( can be read as stand-alone ) part 1 / part 2 / part 3
pairing: astarion x fem!reader (bg3)
themes and warnings: nsfw, minors do not interact! friends to lovers, relationship study, smut with a disgusting amount of feelings, a little bit of hurt/comfort, grinding, fingering, semi-public/sneaky sex, swearing.
author's note: i genuinely believe getting frisky with astarion implies a certain amount of unchoreographed mess and desperation, so here goes.
synopsis: traveling through the underdark, obscurity favors bodies getting closer.
His voice calls your name, snapping you from your lingering thoughts. Eyes blinking, wiping the sweat from your forehead, you warily peep over your shoulder to the source of light. A pale hand holds up a torch to you, waiting for you to take it. Your eyebrows shoot up, voice soft, a little drained.
“Can't you carry it yourself?”
Astarion's condescending laughter dances like a song over the rippled rocks surrounding you, bouncing over the glistening obsidian and hanging stalactites.
“Oh—I'm not the one who desperately needs it. Do try to keep up, darling.”
Your pride flickers for a moment, stung by the faint mockery in his tone. Thought yourself a paragon of stealth and agility, hiding the unsteadiness in your heels, but since your descent, your frequent slips and brawls with the complex bowels of the Underdark—followed by creative and audible blasphemy—have earned you more than a few sympathetic cackles from your traveling companions. Evidently, your tumbles haven't escaped the pale elf's observant watch.
The torch's vivid spark glides over his ruby-hued eyes, reminding you how his nature has reshaped them to savour the diffuse murkiness of the Underdark. Yours, on the other hand, are made for the surface, its glorious shimmers, the waking dawn and glowing afternoons. You accept his offering with feigned nonchalance, surrendering in recognition of your own limitations. He shoots you a softened grin, almost tender, a drop of nothing that sends a palpitation to your stomach. You sense his presence behind you the rest of the trail, invisible pupils burning a precise spot right between your shoulder blades.
The fire purs, its joyful flickers licking the opaque air, keeping the darkness at bay. Down here, it is difficult to know when eventide has fallen. The intense exhaustion sweeping everyone at once serves as a trusted indicator that the time has come to set up camp.
On a quest for a needle and a thread to repair a tear in your blouse, you've given up all attempts at furtiveness as your feet carry you towards Astarion.
You find him lounging on a slightly ragged carpet a little further away, at the verge of the light, where the tips of trembling flames begin to blend with the darkness. Unsteady light cajoles his features, biting at his sharp cheekbones, dropping reflections in his eyes as he contemplates your approach. There's barely the time to open your mouth or utter a word as you halt before him.
His hand flutters toward you. The back of his index trails lazily over the purpled bruise blooming on your knee, at his eye level, sending a pressure as soft as an ant's steps. The gesture shocks you. Disoriented, you forget to move away. His hands are cold, but you don't mind. You surprisingly do not mind.
He looks up at you.
“You bruise like a peach, you know. Don't go falling off a precipice, I'd rather not go through the trouble of climbing down those pikes and crags just to scrape up what's left of you.”
Tone's judgmental, laced with mockery and a hint of smug disapproval. In pure contrast with what he's doing to your hurt flesh. His digits move over to the scarlet scratch, texturing the skin on your calf. Caressing that spot too, the way one would the petals of a curious orchid. Studying you. You stare down at his nimble fingers, how delicate they are. Perhaps there exists a science of the touch, an arcane art you haven't yet been introduced to. You are inclined to believe in it, watching him brush over your wounds like that, without eliciting so much as a wince or nip of pain from you.
You've forgotten what you came to him for. Or perhaps you've decided you didn't really need it after all. Slipping away from his grasp, you can hear yourself wishing him a croaky goodnight before carrying your tired carcass back to the blanket near the fire.
Sleep hovers over you. You're cranky, nervous. Senses playing with you like a wild animal, enjoying the struggles of its prey before taking the first bite. You think you hear cracks, hisses over the rocks, looming shadows slipping from a crevice. Something startles you, and you jolt up. Rubbing your eyelids, your entire body's tortured with a combination of fatigue and the jitters. Feeling worse than a rabid cat.
Need to wait a while, for your pulse to calm down, the cold sweat to evaporate. Your muscles are sore as you make the effort to stand. Attentively avoiding any loose gravel that may screech your companions awake, you've picked a corner of your bedroll, quietly pulling it towards Astarion's. Is it routine now? You can't remember when you started doing it. Your sleeping habits match in that they're both terrible. Insomnia serves as a prologue to your midnight chatters, stories exchanged in a whisper, until dreams whisk you both away.
You try to read his body language as you approach. Don't want to risk tearing him away from well-deserved rest. But you notice his eyelids trembling, nostrils flaring. Despite appearances, sleep has evaded him, too. Kneeling down, you blow on his lashes, ever so gently. A hum rises from his throat, low but not unwelcoming, though warning you not to repeat your gesture. His eyes blink open, set on you.
“Nightmare or insomnia?” he inquires, tone low, raspy.
You sit one step away, gaze lingering into the neighbouring precipice, wondering if you've made a mistake leaving the proximity of the fire.
“Shouldn't come as a surprise in this gods forsaken place, but, both.” Your own voice is a little hoarse, deformed still by the last fragments of your bad dreams.
“If you're afraid of the dark, you can just say so. I won't judge—well, perhaps a little, since you are a grown, rather capable adult, and not some featherless juvenile.”
Your reaction is as instantaneous as a dog bite.
“I am positively not afraid of the dark,” you retort, caustically.
Glancing down at him precisely as you say those words, you catch the sly playfulness splashed upon his elegant features. You've given him exactly what he hoped for. A reaction, a bark. Your expression shifts, torn between annoyance and amusement. He knows how you work. Knows it a little too well. How to tease and nudge at your blasted pride. It works, though. You're not thinking about the shadows anymore.
“If not the dark, what's troubling you?” he asks. Voice is genuine this time.
You sigh as you lie back down, hands joined over your stomach, picking at your nails.
“Let's not get into it now.”
Perhaps your lack of loquacity perplexes him. He props himself up on an elbow to look at you. You can't help but notice the creases between his eyebrows, small lines of concern. It takes an excruciating amount of self-control not to extend your hand towards his face, to brush your fingers over those lines.
“I've been enjoying our conversations, you know? And the simple fact that you're here tells me you have as well. But, if you didn't come here to talk, what did you come for?”
He speaks with cool detachment, but you catch a hint of misplaced incitement in his words. Throwing a dare at you. Daring you to what?
“Well, you're not sleeping either. What's keeping you up?” you diplomatically murmur, shamelessly shifting the subject.
He scoffs at your lack of subtlety, but is kind enough to let it slide—perhaps to avoid answering your question. His back presses against his bedroll once more, relinquishing you from his piercing gaze.
Silence settles between you like a foreign entity.
Dialogue isn't difficult with Astarion. Perhaps it used to be, just a little, when you first met. When he was all devious charm, calculated manners and crafted, lascivious smiles. And when your own guard was built so high, you couldn't even show you were breathless in public without fearing it a blatant sign of weakness. Closeness fell between you the way it often does, unexpectedly, slowly, peeling each other away one layer at a time. Snarky jokes around the fire. Comparing technique and bladework. Aligning what you had in common like marbles on the floor, discovering with a pinch of surprise that there were more than you ever suspected. A helping hand, a drop of blood. Confessions, at the heart of your sleepless nights.
This is new, though. The simple act of being. Existing beside the other, beyond the need to fill the space with words. Just the soothing crepitations of the fire and the presence of the other, intimate, comforting in the vertiginous dusk.
You turn your head, pupils gliding along the form of his profile, one you've come to memorize by now, even in the timid light. Can't help but notice the dark circles, wine-hued, sitting like bruises under his lower lashes.
“How have you been feeding down here?” you ask.
He doesn't even try to lie.
“I haven't.”
Could've guessed it yourself. Should've, actually. Myconids, earth elementals, flesh built with rot or minerals; the local wild game doesn't exhibit much in terms of veins and arteries to quench a vampire's thirst. And you haven't invited him to drink from you in a while. Haven't even thought of it, you've simply been too exhausted and out of your usual mind to do so. You know he isn't resentful, hasn't even touched on the subject with you. But the possibility that he could be choking on his own hunger and not uttering a word of it worries you.
“Would you like some of my blood now?” you ask carefully, after a brief pause.
“Darling, half your blood's currently painting the trails of the Underdark. I don't think there's much left to spare.”
His tone snaps like a dry twig, a little more abrasive than you expected. You sense his sourness isn't directed at you, more so born from the frustration of having to turn you down. The need to show some—gods forbid—restrain and reason. All rather unlike him. It dawns on you, a thought, once fermenting at the back of your mind, suddenly propelled forward, hitting you with such simple violence you can almost feel it undulate in your chest. Astarion cares about you.
“Fine. It's fine,” you mutter after a moment, suddenly troubled by the silence. Not sure who you're really talking to. A deep sigh. “Just, consider my neck at your disposal, should you ever need it.”
Often, when lying down, opening your jugular to him, you'd think of the way some wild beasts play among themselves, rolling over, showing their bellies to their mates as a sign of trust. You trust him, you wonder if he knows. But above all, you hope the reverse is true.
