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The abishai would not stay down. Wyll’s last silvered arrow was nocked into his bow, and he gritted his teeth as he shot it into the fiend’s eye. It was closing in on them, and despite the blood trailing from a solid 20 arrow wounds - some deeper than others - it showed no sign of slowing down. Its claws were raised, and he could feel the hiss of them slicing through the air where his face had been a moment ago.
Had been, because Astarion had knocked him over, his weight pinning the ranger to the black sands of Avernus for a moment before rolling off. His silvered daggers sliced into the abishai’s ankle as he rolled away, the leverage of the hit allowing him to swing to his feet as it slid behind the hook protecting its achilles tendon. The draconic devil became unsteady, the joint destabilized, and it hissed something in Infernal. A shimmer of tension broke over its face, its eyes lighting with a glimmer of triumph. The silence spell, so far having evened the odds in their favor, broke, and the full weight of the being’s charismatic magic flooded back.
“Bloodsucking gnat. I will give you more than blood to suck upon in Tiamat’s court.”
Wyll recognized the rough twist of Infernal, the guttering hiss of the words reverberating in his mind. Perhaps , he thought, it’s for the best that Astarion hasn’t managed to pick up the language yet.
“I recognize “suck” and “Tiamat”, and while it would be quite the coup to say Tiamat has sucked my cock, I am afraid my romantic partnership remains monogamous. Please convey my apologies!”
Mostly hasn’t picked up , Wyll amended to himself with a groan.
The abishai clenched its clawed fists in rage, eyes intense. Wyll’s “fuck” was unvoiced, and a manic glee infused the creature’s sharp smile.
“ You will Obey Me. ”
The Infernal slithered from those thinned draconic lips, Weave binding to the words as they crept into Wyll’s brain. For a moment, he fought it. A private war in his own mind, the struggle fraught as any battle of blood and bone. Then- silence. A cocoon of firm command enveloped the man’s mind, and he found himself floating within it. Obedience is all that is asked , the cottoned walls whispered, and all that is needed . A faint ring of horror sounded in a distant part of his mind as he felt himself rise swiftly echo it. To obey is all that is needed .
The abishai laughed. “ Kill the other .”
Wyll thrashed violently within the mind cocoon, tearing at the walls. But his hands were steady as his body moved to enact the command. He lunged at Astarion, rapier flashing through the air and drawing a line of blood across his cheek bone. His dagger swiped at Astarion’s hip, leaving a slice in the leather of his pants.
“My, my, if I knew all it took to get you to follow instructions so enthusiastically would be a little Dominate Person, I would have picked up a few scrolls.” Astarion ignored Wyll’s attack, jamming his daggers repeatedly into the abishai’s kidneys. “Although, I think my uses will be a bit more intimate, darling. I would rather keep that little floaty look you have right now for my eyes only, thank you.”
The abishai howled, back arching with pain as its concentration broke. Wyll stumbled, falling back onto his ass as the spell ended and his mind was his own once more. He was ashamed to realize he was incredibly hard, his cheeks heating.
Astarion sliced through the draconic devil’s other achilles tendon, winking at Wyll. “Distracted, lover?”
The fiend focused its gaze on Wyll, eyes glimmering with Weave. After a moment, it laughed viciously. “This one craves obedience like the most pathetic of our whores. You would service half the hells willingly if you got called a good boy at the end of it, wouldn’t you?” It angled its head to catch a glimpse of Astarion, and it was clear from the elf’s expression the words were broadcasted telepathically in addition to the grinding Infernal. “And that one, lusting for power it cannot quite grasp. What a pair, the two of you!”
Wyll was already throwing himself at the abishai in rage and shame as it finished speaking, driving his dagger through the creature’s foot. As he rolled into a standing motion, he raked his rapier between its legs on the way up. Almost as soon as he found his footing, the abishai swiped its claws across his chest and abdomen. The gashes it left glistened with ichor in the orange light of Avernus’s perpetual twilight. Wyll bent double, the pain and a sudden wave of nausea staggering him as the poison took hold.
Astarion leapt onto the devil’s shoulders, anchoring himself with a dagger through its chest. “I’ll be the only one he services, but thank you oh so much for your input.” His other dagger sliced through the gristle of its throat, sawing through the abishai’s vocal cords like they were naught but the gut strings of a peasant’s fiddle.
It grasped its throat, dark blood flooding its grasp. The abishai’s eyes rolled wildly as it thrashed, trying to dislodge the spawn. Wyll’s rapier lashed across the devil’s draconic visage as it echoed its thoughts to all in range. “ Hail Tiamat, Queen of Dragons, Bane of Bahamut !”
“Pain in my ass, more like.” Astarion’s dagger flashed again as he drove it into the fiend’s eye socket. He ripped both of his daggers loose from draconic flesh and jumped off of the abishai as it collapsed into the black sands, dead.
“If I had known you wanted to be dominated, I would have made that happen sooner, you know.”
Wyll froze, hands wrapped around the arrows he was pulling from the abishai’s corpse.
“You could have talked to me about that, lover. I’ve always enjoyed having a bit of power, and it would be no hardship to wield it in bed.”
Wyll shook his head, chuckling wearily. “Astarion… It really isn’t a big deal. You needn’t put yourself out, truly.”
“I am quite serious, Wyll.” Astarion’s cool breath whispered over Wyll’s ear, and the man shivered. When did Astarion get so close behind him? “I would be delighted to have your submission.” His hands gripped Wyll’s hips, tugging him flush against his groin. “Very, very delighted, in fact.”
Wyll let out a groan as he felt just how delighted Astarion was at the idea. “Astarion…”
The rogue licked the sweat from Wyll’s neck, grinding against his firm ass. “Are you going to kneel for me, lover?”
“...Not right here, surely?”
Astarion took a final lick of the man’s skin, then let him go. “I do not have endless patience, true, but even I can wait until we have returned to camp and taken care of the sundries. After all, you can’t exactly dine on this bastard’s blood, and I would rather prefer if you didn’t swoon from lack of a meal in my arms.”
“Even if I could, I’m still a bit nauseous from the poison on that thing’s claws, truth be told.” Wyll finished retrieving what ammunition could be reused from the abishai’s cooling body, finally yanking his dagger out of its foot and cleaning it on his thigh.
The day had been a long one, and the sight of their camp sent a wave of relief through Wyll’s tired body. As the man tended his wounds, Astarion plucked a letter from the top of their camp chest. To their surprise, another envelope was revealed under it.
The first was a routine missive from Helsik. The diabolist had her own reasons for assisting them, and they had worked out a bit of a business relationship. In exchange for fetching various items from her stock list, she ferried supplies and messages to them in the Hells. It was a solid relationship, to everyone’s surprise. Afterall, she couldn’t trawl the hells for every bit and bob her clientele requested, and Avernus was much easier to slay your way through when one had a routine resupplier.
Astarion set this letter aside to answer tomorrow, drawn to the more unusual one beneath it.
In a frail hand and outdated script was an invitation to a gathering, of sorts. A bit of a reunion, really, though it promised food, drink, and merriment in addition to the company. Extraplanar transportation for the evening for those attending from Avernus would be provided, of course. Withers had signed it as an old friend, which made Astarion laugh a little. At Wyll’s agreement, he pressed the seal to RSVP as indicated.
Wyll’s dinner was fairly basic- a stew from a combination of supplies from Helsik and what little edible could be scavenged in the bleak landscape. Karlach usually had some connections for rations- after all, she was a prime example that not all of those forced into the Blood War lack a need for food- but she had been collaborating with a group of fellow deserters for a tenday or more. Withers would be creating more than one portal from Avernus, it seemed.
