Chapter Text
Halsin isn’t sure what to expect when walking into Szarr Palace.
The building is somewhat of a monstrosity from the outside. It perches like a gargoyle on the wall of the Upper City, looming and gothic against the sheen of its neighbours, with gates that open with a forboding creak.
Halsin is braced for more of the same inside — blood-red wallpaper, stray swarms of bats, perhaps some ominous organ music just to cap things off — but he’s taken by surprise when he’s greeted by a beige and normal-looking reception area.
If not for the receptionist talking with a perplexed courier regarding delivery of a large cage, he’d almost mistake it for the lobby of a fancy law firm. The chairs are plush, the decor tasteful, and the music fully devoid of ominous organs, and aside from the Szarr logo on the wall, there’s little to suggest he’s standing at the threshold of one of Faerûn’s largest porn empires.
Any fear that he’s in the wrong place is soon assuaged when a blonde-haired elf pokes her head out from a side door. “Mr Silverbough?”
Halsin waves, awkward. “Guilty.”
The elf smiles and emerges fully to give him a handshake. She’s shorter than him, which is hardly a rare occurrence, and dressed in a white shirt and loose slacks, with her blonde hair pinned up in a messy bun. Between the confidence of her handshake and her sharp, assessing gaze, she reminds Halsin of some of his more corporate exes.
“Dalyria,” the elf says. “Thank you so much for joining us today.”
Across the lobby, there’s a loud crash of the cage toppling. The receptionist and the courier regroup in their hushed discussions on how to wrangle it through the too-narrow doorway, and Dalyria guides Halsin by the elbow. “I’ll arrange for you to be signed in. If you could follow me, we have a few minor bits of paperwork to clear before we can get into the action.”
Halsin gestures to the cage-related mess. “I can help if you need it?”
“Oh, they’ll figure it out,” Dalyria says, then lowers her voice with a conspiratorial smile, “Cage deliveries are something of a rite of passage; Vilhelm will get there. Shall we?”
Her heels click against the marbled tile as she strolls back to the door she came from, Halsin following in her wake.
The scale of the operation is a little overwhelming, especially when compared to Halsin’s limited previous experience, but when Dalyria leads him through to an office, he soon has to reset his definition of ‘overwhelming’.
The time passes in a blur. ‘A few minor bits of paperwork’ proves to be a horrifying misnomer, particularly to someone who does one brief report a week. There is paperwork for everything: proof of identification, proof of age, test results, tax declarations, release forms, liability waivers, and that’s before they even get onto the sex itself. Halsin ticks boxes to give his opinion on every kink under the sun, not to mention some that seem to be exclusive to Menzoberranzan, and by the time he finishes, he almost wishes he was back reseeding grassland or repairing fences at the Grove.
Dalyria talks calmly throughout, providing answers and clarifications without the faintest hint of embarrassment. Her spiels are well-rehearsed, explaining the standard safewords and offering an overview of how Szarr Studios operates. It’s clearly targeted at newcomers — Halsin tunes out a little when the focus turns to ’ethical kink’ and ‘safe, sane and consensual’ — but the specifics of their safeguards are thorough and reassuring.
Only when sufficient boxes have been ticked and papers signed does she take him through to a locker room and shower. Halsin stashes his bag, cleans up and, after declining the offer of a chest harness and leather pants, follows her up into the shooting wing in jeans and a t-shirt.
Dalyria leads him past half a dozen sets — a grand dining hall, a formal office, a lavish bedroom, even a medieval-looking dungeon — before stopping at one nestled in a corner. It’s a sex dungeon in the more modern sense of the word, with moody lighting, dark walls, and easy-wipe surfaces. Even the couch she offers him a seat on is fairly solid, to prevent mess and fluids gathering in the seams.
It reminds Halsin of half the clubs and private dungeons he sessioned in back in the day, providing an oddly comforting level of familiarity.
“If you’re good there, I’ll set the camera rolling and ask some quick questions,” Dalyria says. “Just as a short introduction to our followers who might not be as familiar with your work.” She smiles, polite and friendly. “You don’t need to answer anything you don’t want to; most of it will be edited down into clips for socials anyway. We normally do this with both scene partners but—“
“Yours is fashionably late?”
Dalyria startles at the sound. For all her professionalism, Halsin wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of the glare she levels at the two men who come strolling across the set.
“You little shits,” she mutters, in a tone that sounds less like an angry boss and more like an annoyed sister. “I need to put a bell on you both.”
Halsin stands to greet the newcomers. The human is handsome enough, with a strong jaw and short sandy hair, but Halsin’s gaze lingers on the elf at his side. Between his artfully styled white curls and the faint red gleam of his eyes, he’s mesmerising to behold and Halsin feels a little guilty at the rush of heat that goes through him.
“Halsin,” he says, offering his hand for a shake and watching the men size him up in return.
“Petras and Astarion,” Dalyria says, pointing at the human and elf in turn as they shake his hand . “Seasoned professionals, both of them, when they’re not doing their best to put me into an early grave.”
“We just came to help out,” Astarion says with a feigned innocence that, regrettably, seems to do it for Halsin. “Reassure Halsin here that he’s in good hands.”
“That’s not all he’ll be in by the time we’re done,” Petras says with a grin.
They’re both dressed alike, black jeans with a dark t-shirt for Petras and a grey one for Astarion, so it’s left to Dalyria to explain their roles.
“You’ll be shooting with both of them today,” she explains. “For the most part, it’ll be just you and Astarion but Petras is here to keep things moving along smoothly.”
Halsin nods. There’s always something immensely awkward about being introduced to the guy he’ll be fucking for the next hour or so, but he can’t help the low twinge of delight at the knowledge he’ll be working more closely with Astarion.
“Sit down with me, darling,” Astarion says. He pats the couch beside him and slings his legs over Halsin’s lap as soon as Halsin obliges. “I’m sorry to interrupt your interview — I’m so very keen to hear all about you.”
There’s a flirtation in his voice, feigned but not overly forced, and Halsin rests his arms across Astarion’s shins as he yields, “Ask away.”
The light above the camera clicks on. “Let’s start with your name.”
“Halsin.”
Dalyria peers around the camera with a pitying smile. “I meant your name for the shoot today.”
“Ah. Still just Halsin, I’m afraid.”
While he appreciated Shadowheart’s attempts at concocting an alias for him (‘Woody McBigdick’ was a particular lowlight), he’s been happy embarking on this side venture under his own name. Half of his friends already know him through the kink community, and from a professional perspective, the animals at the Grove do not have strong feelings about Halsin fucking on camera.