You're caught off guard when his body shifts next to you, his scent warming your face like a soft breeze. He's closer than before now, hovering barely at arm's length, his wrist bumping into your shoulder as he steadies himself above you. You recognize this, the typical prelude to his lips latching onto your neck, before the fangs pierce your skin, before your mind is sent into a haze as he satiates his thirst. His gaze locks with yours once again, a smile teasing his lips.
“You're sweet.” The tip of his canines glistens before vanishing. Can tell he means those words, as simple as they are. But there's a quality to them, something gentle.
So you play along. Holding on to your words, exposing your throat, letting the back of your head roll on the fabric your body is nestled on. Wondering if he'll do it, forgoing his initial reluctance just to catch a taste.
His hand touches you first. You weren't expecting this. Wide palm and gracile fingers wrap around your neck. He doesn't grip, or grasp, or squeeze. They simply rest there, thumb lightly stroking the tense flesh under your chin. You can hear your heart tremble. Perhaps that's what he's chasing: a measure, your pulse, quickening below his digits. When he lets go, you inhale, not realizing you had been holding your breath.
You're waiting for what comes next. Those wintry shards entering you, iciness spreading to your bones, contrasting with the warm droplets cascading across your shoulder from the punctured wound. You remember one early night, Astarion lost in the pursuit of those rebellious drops, straying away from the patch of skin he usually contained himself to, tongue dragging all the way down to your collarbone. The look you shot him then, astonished, dizzy. He never did it again after that.
Now his nose grazes your ear, mouth nuzzling your jugular. Pecking at the base of your jaw, gliding down, following the precious lines of your sensitive anatomy. The bite doesn't come. He lingers, taking his time. Lips nibbling at your skin, abandoning a thin veil of dampness in a trail of kisses. This is new, too. Confusion tickles you. Not sure if you should speak, you're afraid any misplaced word would dispel him. Shit, you really don't want this to end.
A delicate drowsiness washes over you. You find his hair, tentatively pulling at the ivory locks. His caress halts right where your neck curves into your shoulder. An ungovernable sigh escapes you, eyelids almost fluttering shut. His canines tease you, tongue running over the fragile skin.
“Mmh. So much warmer than usual.”
Words spoken directly into your neck, sending vibrations all the way to your spine, your guts, further below. There's a bell ringing somewhere in the pits of your consciousness, some smug slice of you singing you're really fucked now, aren't you? It's hard to move, even more so to think. The intoxicating delight of surrendering to a pull you've craved, fought against with all your might. Turns out your might is pretty feeble, brought down by a pair of fickle lips and just the right words spoken in your ear. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Without warning, Astarion withdraws from your neck, and it's like something was just violently pried from your avid hands. Exchanging looks, assessing the other. He can't be out of breath, but you are, and you haven't even moved. He notices this; eyes shine deviously, thinking I did that. You're the first to speak again. Can barely recognize your own voice, the way it drips with want.
“I think I might kiss you now.”
He purrs. “Oh, such a corny line, my sweet.”
“I learned from the best.” You jest, hand still in his curls, entranced by the way they cuddle your fingers. Heart's ticking like a clock, impatient, desperate.
“Can I?” you ask again in a murmur, the tip of your nose lightly brushing his.
He kisses you first. Skipping the preamble and the timid pecks, stealing what you both desire. Mouth meeting yours with such turbulence, there's a knock of teeth or fangs on your lower lip, a spark of pain, a drop of iron-flavored blood. His haste ravishes you, lips drinking you insane. Like falling into a lake during the heart of winter.
Your grip on his locks grows firmer. You taste herbs and brandy. He's told you about it before, his tricks to push away scents of the undead. Never imagined the fragrance would linger in his kiss as well. You can't contain the faint laughter that spills from you at the realization. Puzzled, he pulls an inch away, observing you. His lips glisten, wet from your kiss.
“Is this… funny to you?”. Astarion's benign outrage stirs a warm gush in your chest. Your fondness for him's like honey, dripping down your throat, wiping away any residual anxiety. You caress his cheek with the back of your finger, mimicking his move from before, when he nearly drove you insane just from brushing over your wounds.
“No. 'Course not. Just feeling a little drunk now, that's all,” you tease, leaving him the liberty of dissecting your cryptic phrasing on his own.
Your hand has slipped to the nape of his neck, guiding him back to you. Sucking his lower lip into your mouth, biting on the plump flesh. Savouring the edges of his smile. He hums, plays with the hem of your shirt, slips a hand under the garment. Following the shape of your waist, your stomach, the soft base of your breasts. Mapping you without an ounce of shame.
“Feeling adventurous?” you buzz.
“Hard not to, with you.” His thumb flickers over the curve of your nipple. You bite your tongue, trying to keep your gasp of surprise to yourself. Desire pulsates through your core.
His knees have settled between your thighs, bumping your legs slightly apart. The sudden grimace that bends your mouth doesn't escape him.
“What's wrong, dear?”
“Bruise the size of Avernus, right there.”
“Apologies. Let's not… rough you up too much then.”
Gods, the air of him, as he says those words. Need to knock some of the self-satisfaction out of the elf. Your back arches to meet his weight, hips pushed to slot against his. He groans from the sudden contact and it's worth everything, turns you on out of your damned mind. You realize how aroused he is when his erection pushes into your inner thigh. Your mind goes blank, caught in your own trap. Hips roll again, cautiously. There's the faint rustle from your night attires. And friction. Your covered pussy teasing his hard length in a rocky rhythm, feeling the shape of him, pressed against your clit.
Pausing your sway, your feverish gaze searches his.
“Is this okay?”
Oh. Need a second to take the sight in. Eyelids heavy, he's biting the inside of his cheek, on the verge of dissolving in your arms. And you've barely done anything. Astarion pulls you closer, hand flush on the small of your back. A grin falls to your lips. You're gentler this time. Rhythm slow, viciously patient, watching him closely, right as your core connects with his. Want to see how he reacts, every flourishing quiver of pleasure, the way he bites back a moan when your cunt drags along his bulge. Fabric's drenched there, can feel it when you move, how it digs into you as you massage him. Brain's mush now. Feels too fucking good. Your wetness warms his cock through the layers of clothing.
It's pleasure and it's agony. You want more, to rip apart the fabric separating you. Want the curves and lines of his body buried into yours. Wanna feel all of him, not just a silhouette. Around you. Inside you. This isn't enough.
A poorly muffled whimper, yours, echoes through the circling obscurity.
His hand covers your hipbone, lowering you back down, severing the rousing friction between your centers. Leaving you mouth agape, starved. Almond eyes stare you down, blazing with something you can't quite name.
“Why?” is all you manage to mutter.
He doesn't reply, but peeks forward to the fire, to your sleeping companions, not as far removed as you thought. You follow his gaze, swallowing strenuously.
“Be quiet, my darling.”
Your face heats up. The last thing you want is to wake your peers up with your shameless rutting.
“This isn't how I imagined having you,” he adds in a low voice. “Not in the middle of some damp, insalubrious grotto, with our friends just one step away…”
“So you have imagined it?”
He smirks. Hand gently stroking your waist.
“There are other things we can do—for now, at least. Less… exuberant things, perhaps.”
You raise an eyebrow, taken aback.
“Such as?”
He hums, a mischievous shine livening his gaze, as if holding onto a secret he doesn't want to share. You rise a little, just enough to bring your faces closer.
“Such as?” you repeat, separating each syllable. Your lips ghost over his cheekbone.
There's a short, suspended moment. Your breath fills the silence. Two bodies entwined like sleeping snakes.
“You're lovely,” he says. And you sense he isn't playing anymore.
He searches your eyes. You let them engulf you, those crimson irides, trying to remember the last time someone looked at you like this. The answer is short: this is the first time.
“Let me make you feel good,” he murmurs, lips so close to yours, you can almost taste them again. You sense his desire, swirling around you like vines. He isn't coy about it, and something's aching between your thighs.
“What about you?” you protest with a disappointed frown.
“Please. Tonight, this is all I want.”
Your breath hitches from a faint, anxious pull in your chest, a sudden worry that wasn't there before. Perhaps he feels you tense up; there's that crease between his eyebrows again. Your next words are spoken carefully, as if walking through a dark pond, trying to see how deep the water runs.
“You know, when I let you drink from me, it isn't because I expect something in return.”
His expression softens.
“I know. And this is very different.”
“Are you sure?”
“Darling, must I beg some more for the chance to make you cum? Because I will, and gladly so.”
It doesn't come down to this, tragically. Your ability to speak vanishes soon enough.
Astarion's mouth finds yours. He's less hurried than before. Delicate, unwrapping you. His knuckles caress your stomach, slipping below the waistband of your underwear. You gasp at the sudden coolness of his touch. His knee pushes against yours, parting your legs a little further. Can feel the heel of his hand now, firm over your pelvis. Two fingers slide further below. Parting you. Spreading your slick in an upwards back and forth, so damn slowly, your pussy flutters in despair. One of your hands grabs his shoulder to steady yourself. Your skin's electric, drinking in each of his movements. His middle finger draws over your clit in a circular motion, making your nerves jolt. A disgusting wail escapes you. Need to break away from his kiss to search for air. You're soaked already from the senseless humping, now covering his joints and palm with your wetness.