They reorganized their packs, setting gathered supplies into their chest and restocking spell scrolls on hand. Today’s little misadventure had cost them scrolls of silence, slow, and more than a few misty steps, so Wyll made a note to request a restock if a good deal could be had. For now, he pulled from the dwindling supply in their camp chest to stock their travel pouches. Astarion mended any rends in their clothes, setting aside the shirts to wear the following day, and Wyll activated the ward stone Gale had sent them as an engagement present. A thoughtful gift, that- and more useful than the slightly charred honey cakes Karlach had scrounged up for them from somewhere. Less delicious, though.
The basic chores of living done, they crawled into their tent. It wasn’t a large one - at the peak, it was just tall enough for Wyll to stand without gouging the fabric with his horns - but it was cozy, and the fabric was thick enough to block out the perpetual (if dim) light of Avernus’s ever-smoggy skies. When it was the both of them, they tended to do more kneeling when inside of it.
Astarion reached out, pulling Wyll to him. He grasped the man’s jaw as they kissed, a habit long established but one which sparked a deeper wave of desire in them both with the memory of their earlier conversation. Wyll’s hands were more in the practice of dancing over Astarion’s biceps, his back and chest, but tonight they clung to the elf’s shoulders like he would drown if he loosened his grip.
Astarion hummed against his lips, nipping at them. “So, lover… you would like to obey me in bed, is it? Submit to my will and serve me?”
“I… will admit, the thought does make my blood rush a bit more than usual.”
“Oh, I can tell. It is beautiful, feeling your pulse gallop under my touch. I wonder how you will taste afterwards. Will it be invigorating, like the strong kaeth from some Durparian merchant? Or would it be more of a hazy intoxication like halfling leaf infusions?” Astarion tilted Wyll’s head, mouthing at his pulse. “Either way, your blood is already addictive on its own.”
“I suppose that’s flattering, coming from you.” Wyll laughed softly, skin heating with a flush. “I do wonder if it would make a difference.”
“Mm, I know your arousal in and of itself does, so I imagine this would as well. A sweeter cut through to bring out the complexities in the vintage, so to speak.”
“I’m certainly not opposed to finding out.”
With a pleased hum, Astarion pushed Wyll onto his back and crawled over him, movements predatory and hungry. His lean silhouette hovered over Wyll, irresistibly close but not settling his weight on his lover’s form. “Good boy. Now undo your laces.”
Wyll’s body thrummed as he struggled to force his hands between them to even reach his laces. He whined, fingers trembling on the knots holding his breeches in place as he craned his face up, begging to be kissed. Astarion fluidly shifted his own lips just out of reach, and Wyll panted under him. “Astarion…”
“Focus on the task at hand, pet.”
Something cold and slithering trickled across Wyll’s consciousness. He shook his head, redoubling the efforts to unfasten his laces, to be good. To listen. To obey.
“Good boy. And mine?” Astarion ground his hips into Wyll’s hands for a moment before allowing him to complete the task at hand. The angle was awkward, but the challenge of it made something burn brighter inside of Wyll’s belly as he grappled with them.
With a quiet ‘good boy’ pressed against Wyll’s lips, Astarion stood. His face was shadowed, head near the peak of the tent where the light from the door was dimmest. Imposing , Wyll thought, and shivered. “Pants off, pet.”
Wyll bit his lip, something slithering at the back of his mind again as he hurriedly obeyed. Laying back once more, he admired how Astarion’s skin gleamed in the warmth of the tent, even in this low light. The elf had shed his own pants and was stroking himself as he stood over Wyll’s naked form.
Astarion rested a still-booted foot against the side of Wyll’s cock, making it bounce a little. The devastatingly intimate nature of the touch, the way it was a threat and a promise of mercy in one, intensified the sweet knot of heat already building in his belly, and he groaned. See , he thought, eyes closed in pleasure, everything is fine, nerves aside. Because this? This is wonderful .
Wyll’s eyes fluttered back open, gazing up at his lover. Astarion’s lips curled into a smirk, seeing his cock bobbing under his gaze, and for just a moment it looked… crueler, somehow. The cold slithering thing wriggled down his spine. Wyll blinked, and while perhaps a touch colder than of late, Astarion’s smirk was his own. The elf looked simply imperious - Wyll’s brain resettled. This is good. Everything is. Gods, he looks so… good.
Astarion’s foot tapped Wyll’s cock again, eyes lowered to half mast gazing at its firm length. “So being told what to do gets you hard, does it? Tell me, lover, did having that devil pull your chain make you squirm? Did your cock get hard from it?”
That cold thing flicked its tail in Wyll’s belly and his cock flagged. He almost felt nauseous as Astarion frowned. He swallowed it back, trying to focus, as Astarion lowered himself to straddle him, ass brushing against Wyll’s cock. His hands tweaked Wyll’s dusky nipples just hard enough to send a spark of pain cutting through Wyll’s mind. It was a heady feeling, and the firmness in his cock returned as he moaned.
“Good boy.” Astarion’s words brushed over Wyll’s lips as he kissed them. This close, the coldness was gone, and it was just Astarion’s demanding mouth on his. I think I could lose myself in his kisses, and be happy for it , Wyll thought to himself. This is bliss, this right here.
Wyll chased the kiss as the elf leaned back, chuckling. “So eager, lover. Behave yourself while I get ready to have you, hm?” Astarion poured the oil they kept at their bedside over his fingers and reached around to prepare himself. “Stroke yourself - make yourself useful while you wait. I would not want that cock of yours to not be ready for me when I demand it.”
For a moment in the dimness of the tent, Astarion’s skin seemed a little… blue. Wyll blinked. Just my sight adjusting to the light , he mused. He closed his eyes as he stroked himself, his mouth falling open.
“Okay, hands off. Time for me to make that cock useful.” Astarion sank down slowly, drawing it out torturously. Once fully seated, he grasped Wyll’s chin. “Watch. I want you to see how I use that big cock of yours, pet.”
Wyll tried to watch. The pull to obey was powerful, but that cold thing had returned and wrapped her claws around his mind. It pulled him under, and he more ‘looked at’ than watched Astarion, angling himself just so as he rode his cock. He knew Astarion was still talking, saw his lips move, but the sound blended in with a thousand half-remembered and one-sided conversations.
He was suspended, distant. The smell of sulfur in his nose, the oil moistened tightness of Astarion, the way the elf rode him- all of it was both familiar and not at once. They were sensations that had never left him anything but feeling close to his lover, but something about the command to watch his cock be used- about being called “pet” again- had left him unmoored.
In his mind, he heard a feminine cackle after that word- pet . It echoed out of his memories, jagged as a briar stem, and it brought with it the memory of his cock being used over and over. He was still hard, he knew- that had never been a problem, even with… her. At first because he had been so damn young, but eventually because it had been required of him, desire be damned. The hatred clawed at him every time, both at his infernal mistress and at himself. He felt flayed open, and the draw to obey, to be useful, still tickling something beyond reach in his brain, made him want to tear his soul out of his chest.
The past and present blurring, Wyll felt nauseous as he distantly heard Astarion give a muttered “oh, fuck no” and felt him pull off. Had he failed? With Mizora the price of failure had been painful, but the idea of disappointing Astarion, too, was a different kind of pain. The potential of both tangled themselves up in his mind. His heart felt like it would suffocate him, overtake him, as it beat wildly in his chest.
Astarion’s cool hands pulled him into a seated position, the elf’s chest pressed against his back. A blanket settled around them, something that had seemed frivolous to carry in Avernus’s heat, but welcome now. Astarion’s head ducked, avoiding the sweep of Wyll’s horns and resting his chin on the man’s shoulder. On the other shoulder, the elf’s fingers started a soothing circling motion. It was tentative at first, as if he wasn’t quite certain about touch being a comfort, but soon it was a cool, physical mantra against Wyll’s warm skin.