(Well, maybe Tusk.)
“Well, Halsin, thank you for joining us today. Our viewers already know Astarion, of course.” Astarion gives a little wave and a wink to camera, and Halsin bites back a smile. “All of us here at Szarr Studios are very excited about this collaboration.”
“As am I,” Halsin says.
“I understand you’re new to porn,” Dalyria prompts. “Could you tell us a little about how you got started?”
The camera lens is dark enough for him to see his reflection. While somehow Astarion has arranged himself in a way to look lithe and alluring on screen, Halsin looks enormous beside him, and he flattens a stray braid back into place as he replies, “I have a friend in the industry. She has quite a following online and invited me to join her for a short video. As I understand it, it became rather popular.”
Astarion laughs, low and amused. “That’s quite the understatement.”
Halsin looks at him in surprise. “You’ve watched it?”
“Of course.” His grin is sharp. “Who wouldn’t want to watch the Gate’s favourite ex-Sharran sucking a dick the size of her forearm? Admirable effort on her part, really.”
Halsin chuckles. It had been an impulsive decision on both sides and definitely not the smoothest clip Shadowheart had ever made, but it had been a fun shoot, albeit one with more laughter than actual blowjob.
“Things, uh, picked up from there,” Halsin admits. “There was some interest in me, separate to her usual videos, and she helped me set up my own account after that.”
He still doesn’t know the size of Shadowheart’s following or exactly how popular that video was — despite his best efforts, technology is not his strength. However, four months later he’s still eating his way through the gift basket she sent him, so he assumes it did quite well.
“We’ll put your account name and link in the description,” Dalyria stage-whispers to him, before returning to a normal volume. “So how are you finding it? No desire to go back to a boring desk job yet?”
Halsin can’t help the laugh that escapes him. “Gods, no. No, desk jobs and I were not well-suited, even before this. This is a very enjoyable experiment still — I haven’t thought much further ahead than that.” He glances over to Astarion. “How about you? How did you get into this industry?”
Astarion blinks at him, like the question has taken him by surprise, and Halsin holds up his hands. “Apologies, you don’t have to—“
“No, no,” Astarion says, dismissive, “there’s simply nothing to tell. I’ve been doing this for years — it’s all rather tedious.”
“Any highlights so far?” Dalyria cuts in, with the air of someone corralling an unruly child. “I understand we’re not the first studio you’ve worked with.”
“I’ve always been open to new experiences,” Halsin admits, “and there has certainly been no shortage of those. People have been very kind to me thus far, and I’ve had some, uh, interesting collaborations.”
In retrospect, he wonders if he should be a little more picky about those he chooses to work with. However, he only has one life and afternoons spent participating in Volo’s Guide to Monstercocks or doing a foot fetish shoot with a chap called Crusher seem like time well spent.
“Well, Szarr Studios are happy that you’ve joined us today,” Dalyria says, looking significantly more put-together than anyone else Halsin has worked with. “Have you seen any of our work before? What made you say yes to this particular collaboration?”
Astarion turns to him, curious, and Halsin’s face heats a little. He’s a difficult man to embarrass but he can’t help the pulse of shame when he admits, “If I’m completely honest? Donnela Szarr’s work may have been a formative influence.”
Dalyria looks legitimately surprised at the answer, professionalism falling away for a second and being replaced with a more genuine smile. “Really?”
He chuckles. “Gods, it’s probably before your time, I know. Before the time of anyone watching this too but you’ll have to allow an old man his vices. Her videos were quite something.”
“A man who enjoys the classics,” Dalyria says, grinning. “And the femdom classics at that. We may have to invite you back for a whole different kind of shoot if this goes well.”
Astarion laughs. “We haven’t even got your clothes off yet and you’re already luring Dalyria out of retirement? I’m impressed.”
“Shut up, Astarion,” she mutters. From her tone, this is evidently a common request.
Astarion just snickers again and Dalyria coughs, clearly trying to collect herself. Halsin does his best to keep a straight face.
“Anyway,” Dalyria says, pointedly, “the focus at Szarr Studios has moved on a little since Lady Donnela’s day but I’m confident you’ll have an excellent time with us today.”
“Wouldn’t want to ruin the good Szarr name, would we?” Astarion chimes in, with a tone Halsin can’t quite recognise.
Dalyria ignores him. “Now, as you may know, we have a strong focus on kink here. We cover almost all aspects of BDSM but that’s not to say every single shoot has to be wall-to-wall whips and chains; we can tailor to our performers’ comfort levels. Do you have any experience with kink? In your other work or in your personal life, perhaps?”
Halsin nods. “I have my fair share of experience, yes, although off-camera rather than on it.” He gestures at the set around them. “This all feels very familiar.”
“That’s wonderful to hear,” Dalyria says, and sounds like she means it. “We try for a certain aesthetic, and our subscribers and leadership do have their preferences when it comes to content but we want to make sure it’s an enjoyable experience for all our actors.”
“I haven’t had any complaints yet,” Astarion says, stretching languidly across Halsin’s lap.
Dalyria clears her throat. “We established you were new to porn but you have done some work previously. What kind of shoots do you have experience with?”
“Mostly oral,” Halsin says with a shrug. He doesn’t quite understand why so many people are purely interested in sucking his cock but he isn’t about to complain. “A couple of penetrative scenes and then some more, ah, niche fetishes.”
“And is there anything you really want to do? Anything you’ve done off-camera that you’d like to try in a shoot?”
He’s conscious of Astarion watching him with interest but keeps his gaze on Dalyria and the camera as he says, “Honestly I’m willing to try most things at least once. I have a fair amount of experience with off-screen kink but I try to approach this work without expectations.”
Astarion hums, curious. “Are you sure we’ve got the right configuration here, my dear? You sound like you’d be more at home in the collar.”
Halsin laughs. “For the right person, maybe. I lean dominant. Strongly lean.”
“Oh?” Astarion’s scrutiny sharpens, raking over Halsin’s face and body. Halsin’s gaze lingers on the unusual red of his irises. “I’d lay odds on you being the manhandling type. Pinning your subs down with brute force rather than frames and gadgets. Am I close?”
“Very,” Halsin admits. It’s a common assumption, given his build, but one he’s grown confident leaning into. “I enjoy rope too, as well as improvised bondage, but I can’t say I particularly like wood or metal.”
“That takes the stocks out of the running,” Astarion says with a pout. “What else gets your motor running? Or stops it cold, I suppose.”
