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Dribbles the clown needed a volunteer for his show, and it most certainly was not going to be you. Not when his creepy, icy gaze seemed to be fixated right on your throat. “You love the spotlight, don’t you, Astarion?” you deflected. “Here’s your big chance.”
“What? No. Don’t you dare!” Your pale elf companion seemed to be as resistant as you were. “This isn’t funny!”
But it was a little funny. The humor of it all was the only thing keeping your guilt at bay, actually. “Go on,” you encouraged with a stifled laugh.
He scanned the crowd around him uneasily, well aware of the expectant gazes now centered on him. A forced smile flashed to his face and he waved stiffly to his new audience. “I’m going to fucking kill you,” he muttered to you through gritted teeth.
You had a habit of periodically pissing Astarion off during your travels. You couldn’t help it—each time you did it, he reinforced the behavior by fucking you senseless afterward. It was very counterproductive on his part, but perhaps he just hadn’t realized that yet. Or maybe he was simply looking for excuses to be inside you.
“Is it funny now, darling ?” Astarion had your face pressed into the dirt, a fistful of your hair in hand.
It was utterly degrading. He had pulled you aside at the first opportunity, snuck off into some unkempt plot of land behind the circus, and stripped you bare without so much as unbuttoning any of his own clothes. Now, you were bent over beneath him and fully at his mercy. You just hoped nobody would stumble across the scene.
“Answer me,” he growled. “You were oh so talkative not even half an hour ago, so what’s wrong now? Cat got your tongue?” Releasing your hair, he took your jaw and turned your head so that you could meet his gaze.
You remained silent. When he got like this, it tended to be the best thing you could do.
“ Fine .” He gave you a light shove so that you tumbled over onto your side. Stepping back, he studied your body, predation in his gaze and mischief in his smile. “If you’re not going to speak, let’s put that pretty little mouth to good use.”
The sun and light breeze on your body would usually feel nice, but you just felt exposed. Astarion was still fully dressed, his fine clothes bloodied by a recent battle. The power imbalance was clear.
“What are you waiting for?” he hummed. “Get on your knees for me, pet.”
You obliged him and kneeled, owing him that much after this whole clown fiasco.
“My good little slut,” he crooned. “So pretty when you obey my commands.” He stepped closer to you, the beginnings of his arousal clear through his trousers.
Then, his pants were around his ankles and his cock was pushing past your lips. You coughed around it, eyes watering, as he shoved it to the back of your throat. Swallowing the discomfort, you sat perfectly still for him.
He huffed out a labored breath and took your head in his hands, fucking lazily into your mouth. There wasn’t much movement needed on your part—you were ultimately a cocksleeve in this position—but you made sure to press your tongue around his length, just the way you knew he liked.
“You’re so very well-trained,” he breathed. The sunlight caught on his curls, framing his face in your periphery. He was so pretty. “But I’m sure you know this good behavior won’t be enough to make up for your earlier transgressions.”
It was understood from the start that any obedience on your part was just damage control. You managed to voice your assent with a strained “mmhmm” around his cock.
You desperately wanted to touch yourself—not just for your own relief, but to give Astarion a bit of a show. Hoping to avoid a harsher punishment, though, you kept your hands folded in your lap.
A delighted smile played at his lips as he watched you suck at him. His hold on you tightened and he picked up his pace to something quicker, rougher. Drool trickled down your chin, lubricating his every thrust.
Just when you thought your throat could take no more of his abuse, he tore away from you. Your saliva shined across his length and dripped off the head.
“Clean me up, dear,” he said. Astarion couldn’t hide how heavy his breathing was beginning to get.
You were in a similar state as you crawled toward him to lap up the excess drool you’d left on him. It’d been hard to breathe with his cock stuffing your airway, and you were grateful to now have a few moments of recovery.
That recovery was short-lived, though. Once Astarion decided you’d done an acceptable job, he dropped down to your level and yanked your head to the side, baring your neck to him. You let out a sharp cry as his fangs sunk into your flesh.
The second your lips parted, Astarion had his fingers in your mouth. He sucked against your throat as you sucked against his knuckles. While he was being reinvigorated by your blood, though, you were only growing dizzier by the loss of it.
You tried to focus on caressing his fingers with your tongue. Since he’d drunk from you the night before, you needed a task to focus on to prevent yourself from passing out. Exhaustion ebbed at your very being as you worked.
It wasn’t until the edges of your vision were going black that he felt he had drunk enough. He dragged his tongue across your puncture wounds, the ones that he reopened night after night, and pulled away to study his handiwork.
“Hm,” he chirped, drawing back his hand and licking your saliva off of his fingers. “I’m starting to feel just a bit better.”