His digits press into you, torturously languid. You bury your face into his neck. All thoughts have decidedly left your mind. When he halts his movement, you sigh a protestative groan into his ear. Fuck, you need him to move again. Your hips stagger, melting into his touch, cunt slipping on his wet fingers. Begging for him to keep going. Makes him laugh, with how eager you are.
“You're cruel,” you whisper. Sharp teeth gently bite your shoulder in response. He doesn't satisfy you right away. Taking the time to savour the tight hug of your spasming pussy, how it twitches from him filling you.
“Look at me, darling.”
Such a simple task feels impossible. Not with his fingers pressed into you like that. Stifled moans bundle up in your throat; you're embracing silence with an open mouth. As you arduously peel yourself away, he watches you, your furrowed brows, watery eyes, lips raw from his kisses and bites. You're a fucking vision.
“My beauty… How perfect you are,” he says, almost in a breath. Murmured praises make your entire body flicker. He picks up a rhythm at last, joints thrusting into you, forcing a whimper out of your pretty mouth. “Promised I'd make you feel good.” Your pussy feels so deliriously soft, encircling him. Could devour you then and there, your companions be damned.Scattered beads of sweat roll across your skin to Astarion's. His pace quickens, knuckles brushing your flesh as his digits drag along your velvety walls. “Are you mine?”.
Mind wiped clean of care, you've stopped worrying about your breathy sobs or the sinful squelching composed by his curved fingers, sliding in and out of you.
“Yes.”
“Say it properly,” he purrs into your neck.
You bite your lip. Gods, he's a tease and you're so close to ecstasy your vision's a blur.
“I'm—Can't...”
Air escapes you. Not sure you know how to speak anymore, the way you're choking on the pleasure he inflicts upon you. Your nails dig into his shoulders, searching for balance. He presses his forehead to yours.
It swallows you completely, the wave of his touch, merciless, this implacable pressure on your sensitive nub. How his fingers spread your folds, searching for what makes you cry, pinching and caressing and pushing his way through. The pulse of your heart quickens, matching the throbbing of your cunt. Heat swallows your guts when his fingers dig into you again, stirring you from the inside, coaxing your body into an uncontrollable quiver.
Grasping the back of his neck, you come with your eyes half closed, drowning into him, mouth open in a silent cry. Pleasure bites at your limbs as he squeezes every last drop of shaking delight from you. He kisses you furiously, tongue slipping into your mouth, relishing the shudders of your overstimulated pussy as it clenches around him. When he pulls out, you can see how his skin glistens, coated in you.
Your mind's a delicious blur when you feel the tips of his index and middle fingers rest on your bottom lip. He doesn't say anything. You part your lips, welcoming his digits on your tongue. Tasting yourself, mixing your spit with the slick you've abandoned on the pads of his slender fingers, as he chased your high for you. Your gaze tangles with his. He's looking at you, a glimmer in his eyes, enthralled at the sight of your perfect mouth suckling him. When you let go, he whispers.
“Good girl.”
You won't recover anytime soon if he keeps saying things like that.
A little dazed, you see him press a handkerchief on the flesh between your legs. Adjusting your loosened clothing next, pulling your top down, brushing your hair away from your face. Finally, he collapses next to you, offering you the room to breathe at ease.
Your body's your own again. The air seems cool around you, like you've been brought back to a strange reality you don't quite recognize.
Astarion watches you come down. Listening to your breathing and your pulse until it has slowed down, becoming barely perceptible. Seconds stretch before he speaks again, so damn softly you almost miss his words.
“Have we cured that fear of the dark?”
The corner of his mouth curves into a grin.
You respond with an exhale and move to look at him. Your body's still palpitating from his ministrations, basking in the lingering delight shivering through your veins. You turn over after a moment, lying almost on your stomach to press yourself against him. He hums and responds to your touch, welcoming you closer. Your arm wraps around his waist, pale locks tickling your temple.
A/N: Requested by @kakashipandadog for 3.5k Spooky Bingo (Cult Sacrifice)
You’re captured on a scouting mission, believing that you’re being left to your fate. At your most desperate moment, help arrives.
ao3 // main masterlist // 3.5k spooky bingo masterlist
The stones are singing. Chanting.
That is all you see and sense. There is solid rock beneath your palm and pressed against your cheek. Voices upon voices all communing in unison wrap around you, and yet there is something deeper here you cannot place. Perhaps if you just blink away the haze or rub at your eyes, your vision will clear and it will come to you.
Have you failed your king? You must have. Why else are you so disoriented?
You attempt to stretch, to move your limbs, but scratchy resistance greets you, rubbing against your leather armor and bits of exposed skin.
Groaning, you close your eyes.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
The chanting becomes clearer—becomes guttural.
No. The stones are not singing. Nor do the trees. These are voices. Living and present.
On your next exhalation, you twist just enough and see a dark sky above you. There are no stars—just a void. Around you are torches, burning bright with fire but providing no warmth. You are tied down with rope to a large stone slab. Around you are orcs, circling your restrained body, beating their chests and stomping their feet.
From their mouths comes the language of their maker. Black Speech. An abomination. You do not know the words or what they mean but you recognize it for what it is.
There is no hope here.
You are to be sacrificed to something and no one is coming to rescue you.
This was supposed to be simple scouting. King Thranduil gave you instructions, but you've failed to return. Will he send someone to find you? Or is your fate already sealed?
With what little movement you have, you attempt to search for your weapons. While your bow and quiver of arrows are gone, the orcs may have overlooked the hidden daggers. Orcs are not particularly smart and it’s entirely possible you might find something sharp to cut your way out. Defending yourself is a different matter. There are several dozen orcs, and if you only wield a small knife, you may not make it far once you’ve freed yourself from your bonds.
The chanting increases, becoming a crescendo. One of the orcs breaks from the group moving toward you with their serrated blade held high. It raises it over its head, ready and poised to bring it down.
Your fingers splay wide, roaming down to grasp at your boot. This is your last chance.
It's malicious grin wanes, body seizing suddenly as if frozen in ice as it prepares to drive the blade home.
You don't know what to make of this until your gaze drops and lands on the blade sticking out the orcs stomach. The point of the metal is coated in black blood.
Your eyes widen as it's yanked out and the orc falls sideways, revealing King Thranduil.
He's ethereal and calm, blade already spinning to strike another orc down.
He came for you.
King Thranduil did not come alone. There are several other Elves with him, each with blade or bow, cutting through the small horde of orcs with ease.
Hope rises, and with it comes a wave of determination. With another twist, you manage to reach your boot, an in it, a dagger. Removing it, you turn it on the rope, sawing as fast as you can as everything around you descends into chaos.
The threads fray, and the rope snaps. You move to the next, already feeling lighter. It is unraveling—loosening—but it is entirely too slow. At the moment, you are at the mercy of others. Though you are being rescued, you still have to depend on yourself.
An orc comes rushing forward as just as you start on the final tightened rope holding you in place. You saw at it manically, breath coming in quick bursts as you ready for the incoming blow. You might not have the use of your legs but you have your arms.
The orc swings—and the rope snaps.
Turning the blade handle around in your palm, you thrust upward, sinking the knife into the orc’s throat.
It gurgles, dark blood bubbling in its mouth.
Withdrawing the knife brings more blood with it, and the orc keels over, hitting the ground hard.
King Thranduil appears behind it, sword raised and at the ready, his gaze following the corpse. That icy stare turns on you, becoming soft and concerned. There is momentarily flare of affection that blooms in your chest.
You hastily swat the feeling away. It’s not something you can act on.
“You came for me,” you say, voice slightly raspy from disuse.
That softness only intensifies in his eyes, and it resonates, wrapping you up in quiet comfort.
“I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving you behind.”
◜pairing: astarion ⨯ fem!healer!reader
◜rating: MDNI 18+ ┊ wc: 13K
◜cw: fluff, sweet-dirty talk, wounds caring, previous sexual tension, feelings, rain, porn with some plot, first time sex, body worship, bodily fluids, piv, masturbation [F, M], blowjob, cock warming-riding, creampie, overstimulation, aftercare, morning talk.
▹ summary. one brow arched. “oh, really?” he asked sarcastically. “then perhaps you can explain why you’re straddling me like you are, love.”
A/N. english isn't my native language, sorry if there are grammar mistakes.
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‘He was foolish. Reckless. Utterly stupid.’
Those words spun like a storm in your mind as you watched Astarion dash into danger. All because Gale, with one of his grandiose schemes, asked him to be a distraction—a distraction, of all things. The sheer absurdity grated on you, especially after that cocky, charming smile Astarion showed.
For all his talk of survival and his centuries-old staying alive, he seemed oblivious to the risks he took, as if he actually believed he was invincible. That careless swagger, that excitement in his eyes—it frustrated you to no end. Why does he have to be like this?
You were the only one in the camp capable of tending to wounds after Shadowheart decided to go off on her own because of a disagreement. And he knew it all too well.
He’d charged straight ahead of a group of Flaming Fists, who’d been hell-bent on killing you all after a disastrous misunderstanding. How you’d managed to escape with just minor injuries was still beyond your reach, but one thing was clear: if his recklessness didn’t kill him, you might do it yourself.