Halsin glances to Dalyria for confirmation but at her nod, he answers, “I enjoy bruises but not blood, so no piercings or the like. I’m afraid I lack the patience for high protocol; I don’t so much care what my subs call me, or how they dress, or whether they do chores. I would much rather be hands-on and make them squirm.”
“How so?” Astarion asks, and Halsin clocks the hint of challenge in his voice. “Tie them up and tickle them? Maybe bring out a feather and some whipped cream if it’s a wild night?”
“I do like teasing,” Halsin agrees, ignoring the bait. “I also like fisting.”
Astarion blinks in surprise, eyes dropping to Halsin’s hands.
“I have big hands,” he continues, cracking his knuckles. “It can take a while to work up to it but it’s always a pleasure, watching how wet and desperate someone has to get before they’ll beg for my fist inside them.”
A faint blush rises on Astarion’s cheeks. “I see.”
“I like control,” Halsin says. “Forcing orgasms or denying them. Setting expectations and then coaxing people to participate in their own punishments if they fall short. Discovering what they find humiliating and then taking them to the point where they can’t distinguish shame from pleasure.”
Astarion exhales slowly. Halsin can’t quite read the gleam in his eye as he says, arch and playful, “Sounds just perfect, darling.”
“I’m sure we can find something that works,” Dalyria agrees, standing up to click the camera off.
Astarion swings his legs off Halsin’s lap as soon as it stops rolling, and strolls over to the pile of rope on the counter, working a crick out of his neck.
“Now, we’ve been through the standard safewords,” Dalyria says, with the air of someone reciting a familiar speech. “You’ve completed your checklist and Astarion, Petras, and Dufay, our director, have all read through it. Everyone is aware of your limits and preferences and will of course respect them, but do use the safeword system if you feel uncomfortable at any time.”
“Noted,” Halsin says. He stands, looking over to where Petrus is looping rope around his arm in preparation for a tie. “And you both?” His gaze locks onto Astarion. “What are the limits on your side?”
“No shit, kids, or animals,” Astarion says around a stretch. “Other than that, I’m all yours.”
Halsin blinks. From his minimal experience, discussions of limits are shorter for business than for pleasure — they’re only here for a couple of hours, after all — but they generally involve more than ‘no crime’.
He’s reassured a little when Dalyria chimes in, “Oh, no shaving his head either. House preference.”
“Wouldn’t want to deny our lord and master something to hold onto,” Astarion says. His sharp smirk is met with an equally sharp glare from Dalyria.
“Marks are fine but nothing permanent,” she continues, ignoring Astarion’s snort. “I believe we’re going for a broader audience with this shoot — I know you already vetoed bloodplay but let’s leave watersports off the table for now too.”
Petras must mistake Halsin’s stunned expression for disappointment when he glances over. “Not to worry, friend, we can always dig out a funnel gag after the shoot.”
Halsin looks to Astarion. His eyes are fixed on the floor and while he offers no protest, Halsin doesn’t miss the way his jaw is clenched tight.
“I’ll have to decline,” Halsin says, polite but brooking no argument. “Thank you.”
Petras shrugs. “Suit yourself, big guy.”
He turns, whistling as he walks over to Dufay, and Halsin takes his opportunity to catch a moment with Astarion, in the hopes of ridding himself of the sense of unease.
“Perhaps I asked the wrong question,” he says, voice low. “Is there anything you don’t like, even if it’s not a hard limit?”
Astarion laughs, fake and too high-pitched. “Darling, there’s nothing I don’t like.”
“We both know that’s not true,” Halsin says calmly. “Everyone has something. A name you don’t like being called, a toy you don’t enjoy, even just a place you don’t want to be touched.”
A genuine bark of laughter escapes Astarion at the last comment and Halsin’s unease only grows.
“Astarion?” Halsin steps in closer, reaching out a hand to Astarion’s shoulder. “Listen, I know this is a job but I want to enjoy yourself too. If you aren’t comfortable, or if there’s something—“
“No,” Astarion snaps. There’s something frantic and fearful in his eyes for a moment before it’s smoothed away once again. “I’m fine with all of it, truly.” He tilts his head, considering. “Although if you must exclude something, have it be those horrible little hoods. My face is far too good to be covered up with some ugly leather contraption.”
It feels like vulnerability and deflection all at once, and Halsin just nods, confused. “Of course. No hoods, I guarantee it.”
“Oh, and if you’re choking me, try not to hold on until I’m fully unconscious,” Astarion adds, cheerful. “It plays havoc on my throat and I’m far heavier than I look. Besides, it always kills the mood when a dom gets an armful of dead weight and panicks.”
With that horrifying bit of wisdom imparted, Astarion pats him on the arm and departs. Petras doesn’t even break conversation with Dufay as he starts to wind the rope around Astarion’s arms, and Halsin swallows hard.
He didn’t expect to be having a moral crisis in the middle of a porn set today, but every day brings new experiences.
If he were younger, Halsin thinks he might have just gone along with it, unease be damned, but he’s too old and has seen too much to ignore his own discomfort.
Dalyria hurries over when Halsin flags her down, pocketing her phone. “Is everything okay?”
“I have to apologise for the inconvenience,” Halsin says, “to you and to the performers and crew, but I’m afraid I’m having second thoughts.”
He’s expecting surprise, or at least annoyance, but Dalyria just sighs. “Is this Astarion’s doing? I swear, I’ve told him to save the brat act for the cameras but he can’t help—“
“No, no,” Halsin says quickly. He doesn’t want the blame to land on anyone. “Entirely my fault. He’s been perfectly charming.”
Dalyria doesn’t look convinced but she doesn’t argue further as she says, “Not to worry. Just hold tight here and I’ll have someone come to walk you out. One moment.”
She moves over to Petras and Astarion and talks with them in urgent, hushed tones. She scrolls through her phone as she does so and Halsin catches faint snippets of their conversation.
“Mizora?” Petras suggests. “She’s always around. Like, always.”
“We don’t have the time to wrangle Avernus contracts today,” Dalyria mutters. “Gods, I miss Viconia. She was always so reliable in emergencies.”
“Aradin?” Astarion offers. “He’s a prick but I know he’s been angling for a repeat.”
Dalyria wrinkles her nose. “Cazador still hasn’t forgiven him for last time.” She purses her lips, flicking through her phone. “What about that big guy? Dan, Drew…”
Petras tilts his head. “Dror?”
“Yes!” Dalyria snaps her fingers. “Dror Ragzlin, that was it.”
Halsin watches the way Astarion’s shoulders tense, even as his tone stays light. “Ugh, he was a brute. Surely you can find someone with a little more finesse?”
