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It’s a lazy evening in your home, the hours after waking spent still in bed long after the moon has risen into the sky. You lay on your side, eyes watching Astarion’s face as his hands draw patterns on the taught skin of your stomach. You’re well past the stage of a bump, your middle comically round, a pillow placed below the swell of your unborn child. It eases some of the strain on your seemingly always aching back, though you long for those nights you were able to truly press close to your lover.
The life within you creates a barrier between your bodies, though the vampire can’t seem to keep his hands away from your body for any length of time be it in the bed or elsewhere in the house. He’s gone through bolts upon bolts of rich material, every change in your body driving him to create something new for what he assured you was the pure radiance of your form.
His touch wanders, and you hiss as his fingers brush your nipples, a buzz of pleasure pain racing up your nerves where pain wins out in the end. “Darling?” Warmth follows as his hands pull away, and you sigh, declaring this just another byproduct of the life growing within your womb. “Did I hurt you love?” His eyes are wide with worry, fearing that he caused you even a whisper of pain. You bring a hand to his cheek, hoping to reassure him.
“No, just sensitive.” Your thumb toys with his lower lip. “I swear they’ve doubled in size, and we still have months to go.”
You both are clearly divided in opinion on if that’s a pro or con as heat darkens scarlet eyes. “More like triple I think.” His eyes rake over you. “I can’t get enough of you.” He presses closer to kiss you hotly, shifting his body as close as he can with your swollen middle. “You are the image of a fertile goddess.” While his touch abandons your breasts, it moves elsewhere, lavishing soft touches wherever he can reach. “Your body driving me to madness, the sway of your hips bringing me to my knees before you.”
Your thighs grow sticky as he speaks, wetness pooling as his lips find your throat, long fingered hands moving down to worship the weight of your growing child. A hand strays, direct in its mission to indulge you with the softest of strokes to your clit. Always enamored with his touch, your need has been even worse as the pregnancy progressed, the slightest contact driving you to seek any manner of touch from him possible be it hands or mouth or cock. You ache for him, for the closeness of his body and the touch he uses to worship you.
Astarion kisses further down your throat, the sting of fangs dragging in tease making your hips cant into his hand. It had been months since he had fed from your body, too worried about the life of you and your unborn child to risk actually piercing the skin and drinking. You find yourself missing it with your whole body, the closeness of it, the knowledge that you are caring for him just as he cares for you.
It’s a cautious touch as the coolness of his mouth worships your aching tits. But the chill is like a balm, and you grip his hair to guide him closer. There’s a gentle pressure as his tongue laps at you with soft strokes, wary of causing the pain you had felt earlier. It travels to one of your nipples, feather light over the pebbling flesh, and it sends something snapping within you, your hips rocking as some manner of pressure builds and releases. The air of the room chills your wet skin as Astarion moves back a few inches with a noise of surprise.
Following his gaze down your body, you watch as a lone white drop beads among his saliva on your nipple, suspending itself in a heavy drop before its weight has it falling to the sheets beneath you.
“Oh my perfect girl.” His voice is breathless before he’s surging close to kiss you, hardness rutting against your thigh as he presses closer. “That must explain the ache.” Garnet eyes are rapt on your breasts as he pulls away, very much a predator tracking his next meal.
You both watch as another drop swells atop the skin, precarious until the weight of it sends it rolling down your body.
Astarion catches it on the tip of his finger before it can fall, and he holds your eyes as he brings it to his lips, watching you with a silent question. Heat blooms between your legs and you nod, shivering at the sound he makes as he licks the milk from his finger. It’s obscene, pure sin and carnal desire, the want in it clear as crystal as you roll to your back, spreading your legs to he can move between them.
“I don’t sweet could ever again describe you my love.”
He straddles one of your thighs, eyes fixed on your chest, watching as your breasts shift with every breath, more milk welling as desire pools.
His cock is no doubt ruddy where it falls heavy upon your thigh, blood hot and a weeping sticky fluid so much that it puddles on your leg.
You squirm, shifting below him to grind your cunt into the firm muscle of his thigh. “Fuck”
“Do you ache my love, do you wish for me to ease the pain in these perfect tits.” It takes you a moment to understand his meaning, heat flaring in your cheeks as you lay bare beneath him. “Let me?”
He truly wants this it seems, and you take hold of that information like a leash, shifting the tension of dominance.
“Say please.”
He chuckles, touch revenant.
“Cheeky. As if begging alone is enough to grant me this boon, I would beg on my knees if I weren’t already there.”
He laps at a stray drop with a wounded noise, hips working. “Please.”
Your hand in his hair is vicious as you yank him to your breast, and he falls upon you like a man starved, tonguing your nipple as his mouth seals around it. That feeling of pressure and release comes back in waves and you moan, hips rocking into his thigh as his hands paw at your middle, of the reason you both are in this situation. He sounds like a feral beast as he suckles at you, grunting interrupted with deep breaths from his nose and high whines in the back of his throat like he can’t get enough, may very well starve without the milk from your breast.
This is somehow similar and otherworldly to his usual feedings, the suction and release feeding back and forth in a direct line to your cunt. His mouth breaks away with a gasp, licking his lips as if scared to waste a drop.
“You make me depraved with your body alone.”
He humps at your thigh, hips working in a jagged rhythm of desperation as you grind against him, the wetness of your cunt smearing across ivory skin as you chase your own release. His scarlet gaze burns into you as he takes in the filthy sight of you below him, breaths heaving as he bites out words around the growl in his throat.
“I did this to you, I made you heavy with my child and milk leak from your tits.” Your breasts sway with the motion as he fucks against you, still heavy as he continues. “And you love it don’t you. Love knowing one word from you could have me walking through the hells if it allowed me to gaze upon you like this.”
His hands are everywhere, reverent as he ruts against you in pleasure before they settle to grab at your hips, your ass, as if you may suddenly decide to part from him. He seems to relish in the extra weight of your body, of the ability to grab and hold and possessively covet.
Gods above. Your nipple is hot with blood brought to skin level and you hiss as he dives in to lavish attention on your other breast, lapping with his tongue to draw that first drop forth, to make your body weep for him in a way it never as before.
Pressure builds and builds until it breaks with that first drop, greedily captured by his mouth lest it be lost to the sheets below.
His hands kneed at your ass, holding you close as he truly starts to hump against your thigh, gliding across the glass clear fluid that paints your skin.
“Say that you love it, that you feel like this because I stuffed you so full of my seed it took hold in your womb!”
“Oh gods yes! Fuck Astarion”
The hand not holding his head to your breast scratches at his back, nails scratching scars driving his hips into an erratic rhythm. The rolling of his hips tells you he’s close, high pained whines in the back of his throat that of desperation as he seeks to meld your bodies into one. Long fingers find your clit again with little warning, pressing between your thighs to rub tight circles that have you spiraling up in euphoria before you fall over the threshold, orgasm taking hold with a gush between your legs.
He must smell it, the scent causing a guttural groan to leave his chest as he ruts once, twice more against your thigh before you feel warmth spread across your skin, his release hot and messy. His mouth leaves you, eyes taking in the debauched scene you no doubt make below him. His cock gives a valiant twitch between your bodies, but remains soft as he eases off of you.
The room is loud with your heaving breaths as he falls to the sheets beside you, two pairs of eyes focused on the bedroom ceiling as you come to terms with this recent development.
“How about a bath my treat?”
You’re sticky all over, your combined release a mess across your thighs, his saliva drying upon your breasts in the stillness of the room.
“That may be your second-best idea of the night.”