When he came to you later, sheepishly asking for a hand with his wounds, you were ready to refuse—but then he looked at you, with that pleading puppy look in his eyes that seemed to make all your frustration melt in an instant… and you just gave in.
You stepped out of your tent, dressed in your camp clothes and carrying a small bag with bandages and supplies. The moment the cold night breeze swept over your face and bare arms, you regretted your clothing.
But you headed towards Astarion’s tent. And as you crossed the camp, the faint patter of raindrops began to break the silence, with cool droplets striking the ground. You quickened your pace; the last thing you needed right now was to catch a cold.
The flap of the tent swayed gently in the breeze as you lifted your hand to brush the canvas aside and stepped in.
Inside, there was a warm setting given by some candles, and the rich scent of Astarion quickly enveloped you—hints of brandy and rosemary. And there he lay, reclining on his bedroll against some plushy pillows, with an opened book resting idly in his hands, though he wasn’t reading. His crimson eyes lifted rapidly to meet yours by the moment you entered, his brow raising slightly in surprise before a smile spread on his lips.
Astarion set his book aside with an elegant flourish, sitting a bit as his hand reached to help you enter in. “Ah, my darling... at last. I was beginning to think you’d leave me alone all nigh—” His words cut off abruptly as your palm connected sharply with his cheek.
“That’s for risking your life like a fool.” You snapped as you sat beside him on his bedroll.
He lifted a hand to his cheek and soothed the stinging sensation, shocked but faintly amused by your unexpected reaction. Before he could even part his lips to say something, you raised a finger to cut him off while dropping your bag on the bedroll with a firm thud.
“Honestly, Astarion, what in the hells were you thinking?” You demanded, already taking a cloth from your bag. You didn't even wait for him to reply and just reached for his arm, where a nasty wound marred his porcelain skin. “Running in like that without a second thought...” You murmured to yourself, furrowing your brows in worry.
Letting out a sigh, you carefully wiped the wound. “What if I hadn’t been there? Or if you’d got ki—” You shut yourself, swallowing down the knot of anxiety that had lodged in your throat since the fight ended. Memories of that night at the Tiefling’s party appeared in your mind—when, just for a moment, he’d looked at you beyond his enchanting demeanour. And how that left you feeling fragile in a way you weren’t ready to confront.
After a moment, you spoke more calmly, “You can’t keep doing this, Astarion. You can’t keep risking yourself as if you don’t matter.”
As you dabbed carefully at another cut, his face tensed in a grimace, and you couldn't hold back any longer. “I don’t care how bold you think you are, Astarion—there’s no excuse for being so imprudent. You’re not some disposable distraction, no matter what Gale or anyone else thinks.” You noticed how one of his eyebrows raised with that glint in his eyes. “And don’t even think about giving me that look.”
For once, he simply fell silent, watching how your hands moved in his arm with the cool cloth with... perhaps an affectionate expression. Then his voice dropped, gentler than you'd ever heard it. “I didn't realise you cared about me... quite this much.”
Your hands froze briefly, feeling a heat rising to your cheeks. You controlled your feelings. “Well, someone has to keep you in line, and I’m fairly certain neither of our lovely friends would be up to the task.” You clarified, somewhat exasperated, but with some gentility in your tone.
You heard a soft chuckling from him, as he was aware of the truth in your words. Gently, his hand reached out to caress yours. “It means... more than you think. To have someone caring.” As your eyes dropped to his hand and then his face, you saw past his charm for a fleeting moment, past his sly smile to the man who hadn't known kindness in far too long. “Thank you.”
Your eyes widened while your cheeks rose even more, quickly looking again to his arm as you wiped another open wound. You cleared your throat. “Just... try not to make me need to patch you up every time we get into trouble, alright? For my sanity, if nothing else.”
He gently caressed the back of your hand one last time before letting his hand fall to his lap. “Oh, and miss all the attention you give me?” He looked into your eyes, pouting a little but taking in the seriousness in your face. “Fine. I’ll be more careful, love.” His voice was laced with a teasing warmth, easing the sting of worry in your chest, making it almost worth it.
The rain began to fall harder, the deafening through of it slapping against the canvas. When you looked at his shirt, there was something about how it had dark patches of blood through that caught your attention. You could almost see the bruises starting to form and the scratches beneath the fabric.
You glanced up at him again. “Astarion, take that shirt off; I need to see what’s under it.”
He raised one of his eyebrows. “Eager, aren't we?” He smirked. “I suppose I can indulge you, darling...”
You gave him a soft smile for his tease, speaking exasperated but amused. “I’m sure you’ve got wounds under there, Astarion. Just take it off.”
His smirk widened, clearly enjoying. “Such impatience... Very well, love. You’ve earned the right to see what lies beneath.” Then he reached for the hem of his classic white shirt, the delicate fabric gathering in his hands before he tugged it over his head in one fluid move, slightly disheveling his curls.
The shirt slipped away, revealing his chest and the sharp definition of his collarbones. The flickering candlelight danced across his skin, casting shadows over the subtle contours of his physique. His movements were unhurried as he was offering you a glimpse.
As he tossed the garment aside carelessly, it landed in a heap near the edge of the bedroll. The air between you seemed to shift. His crimson eyes showed a slight hint of vulnerability that he quickly masked with a smirk.
“Better?” He drawled, his usual charm creeping back. “Is the view satisfactory, or are you planning to strip me further?”
You rolled your eyes, though the warmth blooming in your cheeks betrayed your mock tiresomeness. “Oh, stop. I’m only trying to see how severe the damage is. Not everything has to be an invitation for your theatrics.” With the cloth in hand, you pressed it gently to a scrape on his shoulder.
Trying to focus solely on the task at hand, you tried not to stare too long at the sight before you, but the way you moved closer left a sense of intimacy that you couldn't quite ignore. The quiet hum of your fingers tracing his chest and the lines of his abdomen made you feel the way his skin seemed to breathe beneath your fingertips. And you could swear that you heard almost inaudible sighs from him when your hands brushed over particularly tender sites.
The storm raged harder, hammering relentlessly against the tent as if the heavens insisted on being heard.
The wounds were worse than you thought—a mixture of gashes and dark bruises, a few of them with a touch of infection already setting in. Your eyes faltered briefly when your heart tightened at this sight as you moved from one injury to the next, cleaning them.
Astarion's gaze remained fixed on you, changing between your hands and your preoccupied expression. For once, the usual, confident, and charismatic vampire who normally danced with danger and seductiveness had taken his mask off. Showing the face of someone who, for once, truly trusted in someone else and allowed you to take care of him.
His breath caught when you reached a particularly deep gash along his abdomen, and you had to steady yourself to not flinch with him. The sound of his discomfort sent a tremor through your hands. Still, he kept his endurance and didn't flinch away from you; this only made your chest ache more.
He broke the silence with a low mutter with an odd weariness. “You should stop doing that.”
Your fingers froze, halting mid-motion. “Stop what?” You asked, but not looking up, trying to maintain your focus.
“Caring so much,” he replied quietly. “It doesn’t suit you.”
You stilled, taken aback by his words, before you finally looked up to meet his gaze. “You’re a fool.” You shot back.
He let out a soft laugh, but it wasn’t the usual mocking sound; no, it sounded with a subtle trace of gratitude, or perhaps something far more complicated for him.
“You know,” he added after a long moment, his voice lower now, “I’m not used to this. To someone looking after me.”
You let your hands rest on his waist, looking up once more. “I’m not doing this because you’re special,” you replied with a snark tone. “I’m doing it because you’re an idiot, Astarion. And if you keep getting yourself hurt like this, I might just tie you up next time to keep you out of trouble.”
His lips showed that smile of his again, though more tenderly. “Ah, my very own personal keeper. What would I do without you, darling?”
After you grabbed and secured a bandage around his waist for his deep wound, you allowed your hands to stay on his body moments longer than necessary. You could feel the enveloping air between you; the silence was tense, though neither of you moved or said anything. Astarion's pupils were dilated looking at you, and they held a certain depth that seemed to pull at you.
Your mind was still so wrapped up in the care you'd given him that you barely noticed the shift in your own position until you relaxed to adjust the posture of your body. That's when the realisation hit you like a punch to the gut—you were straddling him.
Your knees rested on either side of his hips, and you could feel the constant pressure of his pelvis against yours in a way that felt far too out of place.
A sharp breath caught in your throat, and you instinctively stiffened while a rush of hotness flooded your chest. Your mind started to race: ‘How long have we been like this? How had I not noticed this before?’ The tightness of your hips against his, the way your bodies seemed to fit together so... naturally—it was impossible to ignore.
But Astarion? He didn’t falter even for a second. His body remained relaxed beneath yours, with some sort of steady confidence, like he had no intention of acknowledging the shift in the dynamic. There was the faintest shift in his posture, a barely perceptible tightening of his grip on your thigh, but it went away in an instant.
“Getting comfortable, darling?” He spoke smoothly, with a dangerous and devilishly enticing tone. His lips curled into that signature grin of his, but this time it was different; there was no teasing edge, no light-hearted mockery. Instead, there was a subtle weight to it, as it appeared to hold more meaning than it usually did.
“I must admit, I didn’t think you’d be so forward, love.” He purred. There was no mistaking the satisfaction in his voice, the quiet thrill touring his body of the intimacy at that moment.