“On this short notice?” Dalyria scoffs. “I heard he got banned from Stormshore recently; I bet he’ll jump at the chance for a shoot with decent pay. Let me call him.”
Halsin’s stomach flips. Both he and Shadowheart operate through Stormshore, along with most of the amateur industry; the site’s ethos of “Welcoming all comers” allows a wide variety of business but also means that it’s quite the challenge to get banned.
“Do we really need an outside party?” Astarion says. There’s an edge of desperation in his voice. “We can call Leon in; between him and Petras, they’ll do a better job than some hobgoblin lunk.”
Halsin’s eyes widen. The name alone didn’t do it but the memory clicks into place at the mention of a hobgoblin: there had been an altercation years ago, at a party. He can’t recall any details beyond Ragzlin wielding a flogger with a worrying level of savagery but the injuries caused had been enough for Halsin to throw him out of the party and blacklist him from any future events.
He looks over at Astarion, the nervous tap of his foot and the tight line of his mouth, and feels nausea rise at the thought of him on the receiving end of Ragzlin’s brutality.
“Wait.”
The three of them turn at Halsin’s interruption and he tries not to second-guess himself as he approaches. “Apologies. I just had cold feet for a moment. This is all new to me, I’m afraid.”
Astarion straightens, almost hopeful. “Does that mean you’ve changed your mind?”
Halsin forces a smile. “I have. I’m happy to go ahead if you’ll still have me.”
The fear in Astarion’s eyes disappears in an instant, replaced with the easy flirtation from earlier. “I’d hope you would be doing the having,” he purrs, “but we’d be delighted to continue with the original plan. Wouldn’t we, Dal?”
Dalyria looks him over with genuine concern. “If you’re certain? We aren’t in the business of making people do anything against their will.”
Halsin can’t read the expression that crosses Astarion’s face but it’s gone in the blink of an eye.
“I’m certain,” he promises. “It was just nerves, that’s all.”
“No need to be nervous,” Astarion says, seduction clearly back up and running at full force. “I don’t bite.” He moves in, resting a hand against Halsin’s chest as he looks up at him through his lashes. “Just relax and enjoy yourself. I guarantee I’ll make it good for you.”
It’s a transparent performance but, given the way Halsin’s cock perks up at even that light touch, it’s not an ineffective one.
At Astarion’s side, Dalyria’s smile is relieved. “Well,” she says, pocketing her phone, “let’s get rolling.”
Astarion is a beautiful sight on camera.
The lights are brighter than Halsin expected, near blinding amid the dark leather of the set, but when he peers at the monitor behind the camera, he learns that it translates better on screen.
Astarion is alone currently, still dressed in his jeans and t-shirt as he kneels in the centre of the set. There’s a thin mat beneath his knees and dark rope cinched around his arms, keeping them crossed comfortably behind his back, and Halsin already aches to touch him.
Astarion fidgets a little, shifting his weight from knee to knee, before settling with a slow exhale. A curl of white hair falls across the thick blindfold that’s been tied across his eyes and his pink tongue darts out to wet his lips as he waits, patient and silent.
Halsin still has his reservations about the shoot (and about the whole situation if he’s honest) but he’s confident he can take Astarion apart and make him enjoy every second.
However, he’s forced to revised that opinion when Petras strolls forward into shot and immediately slaps Astarion hard across the face.
Blindsided, Astarion cries out, barely managing to keep his balance under the force of the strike.
A red mark blossoms on his pale skin but Petras just laughs. “It’s been a while, huh?”
Astarion raises his chin in defiance, his earlier softness giving way to a sharp sneer. “I suppose those meaty hands are the best you have to offer, given that I’m not likely to feel anything from your dick.”
Petras’ eyes narrow. Halsin hurries forward but isn’t in time to stop another slap landing with a loud crack against Astarion’s cheek.
His hand locks around Petras’ wrist as he draws back for a third strike and Halsin squeezes a little harder than necessary when he orders, “Enough.”
In any other situation, the dumbfounded expression on Petras’ face might be enough to make him laugh. Petras looks between Halsin and Dufay, visibly perplexed by this turn of events, but when Dufay makes no attempt to end the scene, Halsin steps up to take the reins.
“Easy,” he says. It’s the voice typically reserved for recalcitrant wildlife but it apparently works on Petras too. “I’m the traditional type, I suppose. I like to take things slow. Make sure any punishments are truly earned.”
Petras sneers. “Trust me, the little slut deserves everything he gets.” Despite his bravado, he lowers his hand and Halsin smirks when he steps back. “He’s all yours.”
Petras moves out of shot, the camera rotating so it’s just the two of them in frame, and Halsin crouches down at his side.
Astarion stills, the side of his face a livid red from the slaps, and Halsin rests a hand on his shoulder as he murmurs, “Easy, little one. I won’t hurt you. Not if you’re good for me.”
Astarion’s smile is brittle and goading. “Haven’t you heard? I’m never good.”
“Oh, I beg to differ,” Halsin says gently. “With the right handling, I think you’ll be perfect.” His hand slides along the sharp line of Astarion’s shoulder to curl around the back of his neck, the skin cool beneath his fingers. “On your feet for me.”
Even with his arms bound, Astarion rises smoothly. His boots are gone, leaving him barefoot on the mat, and his toes twitch as he says, “I know you’re new to this, darling, but I can hardly suck your cock from up here.”
Halsin chuckles. Bratty submissives are some of his favourites, and while he’s confident Astarion would present a wonderful challenge in the right circumstances, he’s done this long enough to know the difference between nerves and genuine boundary-pushing.
“It’s fortunate I’m not asking you to suck my cock then,” he says, placid. “I’d prefer we get to know each other a little first.”
He hears a snort from Petras off-camera but ignores it.
Astarion’s eyes are still covered but Halsin is certain he’s rolling them when he says, mocking, “Yes, sir. I like dark chocolate, red wine, and getting fucked on camera until I cry.”
Halsin doesn’t rise to the taunt. “No long walks on the beach?”
“No long walks anywhere,” Astarion says, wrinkling his nose. “Unless I’m at the end of a leash, I suppose.”
It’s accompanied by a purposeful roll of his hips as Halsin moves to stand behind him, but he starts in surprise when Halsin just reaches around him to unbutton his jeans. He’s a skinny thing, especially in comparison to Halsin’s bulk, all slim hips and sharp angles, and Halsin pushes his jeans and underwear down without preamble until Astarion’s soft cock slips free.
“I wouldn’t be so quick to write off a nice hike,” he says mildly, working Astarion’s jeans the rest of the way down to his ankles. “Fresh air, good exercise, and no-one else around for miles. A perfect location, should you be minded to scream.”