Gradually, Wyll became aware that Astarion was speaking softly, the words at first calming more for their pattern than any specific meaning. “Shh, I’ve got you. You are here, with me. You are not alone. I have you. Shh. It is Astarion. I’ve got you. It’s mid Mirtul. We are here, together. Shh.”
Slowly, Wyll came back to himself. His knees drew up, and he rested his elbows on them as he grasped the base of his horns in his hands. He swallowed back the nausea, and it finally subsided, taking her cold claws on his mind with it.
“Are you back with me, love?” Astarion’s voice was softer than normal, and a part of Wyll wanted to bury his face in the spawn’s shoulder and scream.
Instead, he let out a strangled laugh. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Darling, you might be the king of repression, but I am the former king of dissociation, only recently deposed. I can tell you were not fine, however much you want to pretend it didn’t happen.” Astarion continued rubbing circles on Wyll’s shoulder, and he was grateful for it.
“It just…didn’t work out like I hoped it would. In the field, when you make those little boasts and jests, it’s warmer somehow. Informed by what is between us. But this felt cold and…” Wyll shook his head, tilting his horns away from Astarion. “I was reminded of some unpleasant truths about my past. Perhaps this is just another one of those things that Mizora took from me, like my damned eye or my ability to cross the Wide without stares. It is fine, I don’t need it to happen. Just add it to the list of grievances against the she-devil, and move on.”
“Hold on now, let’s not throw the baby out with the bathwater without checking if the damned thing is salvageable just yet.” Astarion paused, as though rolling something unpleasant around in his head. “Truthfully, I was pulling on some less than pleasant sources to get the role right, but if it’s just my usual abrasiveness that gets you going, I think we can work with that. It would certainly be more pleasant on my end.”
“It wasn’t just the coldness. You called me… You called me ‘pet’ and I…” Wyll dropped his hands, letting them bounce a little with the movement.
“Go on. I’m listening, and you wouldn’t want to squander that opportunity.”
“She used to call me that. Mizora. And with you over me, how focused you were on my cock, demanding it be useful, it… I kept hearing her laugh, ‘Star. Seeing her face, even. How she commanded I watch as she… used me. Or, rather, not me. My cock, specifically. Like it was a toy only for her pleasure. It was never about me, what I wanted or felt. It was about just this part of me, how it could be useful.” Wyll spread his hands wide, as though laying all of this out for his lover’s inspection. “And maybe it’s ruined the part of me that would delight in submitting to you. Maybe I’ll never get to have that particular sort of hunger sated, because she’s poisoned the well. But Gods, ‘Star… those little jabs, those quips that hint at you commanding me- just remembering them sets something aflame in me, even after all of this.”
Astarion hummed for a moment against Wyll’s shoulder. “Maybe. Maybe the little bits of power play we get to indulge ourselves in will have to remain non-sexual. It’s a little unusual, I’ll admit, but not entirely unheard of. It can work. Or… Well. I do have an idea, if you are up for it.”
Wyll’s heart pounded in his chest. “I must confess to a bit of curiosity. Not that I’m agreeing out the gate. But If you have ideas… I’d at least like to hear what they are.”
“It’s the cock focused stuff that sets you off, right? Particularly when paired with a few keywords and a little objectification, right?” Wyll nodded. “Then we could just… take your cock out of the equation, sexually. At least if we are planning power exchange, we certainly don’t have too many troubles with run-of-the-mill sex these days.”
“I seem to recall last month when-”
Astarion pressed a finger to Wyll’s lips. “Ah, ah, I will admit I occasionally still have days where any sex isn’t on the table for me. But my point is that it normally is not a problem for you. So with that in mind, my idea. Maybe we could try out a cock cage. That way there is no lingering doubt in your mind that I might use it. For now, anyways.”
Wyll frowned. “Isn’t that one of those things people use to control their partner’s cocks? A “this cock belongs to mistress” sort of thing? I don’t know how I feel about that.”
“Well, that is the great thing about kinky sex- it does not have to follow the kind of pattern everyone sets if you don’t want it to. They can use it to keep their little perverts from touching their cocks without permission, we can use it to enforce that I won’t be touching your cock unless and until you are ready. It gives you a chance to feel free to give in. The more different, the more the same, really.”
Something hopeful unfurled itself within Wyll. He chewed his lip, thinking over things. “I… am not opposed to that. How… how would it even work?”
“I’m assuming you don’t mean the obvious part where I slip a ring over your dagger and coin purse and then fasten the cage to that?” Wyll could feel Astarion’s smile against his neck.
“You know I don’t, Astarion.”
“Maybe… Maybe we lock you in earlier that day. All nice and secure. Every time you move you would know that it means we will be playing a little game later. Build up the anticipation.”
Wyll swallowed, mouth a little dry. “What if… It sounds- appealing. But what if we get it on and I panic?”
Astarion pressed a kiss to Wyll’s pulse, closing his eyes momentarily as he felt it patter against his lips. “We would have a word, a way for you to tell me- or vice versa, should the occasion call for it- that we aren’t doing this today, that it needs to come off right now. You say that word, the game is over immediately, and we cuddle or go kill things or leave one another alone for a bit, whichever thing will be the most helpful.” His knuckles dropped to stroke Wyll’s breastbone, his touch intimate but not explicitly sexual. “And… I think another word just to mean that you are ready to be unlocked.”
Wyll breathed deeply. “Wouldn’t I just… tell you?”
“Oh, my sweet love. I am planning on finding all of the other places on your body that bring you pleasure. Hopefully, I can even find a way to make you cum- or something like it- without you being able to get fully hard, and definitely without touching your cock. I have heard that cages can become a little uncomfortable once you get hard.” Astarion’s cool breath brushed the shell of Wyll’s ear, sending a shiver through the man. “Or you might just be very desperate by then. Having a special little word that says it’s okay to unlock the cage can give you a moment to make sure that it’s really what you want. If you really are ready to have your cock involved.”
“I-is it really possible? To cum without an erection, I mean.”
“Oh yes. For some people it takes practice, but it’s definitely possible. And even if it does not happen for you, darling, I plan on making you delirious with pleasure regardless.”
“Would this… thing, this device - would I be stuck in it all the time?”
“Oh, no. If you do decide you really like the experience, my love, we can renegotiate, see if it’s going to be a bigger part of our lives. Or not, if you prefer. For now, it will come off when we are all done playing for the evening. Provided you haven’t given me your unlock word first, of course.” Astarion leaned forward a little, angling himself to get a better look at Wyll.
“But- you want me to wear it all day?”
“Yes. Think of it as foreplay- readying your mind to trust that it is really there for you, and reminding you that we will be playing that night. If you enjoy it, it might even increase the amount of desire you feel. It will brush against your cock all day.” Astarion’s hand pressed against Wyll’s chest. “Any time you start to get even a little hard, it will be there, restricting you. Reminding you that you are desired, and not just for your cock. Reminding you that we will play later.”
Wyll took a deep breath, exhaling slowly before responding. “That… I am yours?”
Astarion nuzzled Wyll’s ear. “I have been waiting to hear you say that. Longer than you realize, truly. Gods, it’s beautiful- you freely giving yourself to me, declaring that you are mine. I can hear how it makes your heart pound, you know. How you want to be mine.”
“Yes.” Wyll ground out, a pleasant tension returning to his limbs.
“You really are mine, aren’t you?” Astarion softly sucked on Wyll’s neck where his skin was sensitive between the ridges, avoiding piercing his flesh. “What else, Wyll? What other little treats do you have for me? What other things can I shower upon you?”
“Th-that I’m good? But also…” Wyll’s brow furrowed, and he paused before whispering softly. “Your cumslut.”
Astarion smirked. “What was that, my love? I need you to be good for me and say it loud enough that I can really hear you.”