The hand on your thigh slowly slid to your hip, allowing his fingers to linger there briefly before trailing up to your waist. You straightened up immediately, your face flushing while your pulse hammered in your chest because you had never been this close to him before—really close. Too close.
“I wasn't... trying to be forward...” Your voice tumbled, feeling a nervous tension twisting in your gut. Your words stumbled over each other, sharper than you meant them to be. “I was just trying to—”
“Trying to cure me, I know,” he interrupted, his soft chuckle rolling over you like a sensual caress. “Though, love, such a delicate position for a healer. Wouldn’t you agree?” His voice dipped, low and molten, sharpening his smile into something far more dangerous. His eyes were locked on yours, unfaltering, almost daring you to react.
Everything else blurred into insignificance. All you could hear was the erratic pounding of your own heartbeat and his breathing, far too steady for the situation.
“I...” you started, but the tightness in your throat made it difficult to say a word. You didn’t know what to say; you didn’t even know if you wanted to break the silence hanging between you. “We should probably...” The sentence fizzled out, as useless as your resolve to push away the growing tension.
Before you could even think of anything else, the heat of his touch burnt through the fabric of your pyjamas, making your skin tingle in its wake. His hand slid up your side, grazing your ribs and the curvature of your breast with his thumb before setting at your waist to grip it firmly. The way his thumb slowly began to stroke the curve of your waist only made your nervousness get worse. His touching wasn't just casual—it was as if he wanted to test your reaction.
A rush of sensations made it impossible to think clearly, your body betraying you. His posture—his other elbow propped for support—the constant pressing of his crotch against yours, his hand on your waist—it all pulled you into a current you weren’t sure you could fight.
“Go on,” he purred with the faintest hint of mockery. His gaze moved to your lips, as though he could draw out the answer with nothing but his stare. His fingers flexed slightly against your waist, the pressure sending a ripple of heat skittering through you. “What was it you were saying? Something about what we should do?”
You couldn’t meet his eyes, instead focusing on your hands as they rested awkwardly near his chest, fingers twitching. The heat building between your thighs crept upward, spreading through your belly like a forest fire. You felt flushed and shivering, not just from the closeness but from the way he was glancing at you—like you were the only thing in the world worth his attention.
You weren't prepared for this; you hadn't anticipated that the barriers you thought were between you would collapse into nothing so abruptly.
Astarion’s voice cut through your thoughts like a blade. “Are you going to keep me here all night, love?” His tone kept low, almost a growl.
You struggled to string together coherent thoughts before saying something. “I didn't know you wanted... I didn't think...” The words stumbled out again, barely audible as your voice betrayed you.
His smirk deepened, and his crimson eyes held a predatory gleam that made your stomach twist and flutter all at once. “Don’t play coy with me, darling.” His voice was velvety enough to bury each word into your ears. “I know you’ve thought about this—about me. I can see it, feel it. You want this as much as I do.” You tried to look away to escape his gaze, but it was impossible. His eyes held you captive, burning with something raw and unapologetically ravenous.
Your eyes widened as he tugged you closer with a calculated ease that made you perfectly aligned with him—causing your pussy to rub directly on his cock. The feeling made every inch of you stand on edge, your body betraying you with a tremor you couldn’t suppress. Then he reclined back against his pillows more comfortably before his other hand glided up your thigh. “Relax, darling...” He purred lowly, his tone a sensuous command that curled around you like smoke.
You became instantly conscious of the burning sensation beneath you—the growing hardness pressing insistently against your cunt. Your thoughts whirled, panic and desire colliding in a tumult. ‘How did I end up like this?’ But the answer was painfully clear—he had led you, and you’d followed without resistance for being distracted caring for him.
“I... I wasn't planning... this.” You forced yourself to meet his gaze, but his eyes—bold and piercing—made it impossible to hold.
One brow arched. “Oh, really?” He asked sarcastically. “Then perhaps you can explain why you’re straddling me like you are, love.”
His hardening length was impossible to ignore, even through the barrier of clothes, the sensation making heat surge through you in torrents. You swallowed hard. “I… It’s only because you moved me—” You tried to protest, but Astarion pressed a finger to your lips to silence you before leaning in to kiss your neck. “Moved you, did I?” He teasingly whispered against your skin. “Then don’t even think of moving, love... you're not going anywhere.”
Those words echoed in your ears. You knew you’d been fighting with your feelings since that night with the tieflings—when you’d seen him in his tent with his wine focused entirely on you, ignoring everyone else. You’d told yourself it was just the wine, the moment, but now you could hardly keep up the pretence.
For a hesitant moment, you thought about pulling away—but then his expression softened, almost looking if his black pupils were begging for you to stay with him, to kiss him when he noticed your intentions as you stared at his lips and slowly you hovered them with yours; the distance seemed endless.
With a small effort, you leaned in and kissed his lips, and you could feel how he smiled, clearly delighted by your boldness and the way your hand curled at his nape to draw him to you. The motions of your lips were slow, unsure. But as soon as you felt his opening slightly against yours, the shyness began to fade.
His hands clamped on your hips to pull you closer until there wasn't any space for doubt or even space untouched between you, and you could feel him—all of him. The pressure of his cock perfectly aligned with your entrance provoked you to gasp against his mouth; even in the hesitation, he gave you no choice but to lean into him, to crave more and push past the uncertainty that had held you back.
He just seemed to want more, that he couldn’t get enough of you. His mouth felt as if it were burning yours. The kiss started slow and tentative, but that didn't last. His lips grew more insistent as he deepened the kiss, tilting his head and parting yours with ease to slip his tongue between your lips in a hurry. This made you pant by the initial shock of it, racing your heart. Your thoughts began to dissolve, leaving only the moment, and you simply surrendered to the sensation.
The swipes of his tongue weren’t gentle at all. He was implacable, exploring your mouth, moving deeper. His kiss wasn’t just a kiss—it was an invitation, a way to encourage you. And as you accepted, you met his tongue with your own, unconfident at first, but he gave you the courage to match his boldness. Astarion groaned softly, a deep sound that reverberated in your lips, sending an intense pulse of arousal to your pussy.
There was no going back now, and you knew it. This was it—the pull to him, the demand of his touch, and now you could feel the indescribable connection that had been building between you from the very first time your eyes had met.
His lips pulled away just enough to speak. “You’re mine tonight.” He groaned roughly as his hands drifted to the sensitive space between your inner thighs, cupping your pussy and slowly kneading it with his fingers. “And when I’m through with you, you won't even remember what it felt like to be without me.”
Your chest tightened as his words hit hard, but you found yourself barely able to even think, unable to do more than just nod as you looked down at him. Your lips parted while you took your breath, while his hand moved with a voracious elegance, dragging his fingertips along the seam where your trousers joined. The air was charged and burning before he did what he did.
With a sharp tug, Astarion tore the fabric between your thighs. The sound was violent as the seams of your trousers gave way under the force of his hands, almost merciless. The rip clearly was strategic—exposing just enough to reveal what was hidden.
But the regret rushed over you the moment the cool night air hit your exposed area. You hadn’t been wearing any panties, and now, with nothing to shield your nakedness, you felt scandalously vulnerable. You cursed yourself for all the nights you decided against wearing anything, thinking no one would notice. Now, the decision turned painfully foolish.
His eyes dropped, and his pupils dilated further at the sight of his no longer hidden treasure, curling his lips with delight. A low laugh escaped his throat. “Well, well,” he purred, distinctly pleased. “It seems you’ve been planning this all along, haven’t you? No panties? How deliciously bold.”
You mentally damned your stupidity, your cheeks heating in embarrassment. The simple choice of not wearing underwear before going to sleep now felt like an invitation, one he seemed all too eager to accept.
The shock of it left you momentarily motionless and without words, feeling the cool air kissing the exposed skin of your thighs and your core. His hand brushed over the tear he had just created, grazing his fingers very close to where your pussy was.
“I can still see that shy little spark in you, even now.” He talked again, locking onto you. The playful smirk on his lips softened as he watched the blush across your cheeks. “It's almost... adorable.”
You tilted your head slightly, trying to escape his penetrating stare, a nervous pout forming on your lower lip as your hands clutched at his shoulders for some sort of stability. But a sudden gasp escaped your lips when his middle and ring fingers slid between your folds with smooth precision, parting them easily. His fingers let your clitoris be positioned right between both; your sensitive bud responded instantly after so many winters without another’s touch, and your grip on his shoulders only grew firmer.
When they finally clamped on either side of your clit, his fingers massaged it with a slow back-and-forth motion, sending an uncontrollable shiver through your nub. Your hips instinctively moved due to his stimulation, causing a soft tremor in your pelvis as the tingling sensation built. The exact pressure he exerted made you melt further, caught in the heat of it and masking your timid instincts.
All swipes of his fingers coaxed your body to react in ways you could barely control. Astarion's smile widened as he enjoyed watching the last traces of your shyness slowly dissolve beneath his touch. Eventually joining his thumb to the dance, finally rubbing directly over the skin covering your bud before pressing down in slow circles that made your thighs tremble against his hips.
“Just like that…” He murmured approvingly. “Feels good, doesn't it?”