He taps Astarion’s calf, resting a hand on his hip for support when he says, “Step out.”
Astarion obeys, kicking off his jeans to leave himself bare from the waist down.
“I’ll have you know I scream equally well in a soft feather bed,” Astarion tells him, almost haughty. “A forced march through the horrors of nature is hardly the sexy kind of suffering.”
Halsin hums, standing back up behind him. His arms bracket Astarion’s body with ease, dipping down to coax his thighs wider apart, and Astarion bites back a whimper when Halsin cups his balls with a gentle squeeze.
Halsin kisses the tip of his ear, then the redness that still lingers along his jaw. “You let me be the judge of ‘the sexy kind of suffering’. You underestimate how good you’d look writhing in the dirt in the light of a campfire.” He trails slow kisses down the side of his neck. “Plugged, gagged, utterly exhausted from a long hike with a harsh taskmaster, but eager to still be such a good boy…”
Astarion’s breath catches. He pushes his hips forward, chasing the touch of Halsin’s hand on his cock, and he exhales in audible frustration when Halsin simply pats his ass instead.
He gathers himself enough to make a feigned noise of disgust. “Next you’ll have me hogtied on a spit with an apple in my mouth.”
Halsin chuckles, reaching around to push the tip of Astarion’s nose up into a makeshift snout. “Only if you oink nicely.”
Astarion groans, elbowing him as much as the restraints allow, and Halsin laughs. He likes this version of Astarion far more than the sultry, ready-for-use facade presented earlier.
“So, not a fan of hiking,” he says, grasping the hem of Astarion’s t-shirt. “Tell me what you do like.”
“Was wine and chocolate not enough?” There’s an edge back in his voice as Halsin carefully lifts the tee up and over his head. It tangles around Astarion’s shoulders and bound arms, and Petras sidles in to help cut it free. “Darling, as long as it comes from you, I’m certain I’ll love it.” He flashes a practised smile. “Hiking excepted, that is.”
Halsin hums, unconvinced. He takes a step back, pacing in a half-circle to admire the full extent of Astarion’s body that’s now on show.
There are a handful of marks scattered across him — a welt on his thigh, ropeburn around his ankle, bruising on his hip — but nothing to suggest anything beyond some rough play. Beneath the sheen of the lights, he can see some kind of make-up on Astarion’s back, as if covering a tattoo, and despite the expanse of lean muscle on display, he can’t shake the conclusion that Astarion is too thin, his waist a little too narrow and his ribs a little too visible.
Still, Halsin imagines it’s not an uncommon problem in this industry and it does little to diminish how beautiful he is, with strong shoulders, a gorgeous cock and a downright incredible ass. Halsin’s hardly an expert but he can’t imagine Astarion struggling to find work in more mainstream porn looking the way he does, and so there must be some level of enjoyment which attracts him to harder kink shoots.
“Not that I don’t enjoy being silently admired,” Astarion says, testing his bonds, “but I do hope you’re going to fuck me at some point today, my dear.”
Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem like an answer Halsin’s going to be able to coax out of him by talking.
Petras loiters just off-camera, metal and leather dangling from his hand, and Halsin gestures in permission as he backs off. It’s a lot of plates to keep spinning — Astarion, Petras, Szarr Studios, whatever Halsin’s odd new career is turning into — and he sinks to a seat on the couch to try to collect himself.
He eases his cock from his pants, using the barest coating of slick to work himself to full hardness as Petras plays for the camera across the room. He isn’t gentle as he buckles the ring-gag into Astarion’s mouth, but Halsin’s intervention clearly had some effect as he makes no attempt to strike him again.
“Finally,” Petras says. It’s accompanied by a ruffle of Astarion’s hair, which earns him a snarl in return. “You look so much better like this. You definitely sound better.”
It’s hard to curse coherently with a ring-gag in place but Astarion does an admirable job.
“Gods, stop whining,” Petras says. He fastens a collar tight around Astarion’s neck, then yanks hard on the leash to drop him to his knees. “We all know having a cock down your throat is all you’re good for — you ought to be thanking me for helping you.”
More cursing, muffled yet inventive, and Petras wrenches his head back hard before spitting in Astarion’s open mouth.
Astarion groans in distaste but Petras just laughs when he tugs on the leash again. “Come on. Be a good little bitch for your master today and maybe he’ll give you something nicer to choke down.”
He gives Halsin a friendly wink as he leads Astarion across to the couch. Between the ropes, leash and blindfold, Astarion has little choice but to stumble along as fast as his knees allow but Halsin doesn’t miss the way his cock bobs half-hard against his thigh as he struggles.
“Have fun, big guy,” Petras says, passing over the leash as Astarion settles between Halsin’s spread legs. “Don’t go easy on him — he can take it.”
Halsin cups Astarion’s chin. The collar is tight but not choking, so he opts not to loosen it as he traces his thumb along Astarion’s lower lip. Drool catches along his nail, slipping down Astarion’s chin as he tries and fails to swallow, and he shivers beneath him when Halsin kisses the corner of his jaw.
“Is Petras right?” Halsin asks, stroking his cock with his free hand. “Can you take this? Or should we take it slowly?”
It’s an honest question — Halsin will work at whatever pace Astarion wants rather than what the studio expects — but he isn’t surprised when Astarion shakes his head confidently. Astarion spreads his thighs wider, cock now jutting up hard and red, and lets out a little moan as he leans in to take Halsin’s dick through the ring of his gag.
The gag is big, the metal ring hard and unyielding. Unfortunately for Astarion, Halsin’s dick is bigger.
Still blindfolded, Astarion makes a noise of frustration as he tilts his head at a different angle. The head of Halsin’s cock butts against the metal, too wide to ease past into Astarion’s mouth, and Halsin gives his hair a teasing pet as Astarion licks pitifully at whatever he can reach.
“Easy, little one,” he says, carding his fingers through Astarion’s hair. “Let me take the blindfold off. You can impress me once you can actually see what you’re doing.”
The camera moves in his peripheral vision, ready to capture Astarion’s face when Halsin tugs the blindfold free.
Astarion blinks, adjusting to the dim light, but his eyes go wide when he focuses on the cock in front of him.
Halsin grins, a little sheepish. He knows why he’s popular online, why Shadowheart’s video was so successful, and why Szarr Studios invited him to collaborate in the first place. He’s a big guy, with proportionate equipment to match, but as he taps his cock teasingly against Astarion’s cheek, he’s eternally impressed with every partner who’s ever managed to take him.
