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Baldur's Gate, finally, finally! No more sleeping on the cold, hard ground. No more washing in rivers. No more scrounging for food-- and with your ever-expanding camp, that got harder every day. Your troubles were far from over, but you had less to worry about now. You have time to focus on more important matters: some personal space. No doubt you've grown fond of your little rag-tag group, but surely even the most extroverted extrovert would reach a point of burnout among them. Frankly, you're surprised how well you've managed. You deserve a treat.
That means eating at your favorite restaurant, ordering that one dish you've been craving for a ten-day. Drinking until you're satisfied and then drinking some more. And the pièce de résistance: a warm bath and a cozy bed in your own room.
The bath is just a simple wooden tub in the corner, but Gods, what a luxury it was in comparison. Warm water, hot water, accompanied by complimentary soaps for your dry skin and thirsty hair. This was it: paradise. You think if you turned into a mindflayer right now, at least you'd go out happy.
Warm, clean, and satisfied in every way you could think of, you step from the tub and wrap a towel about yourself. You pause a moment to tidy up a tad, picking and replacing the things you used in an orderly fashion. Once you're heading over to the bed, you cannot help but stop, to stare at yourself in the mirror beside it.
It is full-length. It's been a while since you got a good, long look at yourself. You look closely at your face first, leaning slightly forward while you dab at it with your fingertips. You seem a little more gaunt than you last recall. You still look like yourself, still healthy enough, but there's a subtle protrusion to your features you've never noticed before. It's not too terrible, but there is a starker darkness cradled beneath your eyes, creases at their corners and between the brows you don't recall either. At least the soaps have helped soften up your skin, so that's not as bad as it once was. Otherwise, a few good meals in you and some proper sleep you think would do you a world of good.
The towel falls away from your form, taking it in your hands to work it into your damp hair. As the soft cloth tussles into your locks, you let your gaze roam across your naked self. Even that's changed, too; significantly with the definition in your arms and legs. You appeared stronger. You sure hoped so, considering all the shit you went through. Thinking about it just makes you sigh. You can't wait for all of this to be over.
"Something wrong, love?"
You shriek at the voice coming from directly behind you. In your flinch, you turn on your heel and catch yourself before you tumble, whipping around to see who's come intruding. Once the fear blurring your vision clears, there before you stood your vampire companion.
"Fucking Hells, Astarion!" You gather your senses, and your towel, wrapping yourself up in it again. "Where did you even come from?!"
"Oh, sorry." He giggles. "I just let myself in. Figured you wouldn't mind."
"Gods! I know sneaking around is your shtick and all, but could you warn me, at least?" You let out a huff as you turn to face the mirror. You see yourself perfectly clear, but as for Astarion, he's nowhere to be found.
"My apologies." There's a pause, and you're sure he's following your line of sight. "Ah, yes. My old nemesis, the mirror. No wonder I surprised you so. I really am genuinely sorry."
"It's fine." He's still looking when you turn back to him. The way his eyes flicker makes you pretty sure he's leering at your reflection.
He asks, "Were you not liking what you saw? I got a real good eyeful, and I can say with utmost sincerity that you look divine, darling. Nothing to fret over at all."
"No, it wasn't that." You pull the towel tighter in your grip. "You know, this is why people knock."
"And where's the fun in that? Besides, I thought you'd be expecting me."
For a moment you're confused-- at then you remember. "Shit! I said you could feed on me tonight, didn't I?" You smack at your temple with an open palm, punishing your own forgetfulness. "It slipped my mind. But, that doesn't mean you can just barge in whenever you damn well please."
"Doesn't it?" He reaches out to pull you close. "I'm looking for any excuse to extort the tadpole's gift for the remainder of the time I have left. This includes: entering without permission."
"That's just houses though, right? I didn't think people's rooms counted." You snicker.
He has you facing the mirror. Astarion is standing behind you, you know he is by the sensation at your back and his hands on your shoulders. There is no reflection of him, only your own in your towel.
"You know..." His fingers drum in a line down your arm. "This is giving me a wicked idea."
You watch yourself go red, watch as you tug the towel closer to your clavicle. "And what would that be?"
"I'm thinking... why not explore your body together?" You feel the tip of a finger on one of yours, sliding down to the tense knuckle. "I can help dispel any negative thoughts you might be having, if you like."
"I told you, it's not about that." You had just been looking, only studying the new you after all that's happened. There was nothing to like, or really, dislike about it, in your opinion.
"Mm... still..." His breath is a ghost in your ear. "We could all benefit from being reminded of our beauty every now and again. And you are beautiful." You feel him kiss your red cheek. You laugh, nuzzling into him. "Shut up. You're always saying that." Why must you fall for his lines every time?
"Because it's true! And I'll keep telling you forever and forever more." He's planting more kisses on you, making you squirm and squeal.
"Astarion!"