His fingers slid forward slightly, pressing his palm against your clit while his middle finger traced the outline of your entrance. The anticipation held you captive, instinctively arching your hips, silently urging him to end the wait. And then, with tantalising slowness, he slid one finger inside you, the feeling both stimulating and exhilarating all at once. The filling was perfect—gradual but firm—and soon, a second finger joined to push in and out without pulling them out entirely.
With each slow thrust of his fingers, his palm rubbed on the skin of your clit, adding a delicious, pleasurable dual stimulation that sent spasms through your pussy, making it impossible to stay still. The strokes were maddeningly controlled, his fingers reaching and curling deeper with every smooth push, as though he knew exactly what you needed and how to give it to you. Astarion’s gaze never left your face, his piercing crimson eyes bright with pleasure, absorbing every sigh and shiver you produced.
“How sensitive, darling...” He breathed softly as he drew closer to meet your lips with his, causing a sweet pulse to your core, intensifying your throbs.
He angled his hand just slightly to reach deeper, and you gripped him tightly. You found yourself helplessly following the increasing tempo he set, encircling his neck with your arms to pull him closer and losing one of your hands in his silky curls.
Astarion's smile turned avaricious against your mouth, sensing your walls vibrate and deliciously clench around him, drenching his hand in just a few minutes. He curled his skilled fingers inside to stimulate a sensitive spot you didn't know was there, just perfectly, his touch implacable against your clit while he fucked your cunt.
Your mouth was being claimed with an eagerness that made your blood boil—he was devouring you in the kiss. His smooth lips moved against yours, insistent and hungry, coaxing you to open for him as he gently bit your lower lip. As you complied, his tongue rapidly swept in, tasting your saliva mingling with his. It was dizzying; your senses flooded with the taste of him and the coolness of his pale skin, creating a high contrast against your hot, wetting pussy and just adding to the sensations.
A low groan gurgled in his chest as his lips pressed harder, the tips of his fangs grazing your bottom lip before pulling back slightly. Just to slam his mouth to yours again with even more fierceness after taking his breath. His fingers curled more rapidly against that delicate spot within you, utterly submerging you in the magnetic pull of his caresses and the incredible hunger in his kiss.
He pulled away, his lips brushing against yours as he did, a soft, breathless hum escaping him. “I wonder,” he began, “how long it will take for you to break, darling.” His eyes glinted as he continued. “But I’m in no rush. We’ll savour this. I will…”
Your grip on him tightened, slightly pulling his hair as your hips rocked back and forth with the pace he set, lost to the growing pleasure he built for you. His touch was relentless, almost coaxing you to the brink, but every stroke was carefully calculated, carefully slow to keep you teetering, hovering in a blissful tension that left you frustrated.
Astarion watched you with predatory attention, centred on the slightest whimper that escaped your lips, as well as that exquisite pussy between your thighs. The very sight of you brought him as much pleasure as his hand brought to you.
Your breathing grew ragged as your body instinctively sought more of the pleasure he promised. The fullness of his fingers, though they were quite close to what you needed, only left you aching for more. You could feel your desire intensifying with every subtle movement, letting your hands drift lower in his chest with the need to touch, to claim him as yours. ‘At least for tonight’.
“Astarion... more, please... I want your cock inside me.” You pleaded, looking into his eyes with desperate want. “Take off these trousers...” You added, letting your fingers trail down his abdomen to where his waistband circled just below his waist, urging him to remove the last barrier between you.
He held your gaze, his eyes smouldering as a slow, indulgent smile appeared on his face. “Oh, you’re even more delicious when you beg...” He honeyed with approval, pulling his fingers out of your pussy and watching with keen interest as you trembled at the loss, the delicate quiver of your hips only adding to the pleasure he found in your vulnerability.
Before doing so, he slowly brought his dripping fingers from your cunt to his mouth, taking great pleasure in licking them clean and savouring the sweet, intoxicating juices made by your body. A soft, pleased hum escaped him as his eyes gleamed with wicked glee as he drank in the sight of your flushed face.
Only then did his hands drop to the waistband of his trousers. He didn’t rush, of course; instead, his movements were maddeningly slow as he began to slide the fabric down. The gleam in his eyes told you everything—he was savouring every second, drawing out the moment just to test your patience, fully aware of how much it would irritate you.
But just before sliding them for once and for all down, he stopped within a second. His eyes trailed their way down to your breasts, marked against the cloth, still covered while his torso was bare since you made him take off his shirt; the contrast stirred something within him. His fingers gently trailed along the fabric of your shirt, brushing down and against the edge, before his hand slid inside to grip your waist.
He looked back up, meeting your gaze with desire and playful intent. “Darling,” he purred, “don’t you think it’s only fair that you join me in shedding the rest of my clothing?” His eyes gleamed as he showed his damned puppy-like eyes for the second time that day. “I want to feel all of you against me,” he added, his tone rich with faked sorrow as his lower lip made a soft pout. “Take it off, my love...”
Oh, this definitely made you smile, feeling a spark of mischief as you looked down at him. You could tell he hadn’t quite anticipated the thought that crossed your mind.
You let your fingers drift along his bare chest again, savouring the coolness and smoothness of his porcelain skin before cradling his cheek, taking in every detail of his expectant look.
“Well,” you leaned close, letting your lips just a few inches away from his. “After tearing my favourite trousers,” you whispered, trailing your thumb teasingly across his lower lip, “don’t you think it’s only fair that you ask me—politely—to take the shirt off?”
Astarion raised one of his brows; his smile wavered for only a moment as he considered your request. Then, his expression softened, his smirk playing again on his lips as his hands slid up your sides under your shirt. “Oh, I see,” he replied smoothly, “you want me to beg, do you?”
You narrowed your eyes playfully. “Yes.” You savoured every single letter that slipped from your lips. “I am dying to hear you beg, Astarion.”
A moment passed before he gave a soft chuckle, and his gaze, brimming with delight and want, locked with yours. “Please, my love.” He said lowly, needy. “Let me see those surely precious breasts you must have. I’ll be good, I promise.” He pleaded sweetly. “Take it off... just for me...”
His words only made you want to tease him more.
The diabolical glow in your eyes grew as you leaned forward, letting your thumb trace the line of his chin. You could feel the light tension in his posture, the way the red in his eyes darkened, his lips parting just a bit as he waited for... maybe a kiss? He wasn't quite sure with you. His hands on your waist tightened to pull you a bit closer, but you resisted, holding him at bay.
“Good, you say? I’d like to see that.” You tilted your head as if considering his plea. “Are you sure you’re capable of it?” Your fingers slid down his chest again, skimming over his nipples with your fingers just enough to provoke him a small shiver.
“More than capable.” He replied roughly for the restraint you demanded of him, but not being entirely sincere.
You breathed slowly as you caught his lie, but somehow, your desire for him only grew, knowing he didn’t intend to ‘be good’ with you at all.
Your hands went down to lift the hem of your shirt, but you didn’t pull it up yet. Instead, you let your fingers there. “If you want it so badly, Astarion,” you said softly, “you’ll have to ask again. Nicely.”
His expression shifted to one of purely wanting as he tightened his hands on you. “Please, my love,” he replied in a low tone. “Take it off.”
Finally, you slowly lifted your shirt to reveal your torso and the defined curves of your breasts, drawing the fabric over your head to set it aside on his bedroll and finally being completely naked to his eager stare. Astarion’s eyes glistened with a glow that spoke volumes as he devoured every detail of your flushed skin like a long-awaited treat. You couldn’t help but arrange your hair and adjust your bracelets; you felt a mix of nerves and exhilaration at his intense attention.
Astarion’s hands reached for your breasts with a speed that almost startled you, sinking his fingers into your supple flesh as he kneaded it and leaned forward. His lips found one of your nipples, capturing it along with a portion of your breast, sucking passionately before planting a warm kiss above your nipple. He repeated on its twin, savouring your body before finally looking up; the surprise etched on your face, the blush on your cheeks, and the widening of your eyes seemed to light pride in his gaze.
Astarion revelled in the comfy warmth of your flesh under his cool hands as he continued to knead and massage your breasts as thoroughly as it was slow. Trailing his lips down to run messy kisses along your sternum before returning to one of your breasts once more. He opened his mouth, homely, to get your flushed breast inside, sucking it and swirling his tongue around it, rumbling an eager hum. His hands went to your waist and your other breast to take care of it too, holding you as you leaned against him with a soft moan escaping your lips. He seemed almost like a starved child desperately seeking milk from his mother's breast.
After a long, leisurely moment, he pulled away with a final and slow brush of his tongue over your nipple; his lips glistened with saliva from his attention. A desire that seemed to consume him was burning in his eyes, and when they met yours, a slow smile spread across his face. “You know,” he murmured, “I could lose myself in you like this, so easily.” His fingers slowly contoured your waist. “But I’ll need more than just this beautiful view.” He leaned in to graze his lips on your ear and whispered, “Imagine, darling, how it’ll feel when I’m deep inside you—how I’ll make you forget everything else, until all you can think of... is me.”
Your body received a delicious tremble, an almost inaudible moan escaping your lips because of the intensity of his voice saying those words to you. Your fingers tangled in his hair to pull him closer, feeling yourself getting wetter. The simple thought of him inside you, fucking you until your legs couldn't respond any more, grew your pulse faster.
