn’t it? Except it’s usually Astarion storming away after Tav’s put his boot in his mouth.
There’s a delighted laugh from behind him. Speak of the devil.
"Oh, I missed the fun! What did you say to the little wizard to get his robes in a twist, darling?"
Tav curses internally. Of course Astarion saw that. And so did everyone else in Last Light, probably.
He wipes his face on his sleeve and turns. Astarion’s lounging at the end of the bar. He’s geared up and ready to go, blades sheathed at his waist and crossbows holstered on his back.
The toothy grin on his face sends a pang through Tav’s chest. It’s been a while since he saw Astarion smile like that, genuinely amused and almost carefree. And that’s Tav’s fault, too.
"Something stupid," Tav admits. He frowns down at the wine stain on his sleeve. "I definitely deserved that."
This is all my fault, Rolan. I’ll bring them back. I swear it on my life.
Your life? I can't imagine a more worthless vow.
"I told you those lines of yours needed more practice." Astarion sidles closer, walking his fingers along the bar until they’re inches from Tav’s arm. "Shall I demonstrate, love? Just stand there and look surly. Yes, like that."
Tav snorts. "What, am I pretending to be Rolan? And who are you? Me?"
They don’t really have time for this. Wyll and Shadowheart are already outside the inn, waiting to head out. But Tav’s inclined to let Astarion have his fun, even if it’s at his expense. At least Astarion seems to be in a good mood this morning.
Truthfully, Tav can’t remember the last time they had a casual conversation with all of their clothes on. Was it in the githyanki monastery, a few minutes before Tav put his hand on the Blood of Lathander and all hell broke loose? Gods, that was days ago. It’s been nothing but blood and mistakes ever since.
"Exactly right," Astarion says. "A more charming version of you, anyway. Hmm. Let's see..."
Astarion sizes him up, like Tav’s a complicated lock he’s about to unpick. Tav feels a smile tugging at his own lips as he waits. He expects Astarion to chastise him for breaking character; Rolan surely wouldn’t smile with Tav looking at him like that. But that isn’t what happens next.
In a blink of an eye, Tav’s trapped against the bar with Astarion’s hands gripping the wood counter on either side of his waist, and Astarion’s cool lips are at his ear.
"Drinking alone?" Astarion asks in a low, sultry voice that goes straight to Tav’s cock. "What a waste of a pretty mouth. I can think of a few other ways for you to drown your sorrows, darling. You won’t even regret them in the morning. Much."
Tav chokes out a laugh even as heat rushes to his cheeks. It’s not the words that have him flustered. It’s Astarion’s proximity, so godsdamned close but not actually touching Tav anywhere except for his breath in Tav’s ear. He must be standing on his toes to reach.
Tav fights the sudden, overwhelming urge to put his hands on Astarion’s hips and pull him across that last inch of distance, so they're touching everywhere instead of nowhere.
"That—that would never work on Rolan. He hates me, remember?"
"It’s working on you," Astarion purrs. And fuck. He’s right.
Tav swallows. "I don’t hate you."
He meant that to sound airy and flirtatious. That’s his part in this little game: to act as Astarion’s mirror, reflecting back his energy. Some days he’s better at it than others.
Today, apparently, he’s utter rubbish. Those words sounded far too genuine. Pained, even.
Astarion blinks. For a moment, he looks like he can’t remember his next line. Then that roguish smirk returns in full force and they’re back on track.
"That’s a shame. Mutual loathing can be a powerful aphrodisiac in the right hands, you know. And I’d stake coin on you and the little wizard having more than that in common."
"What do you mean?"
"Pull his tail and see what happens, darling. That’s what I mean."
"All right," Tav says, forcing another laugh. This is getting out of hand. For one thing, he’s just imagined having a tail of his own, and what it might feel like if Astarion were to tug on it. "I’ll try that next time. Thanks for the tip."
That’s his signal that the game is over, but Astarion doesn’t move. He lingers by Tav’s ear for a few long moments, like he’s inhaling Tav’s scent or listening intently to a sound.
Then he says, in a voice altogether different from that theatrical tone of seduction but still rich enough to make Tav shiver, "Your heart’s beating awfully fast, love. And you look rather pale. Still feeling up to a rescue today?"
Tav doesn’t dare look around the Last Light’s main room. He doesn’t want to know how many people have noticed the incredibly suggestive position he and Astarion are in right now. It’s no secret that they’re sleeping together, but does Astarion have to make it so blatant all the time?
Yes. He does. That’s obvious to Tav even if he doesn’t understand why.
"It’s just nerves," Tav lies. "I’m fine."
"We could postpone. Better yet, call the whole thing off. We’re not even sure if those prisoners are still alive in Moonrise Towers, are we? Quite the rash decision to risk our necks for a gaggle of corpses, when we could be trading sweet words over a glass of wine instead."