“Your filthy cumslut.” Wyll was burning with shame, his skin hot to the touch.
The delight in Astarion’s voice was overt and teasing. “Oh, you want me to call you my filthy little cumslut, do you? My, my… you might be a perfect selfless hero out there, but when it’s just the two of us, I have thoroughly corrupted you, haven’t I?” Astarion closed his eyes for a moment, listening to Wyll’s heartbeat stutter as he gasped softly. “But then, I do not need to say it, do I? You know in your bones that you are mine, no one else’s. No one else gets to see what a filthy little slut you are for me. My little prince begs for no one. But. Me.”
“Astarion-” Wyll’s voice was a breathy whine, and he could feel himself leaking. Astarion smiled into the place behind his ear, but just maintained the steady press of his knuckles against his sternum.
“Shh… Have you decided what you want your safe word to be?”
Wyll had no hesitation in his response. “Ansur.”
A soft puff of air hit Wyll’s skin as Astarion barked out a laugh. “Well, I’m not sure if it’s flattering or concerning that you went for someone who tried to kill their monstrous lover, but alright. And your unlock word?”
This one took Wyll a moment to shape his mouth around the word. “Unicorn.” It came out smaller than he meant it to, and hung in the air for a moment.
“Oh, so the chastity part of this is playing in your mind a little after all, isn’t it? We will have to examine that later, lover.” Astarion nipped at his ear. “I will see about getting that cage for us, if we are agreed?” Wyll nodded. “Good. When I have it, we will have a bit of fun. For tonight, though…”
“Yes?” Wyll’s eye was dilated, and he was visibly hanging on Astarion’s words. The elf smirked.
“Tonight? We won’t have sex at all. Do not get me wrong, we can have some run of the mill sex any other night between now and when we get our little accessory, but not tonight. I think we are both a little too settled into our little power play dynamic after such a scintillating conversation. I do not want to break my good boy, after all- just corrupt you and be all that you can see.” Astarion hummed, considering. “If you are too desperate, you could jerk yourself off by the fire like some pervert. I certainly would not stop you. But it would be extra good of you if you didn’t.”
Wyll trembled under the elf’s touch, moaning.
Astarion gave a theatrically exaggerated sigh. “If you like, I could still feed off of you. I think I could taste just how aroused you are at being such a good boy for me. Would you like that?”
Wyll nodded, going to tilt his head out of the way so that Astarion could access his neck. The world spun around him instead as the elf pulled him so that they were laying down, face to face. Astarion’s thigh wedged itself between his legs, pressing against his cock. Wyll made a little “oh” of surprise, pressing himself closer.
“Ah, ah, do try your best to stay still, darling. You want to be good for me, don’t you?” Astarion’s smile was sharp as he adjusted them, ensuring his thigh was just barely brushing the man’s cock and that his head was supported.
Wyll’s responding “Yes.” was more breathed than said, but clearly heard.
“My good boy.” Astarion sank his fangs into the man’s neck, a slight purr coming from him as the blood welled into his mouth. The taste was rich, heady, and so inherently Wyll . The sweetness of his arousal only served to enhance the flavor, and the elf suckled greedily.
Wyll tried to stay still, he really did. But the intimacy of the experience, the giving of himself in this way… it did something to his brain. His mind was filled with static, but this time in a good way, one that poured a warmth sweet like honey across every aching part of him. It was not until one of Astarion’s hands grabbed his hip, stilling it, that he realized he had begun to rut against the elf.
“You are not allowed to make yourself cum by rutting against me tonight, remember, sweetheart?” Astarion’s voice was heavy, breath warm from Wyll’s fresh blood, and the man’s cock jumped at the words. He returned to feeding, hand still gripping his lover’s hip throughout.
When he was done, Astarion reverently laved the wound shut. With a cooling sigh he settled himself against Wyll’s chest, curls tickling the man’s nose. He seemed to settle into his trance, hand still on his hip. Wyll noticed it took a while for the elf’s grip to loosen, though.
As Wyll slipped into sleep himself, he thought he might have a bruise from where Astarion’s thumb pressed into him. From Astarion’s own control keeping him from grinding into his thigh.
A sealed order for Dammon’s forge was included in their response to Helsik’s latest inventory request. When the next one came just short of the ten-day, it brought with it two packages. The first was a routine restock- foodstuffs, mainly, and some scrolls to replace those they used most frequently. The other package was wrapped carefully in some softened leather, a note in Dammon’s serviceable scrawl thanking them for the order, and asking for a discreet update in case this is something he could market to more adventurous clientele.
Astarion’s eyes gleamed as he peeked inside of the package. His eyes met Wyll’s over the campfire.
“Tomorrow, for the party?”
Wyll’s cheeks filled with heat, and he gave a quick nod. “Tomorrow, then.”
They just held each other that night, kissing hope and promises into each other’s mouths. When the morning came- or what passed for it in that eternal orange gloaming that suffused every hour of Avernus’s day- Astarion unwrapped the package with a careful eagerness.
It was an open cage made up of a series of shining steel rings, welded to bars running up each side. Over the tip of it, two arches met to ensure that what was trapped inside would not slip out the other end. Another, slightly larger ring with a place to lock the cage to it was nestled next to it. On a bit of satin ribbon was a key, and a small, simple lock. It wouldn’t keep most beginner lockpickers from cracking the cage open, but as with most of these things, the lock was less important than the promise it represented.
They sat silently for a moment, gazing at the object before them.
“Change your mind, lover?” Astarion asked, fingers toying with the key.
“I admit it looks intimidating, but I think I can summon up the bravery to face this battle.”
“You are a little cheesy my love, you know that? In any case, we had best get on with it. Pass me the oil? It’s best if the parts are lubricated, or so I have been told.”
Once the oil gleamed on the steel of the device, Astarion knelt between Wyll’s legs and slipped the large ring around the man’s cock and balls. It pulled them closer, the tension pulling his balls forward. Astarion paused, fingers lingering against the warm skin of Wyll’s hip.
The pause was short lived, though, as Wyll’s cock began to stir. Astarion carefully but swiftly threaded it through the caged portion, trying to avoid any pinching. He threaded the shackle of the lock through the loops of the cage, but paused before securing it.
“Darling, before I lock you up for the day, I want you to tell me your safe word.”
Astarion’s cool hands brushed Wyll’s skin, making him shiver a little. “Ansur. My safe word is Ansur.”
Astarion pressed a quick kiss to his hip. “Very good. And your unlock word, my sweet?”
“Unicorn.” Wyll’s eyes glittered as he spoke, watching the elf’s every move.
“Very, very good.” Astarion snapped the lock shut with an efficient motion. “You are such a good boy for me, Wyll. And I am so very delighted that you are allowing us to try this little experiment.”
Astarion moved to kiss Wyll, and found him pliant beneath him. There was a temptation to linger, to kiss and tease the man all day. With Wyll beneath him, the dim heat of their tent felt as though it was inviting them to stay there.
With a groan, Astarion pulled himself back. He deserved a fucking medal for not giving into the temptation, he thought. But the idea of watching Wyll try to go about his day, knowing he was caged? It was too enticing.
“Alright, my love. Go ahead and get yourself dressed and ready for the day. We still have a few things on our list for Helsik before Withers’ little gathering. And since we are staying at the Elfsong tonight, we do need to have camp broken down.”
Wyll chuckled, hand lingering on Astarion’s thigh. “What, you don’t want to linger in bed all day driving me mad? How unlike you.”
“Oh, I am tempted, but some temptations are better sweetened by anticipation. Or so I have been learning - you know I do have a bit of an impulse control issue.” Astarion’s fingers traced over Wyll’s face affectionately. “Though I will admit, part of the fun will be in seeing how you respond to things throughout the day.”
“I can already tell you it is built sturdily, that’s for certain. If there was a weak join in the thing, I would have burst it already.”