Then, suddenly, the cool air of the room nips at you. The towel has been ripped away. As it falls, his hands grab your stomach and hips. You can see the indentation of them in your skin. You watch the dips travel slow and steady, the touch feather light. The kisses being planted at your ear now are far more sensual. Any good humor you had falls away with a sigh.
"So easy. Every time." He teases. "Take a look at yourself." His head nods against your neck as he motions. "Do you see how red you get?"
You do. It's coated all over your cheeks, down your neck, brushed along your collar. Even your shoulders, knees, and thighs look a tad more flush.
"How am I supposed to resist you when you look like this?" A kiss finds your neck, at the scars there, and he wonders, "May I?"
You watch intently, your chest rise and fall in the mirror. You're chewing at your lower lip as if considering, like you don't both already know the answer. You nod. "Yes."
The puncture wounds on your neck reopen, bright red, but they don't bleed. You can spy the faintest haunt of color leaving you, but it's so inconsequential you could chalk it up to mere illusion. You feel him sucking at your neck, can hear him drinking from you, but you cannot see him.
Something is caressing your thighs-- his palms. They move to your stomach, heading outwards to your hips. The touch continues further upwards until it's lifting your breasts. The nipple of your reflection raises and twirls; can feel it on yourself in unison.
When his fangs pull out, you barely get the chance to watch any blood drip before it's being licked away. Dragged up and disappearing into thin air. "Mm. You're more excited than usual." He says after a loud swallow. "Do you like watching yourself? Hm?"
Your heart skips a beat. The color on your cheeks flames. Your open wound trickles.
"I'll take that as a yes."
Suddenly you're falling backward. He's pulling you down and you land on his lap. The bed is beneath you, but in the mirror, you're floating right above it, and something is spreading your legs.
"Do you know how wet you get for me?" He spreads your folds as he asks. You watch them bloom, slick and shiny. "Look at you." You watch the darkness of your cunt expand as two of his fingers dip inside.
"Oh, fuck." The words leave your mouth without thought. The vision of it all disappears when you screw your eyes shut.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk, none of that. I need you paying attention."
Your eyes open at his insistence, and meeting your reflection once more, watch as invisible fingers fuck you. There is a shadow at your throat that you spy, and there, his fingers start to curl.
"This feels rather voyeuristic on my end." A cute laugh punctuates his comment. "There are so many times I've wished I could see myself. Now more than ever."
You choke out a laugh as best you can; it's difficult when being touched like this. "So you can watch yourself fuck me? How narcissistic of you."
"I'm sorry, you're the one watching yourself get fucked, and I'm the narcissist?" He huffs in mock disbelief. "Talk about pot calling the kettle black."
Again you try to laugh, but it's squeezed out of you as his grip tightens. "Now, enough of that. Focus, darling."
His fingers slide out of you. Pulling upwards, you watch your engorged clit go round. With a gasp, you toss your head back. He clicks his tongue at you again. "Don't make me have to keep reminding you. Watch."
The hand at your throat finds your chin. It yanks you down and holds you in place. The fingers dig into your cheeks as you meet your own amorous eyes.
It is positively the strangest thing, to see your flesh be manipulated by some unseen force. A part of you thinks you look silly, so you feel a bit embarrassed. The other part, however, is beyond delighted.
His hand plays with you expertly, he always does. You almost wish you could see, but all that plays before you is the shifting of your folds until suddenly your clit begins to quickly vibrate.
You moan and curse again under your breath. You are always impressed by his skill. Surely it must be complimented by his supernatural speed and strength. There comes a contradictory release of muscle in your shoulders while everything else in you seems to tense up. His hold on you is firm, keeping your head steady while your eyes flutter. "Astarion--"
"I want you to watch yourself cum." He whispers. "Look yourself in the eye as you unravel for me. Do it."
You do as he asks. Indignity of the situation aside, you are pushed ever further to release. Or, rather, you know it is partially due to this indignation that you are so close so quickly in the first place. Knowing this twists your insides. Knowing that he knows this sets the base of your skull aflame.
The self before you is a mess. Watery eyes glistening in the light, you can feel the tears stinging at their corners. You've never seen yourself red like this before, mouth open wide between puffy cheeks. Your breathing intensifies; you're close, so close, you can feel it in your brain, in your belly-- then, there that knot in you explodes, and you're shuddering against him. Through squinted, blurry eyes, you see the reflection shake, all alone.
He's rewarding you with soft kisses along your jaw while he waits for you to come down from the high. Finally, you can close these weary eyes, resting, doing what you can to return to your senses.
"We're not done yet, I hope you know." He tells you this as those fingers quickly dip once more into your quivering hole, in and out. You grin, exhaling sharply between your teeth.
"I was hoping you'd say that."
His arms wrap about you, and with a bounce on the mattress, he's pulling you down on top of him. You laugh, though still breathless. You wonder briefly: was he like this with everyone, or just you?