Oh. A crushing wave of disappointment hits Tav, almost strong enough to blot out the tingle of his arousal. That’s what this is about.
This conversation was never casual. Astarion’s not having a bit of fun. He’s never voiced his explicit disapproval of Tav and Wyll’s plan to infiltrate Moonrise Towers and rescue everyone they can find alive in the dungeons, but this is unmistakably Astarion’s gambit to talk Tav out of it.
It’s as unlikely to succeed as any attempt Tav might have made to seduce Rolan. Surely Astarion knows that. So why even try?
"Why not both? Rescue first, wine later."
Astarion touches him. Just a hand on his armored chest. Innocuous enough, to any onlookers. But Astarion’s palm is perfectly placed right over Tav’s concealed scars.
"I’ll hold you to that promise."
Then his lips leave Tav’s ear and he turns on his heel to saunter out of the inn.
Tav takes a moment to compose himself, cheeks burning hot. He can feel eyes on him now that Astarion is gone; his absence leaves room for other sensations. A couple of Flaming Fist mutter to each other across the room, shooting glances Tav’s way.
Instinctively, he touches the hilt of the Blood of Lathander at his hip. Still there.
Then he follows Astarion outside, into the pale glow of continual moonlight.
It’s almost too easy to talk their way into Moonrise Towers. That should have been Tav’s first warning.
But if he were the kind of man to balk at a warning, he wouldn’t be here at all, would he?
Tav and Wyll’s plan wasn’t much of a plan at all, really. How could they stage an intricate rescue when they don’t even know the layout of Moonrise Towers, or the dungeons underneath? The first step is to get inside. The next is to figure out where in the hells to go for step two.
Tav’s brain is still spinning in circles, digesting the image of Ketheric Thorm with that axe buried in his neck, when they find a secluded spot on the ramparts to huddle together and strategize.
He has to pinch himself on the wrist—hard—to bring his focus back to the present. It almost doesn’t work.
He’s just in time to hear Astarion say, "Well, obviously there’s only one option, Wyll dear. I’ll nip down to the dungeons and find out what we’re dealing with. You three stay up here and chat up the locals."
Wyll nods. "That makes—"
"No." Tav’s heart pounds. "Not alone. I’m coming with you."
There’s a heavy, awkward silence. Wyll looks pained. Shadowheart’s obviously trying not to roll her eyes. Tav doesn’t dare look at Astarion’s face.
"I have done this before, darling." Not looking at Astarion was definitely the correct decision. The acid in his voice alone is enough to burn holes in Tav's skin. "How many times exactly, I’m not quite sure. I lost count somewhere after the first five hundred. On the other hand, you haven’t been hiding a storied past as a cat burglar, have you?"
"Tav, I saw you fall down the stairs two days ago," Shadowheart says. "Much as I hate to admit it, Astarion has a point."
"Thank you, my dear. It's not only my ears and blades that I keep sharp."
Tav's mind howls with fear. He can't let Astarion go down there alone. He can't. On the last occasion he sent Astarion off by himself, Tav and Shadowheart barely made it in time to avert disaster. Tav can’t let any of those memories in now or he’ll choke on them.
Logically Tav knows he can't keep Astarion out of danger forever, not when it dogs their every step. It's foolish and obnoxious of him to even try. But. He can't. 
"There’s scrying eyes everywhere." He hopes his voice doesn’t give away how close to panic he is. "Even you can’t hide from them. It’ll look suspicious if you’re caught down there alone. But if there’s two of us, we can come up with a distraction. Keep the eyes focused somewhere else while we scope out the cells."
"Not a bad plan," Wyll says. "Safer to have more of us down there, anyway, in case it turns into a fight. You’ll want Tav there for that."
Tav winces. Wyll has no idea how dangerous it is to make assumptions about what Astarion wants.
But maybe that rule only exists for Tav. Because Astarion sounds perfectly unruffled when he says, "A distraction? I hadn’t thought of that. What a fascinating idea. If it’s to be a romp, why don’t we all go? Our plans usually end in bloodshed anyway; better to cut to the chase."
"Hopefully we can avoid that," Tav says, sick with relief.
He’ll drown Moonrise Towers in blood if it’ll keep Astarion from harm. And that knowledge chills him to his core. 
He doesn’t actually know how far he’d go. Whose blood he’d trade for Astarion’s. How many lives he’d fork over just to keep his blasted promise: both of them back at Last Light after this is over, ready to play another round of a game Tav’s sure to lose.
Rolan was right about him. Tav’s vows are worthless.
"We’ll take care of the spies," Tav whispers to Wyll and Shadowheart. "Wait until they’re gone, then go. Find out how many prisoners are still alive. Be careful."
Wyll clasps Tav’s forearm, eyes grim with determination. Shadowheart’s already weaving a cloak of darkness over them both. Worry chokes Tav, but only for a moment. He has to trust them. They’ve never let him down before.