The elf’s eyes twinkled in amusement. “You say that now, but just wait.”
Astarion tied the ribbon with the key on it securely around his wrist. Even if he could pop that lock with hardly a thought, it felt good to have that key on him. It felt like… trust. Wyll’s trust, made tangible. He paused for a moment, appreciating it glimmering in the low light. Then he shook his head, and got ready for the day.
Packing down their camp was fairly straightforward. But Wyll had underestimated how much he would notice the cage during his usual activities. As he bent to release the fabric of their tent from the poles, it brushed against him. Scattering the ashes of the fire, he could feel the way it sat, heavy, against him. Just walking was a reminder that today was different.
They would be taking a portal out from camp, so they had planned their tasks for the day with that in mind. They cleared out a nearby nest of imps after camp chores were done. It was an easy fight, something that barely took them any effort. This was a good thing. Wyll’s mind kept going back to the cage. Thinking about the cage made his cock try, and fail, to fill. Which just made him think about it more.
“Comfortable?” Astarion raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile on his lips as they burned the corpses. Imp ashes were on Helsik’s wishlist this week, and a fairly easy get.
Wyll wiped the sweat from his forehead. “I think you know the answer without need for my input, Astarion.”
“Yes, well, humor me.” Astarion poked at a burned imp hand with his foot, and hummed when it crumbled to ash at his touch.
“Even setting aside the usual sulfur, heat, and gory realities of Avernus, I wouldn’t call myself comfortable. I move, and the damn cage reminds me it’s there. It’s slightly maddening.” He shook his head. “But it’s also… secure. That’s not quite the feeling, but it’s as close as I have words for right now.”
“Secure? While I was hoping for erotic or teasing, I suppose that’s not a negative attribute.”
Wyll laughed. “It’s both of those things as well. But as much as it reminds me of what we have planned, it also reminds me of your affections. And of the way you held me the other night, when I was not entirely myself. Of you asking me for my trust. That’s no small thing, you know.”
Astarion glanced away, failing to hide a soft smile. “If you say so. I still would have led with the erotic bit.” His hand went to where the key rested against his wrist, fidgeting with it slightly.
“Mm, if you say so, ‘Star.”
Between battles- a small band of goblins, a couple of kobolds, and a very confused worg- Astarion continued to check in, sometimes with teasing kisses or quips designed to flood Wyll’s cheeks with heat. Wyll kept catching him with that soft smile and a hand on that key whenever he thought no one was looking, though.
When the portal from Withers arrived, they stepped through it together. The cool night air felt soothing after the heat of Avernus, and they took deep breaths.
“I- do you smell that?” Wyll inhaled again, eyes closed. The moonlight glinted off of his armor, and for a moment, Astarion just stared.
Shaking his head, the spawn scented the air. “ Not even a whiff of fresh blood. You're such a damn tease.”
“Dammit, Astarion! Honeysuckle and jasmine hang in the air, and you're still thinking of open wounds and dripping cadavers.” Wyll shook his head, smiling fondly. “Still as charismatic as ever, I'd hasten to add.”
Karlach’s own portal snapped open beside them, and they found themselves snatched up into a big hug by their enthusiastic friend. “Aw, you two made it! Excellent! And Withers managed to get my engine a bit of a reprieve- till sundown tomorrow, believe it or not! Going from here to the Gate after the party. Scooping up Dammon, then we head to the forge! Are you two heading back to Avernus tonight, or tomorrow?”
Astarion wriggled himself free, smiling a little as he straightened his armor. “We are also going to the Gate first- I managed to book Wyll and I a room. It will be nice to get a real bath and sleep in a real bed.”
Karlach laughed and thumped him on the shoulder. “Alright, then, soldier. I imagine fucking in a real bed will be a step up too, eh? Aw, Wyll, mate, don’t give me that look. A couple ten-days with the deserters hasn’t made me forget the rest of the past 6 months sharing a camp with you two. I’m just happy for you. Hells, if my discussions with Dammon go well, I…” She shook her head, a softer smile than they had seen from her in months on her face.
“Yes, well, I do hope your little assignation with the blacksmith goes well, darling, but I do think Withers is waiting. Honestly, with how desiccated the man is, he certainly clears his throat an awful lot.” Astarion ushered them to the cheerfully decorated camp and the small crowd of people there.
They chatted with the others, catching up on their various plans and adventures. Wyll ate the abundant food set out, exclaiming at the deliciousness and encouraging the others to try a morsel. They both drank the wine, glancing at each other over the rims of their cups.
Somehow, Withers had managed to get not only a feast and a variety of vintages from across the realm, but the older god of music himself as entertainment. That little coup just caused Astarion to complain loudly at the lack of even a single bottle of blood provided. To be fair, the elf’s delight at complaining might have been worth the complaints themselves, entertainment-wise. Wyll laughed every time Astarion brought it up, and it seemed to grow more theatrical each time.
The others had much to share. Gale was teaching a new batch of wizards the joys of illusion magic in Waterdeep, with occasional visits from Shadowheart as she went about her adventures. Scratch had settled down with a family, but the owlbear had gone adventuring himself. Tav and Halsin’s rehabilitation of the former shadowlands (and parenting orphans) was going well, Jaheira was “stretching her legs” after a tedious reconstruction, and Minsc was… well, very much still Minsc. Even Lae’zel, only available through astral projection, seemed to be doing well on her quest to free her people.
At one point, Wyll slipped his hand into Astarion’s. “You really ought to come talk to Withers.”
Astarion frowned. “Really, Darling, I’m fine with-“
Wyll squeezed his hand a little too hard and raised his eyebrows as his head tilted just a little off from the small chapel Withers had reclaimed. “No, I really think that we should go chat with him for a moment. Maybe see how the chapel has been… rebuilt?”
“Oh! Yes, right, that is a more entertaining prospect than complaining about the wine, I suppose . Lead the way, darling.”
They crossed the narrow bridge, which was thankfully still intact- it would have been inaccessible to Astarion, even with how shallow the stream was, without the tadpole- towards the small chapel. Just short of the warm light of many candles spilling from the doorway, they ducked to the side. Laughing quietly, they climbed over a few rocks to the quiet nook between a rebuilt wall and the slope of the hillside.
Wyll’s back thudded against the wall as Astarion pushed himself against the man. Their lips met, eager and hungry. The elf gripped his lover’s shoulders, pressing the man further against the wall. Wyll’s hands reached down to grab Astarion’s ass, using the round globes of it to pull his lover closer.
Astarion chuckled, pulling himself back. “Uh, uh. No rutting that caged cock of yours against me , lover” His hands slipped down, tracing the contours of Wyll’s chest and stomach. Wyll panted as they crept closer and closer to his crotch. “We have other ways to bring pleasure to your delicious body after all.”
At the last minute, Astarion’s fingers diverted their trajectory. His fingers traced the trembling shape of Wyll’s thighs beneath his trousers. The elf mouthed along his jaw, and the man whined.
Astarion let one of his hands squeeze his lover’s ass as he grabbed one of Wyll’s horns. “Gods, you are perfection. May I feed from you? Here?” He licked at Wyll’s pulse, eyes fluttering shut.
“Gods, ‘Star, you just- yes.”
In a heartbeat, Wyll was pressed back against the wall again, Astarion’s hips pinning him there. The hand on the man’s ass moved back to rub circles into the flesh of his hip. The spawn bit into the man’s neck, drinking hungrily.
“I- Gods- I thought I wasn’t allowed to grind on y-your cock”
Astarion’s grip on Wyll’s hip tightened, and he barely lifted his head from where he was drinking to reply. “Go ahead and try, darling, but I think you will find it a fruitless effort. You will only be tormenting yourself.”