As his hands wandered lower, the ache between your thighs grew unbearable—the need to have his cock growling in your throat; you could barely stand it. Impatiently, you moved to straddle his thighs, finding with your hands his waistband.
“I need you, Astarion.” Your plea spilt out unprocessed, begging for him to end the teasing and give you what you craved. “Please take them off. I can’t wait any longer. Finish what you started.” The final word fell from your lips almost like a cry, leaving no doubt that you were beyond ready, beyond wanting. You needed him—now.
Astarion chuckled as he looked at your hands, tracing his abdomen. He laid back slightly against his soft pillows, clearly enjoying how you were so eager for him, but he didn’t move anyway. Instead, his eyes flickered to your fingers as they were about to start tugging his waistband, and his lips curled up.
“Please, Astarion.” You pleaded again. “I can't take it any more. Stop teasing me. Take them off. Please.”
He hummed, amused, with a wicked glint in his crimson eyes. “Ah, so desperate, are we?” His eyes slid downward, pausing to take in the way your pussy soaked through his fabric, already dripping as you set yourself on his thighs. “Look at that sweet little cunt of yours, dripping for me already.” As soon as he finished speaking, he let out a soft chuckle. “Can’t wait to feel me inside, I see.”
You furrowed your brows in some annoyance at his incessant chatter that only made your patience thinner. But then, his demeanour shifted nonchalantly, capturing your attention when he propped his hands up on the bedroll and lifted his pelvis fluidly, giving you room to slide his trousers out of his legs.
“Help yourself, darling.” He purred softly with that grin on his lips.
You couldn’t stop yourself from glancing down, captivated by his posture. When your eyes fell to his crotch, where your hands had settled either side, you saw the clear shape of his rigid cock outlined beneath the fabric, straining against the material and angled a little to one side. The thickness and length were evident, making your entrance painfully clench around nothing and heat your cheeks.
‘How didn't I look at it before?’ Your breath hitched at the graphic, raw sight of it—exquisite and so irresistibly tempting. The aching sensation in your pussy grew, not just from the visual but from the rush of desire that quickly followed. Despite yourself, your eyes went back to his face, finding that same teasing, excited expression as though he were daring you to take the next step.
As you began to slide your fingers inside the waistband of his trousers, you brushed lightly his skin, sending a shiver to your fingertips.
And then, pulling his trousers down, you slowly revealed more inches of his pelvis and his white curls, and you could feel his intense gaze smouldering into you. His cock twitched against the fabric, building your excitement until it sprang free, making you inhale sharply at the sight. Your eyes traced his exposed skin as you slid the fabric the rest of the way down his legs. A soft rustle marked their removal from his ankles, and he lay naked before you.
His erect length was blushed and visibly soft, with subtle veins running up from its base, contrasting sharply against his swollen, rosy head. The pale expanse of his skin was almost luminescent; only the tip of his cock seemed all the more vivid. And there was precum already seeping from its slit, a trail that slid down to his sac.
For a brief, delicious moment, you simply stared. The long shape with a slightly tapered head was just stunning, and it made you realise just how perfectly he would enter and fill you. You couldn’t help but let your fingers drift to your clit, stimulating lightly to ease the relentless ache building. The wet heat spread between your thighs, growing stronger as you took in every detail.
A subtle sigh left your lips, caused by the strong beating of your puffy bud against your fingers. You traced the ridges of his hips with the other hand before brushing over from the base to the tip of his cock. It was warm, soft but firm with the ridges of its veins, and the precum that gathered there only added to its silkiness.
Your mind raced with thoughts you hadn’t fully allowed yourself to process—how new this was, how thrilling and unfamiliar it felt yet so drawn by it. Astarion was nothing like the lovers you had before. You didn’t have a long list of conquests, and that made your inexperience clear. But the way he looked at you and how his moves commanded every piece of your attention drew you deeper into something you were both eager and frightened to experience.
Without thinking any longer, your hand wrapped around the base of his cock, feeling its thickness as you slowly began to stroke him in sync with your own stimulation, smoothing with your thumb the head with each pass. His lips allowed a low, appreciative sigh to escape him, sending a wave of emotion through you and racing your pulse. And with one final glance up at his face, you slowly positioned yourself between his thighs to lay down and let your stomach rest on his bedroll.
As you let your lips hover near the tip of his cock, you could feel the heat radiating from him and smell the intoxicating scent of his arousal as he smelt yours. You could almost drool at the sight before you—how you see the shift in his expression—from humour to impatience. The anticipation was exhausting for both of you, but you didn’t rush. Instead, you kissed the tip tenderly, feeling the weight of him against your lips before letting your tongue slip out where his glans started to the high point. Tasting the warmth and saltiness of his cock because of his precum.
You felt the coolness of the storm kissing you and of the bedroll beneath your stomach, grounding you as your hands remained on him, steady and assured. Astarion’s thighs tensed under your touch, caught between the impulse to take control and the pleasure of simply letting you explore at your own pace.
Each time your thumb swept over his tip, his cock twitched, responding to the rhythm of your touch and your lips. You swirled your tongue around his head, licking clean the precum that had gathered there and along his length. The taste was different than you expected—rich and heady, like a Vermentino wine, lingering on your tongue in a way that was deeply intriguing.
The low sounds slipping from his lips spurred you on as you pressed messy kisses to his length and tip, tracing with your tongue the subtle lines and ridges of his shaft. His sharp intake of breath told you just how deeply he felt every small touch, and the sheer pleasure in that knowledge emboldened you further.
“Mm, look at you,” he purred, honestly surprised and pleased. “Not so shy now, are we, darling?” His words were meant to tease as always, but the note of admiration was unmistakable, making clear just how captivated he truly was.
Your eyes met his quietly before slowly lowering your mouth to take him inch by inch. The stretch of him filled your cavity as you went deeper, feeling his rigidity slide against your tongue. You let inside more of him until you felt his tip reach the back of your throat and the hair on his pelvis brushing your nose. His reaction, the involuntary twitch, and the low hum from him sent a thrill through you as you adjusted him inside your mouth, savouring the moment.
As you set a slow up-down with your head, Astarion’s lips started to make soft, broken sounds that were like a lyrical to your ears, urging you to continue. His hand reached out to rest on the back of your head, his fingers threading into your hair as he let out a silent growl. The anxiety in his grip was obvious, yet he kept his touch gentle, guiding without forcing and letting you take the lead, trembling under your care.
You slid your hands down his thighs, feeling the taut muscles beneath your fingers and feeling how his body responded to you. Each time you drew him deeply, your tongue caressed his lower vein, lavishing attention on every inch of him that his cock met with an appreciative palpitation.
Astarion moaned, his head falling back against the pillows. “Slow down, my love... Let me enjoy this.” He breathed as he allowed you to fully take him, his hips flexing slightly. His fingers tightened slowly in your hair, a silent encouragement for you to continue as he gave himself completely over to you.
With one hand still supported on his thigh, you drifted the other to his sac to massage it gently inside your palm. The action caused a louder moan from him, his hips jiggling involuntarily as you kept your mouth moving steady and more slowly, never breaking your rhythm. His low groans came quicker and even rougher, sounds of pleasure spilling freely now like an invitation to go on, filling the tent and dispersing the strong rain outside.
He moved his hand from your hair to your cheek and stopped you momentarily, cradling it in a surprisingly tender gesture as he glanced down at you. “Look at me while you do it, my darling...” He sighed, gently caressing you. “Feel how hard you make me...” His head fell back once more, unable to hold back a guttural growl as you continued with an intensified sucking, feeling his cock pulse and grow impossibly hard against your tongue.
With a measured squeeze, you tightened your grip on his sac, rolling it delicately with your fingers while your other hand remained anchored on his thigh. They trembled involuntarily, just like his cock, each movement drawing a delicious reaction until he could no longer keep still, his hips instinctively arching towards your mouth.
His hand returned to the back of your head, gripping tightly as your tongue traced the underside of his cock. All of him seemed to shiver under your touch, and he still allowed you to take control, guiding him into this sweet, little death.
But, after a few moments, you let his cock slip free from your lips with a slow drag, watching it emerge slick in your saliva and instantly cling to his lower belly because of its hardness. The dampness left a glistening trail between your mouth and him, breaking only as you leaned back, lifting a hand to wipe the last of the moisture from your mouth. He let out a disappointed sigh at the loss of you, then looked down to watch how you had left him all reddish-coloured with a sheen because of his precum mixed with your saliva.
Without a word, you rose on your knees and moved to straddle his hips, feeling the firm press of his thighs beneath your ass cheeks as you settled your weight onto him. His hands instinctively moved to your waist, gripping your sides in a way that felt almost impossible to avoid.
You could feel the hardness of his cock pressing between your folds—a solid, delicious presence. Each pulsate of its head against the own palpitations of your puffy bud felt incredible.
Bracing your hands against his chest, you pressed down gently and took a moment to enjoy the feel of him, tracing the lines that defined his chest with your fingers. His eyes were locked on you, watching the way your pussy just wrapped around his cock.
Gradually, you began to move your hips, grinding down your clitoris onto his glans with a slowed tempo that turned faster. The friction was amazing as you brushed against his slick skin, adding a sensuous layer of lubrication as you moved back and forth against his perfectly nestled cock. You could feel yourself drenching him wetter, mixing your juices with the slickness left from your previous oral.