The two of you readjust. You've come to kneel beside him and he has his arms folded behind his head, settling in against the plush duvet. He says, "Do me a favor and unbutton me, would you?"
Another laugh escapes you as you throw a leg over him. "Why should I?"
"You want it, don't you? I've put in enough work already. Do your part-- it's only fair."
You know he's serious. But he's so funny, he's always so funny, and you always have such fun. "Fine, fine."
You undo his trousers, pulling them and his smallclothes down in one go. His cock springs free, standing proud, shimmering with all-natural lubricant. You snicker as you look up at him, but his pompous attitude hasn't changed. He's still wearing that shit-eating grin.
"I don't know what's so funny." He's tugging his shirt up high around his chest. "Now, turn around."
"Pardon?"
"Turn. Around." He repeats. "Face the mirror while you ride me."
It feels like he's smacked the grin off your face. You're hot and cold all at once, not sure what to make of it. It's not like you hadn't just cum watching yourself-- but that alone was embarrassing.
"Aw. Don't give me that look." He traces a finger from down between your ribs. "You're excited. I can hear it in your heartbeat. It's getting faster the more I talk about--"
"Okay! Okay!" Your heart feels like it's going to pop out of your chest if he keeps up this teasing any further. "I'm doing it."
"That's a good girl." He claps your thigh in approval. "Though, we both know how much you want me to keep talking about it. Talking you through your--"
"Shh!" You press an index to your own lips with the harsh sound. "I said I'm doing it! Hush!"
He's laughing, and you're scowling as you flip around on him. Catching that flustered expression of yours could almost make you chuckle over its absurdity. Almost. Instead, you look down between the reflection's legs once again. See yourself hovering over nothing.
A thick, sloppy wet sound comes from behind you that is no doubt Astarion drooling all over his own hand. It intensifies beneath you when the slick hand works his dick-- not that he really needs it, you think. "Sit." He commands.
You look down to the real bed, not the reflection, to see his legs spread under you. You reach down, fingers brushing against his wet ones to help him adjust against your cunt. You slowly sink, head pushing for entrance. A slight hiss passes through your teeth.
"Take your time." Says his soothing voice. "Enjoy yourself."
You rock against him, and each time he slips a little further in until you feel the pop of the head settle inside. Your inhale is another hiss, the exhale a moan.
"Very good." His fingers drum across the dip in your thighs. They rest at the line of your hip, and then his palms grip you hard and fast, slamming you down upon him.
Another moan sounds off from deep within you while you toss your head back, rutting against the sharpness of his hips. He's practically purring with satisfaction.
"Now, same as before. Watch yourself."
As your back arches with your next buck, your head swings down to meet yourself in the mirror. The very image of debauchery, grinding yourself onto nothing. You watch the shock waves appear on your flesh, rippling and bouncing, and you know, you know he's there. Your hands fly down to your hips, grasping at his clutches, almost in assurance. That in the mirror alone was only you.
"Isn't it a sight?" He gasps out behind you. "Do you see what I see? The way you fall apart?"
Humiliation falls heavy on your shoulders like a thick cloak. This is how you looked? Every time? You can barely stand to look yourself in the face. Your reflection is almost too much to bear. That person is hardly recognizable, all flush and desperate, but it's you.
Your moans compliment the slapping between your thighs. They build in volume as does the pressure in your hips. The longer this goes on, the more you watch yourself, the less anything else starts to matter.
"A-Astarion--" You whimper. His fingers dig further in. Thrusts harder, deeper, faster.
"Mm--! Astarion!" The pleasure makes you toss your head back momentarily, struggling to return to the mirror. You manage, somehow, and you catch yourself crumbling around him. The bubble pops; it explodes throughout your nerves, causing a shiver so hard it forces you forward onto your hands. As you ride through it, he's relentless, still pounding. It only takes a moment longer for him to slam up into you with his own release, which sends new waves of pleasure wracking through you all over again.
His thrusts start to slow. The steady rock of your body keeps time. How you wish you could see him right now.
Once you're lying on the bed, working hard to catch your breath, Astarion crawls over top of you. He's planting lazy kisses on his way up your body, all the way until he reaches your neck.
"Gods, you're beautiful." That familiar whisper in your ear has you giggling.
"As are you." Taking his face between your hands, your kiss is sweet at his lips. "It's not fair."
"What's not fair, love?"
You look up into his eyes with a grin. "I want to see you unravel, too."
Astarion chortles at this. "You see that from me every day." His mouth returns to your skin, speaking against it. "You saw yourself. Do you understand now? What you do to me?"
Nevermind that, you think to yourself. You won't say it out loud, for fear of ruining the moment. But you wish, oh so desperately wish, that he could see himself the way you do.
Until that day comes, you'll have to keep being his mirror. When that day comes, you'll be sure to ravish him just the same, giving everything back ten-fold. So he can see what he does to you in return. To watch himself unravel. What a day that will be.