Wyll’s laugh turned into a strangled groan as Astarion resumed his meal, tongue chasing a stray drip of blood. Struggle though he might to rub himself against the elf’s body- at first with purpose and then with a mindless hunger of his own- nothing could alleviate the throbbing need that pulsed through him.
Under his breath, Wyll cursed the cage, and cursed that Astarion was correct. The cage throttled his cock, keeping it from even filling enough to do anything but torment him. It throbbed against the rings, pushing at them, but the welds held fast.
When Astarion finished drinking from him, he pressed a tender kiss to Wyll’s neck. “You know, I do think you are better than the deepest, most expensive red Withers has out on those tables.”
Wyll leaned his head forward, gently resting the base of his horns against Astarion’s forehead, eyes closed as he breathed deeply. “I should hope so,” he responded between breaths, “Last I checked, you still find most wines taste like vinegar.”
“Yes, well… it is still true that you are the best tasting thing here.”
After a few moments of quiet laughter, they helped each other scramble back out from behind the chapel. Withers, unfortunately, was in his doorway and gifted them a dry, if still fond, look. “It is clear that the bonds between the two of you are… robust. But remember to take this opportunity to renew the bonds you share with your other companions.”
With a chagrined smile from Wyll- and a delighted laugh from Astarion- they headed back to the group for another round of catching up.
The night was long, full of good food, good wine, and good company. But as with all good things, it did eventually draw to an end. Wyll and Astarion joined Karlach in passing through the portal to Baldur’s Gate, setting foot on the cobblestones outside of the Elfsong once again. Despite the late hour, the pings of a blacksmith’s hammer floated on the air, and Karlach ran her fingers through her hair.
Wyll clapped her on the back. “It sounds like you could have your little těte-à-těte tonight if you liked. The hour certainly would allow your, uh, discussions to happen with some privacy.”
“Uh, about that, mates, uh…” Karlach winced. “I kind of called ahead and upgraded us to a suite.”
“ Us ?” Astarion stared at her pointedly.
“It’s a two bedroom suite, it really is only sharing an antechamber! Still private, just with a little shared space is all. It also comes to less per-person once my share comes in.”
“I planned this night very specifically and I do not appreciate-”
Wyll pressed a hand to Astarion’s chest. “It’s fine. We still have a private room, and it’s just Karlach.” He paused. “And, realistically, whatever her nerves say, possibly Dammon if he doesn’t just pull her into his apartment. I’m sorry, Karlach, but that man is utterly devoted to the very idea of you, so if you want him, understand that he is already yours. Besides,” he continued with a hushed tone, “Dammon already is very aware of what we are up to even if they did stumble in on us somehow.”
Astarion’s nostrils flared, and he stared at Wyll for a few moments before turning back to their friend. “Fine. But you pay half again your share.”
“Aw, come on mate-”
“Would you like me to make it double, or should we go and leave the whole bill on your head? We could, you know. I am certainly a petty enough man for it, even with a friend.”
“Yeah, yeah, fangs, I get it, I messed up. But if Wyll is right, then…” Karlach looked away, rubbing the back of her neck. “Then as soon as I deposit my things, you probably won’t see me until check out. And yeah, I’ll pay half again my share, fool’s tax I guess. Fair?”
“It is acceptable.”
Wyll clapped his hands. “Great! So let’s all get inside, put down our things, and go from there.”
The very tired barkeep handed them their keys without even pausing his attempts to clean up around the hunched form of a very drunken dragonborn snoring on his bar. “My neighbor. I’ll walk her home when I get off shift in a bit, but until then the snoring is preferable to blubbering, trust me.”
The antechamber was on the smaller side, but it did at least have a little bar set against the wall, a table, armor stands, and several chairs. Everyone removed their armor, taking turns with a small wash basin behind a screen, and settled their things outside the doors to their respective rooms.
When Wyll stepped towards the door of their room, Astarion stopped him. “Aren’t you forgetting something, darling?”
“Um… I already did my necessaries so… no? Am I missing something?”
Astarion rolled his eyes. “Water, and a sobering potion so that we can take advantage of the privacy we are about to have? Do not misunderstand, you are delightful, but I would rather like it if you could remember what I’m about to do to you.”
“I’d tell you two to get a room, but, well. You have one.” Karlach held up her hands at the glare Astarion shot her. “Alright, alright, I’m going, you lovebirds. Wish me luck on my prospects, mates, I certainly wish you luck on yours. Not that you need it, you two.” She backed out of the door with a wink to cover her nerves. “Goodnight, I hope it’s a memorable one!”
They turned to look at each other. “Astarion…”
Astarion pushed a vial into Wyll’s hands. “Drink. Then we will get safely behind our own door and see where we end up, hm?”
As soon as the door clicked shut, they were pushing at each other, mouths and hands reaching for anything they could. Wyll ended up being the one pushed up against the door, his shirt mussed and loose around his neck. His legs wrapped around Astarion’s hips, and he moaned into the elf’s mouth as he felt him grind into his ass.
“You are so- Fuck- so perfect.” Astarion kept interrupting himself in his desperation to press kisses to Wyll’s mouth, to his face, to his neck. “So- so fucking good for me- Gods, Wyll- So good. I just- mmm- I cannot wait- I cannot wait to hear you beg for me. Hells.”
Wyll panted. “I- is this not begging, ‘Star?” He ground himself down against Astarion’s clothed cock, whimpering. The elf just chuckled against his skin.
The cage was smothering Wyll’s cock, and he made a little noise of frustration before dropping his legs to the floor. It wasn’t exactly painful, but the discomfort of an erection stifled had become ever present.
With a groan, he seized Astarion’s shoulders and flipped them around, pressing the elf into the wood of the door. Wyll’s body crowded him, his breath hot on the cool flesh of his lover’s neck as his hands explored his body. “‘Star…” His hands reached between them, moving to fondle Astarion’s cock when the elf grabbed his wrist.
“Now, now, lover. If you are so desperate to please me, get on your knees and do it properly .”
Wyll dropped to his knees, eyes shining with awe and gratitude. He pressed his mouth to the fabric of Astarion’s trousers, groaning wetly at the feel of his cock beneath it. It was hard against his lips, the sensation of the dampening fabric sinfully erotic between them. His eyes fluttered and he glanced up at the sound of Astarion sucking in a breath.
“So beautiful, so fucking good for me.” His hands traced the ridges over Wyll’s cheek. “Go ahead, get my cock out. Show me just how much you want to be my good little slut.”
Wyll’s fingers scrambled to undo the laces, his mouth still pressed desperately against the firmness he sought. As the fabric came away, his lips barely left it before returning to mouth Astarion’s cock. With a hungry groan, he pulled the head of it into his mouth and savored the salty wetness he found there. The feel of the soft skin and hard length against his lips, the texture of the head against his tongue, was heavenly. Gods , he thought. I could spend all day just doing this if he let me . He swallowed, pulling Astarion’s cock further into his mouth.
“Good boy. My good little cocksucker, so talented.” Astarion ran his fingers over Wyll’s horns, relishing the texture of them. “Who would have guessed from the courtly airs you put on in public how absolutely wanton you are for me? How absolutely ravenous you are for my cock?”
Wyll whined, the sound muffled by Astarion’s cock in his throat.
“No one would ever guess how desperately you want me to ruin you.” His hands grasped Wyll’s horns, a whisper of control in his grip. “You want me to ruin you a little, don’t you, lover? Leave your throat raw, your face spit slick and mouth puffy from being fucked?”
Wyll moaned, the vibration of it against sensitive skin more than the faint sound communicating his arousal. Astarion tightened his grip, enacting the control that a mere moment ago was more of a suggestion. He fucked roughly into the man’s mouth, appreciating the tightness of his throat and the looseness of his body as he accepted his control.
