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There is music to be found everywhere. So many ways to listen, to play. In the crunch of leaves underfoot, in the shimmering foliage above. Even in silent sunlight that danced across pale skin. Down those arms strode fingers, idly playing as though a flute. Pressing along the bumps and scars that could, from time to time, be rewarded with a sound.
Astarion could enjoy the arts, and Tav enjoyed that about him. But to say he was any good at it was a lie. Pretty as his voice may sound, gliding in an easy, natural tempo when he spoke, all that was lost in any attempt at song. Tav suspected he would be better suited as patron to their… ministrations.
Astarion leaning his back against their chest as he was, he could feel the bass of their heartbeat, hear the tempo in the flow of blood. A talented musician as they were, fingers like Tav's could pull beautiful music from even the most tone-deaf.
Tav kissed the crown of Astarion's head, nose buried into the curls, softly sniffing. This close to his skin, scalp especially, one could get a heavy whiff of death. Paired with the artificial scents of brandy, bergamot, and whatever other oils he used to style his locks, the smell of him was, surprisingly, actually quite lovely.
They pressed another kiss there. Then leaned to meet his temple. Then further still, to his ear. At this, Astation stirred. A nibble upon the thin cartilage elicited a vocal response.
"Having fun?" His words flowed in a drowsy purr. Yet, there seemed to be something hidden beneath the lethargy. A quiet note wishing to be drawn out.
Another kiss. "Yes." Another shiver.
"Well," there it was again, that note, manifesting as a slight croak. "Don't let me stop you."
Needing to satisfy their pang of curiosity, Tav raised a hand to take the tip of his ear between gentle fingers. Astarion squirmed; precisely the reaction they expected.
"Aw," They breathed out along the opposite ear while the other succumbed to perpetual kneading. "Don't tell me you're sensitive."
"It- it is none of your business." His voice is all a quiver now with a pretty vibrato that he otherwise wouldn't be able to produce naturally. While he tries to settle against delicate pizzicato, Tav wishes they could see the look on his face.
"Isn't it?" They place another kiss, on his cheek this time. Their fingers are now gliding from the tip and down to the lobe, giving it a gentle tweak. "I figured you'd want me to know something like this."
Astarion hides, poorly, a quiet moan in his response, "It never came up."
"Pity."
The rhythm changes, fingers moving in a cyclical pattern, and again, with lips still settled at the other ear, they brush against it experimentally. Even a touch as soft as that is enough to cause Astarion to tremble. Falling into the piece, they pick up pace with a bite.
Astarion's hips rise from the earth, then fall back with a beat. "Be-be gentle."
"Pfft. Really?" Tav chuckles in his ear. "The vampire is telling me to be gentle? That's rich."
"I'm just saying-- watch yourself if you know what's good for you."
Tav hums, pressed hard into the inner canal so the sound reverberates deeply in his skull. "Your little threats fall on deaf ears, love."
Their tongue flattens into the empty space, cramming the broad of it inward, releasing a bassy exhale. The whine they get from him this time is a sound most divine. "See? You're in no position to dissuade me."
On one ear, their fingers continue to tap and glide; nails grazing the thick shell, the thin skin, pressing here and there like the neck of a string instrument. They rub the tip between thumb and forefinger, and the squirming of his back against their chest has them imagining what beautiful face he could be making. Brows tight, eyes screwed shut. His usually full lips but a taut line between those high cheeks. A fully concentrated expression of attempted defiance.
On the other ear is their trained mouth. They lick, they bite, and from expertly tuned vocal chords they sing a low hum that plays on tempo with their breathing. They're doing any little thing to make Astarion wind up further. "Don't try to resist, sweetheart. Let it out."
And yet, Astarion ignores this, flinching his head away as if to pull free of their hold. Tav clicks into the hollow of his ear and reprimands, "What did I just say?"
Their free hand is now tugging at his shirt, the fabric coming free from the belt. At the first sight of exposed flesh, that hand retreats beneath, bolting for an already perked nipple.
Astarion cries out; a yelp, followed by their name, calling into the daylight.
"Yes?" They answer. "What is it, Astarion? Have something to say?"
As an undead, he does not need to breathe-- but that does not stop the heavy rise and fall of his chest, nor the choked sounds in his throat. "I'm-- ahh..."
They hush him, though what should be a soothing lull is now stimulating tingles at his spine. "Relax." They say. "I'm here. I've got you."
There's no moment of reprieve for him, only further massaging and encouragement. Fingers rubbing at the base of one, lips curled and sucking at the tip of the other, and a skilled hand drawing circles on a pink nipple. Astarion gives in, losing himself in the feeling, the pleasure.
Back arching, hips bucking, his grip twisting into the clothing of his beloved seated under and behind him. His voice pitches higher, reaching a near soprano trill. And then, finally, he throws his head back, shuddering violently against his Tav. He's thrashing like an animal, all the while a wet stain spreads across the front of his trousers. Tav snickers, then places a well-earned kiss upon his pinkened ear.
They could make such beautiful music together.