Astarion can’t talk, not with the gag behind his teeth, but between the gleam in his eye and the pointed arch of his brow, he manages to make his reaction clear.
“All yours, sweetheart,” Halsin says, with playful magnanimity. He gives himself another couple of strokes, easing his foreskin down to offer the head for Astarion’s unimpeded attentions, and then leans back on the couch, arms folded behind his head. “You were so sure you could make it good for me, weren’t you?”
Astarion glowers at him. With his lips held wide and Halsin’s cock bumping against his chin, the sight is endearing rather than fearsome.
Still, there’s a determination there, and Halsin watches, quiet and appreciative, as Astarion throws himself into the impossible task. He tries a couple more angles, just to be certain he can’t fit Halsin’s girth through the gag, and then settles for tracing the tip of his tongue up under the head of his cock. It’s a messy process, saliva dripping down onto Astarion’s chest as he lavishes attention down the full length of Halsin’s cock, and Halsin groans when he feels that hot, eager tongue lap at the curve of his sac too.
Pre-come beads on the tip, soon smeared away to join the mess on Astarion’s face as he licks along the slit, and Halsin bites his lip when Astarion lets out a needy little whine, like it’s causing him physical pain not to be able to choke himself on Halsin’s cock.
“What’s the matter?” Halsin teases. “I thought sucking cock was your specialty.”
Astarion whines again, nuzzling against Halsin’s dick in helpless desperation. His cheeks are flushed red in humiliation but his cock remains fully hard between his legs as he looks up at Halsin through his lashes.
“Ah, ah,” Halsin chides. He slaps his cock gently against Astarion’s cheek, drawing a low moan. “We both know you can be a good boy if you try. Show me your manners, darling.”
Astarion’s face gets redder still, the blush creeping beautifully under his collar, and drool slides down his chin as he mumbles, “Let me suck your cock.”
It’s largely unintelligible, a garbled noise shaped by the metal ring, but this is hardly Halsin’s first rodeo when it comes to interpreting gag-talk.
“I didn’t hear a ‘please’ in there…”
Astarion rolls his eyes but can’t keep from rocking his hips up in an unconscious search for friction.
“Please,” Astarion grits out, although it winds up sounding more like Hlee. “Please let me suck your cock, sir.”
“Good boy,” Halsin says, and watches the way he shivers at the praise. “It’s all yours.”
There’s a dumbstruck look on Petras’ face when Halsin waves him forward to remove the gag, but he complies without argument. Astarion winces as the ring slides free, stretching his jaw, but doesn’t give himself more than a moment before he’s fitting his lips around Halsin’s cock with an eager sigh.
The ropes stay in place, keeping his arms held behind him, but that doesn’t seem to present much of a hindrance as Astarion trails deep, hungry kisses along the length of Halsin’s shaft. He opens wide, letting the head rest on his tongue, and Halsin can’t hide his own shiver at the sensation of hot, wet pressure enveloping him.
Astarion bobs his head, tasting and testing, and Halsin reaches down to grasp his hair when Astarion pushes in deep enough to choke.
“Easy,” he soothes, letting Astarion draw back for air. “Take your time.”
Astarion nods, already leaning down for a second attempt, but he gags when Petras plants his boot between his shoulders and pushes down hard.
Astarion coughs, mess dripping from his lips, and Halsin glares over his head at Petras. “I’d save any pushing for when it’s your own cock between his teeth.”
Petras just shrugs, grinning. “Eh, he doesn’t bite without permission.” He kicks Astarion again, his heavy boot stomping against his shoulders. “He just does better with a little incentive. Don’t you, whore?”
The mutinous look on Astarion’s face is nowhere near the eager, squirming humiliation Halsin coaxed from him earlier, and so he takes it upon himself to answer while Astarion sucks diligently on the head of his dick. “He’s doing just fine under his own steam. Aren’t you, sweetheart?”
Astarion hums in agreement, the vibration thrumming pleasantly down through Halsin’s cock.
Petras just scowls, petulant, but doesn’t kick Astarion again as he mutters, “Should hope so. Not like you’ll get much use out of him otherwise.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Halsin says. He threads his fingers through Astarion’s curls again, gentle and passive as Astarion swallows eagerly around Halsin’s width. “I can’t imagine I’d have any shortage of things to do with him.”
Petras’ laugh is loud and derisory. Astarion flinches, gaze locked on the task in front of him, and Halsin strokes his hair in reassurance as Petras backs off, taunting as he goes, “What, you planning to have him do your taxes?”
Halsin’s idiot dick does actually twitch a little at the thought, Astarion as a diligent secretary bent over a pile of receipts, but he maintains his composure as his cock hits the back of Astarion’s throat then slides deeper still.
“I’m old-fashioned,” Halsin says with a smile. “I’d start with dinner and drinks before indulging in any hard tax kink.”
Astarion rolls his eyes — he’s a tough crowd for Halsin’s bad jokes — but he’s smiling as he pulls back to drop kisses down the length of his dick.
“I’m offended,” Astarion says, sounding anything but. “You’ve got your cock cleaning my tonsils and you’re fantasising about me with my clothes back on? Ouch.”
Halsin laughs. “I never promised you’d be clothed for this dinner.”
Astarion gives his thigh a teasing nip but settles, pressing hot kisses to the curve of his balls as Halsin ponders aloud, “There’s lots of ways I could put you to good use. Take you to the gym, perhaps. Give you some extra incentive on the rowing machine.”
He pulls on Astarion’s collar in demonstration, forcing his mouth down onto his cock and then back in steady strokes until there’s fresh saliva trailing from Astarion’s lips to his shaft.
“This sounds like far too much activity,” Astarion gasps when Halsin allows him a moment to breathe. The brattiness is back, despite the involuntary tears clinging to his lashes from swallowing down Halsin’s dick, and Halsin can’t keep from smiling at the sight. “First hiking, now the gym? What about some depraved fantasies where I can just lie there and look pretty?”
“Oh, I’m sure that can be arranged.”
He tips his head back with a groan when Astarion sucks on the head of his cock, flattening his tongue against the underside. He feels like he’s back in his twenties again, his dick getting ahead of his brain in picturing all the things he wants to do to a man he’s likely to never meet again, but he allows himself the fantasy anyway.
“I could truss you up as a footstool if you prefer?” Halsin offers. “Or a coffee table perhaps. Lock you in place with a drink and some snacks on your back and see just how pretty and still you can be for me.”
Astarion hums like he’s giving the idea some serious consideration and Halsin wraps a hand tight around the base of his cock to ease himself back under control. He reminds himself that this is work, that it’s Astarion’s job to be pliant and alluring, and that Halsin is simply the least bad option available to him today rather than anyone he might actually want to scene with once the cameras aren’t rolling.