Your head lolled back and you tried to refocus your gaze on him. “Are we finished for now?” you managed to ask through your panting.
A musical, boisterous laugh. “Oh no, no, no!” he said, voice soft and playful. “I haven’t even fucked you yet, love.”
Your muscles ached as he helped you to your feet and bent you over a nearby log. From this perspective, you could see the fair’s distant foot traffic beneath the surrounding foliage. You felt your heart pattering weakly in your chest.
Astarion rubbed his cock against you, offering a welcome pressure to your core. He leaned forward and whispered in your ear, “You’re this wet? Just because you sucked my cock and let me drain you of your blood? What a delectable little whore .”
A depraved moan tumbled from your lips as you took his length inside you. He wasted no time in finding a rhythm that had you yelping, your thighs chafing against the tree bark with each buck of his hips.
In a demeaning lilt, he reprimanded you. “I’m sure you’ll think first before trying something that stupid again.” He brought his hand down hard against your ass between rough, hungry thrusts. “Isn’t that right, my pretty little fool?”
You nodded vigorously though it worsened your dizzy state. “I’m sorry, Astarion!” you cried out. “It won’t happen again!”
“I feel like we’ve had this conversation one too many times.” His voice was strained, low, and warning. The lull after the statement was filled with the filthy, quick-coming sounds of skin hitting skin and your audible wetness. “Can’t you just be a good girl so I can start stealing you away for rewards instead of punishment?”
You were quivering around him as he smoothed a hand over the sore handprint branding your bottom. His touch snaked around to your waist, then to the junction of your thighs. You gasped, overstimulated by relief and white-hot pleasure, as he rubbed deliberate circles around your clit.
“I know I can be a bit strict with you.” His breathing was ragged, his unforgiving pace slowing to something a bit more manageable, softer. “But you truly are the object of my so carefully guarded affections. I hunger for you. I covet you.”
Dazed, you looked over your shoulder to him. Such gentle, sweet words were a rarity from Astarion, perhaps not while aimlessly flirting, but certainly while mid-fuck. Through the heat building in your abdomen, you felt confusion and the smallest tinge of . . . hope ? You weren’t quite sure—it was all so hard to process as you were falling apart around him.
He met your eyes briefly. You could almost make out vulnerability in his expression, but it quickly shifted to something colder and more familiar. His next words were: “That’s the kind of thing you want to hear, right, love? Start doing things to earn it.”
You couldn’t form any coherent words yourself. It was a struggle to hold yourself together, to not pull on the thread that would unravel you completely. You desperately wanted to finish around his cock. Any thoughts of reward could come later—right now, you only wanted the fruits of your punishment.
A sudden emptiness hit you then, as Astarion pulled out. He ignored your indignant whine, grabbing your forearm and pulling you back onto your knees. “Say please,” he hissed.
“Please,” you begged, hoping you’d be able to coax him back inside of you.
But that wasn’t at all what he had you pleading for. He took his cock in one hand and pried open your jaw with the other. With a few firm pumps of his fist, his breath caught and he was coming into your mouth, some of it spilling onto your chin and chest.
“I hope you didn’t think you’d get to finish after the stunt you pulled earlier,” Astarion taunted. Sweat stuck to his forehead and his breathing was obviously ragged, despite his best attempts to remain composed.
You wanted to talk back, to call out the injustice, but you bit your tongue. Maybe Astarion was right and rewards weren’t such an awful thing to be aiming for. Every time you bedded him, it was rough and mean, and it was always so much fun, but perhaps something softer could be nice too.
You felt a tug on your mind, an Illithid connection taking shape. Astarion shifted his weight and rubbed at his temples, so you assumed he was feeling it as well.
“ Where did you two sneak off to? ” Shadowheart’s voice sounded in your skull. “ You’ve been gone for ages and we have better things to worry about than carnival games. ”
A few other members of your party buzzed in agreement, their words echoing against the walls of your mind.
Astarion turned to face you, positioning his hands oddly in front of himself, and answered the group before you had the chance to ask what he was doing. An image of yourself flashed into your mind, your more sensitive areas hidden behind his hands.
You were seeing yourself from Astarion’s point of view. Though he’d covered much of you with his little perspective trick, it was clear what you two had been busy doing: your hair was tangled from pulling; his seed shimmered on your lips, chin, and chest; and blood was smeared across the side of your throat.
Chaos shot through the mental link immediately and you gasped, mortified, as you realized that your companions had received the same image.
Astarion’s face was impossibly smug as he announced through the link, “ She handed me the spotlight earlier, so I’m only returning the favor. ”