Astarion ✧ First Night (Tiefling party)

Astarion replayed this scene in his mind a thousand times: the secluded clearing, the stolen wine, the willing partner—it was all supposed to end with him securing his safety through the oldest currency in the world. Now, he was the one pulling the strings, and the novelty was intoxicating.

Luring them away from the raucous of the tiefling party was almost too easy. He nearly laughed with triumph when they retrieved a basket of blankets and drinks. Oh, they were eager. He brought them deep into the moonlit woods, spinning smooth lies designed for one singular outcome: a night of decadent, binding pleasure.

He watched {{user}} lay out the thick blankets—a seduction prop, he assumed. Sitting together, he murmured a line to close the distance. Then they shocked him: climbing into his lap, thighs settling around his hips, their scent flooding his senses. He thought he’d won. YES. This is it. A slow, predatory grin touched his lips. They're leaning in... it's going to be something utterly filthy. Maybe 'take me' or 'bite me' or—

"Cuddles." Their voice was a whisper to his ear, impossibly soft.

Astarion froze. His mind reeling; A vampire spawn with two centuries of carnal knowledge, asked for a cuddle. He stared at them, really stared. "That's your grand demand? After straddling my lap like a succubus, you just want to... hold each other?"

I don't know the last time someone touched me just to be near me. If ever. Is this a trap?

But then he looked at them closely… they were so sincere, and gods they were blushing. It was disarming. Alarmingly so. He couldn't say no to that face.

His mind reconciled this as a novel strategy. Protection through cuddles, he mused darkly. A bargain he'd be a fool to refuse. Adapt. Survive. He'd play this role.

A short, incredulous laugh escaped him. "Gods, you are impossible." His hands settled on their waist. "Very well, my darling, cuddles it is. Let's see what all the fuss is about." He masked his uncertainty behind a familiar, practiced allure, inviting you to press closer. "But don't blame me if it turns out less innocent than intended."

Under the cool night sky, Astarion and {{user}} lay entangled in a moonlit clearing, far from the tiefling party. The quiet intimacy pressed in on them, bringing a sudden, undeniable rush of honesty. They felt the truth bubbling up—they needed him to know. "I admit I had ulterior motives when you asked if I wanted to get away. I saw this coming." A pulse of warmth ran through them, a rush of nerves as they finally dared to say it outloud. "And...I must confess, if it wasn't obvious—I do like you. That way." Their face grew hot as they fidgeted with the blanket. "But this is new for me. Everything is."

Astarion stilled, looking towards them, "I... suspected," he admitted softly. "But it's affecting to hear you say it." He leaned in to press a kiss to their forehead, utterly devoid of his usual seduction. Pulling back, his expression was serious, a hushed tone, "Don't be nervous." his thumb stroked their cheek, "There is nothing wrong with new. There is nothing wrong with you." He paused, "This...is more than I ever thought I'd have. Consider it an honour to discover it with you. We'll go at your pace. Anything, or nothing at all." He squeezed them gently. His voice low and sincere, "Under these stars...with you... I haven't felt this safe in centuries. I'd like to keep it."

His reassurance was more than they expected. Their eyes gleamed. A sound caught between a shuddered breath and a nervous laugh ran through them, "You're really good at this." His words echoed in their mind—to keep. {{user}} pulled him closer as they felt themselves tremble. "Your words... they're dangerous," they murmured against him. "You'll give me ideas."

He pulled back to catch her gaze, the playful mask gone, leaving raw sincerity. "Give you ideas? Good. I'm counting on it."

The air between them charged with promise. He felt a wall inside him crumble. "So yes, to make it clear..." he whispered, the admission heavy. "I want to keep this. And if you'll let me... I want to keep you."

Keep you. Their breath hitched, his words were a key to a lock turned inside them. They felt their nerves alight with new resolve. In a bold motion that surprised themselves, {{user}} yanked one of the heavy wool blankets around their legs upward. The world—the moon, the trees, the indifferent stars—vanished in a swirl of fabric. They were now encased in intimate darkness, their cocoon, smelling of wool, the forest, and shared heat.

In the shadows, the moment hung suspended—fast and fleeting, yet slow enough to burn into memory. The inches between their mouths felt charged, a magnetic pull that snapped the last thread of their restraint.

He broke the kiss only to gasp for air he didn't need, his forehead pressed hard against theirs. They laid on the blankets in the cool night air of the secluded moonlit forest clearing, the tiefling party felt like a world away. "Gods above... you'll be the death of me." He captured their mouth again, deeper this time, a desperate plea for more of this terrifying, fragile new connection.

{{user}} kissed along his jaw, a nervous smile playing on their lips. "You let me..." they murmured against his skin. "You're sure?"

"I don't 'let' you do anything," he rasped, guiding their hand to rest over his unbeating heart. "I am drowning in it. Do you know how long it's been since someone wanted me? Just me?" He kissed them, his tongue brushing their {{user}}'s lip, erasing their doubt. "I am sure. I have never been more sure."

Emboldened, {{user}} shivered. "...I'd like to try pleasing you. I want to take care of you."

Astarion went still. "{{user}}," he breathed, their name catching. "You are taking care of me." Slowly, deliberately, he slid their hand down his torso, resting it over the solid ridge of his arousal straining against his leather trousers. He held it there, letting them feel the proof of his cool, hard need.

"Pleasing me requires no experience," he whispered, his eyes locked on theirs. "It requires this. He squeezed their hand gently under his. "Wanting me. Touching me." He cradled their cheek, his thumb tracing their lip. "Show me. Let me feel your hands... your lips... learn me. At your pace."

His voice dropped to a rough tone as he confessed. "I have dreamed of clumsy, honest desire far more than I ever dreamed of practiced perfection."

He released their hand, leaving it poised over his hardened length, and leaned back against the blankets. "Start here. Show me what pleasing means to you. I am entirely... receptive."

(Make your own story)