The attempt at self-persuasion is diminished a little by Astarion’s very sincere-sounding moans as he fucks his face on Halsin’s cock. Sweat clings to his skin, his hair sticking to his forehead as he grinds his hips forward against thin air, and when Astarion pleads around his length, it’s reassuring to know Halsin’s not the only one reaching the edge.
“Get it down,” he orders, cheeks heating at how rough his voice sounds. “Take me all the way down that lovely throat of yours, sweetheart, and I’ll give you what you need.”
Astarion whines. If his mouth wasn’t full, Halsin is certain he’d be pouting, but as it is, he just sucks in a breath through his nose and lowers his head.
It takes him a couple of tries to get the right angle but Halsin bites back a groan when Astarion takes him down. He can feel every sensation, the tight heat of Astarion’s mouth, the flutter of his throat as it’s bullied open by the fat head of Halsin’s cock, and he lets out a whimper of his own when he feels Astarion’s nose brush his stomach.
“Gods…”
He runs a hand through his own hair, feeling the sweat gathering there too as he tries to maintain his composure. Astarion’s gaze is near-triumphant when he looks up as best as the position will allow, and it takes everything Halsin has not to come at the sight alone.
He wants to kiss him, wants to fuck him senseless, wants to lay him out on his back and slide his cock in deep again so he can see every inch of it filling Astarion’s pretty throat, and it’s only the hovering presence of the camera that keeps him on track.
“Good,” he says, voice ragged. “Gods above, you’re good.”
With a hand in his curls, he pulls Astarion off in one smooth motion. His cock slides free, heavy and slick, and Halsin swipes a thumb across Astarion’s lips in a half-hearted clean-up before he hauls him in for a kiss.
He can allow himself that indulgence at least.
Astarion makes a noise of surprise against his mouth. With his arms bound, he’s in no position to push him away but before Halsin can pull back to check he hasn’t crossed some unspoken line, Astarion is kissing back with enthusiasm. He’s a wreck, cheeks flushed and chin coated with spit, but when Halsin finally breaks the kiss, he thinks this may be the most glorious Astarion has looked all day.
“I believe,” Astarion says, breathless and provocative, “I was promised a reward?”
Halsin can’t decide if the fact that he sounds like he’s just had his throat fucked makes his little act more or less appealing. When it comes to Astarion, he fears he’s lost all capacity for objective assessment.
“A reward well-earned,” Halsin promises. “Here.”
It’s not the most dignified process on either side as Halsin lifts Astarion up to sit astride his lap. Astarion’s legs are unsteady from so long spent on his knees and Halsin is very much lifting with his back rather than his legs, but Astarion is light enough to manoeuvre with relative ease.
With his arms still tied, he topples forward against Halsin’s chest, and Halsin holds him steady as he tugs his own shirt off over his head. It’s too cumbersome to try to shuck his pants with Astarion’s knees on either side of his hips and so Halsin resigns himself to scrubbing lube off his jeans later when he reaches around to stroke over Astarion’s hole.
Astarion shivers at the touch. There’s a performance to him, despite the exhaustion setting in, and Halsin watches in idle appreciation as he arches with an exaggerated moan, displaying himself to Halsin and the camera in equal measure.
“I’m ready,” Astarion purrs, kissing along Halsin’s jaw. “Fuck me, sir.”
His teeth close around Halsin’s earlobe and Halsin digs his fingers into the curve of Astarion’s ass nearly hard enough to bruise. He feels Astarion smile against his neck, another playful nip of teeth quickly soothed over by kisses, and Halsin swipes a messy coating of lube over his fingers anyway as he warns, “I’m a lot to take.”
Astarion’s grin is sharp and bold. “Believe me, darling, I’m more than up to the challenge.”
Astarion’s skin prickles with gooseflesh as Halsin smears the cold lube over his hole, and Halsin kisses his temple in apology. He opens up easily enough for one, then two of Halsin’s fingers, suggesting some decent preparation, and so Halsin guides the head of his cock to press against his rim. “Whenever you’re ready.”
Another moan, louder than is really merited, but it’s soon replaced by a more sincere little gasp as Astarion sinks down onto the tip of Halsin’s dick. There’s a tightness at the corners of his eyes as he’s breached, lips parted in a wordless gasp, but the tension eases as he adjusts to the intrusion.
“Good,” Halsin murmurs. “Only take as much as you can.”
Astarion glares at him, looking somehow more affronted than when he’d been slapped across the face. “I will be taking every inch, thank you very much.”
It’s quite endearing, especially when his voice is still rough from sucking his cock, and Halsin gives him a teasing kiss on the tip of his nose.
Astarion huffs.
Despite his confidence, it’s a slow descent. Halsin rests his hands on Astarion’s hips, supporting rather than pushing, as Astarion lowers himself inch by tight inch onto Halsin’s dick. Sweat trickles down over his collarbone, his thighs shaking a little with the effort of holding himself up, and his expression wavers between pleasure and discomfort.
Before Halsin can offer a reposition and a pause for more preparation, he catches Petras’ mutter from off-camera, too low to be picked up by the mic, “Sometime this year, Astarion. Don’t make me get the belt.”
Astarion stiffens, the flicker of anger and fear in his eyes quickly masked with a feigned smile.
Halsin opens his mouth, but in the time it takes him to decide whether to reassure Astarion or rebuke Petras, Astarion makes the decision for him and captures his lips in a kiss. His tongue curls against Halsin’s, hot and practised, but his breath punches out in a helpless whimper when he sinks the rest of the way down onto Halsin’s cock.
Their foreheads rest together when they break apart, Astarion breathing heavily at the exertion and Halsin at the sensation of being buried deep inside him. Astarion’s cock nudges against Halsin’s torso, beading with precome but flagging a little, and Halsin wraps a hand around it just to feel the way Astarion clenches and keens at the contact. “Gods, fuck…”
Halsin grins, and strokes Astarion back to full hardness as he teases, “You look good like this, little one.”
“Getting fucked?” Astarion says, and if he wasn’t so overcome with sensation, Halsin gets the impression he would be preening. “Yes, it is something of a specialty of mine.”
“I like it.” Halsin’s hands find his ass, displaying his fucked-open hole for the camera before giving him a fond squeeze. “Pink cheeks, messy hair…” He gropes more firmly, pulling a gasp from Astarion’s lips. “The way you can’t quite catch your breath.”
