[Oh, this bratty little beast. This awful-terrible, awful-attractive vampire who makes everything into a competition even when they're meant to be getting along. It's infuriating and thrilling all at once, a push-pull of desire that leaves his neglected cock throbbing even as he glares savagely up at his counterpart. No matter that such a fierce stare looks so paltry so long as he has his mouth full, drooling around their sire's length as his hips grind needily against the bed, still. Still, Fenris is determined, he will not let Astarion best him twice.
But his next move need not be immediately obvious.
With a low moan Fenris splays: his body bowing low as he arches his back up, his thighs spreading open wide as cold air caresses his slickened hole. It's a show for a single person, lewd and vulgar and pointed: you almost had this. You almost had me bowing for you like this, ready to be fucked and taken and made into yours— his hips wiggling in the air, cheeks round and so easily spread, and if he had a tail, it surely would be flicking up in obvious signal: come take me if you can.
For if Fenris' own body is still aching for the slow, heavy press of Astarion's cock, oh, surely his counterpart feels the same. Surely he's so needy right now, his prick heavy and hot and so very close (so very far) from the lithe little body he almost impaled . . .
But ah: this is about Vakares, isn't it?
And Fenris means to savor this.
Every moment. Every single second, trying to burn it into his memory: the heavy weight of his cock as it presses his tongue flat, forcing his jaw open wide as he takes him into his throat. The soft groan that rumbles low in Vakares' throat as Fenris' lips cinch so tight around the base of his cock, his nose rubbing affectionately against cold skin. His cheeks go hollow as he suckles at his prick, and oh, how Fenris loves the way he can't help but buck his hips up into it: an instinctive little movement to try and force his prick even deeper as bitter droplets of precome spill down his throat.
Just like that, and he stares up at Astarion again— for right now, it's only one of them that's earning all this approval, and it isn't him.
Poor Astarion. Poor neglected Astarion, his hole spread open without a single touch; his hands so busy knotting in Fenris' hair that he hasn't a single one to spare for himself. With a little moan Fenris reaches for him, fingers wrapping so tight around the head of his prick—
And stilling.
If that was all Astarion was willing to give him, Fenris thinks, then that's all he'll get in return. Not a caress. Not the slow, steady pump he must surely be aching for. Just rhythmic squeezes around the tip of his prick— and the slow, steady caress of Fenris' thumb against his drooling slit. Rhythmically he spreads him open, mercilessly rubbing and teasing at his cock— quick, quick, slow, wasn't that the rhythm? And all the while he stares up smugly at him, his mouth full and his gaze taunting.
Little spiteful things. Little bits of misbehavior hidden in the guise of cooperation, oh, yes: Fenris can play that game.]
no subject
[Oh, this bratty little beast. This awful-terrible, awful-attractive vampire who makes everything into a competition even when they're meant to be getting along. It's infuriating and thrilling all at once, a push-pull of desire that leaves his neglected cock throbbing even as he glares savagely up at his counterpart. No matter that such a fierce stare looks so paltry so long as he has his mouth full, drooling around their sire's length as his hips grind needily against the bed, still. Still, Fenris is determined, he will not let Astarion best him twice.
But his next move need not be immediately obvious.
With a low moan Fenris splays: his body bowing low as he arches his back up, his thighs spreading open wide as cold air caresses his slickened hole. It's a show for a single person, lewd and vulgar and pointed: you almost had this. You almost had me bowing for you like this, ready to be fucked and taken and made into yours— his hips wiggling in the air, cheeks round and so easily spread, and if he had a tail, it surely would be flicking up in obvious signal: come take me if you can.
For if Fenris' own body is still aching for the slow, heavy press of Astarion's cock, oh, surely his counterpart feels the same. Surely he's so needy right now, his prick heavy and hot and so very close (so very far) from the lithe little body he almost impaled . . .
But ah: this is about Vakares, isn't it?
And Fenris means to savor this.
Every moment. Every single second, trying to burn it into his memory: the heavy weight of his cock as it presses his tongue flat, forcing his jaw open wide as he takes him into his throat. The soft groan that rumbles low in Vakares' throat as Fenris' lips cinch so tight around the base of his cock, his nose rubbing affectionately against cold skin. His cheeks go hollow as he suckles at his prick, and oh, how Fenris loves the way he can't help but buck his hips up into it: an instinctive little movement to try and force his prick even deeper as bitter droplets of precome spill down his throat.
Just like that, and he stares up at Astarion again— for right now, it's only one of them that's earning all this approval, and it isn't him.
Poor Astarion. Poor neglected Astarion, his hole spread open without a single touch; his hands so busy knotting in Fenris' hair that he hasn't a single one to spare for himself. With a little moan Fenris reaches for him, fingers wrapping so tight around the head of his prick—
And stilling.
If that was all Astarion was willing to give him, Fenris thinks, then that's all he'll get in return. Not a caress. Not the slow, steady pump he must surely be aching for. Just rhythmic squeezes around the tip of his prick— and the slow, steady caress of Fenris' thumb against his drooling slit. Rhythmically he spreads him open, mercilessly rubbing and teasing at his cock— quick, quick, slow, wasn't that the rhythm? And all the while he stares up smugly at him, his mouth full and his gaze taunting.
Little spiteful things. Little bits of misbehavior hidden in the guise of cooperation, oh, yes: Fenris can play that game.]