After a few moments, Astarion pulled him off of his cock, eyes dilating at the way a string of spit connected them for a moment before snapping. Wyll’s face was dazed, a well-used look to his eyes as he whimpered at the loss.
“I plan on claiming you properly later. Sadly, that means my hungry little slut doesn’t get to drink my cum tonight.” Astarion cradled Wyll’s face in his hand, feeling the way his skin flushed as the man pressed into his cool touch. He lingered for a moment, the weight in his palm speaking so dearly of trust that it made his still heart ache.
“Alright, lover. Go get on the bed and strip. Ah- make it a show for me. I want to admire what is mine.” Astarion leaned back against the door, waiting. Despite their earlier frantic tangle, his clothes were somehow in place- other than his cock, which he took in hand while he watched. His hand slid easily over the spit slick flesh, but he kept his pace slow and expectant. The tension of the muscles in his arm and the deep flush of his cockhead were the only signs that his control was being exercised on himself, not just on the man before him.
Wyll’s clothes were another matter. His shirt was still half open and loose around him, and finding a way to take it off slowly took some thinking at this point. He did manage to draw it out as he backed towards the bed, maintaining eye contact as he went. He stumbled a little as he hit the bed with the back of his knees, collapsing onto it with a quiet ooph . The wine may have cleared his system with the earlier potion, but his limbs were loose and slightly clumsy with desire.
Astarion’s quiet laugh from the doorway made his cheeks burn, but he managed to smile as he moved to the laces of his trousers. Wyll had to wiggle a little as he removed them, and it made the steel of the cage flash in the candlelight as it was revealed. Within its confines, his suppressed cock still managed to leak.
“Beautiful,” Astarion breathed. “Go ahead and lay down, darling. That’s it, knees to your chest and hold them there. Good boy.” His movements were almost feline and certainly predatory as he stalked over. He removed his own clothing with a false casualness, one that told of precision and control. His hand darted out to grab a bottle of oil from a table as he passed it.
“I am going to drink up your little moans and pleading, you know.” The mattress sank as he kneeled on the bed. “I will savor it like the richest blood. Utterly delicious”
Astarion settled close enough to press kisses to his thighs as he covered his fingers in oil. He circled them over Wyll’s hole, massaging the tender flesh of it as his thumb pressed into his perineum. His lips trailed up his lover’s leg, lifting his calf to press a lingering kiss in the sensitive space behind his knee.
“‘Star, I…” Wyll’s cock leaked furiously from within the cage’s confines, and he strained to find some sort of friction as Astarion’s head lowered. He let out a whimper as the elf avoided contact with his over-sensitized cock, pressing a kiss to the skin next to it.
Astarion trailed kisses up his abdomen, his tongue darting out occasionally to taste the salt of his skin. As he reached Wyll’s belly button, his hole fluttered under his touch. “Your body is so eager for me, darling.” His finger breached his hole, slowly working him. “Look at how your ass sucks me right in. Gods, Wyll, what a filthy wanton you are. So needy, such a good fucking boy for me. My good little eager slut.”
“I mean, I could sho-” Wyll’s response dissolved into a groan as Astarion crooked his finger, dragging the pad of it across his prostate.
“There’s my good slut,” Astarion coos with a smug grin. “Oh, how I am going to play you like a lyre. You will sing such a sweet, depraved song just for me.”
Wyll’s leg trembled, and he panted into the warm air of the room as Astarion’s second finger stroked his entrance for an invitation. His body answered swiftly, pulling it, too, in.
“Mmm, that’s right.” Astarion pressed another kiss to Wyll’s stomach. “Here, rest your calves on my shoulders.” His fingers spread to stroke both sides of his prostate with a firm but gentle touch, rubbing against the sensitive bundle of nerves, massaging them. He gave a purr of satisfaction as Wyll arched off the bed, feet pressing into his back with the force of it.
Wyll’s cock leaked freely, and his eye rolled back in his skull as he shuddered. Deep inside of him, he felt his nerves light on fire, his insides liquifying into gold. Without the distraction of his cock- without a proper ejaculation- it seemed like his climax was deeper, more vibrant, radiating inside of him in waves that endured beyond any orgasm he could recall.
“Oh, you are my good little slut aren’t you? So wanton, so decadent in your pleasure.” Astarion lightened his touch, only for Wyll to chase it, eager to get the pressure back. The elf nipped at the inside of his knee. “Careful, you might even give off the impression that you are a full debauched hedonist. Patience.”
A cool drizzle of more oil trickled over Wyll’s heated flesh, and he squirmed. Astarion’s fingers quickly worked it into him with short thrusts, his thumb still anchored against his perineum, pressing in towards his prostate from the outside as well as in.
“My Gods, Astarion, that was-” Finally able to get his words back, Wyll tried to speak, only to be cut off by a third finger breaching his hole.
“That’s right, love. Wail for me. Gods, you are doing so well, taking so much for me. I just knew with how you leak so much for me that you could cum like this.” Astarion pressed a heated kiss to Wyll’s thigh. “I do so love seeing my filthy slut come apart under my hands.”
The pattern of his strokes changed, the outer two continuing to trace the edges of that firm but tender area. The third stroked flat across the center of it, coaxing and pulling on Wyll’s sanity.
“Please, Gods, please Astarion. Please let me out, please let me cum, please unlock the blasted cage. I don’t think I can handle it. Please.”
“Wyll. Look at me. Eye contact, my sweet slut. Do not flinch, do not look away. Look at my face.” Astarion maintained pace with his fingers, but his gaze probed Wyll’s with a keen sincerity. “Are you serious about wanting to be unlocked? If you are, use your unlock word.”
Wyll breathed hard through his nose, but pointedly said nothing, lips pressed tightly together.
“Do you remember your unlock word?” Wyll nodded, lips still pressed shut. Astarion nodded in return. “Good boy. Such a good, sweet slut for me.”
Fingers still inside of him, Astarion lowered his head to the crease between Wyll’s thigh and groin. As he licked the spend from his skin, avoiding his cock, his fingers fluttered. For a moment, Wyll couldn’t place why the pulsing, racing pattern felt so familiar. With a gasp, it came to him- it was his own heart beat, echoed and amplified by quick fingers.
“‘S-Star-”
“Shhh, I’ve got you. You feel it, don’t you. Your pulse, thrumming inside of you like a wild thing.” Astarion’s eyes drifted closed for a moment, lingering over the sensation. “I feel this inside of me when I drink from you, you know. Your heartbeat- alive, powerful, exuberant- filling my mind so that it’s the only thing I can hear. I know it deeper than any other single thing in this universe by now, the way your heart beats for me.”
Wyll stared at him, panting. His pulse rang vividly throughout him- in his chest, his ears, his ass. As Astarion spoke, he was flooded with a sense of the intimacy between them being deeper than he had comprehended. That, as it bounced between them, it became endless in depth. It became- theirs, theirs alone, this thing between them.
Astarion sucked in a breath, opening his eyes at last. “You do feel it, now. I can tell- that heartbeat of yours cannot lie.” He laughs softly. “I would like one more soft orgasm from you before I fuck you full of my cum and leave you dripping my seed like my good little cumslut needs and deserves.”
After a moment, Astarion commanded it, and Wyll’s vision blacked out with the force of his orgasm, and how it skittered across his nerves with every heartbeat.
Astarion withdrew his fingers, humming to himself as he poured more oil over them. He really is so responsive , he thought to himself as he grasped his cock with a tight grip. This loop of hunger and satiety suits him . Hells, even just that hunger suits him. I could do with seeing it more often.
As he brushed the head of his cock against Wyll’s entrance, Astarion glanced up, catching Wyll’s dizzied gaze. He held it as he slowly pressed into his body, taking his time and making a soft, deep noise as the man’s heat enveloped him. The hold of Wyll’s body was hotter, more pillowy than usual, and the ripples of aftershocks shiver around him.