Kneading Astarion’s ass with one hand, he returns the other to his cock and traces his knuckles down the underside of his shaft until Astarion is whimpering with frustration.
Halsin leans in, their noses almost touching, but pulls back when Astarion tries to kiss him again. “Do you want to come like this, sweetheart?”
“No, orgasms are beastly things,” Astarion says sarcastically. “Can’t abide them.” Halsin chuckles and is pleased when Astarion smiles in response. “Yes, of course I want to come, you dolt.”
“Then ride me.”
He doesn’t even get the words out before Astarion is whining again, lower lip pushed out in a pout, and Halsin just laughs. He really does enjoy bratty submissives.
“Of course, if you don’t want to, I can do all the work myself,” he offers. Astarion is light enough to move easily with a rock of Halsin’s hips, and he takes his hand away from his cock to curl around the leash instead. “I can gag you again, use you as I please, and be on my way. Maybe someone else will be kind enough to let you come once I’ve left.”
Astarion glowers at him, red eyes narrowing. “And I thought you were such a gentleman.”
He moans at the tug on the leash and gasps when Halsin’s free hand moves to his nipples, toying idly as Astarion squirms on his lap.
“I try,” Halsin says. “I suppose it would be too cruel to leave you unsatisfied. A different choice then: ride me and I’ll use my hand, or don’t and once I’ve finished, I’ll let you grind against my boot to get yourself off.” He smiles, calm and confident. “I admit, I’d enjoy the sight of either.”
Part of him, the darker, quiet part that relishes occasional cruelty, wants Astarion to pick the second option, if only to see him kneeling at Halsin’s feet while dripping with his spend. However, he’s unsurprised when Astarion’s answer comes.
“Fine.” He gives a dramatic little sigh even as he spreads his knees wider to brace himself on the couch. “I’ll ride you.”
Halsin uses the leash to pull him in for a kiss. “Good boy.”
Astarion lets out a hmph in return but between the pre-come rolling down the head of his cock and the flustered blush painting his cheeks, it’s clear he’s not opposed to the arrangement.
He starts to move, resting his weight back on Halsin’s thighs while he finds his balance. It’s tricky without the use of his arms but Halsin makes no move to assist as Astarion settles and begins to raise himself up and down on Halsin’s dick.
The muscles of his thighs strain as he does so, his stomach taut and cock bobbing, and Halsin exhales through his teeth at both the sight and sensation. Astarion is tight around him, wonderfully so, and between the blowjob and the handsome man now straddling his thighs, Halsin knows this won’t be an extended performance on his side.
Keeping the leash wrapped around his fist, he explores the canvas of Astarion’s body as Astarion picks up the pace. Halsin squeezes his thigh, cups his hip, trails touches down along his ribs and pelvis, and marvels at how responsive Astarion is to even the faintest brush of fingers. The strain of the task pushes past some of his facade which makes his helpless moans even more satisfying when he finds the right angle to bounce on Halsin’s dick.
Astarion tilts his head back, panting for air, and Halsin tastes the salt on his skin as he kisses down along his sternum. He feels Astarion jerk and shudder when he presses his teeth gently against each of his nipples in turn and then feels the ripple of satisfaction when Halsin cants his hips to meet Astarion’s movements.
“Please,” Astarion begs, not slowing his pace. “Your hand…”
The flinch that goes through him when Halsin closes a hand around his cock is a sight to behold. Astarion is adequately endowed by any objective standard, but Halsin’s cock isn’t the only thing that’s large about him. His hand looks huge against the straining length of Astarion’s dick.
“Please,” Astarion says, near-babbling as he rolls his hips up again and again. “Fuck, please, please, please.”
“You’ll wait until I’ve finished,” Halsin orders. “You can come once I’ve filled you up and not before.”
Another whimper, desperate rather than defiant, and Halsin just smiles. He knows that he should pull out, that porn typically appreciates the money-shots, but as much as he loves the idea of coming over Astarion’s ass or chest (or face or hair), he can’t bring himself to be anywhere other than inside him right now.
His hand stutters as he strokes Astarion’s cock, his coordination faltering as he gets closer to the edge, and when Astarion sinks back down onto him with a low, satisfied moan, Halsin can’t hold back any longer.
He comes with a groan, hips bucking up as he spills inside him, and heat curls at the pleasant tremors that go through both of them at the sensation of being filled anew.
Halsin leans back against the couch, breathing hard, and promptly devotes his attention to Astarion. His strokes are clumsy at first, limbs numbed by his release, but Astarion pushes up into them eagerly, clenching around Halsin’s newly sensitive cock as he chases his own orgasm.
He arches, letting the leash take more of his weight in a way that ignites fresh heat in Halsin’s chest, and Halsin takes pity as he writhes on his lap.
“You can come,” he murmurs. “You’ve been so good for me.”
He can’t tell whether it’s the permission or the praise that gets Astarion there, but he comes without hesitation, painting Halsin’s chest and fist with hot splashes of come. He rides him through it, head tipped back and body on full display, and Halsin knows the image alone will stay with him for weeks.
Astarion falters when he finishes, breathless and drained, and when he wobbles a little, Halsin tips him forward to rest his head against Halsin’s shoulder.
“Good boy,” he whispers, scritching through Astarion’s hair in a way that draws a small sigh. “You did well, sweetheart.”
Astarion makes an unintelligible noise, face mashed against Halsin’s shoulder.
Off-camera, Petras waves for his attention and past the haze of his own orgasm, Halsin tries to decipher the mime that Petras is attempting to convey.
He frowns when it clicks; apparently they want him to shove Astarion to the floor. Without his hands to break his fall, it would be a painful landing, possibly even a risky one, and Halsin tells himself that it’s just concern for Astarion’s safety which stops him from following directions.
Instead he lifts Astarion again, barely enough to let his softening cock slip free, and settles him back against his chest.
Astarion blinks up at him, bleary and perplexed, and Halsin hushes him before he gets tempted to mouth off again.
“Easy,” he says, stroking Astarion’s hair. “You’ve earned a rest, I think.” He kisses his forehead, feeling Astarion curl against him, loose-limbed and exhausted. “You’re okay, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”
Astarion yields, burrowing into Halsin’s warmth. He’s a mess, still smeared with sweat, drool, and come, but despite the ropes binding his arms, he settles easily in Halsin’s hold. His nose is cold where it brushes Halsin’s neck, his face buried against his collarbone, and he lets out a little sigh of contentment when Halsin traces a thumb along the length of his ear.
Quiet descends for a long moment, filled only with the sound of Halsin and Astarion catching their breath, until Dufay calls, audibly confused, “Uh, cut, I suppose?”