“Astarion.” Wyll’s voice was a sigh, and gods, his heart- the metaphorical one, this time- was spelled out across his face openly. Fully seated inside of him, Astarion pulled Wyll’s hand to his mouth, kissing his fingertips, his own eyes fluttering a little with each press of his lips.
“Astarion.” Wyll’s voice was more solid now, though still swamped with emotion. Astarion hummed against Wyll’s finger tips, looking up at him. “Unicorn.”
Oh Gods, this man. He is incredible. Just- Just perfect. Perfect for me. I- I love him so fucking much. Gods. Gods. 200 years of good luck held back, and here it is released all at once. Astarion nipped lightly at Wyll’s fingers. “Are you certain, my love? You are ready to take the cage off?”
“Yes, please, Astarion, you are so… Gods, you are perfection. “
Astarion smiled, tilting his head and gently rocking his hips. “Good boy. If you will trust me a bit further I… I would like to decide when to actually unlock it, now that it is alright to do so.” One of his hands drifted to where the key hung at his wrist. “Would you trust me with this?”
“Gods, yes, Astarion. I’m yours, completely, do with me as you wish, just- Soon, my heart.” Wyll panted, his gaze pleading.
“Soon.” Astarion gripped Wyll’s hips, tilting them slightly so that his cock brushed against his prostate on each stroke. He fucked steadily into his body, the warm grip of him testing his control. “You are mine, you know. All of you. No one else has any claim to you, not on this or any other plane. You are mine, Wyll. The good of you, the bad of you, the filthy, degenerate parts you don’t let anyone else see. I know you, inside and out, and I am deliriously proud that you. Are. Mine. My good boy. My sweet prince. My filthy little cumslut. All. Of. You.”
Wyll kept moaning Yours , over and over, as though his tongue forgot how to shape any other word. He was floating, an inner sea of peace having rushed to fill him the moment the word “unicorn” had passed his lips. He wanted the cage off, of course- as effective as it had been as a tool to corral his feelings, it had also left him charged with an ever ramping hunger. But turning the power to open it over was letting go of the raft and realizing you could still float.
Now he was floating, and the sea around him was filled with Astarion. Everything was Astarion really, and it felt like everything always will be Astarion. There was no urgency to identify the beginning or the end of it. That was up to Astarion, all of it, and that was an incredibly freeing realization to have.
Astarion’s fingers pressed into his hips, a tremor in his wrist. Wyll was distantly aware that he was trembling as well, his body hypersensitive. He felt like he might spill over, and it was not entirely clear to him if that’s into another orgasm or something deeper.
Astarion must have noticed as well, as he snapped the key off of his wrist and quickly unlocked the cage. With a shocking amount of tenderness and a slowing of his hips, he removed the cage and the ring that had held it in place, dropping them off the side of the bed. “Oh, lover,” he murmured almost too quietly for Wyll to hear, awe laced through it.
Wyll’s cock was sensitive and cum slick in the warm air of the room. The sudden freedom was heady, and he blinked for a moment under the weight of it.
Wyll gasped as Astarion fisted his cock, the sensation overwhelming after its confinement. Gods, even over the course of a single day some part of him had forgotten how good that could feel. It was filling quickly, and the sudden shift left his head spinning.
Almost as soon as he was hard- and Gods, that was so quickly - Astarion’s voice cut through the floaty fog that had wrapped itself around Wyll’s brain. “Keep your gaze on mine, Wyll. Keep it right here. You are mine, and I want you to feel it completely as you cum for me, do you understand? You are mine. Your orgasms are mine. Your heart. Is. Mine.”
Wyll knew this, but hearing Astarion say it turned that knowledge into liquid fire inside of him. He felt it burning in the very center of his being, a molten core inside of him. He wanted to shout it, to declare that he belongs to Astarion, that he was Astarion’s, but he could only let out a wordless wail.
Astarion’s hand was firm and steady on Wyll’s cock, his eyes quick and observant despite his own arousal heightening. The elf’s pale skin was flushed with desire, even the tips of his ears bright red. That’s my blood, in his cheeks . Wyll thought dizzily. My blood in his ears. Oh, Gods. It’s my blood in his cock .
Astarion’s grip tightened, some subtle signal telegraphed by Wyll’s body received. His thumb ghosted over the head of his cock. “Be good for me, Wyll. Cum for me one more time. Now.”
Wyll’s world whited out again, the orgasm inside of him connecting with the sweet relief of being able to finally cum with his cock. The peaks echoed against each other like ripples in a pond, bouncing and spreading out inside of him. He could feel Astarion’s cock thrust a few more times inside of him, and felt his cum fill him. It was a little cool against the unbelievable heat of his hypersensitive flesh, and a wave of satisfaction joined the thrills rippling through him.
Astarion held himself buried deep inside of his lover’s body. He took in the sight before him- Wyll’s sweat drenched body, his stomach and chest covered in cum; the still leaking and flushed cock resting against his belly; his face, somehow both hazy and achingly present at once. Wyll had cum so fucking hard , and it was writ in every inch of the man. With a deep breath to steady himself, he pulled out of Wyll’s still-shuddering body.
Astarion peppered kisses over Wyll’s chest and neck as he crawled up to lay next to him. His arm stretched over the man, hand resting on his bicep and stroking a soothing pattern into his skin. He waited, occasionally pressing kisses into the warmth of Wyll’s shoulder, inhaling the scent of him with closed eyes.
Wyll’s eyes fluttered, and he gave a dopey smile as their gazes connected. “Hey.”
“Hello there, my love. How are you doing, after all of that?”
Somehow Wyll’s smile got bigger, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he pulled Astarion into a deep kiss. “I’m wonderful, ‘Star.” He nuzzled into the elf’s cheek. “And you?”
“I think you could say I am of a similar opinion. It went- did it go well for you?” Astarion searched his face, but all he could find was a happy contentment.
Wyll gestured at the mess between them. “I think there’s evidence enough of that.”
Astarion sucked his teeth. “Bodies do their thing, and that is not evidence of much aside from skill, of which I have quite a lot. Do not make me explicitly ask about-”
“It went well, ‘Star. It went- It was incredible, everything I could have ever hoped for, to be honest. Sure, I never imagined the… accoutrement involved, but this was the sort of dream I didn’t dare ask for. You drew it out of me, and did it with such skill that I dare say the ‘body stuff’ was secondary.”
Astarion focused on the ridges of Wyll’s neck. “And is it something you would like to try again, now that we’ve managed it successfully? I know that I would enjoy that very much, but it would not be the same sort of- of experience, for me, if you weren’t-”
Wyll rested a finger on Astarion’s lips for a moment before cradling his jaw in his hand. “Yes, I would like to try it again sometime. Not all the time, of course- I’m exhausted and Gods knows I would be a liability in battle like this- but I would appreciate doing this again with a certain amount of regularity, if you are amenable. I might even be interested in you pushing me a little harder some time, if you are up for it.”
“I just-” Astarion’s mouth twitched, his thumb tracing the ridge along Wyll’s cheekbone. “You know that I am yours as well, right? Not in the ‘oh master I am yours’ bedroom play sort of way, but-”
“That I have your heart, just as you have mine?” Wyll chuckled. “We belong to each other, Astarion. Completely.” He paused, pressing a slow kiss to Astarion’s lips. “Gods, so completely.”
They cleaned up quickly, using rags cleverly provided by whoever was employed to prepare the rooms in the side table. The cage, they left on the floor to be picked up and cleaned carefully tomorrow. With a quiet sigh, they pulled the blankets up around their bodies, settling in. For now, they just needed to dwell in that little world that existed in the space between them, whispering to each other and dreaming of tomorrows.