His hungry gaze roamed over your pelvis, tightening his grip on your waist as he let out a rough sigh, savouring the way your pussy slid so enticingly along his shaft until you leaned forward. Repositioning your weight on one hand, you reached down to trace your fingers along his length, wrapping around it to guide it upwards. You pressed the tip on your entrance, dragging it slowly along your slit, feeling it start to pulse against your inner lips. His lower lip formed a slight pout as you continued to tease, drawing the moment out with almost cruel patience.
But with a final pass, you positioned him straight to your entrance, vacillating just on the edge, and looked at his face to watch his reaction—the way his eyes were focused on your pussy, waiting for you to cut the last bit of separation. Then, with a slow downward, you began to sink him inside, feeling the exquisite stretch his tip made as he filled you, inch by inch, making your walls instantly clench around him for the sudden fullness.
He let out a pleased moan, now holding harder your hips as you settled onto him completely, feeling so deep and stretching you deliciously wide after so many years of solitude. The warm pulse of him between your walls, every subtle movement of his length—an insistent throb—made you simply sit there for a moment. Letting yourself adjust to the sensation of him fully within you and the friction of your clit as it rubbed against his silvery pubic hair. He flicked up his eyes to meet yours with an intensity that made his eagerness clear as he waited for you to move.
You gently cupped his face and caressed his pointy ear, the other hand resting over his shoulder. You softly brought his face closer to yours, locking your eyes on his.
“Astarion...” You whispered. “Can you feel it? How incredible this is?” You gave him a dulcet smile before closing the distance, pressing your lips against his as you traced the line of his cheekbone and chest, feeling his pulse beneath your fingers.
Gently, you lifted yourself just slightly to sink back down, the exquisite friction sending a burst of pleasure through both of you. Astarion’s grip on you tensed again, tightening as his hips surged up to meet yours, letting out a low, throaty noise. Your lips remained together, deepening the kiss as your mouths moved in time with your bodies, setting a slow, constant pace where you rose and fell smoothly over him.
The sounds of your bodies intertwined moving together began to fill the surrounding little space—the slapping of skin on skin, the lewd, sensual noises of your pussy swallowing his cock over and over again blending with the muffled moans, and the relentless raindrops against the canvas.
He forcefully gripped your hips to dictate you, abruptly being the one controlling the pace as he broke the kiss to catch his breath. His lips hovered close, both hot exhales mingling as you rested your forehead against his, matching your rhythm. The tantalising climax drew closer and closer with every thrust, making everything else seem distant, the storm outside being insignificant compared to the tempest building between you.
His hands roamed over your body, tracing your spine before one circled your waist and the other gripped the back of your shoulder to pull you closer, urging you to press down against him more fully.
The deeper you sank, the more you felt him smack against your vaginal walls so passionately. You leaned forward, your hands wrapping either side of his waist and slightly digging your nails into his skin as you picked up the pace. The position shifted just enough to drive him pleasantly deeper in each downward stroke, with a perfect angle that made his tip hammer against your cervix.
Suddenly, the hand against your shoulder gripped your cheeks, pulling you down to capture your lips in another hungry kiss. His tongue tangled with yours, both tasting the other's mouth, becoming something truly addicting, as if he just seemed to want to devour you whole, and you couldn't satisfy your own craving. His hand slid to your nape as the kiss deepened, just like the rhythm of both pelvises grew faster.
Every thrust proved how he was losing himself, both of you spiralling higher and higher. He whimpered against your lips, a sound that vibrated deep in your mouth, feeling the tension coiling tighter within your lower belly, your body feeling worn out as it yearned for release.
His hands were everywhere—guiding, pulling, encouraging. You couldn’t help but moan against his lips, the pleasure overwhelming as your movements grew more frantic. He was holding you just right, pressing his open thighs up against your ass cheeks, lifting you just enough to make you feel perfectly aligned with his cock.
His lips parted from yours with a shaky groan as he looked up at you, consumed by the burning need you were becoming. At that moment, with the weight of your hips moving over his, your voice came out shaky, broken by the effort of holding yourself glued to him. “Am I... am I doing it right?”
The question left you trembling because of its vulnerability, making your pulse race as though the very act of asking had laid bare everything you hid beneath that little girl you were for him. You felt so desperate for his confirmation, for him to tell you that this was all he wanted.
For a moment, he looked as if he was caught off guard, eyes widening just a fraction before he composed himself.
Then his hands tightened his grasp on both your ass cheeks with determination. He pressed your hips down more strongly, making his cock burry inside you to the hilt and making your lips crush against his pelvis. “Do you feel that?” He kept pressing you down harder, grinding his hips up to meet yours. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me, and it’s perfect. Move just like that—don’t stop.” The words slipped out raw and unfiltered, as if he couldn’t hold them back.
The way he said that broke whatever fragile restraint you’d managed to hold onto, unleashing a fierce, unstoppable heat within you. The only thing that existed now was him—all of him—buried balls deep inside you, turning every nerve in almost an animalistic way.
An uncontrollable need surged through you, overtaking all thoughts, as your hips immediately started to move impulsively, slamming down against his. Your body was just demanding to take everything from him, driven by a thirst he had created that couldn’t be denied. The ache of his cock stretching your entrance open and filling you that much was the divine sensation of him, the incredible pleasure of his flawless body moving exactly in time with and inside yours.
You were in pursuit of more—more of him, more of this satisfying connection. You let out a series of desperate moans, each one of them spurring you both deeper into your carnal urges, neither of you able to stop. The immediateness of it overtook you both. Your breathing was ragged as the intense pressure built, feeling him fully as he lifted his hips to force his cock impossibly inside you, aligning you just right, so deep that you could feel it in your very bones. The edge of your release was so close.
His hands dug into your ass, pulling you more forcefully against him to guide your frantic pace and stoke the fire on your clitoris as his pelvis writhed beneath it. “Just a little more...” He growled, strained, like a man on the edge of breaking. “I’m so close, love…” His words were almost a pleading cry, a raw reflection of the need that overtook him because of you.
You could feel it, see it—his control slipping away, his body trembling beneath yours as his hands gripped your hips now to urge you on, both bodies acting just like animals in heat do with an almost agonising intensity that could leave your womb aching for days. You both moved harder and faster, slapping together with an unbreakable pace. The pressure in your core was unbearable now, so close to snapping that it made your legs shake in both of the sides of his hips with the effort of holding on.
Suddenly, one of his hands slid between your bodies, finding your clitoris to circle his thumb over the painfully swollen nub with expert knowledge. Just like if he was already aware of how to trigger your sensitive spots to push you to the heavens. The friction was impossible to bear in the best, perfect possible way, making you cry in pleasure, unable to control the whimpers that tore from your throat.
You couldn’t hold back any more. His touch, the pressure, the movements of his body—it all became too much. The tension inside you snapped, and with a loud and uncontrolled moan, your walls tightly clenched and pulsated around him, your climax crashing over you in pure, consuming pleasure. Hitting you so hard that you felt like you were floating, holding on to him with the tremors of your hips.
But Astarion didn’t stop. He never ceased the maddening stimulation on your clit or fucking your cunt, coaxing another renovated sensation from you, pushing you past the point of stimulation. You tried to pull away to catch your breath, but his hands clamped down, forcing you to stay in the moment, allowing him to draw even more from you. He was relentless as the need to overstimulate you took control.
“Don’t stop, not now.” He gasped, his voice breaking as he thrust up into you harder, his thumb continuing to rub and circle your bud, trying to force your body into another climax. “I need you, my love. Please…”
The words were the spark that made you give in with a desperate cry as ecstasy crashed over you, smashing everything. You felt him pulsating and releasing with a ragged, almost feral growl, leaving his sweet lips, his body quivering beneath yours as he exploded into you, the rush of his climax pushing you to the edge. The sensation of his warm semen spurting against your cervix and filling you sent you into your second release of the night, the new pressure in your body finally exploding in waves of sheer. The powerful sensations of both of you reaching that peak at the same time made your vision blur.
Every spurt of his release throbbed deep within your womb, drawing low, tired moans from your lips as his cock continued its task to fill you, spreading his seed inside you with each pulse of the head. You pressed your hips down, grinding to take him impossibly deeper as your labia were already crushed against his damp pelvis, letting you feel every twitch and tremor between your aching walls. He groaned softly as he tightened his grip on your hips, and you fucked his cock instinctively in answer to coax out every last shudder from him.
His hands guided your hips to keep you pressed down hard as his cock stroked every sensitive inch of your walls, filling you in a way that made some of his cum slowly spill out from your pussy. Your bodies met again and again, making him feel unable to resist the pull of you as you moved perfectly up and down, simply feeling lost in you as you milked him.
Then, you both collapsed together, sweaty bodies shaking with the intensity of your simultaneous culmination and the aftershocks of your climaxes, leaving you both drained. Your breaths came intermittently, laboured, and it felt as though the camp outside had momentarily ceased to exist. The air between you was impregnated with the smell of sex and your scents, but there was also something tender about the way your bodies were embracing each other that made you feel... nice.
Astarion’s hands moved with a strange gentleness now, gliding up your back with soothing strokes in the cosiness of the moment. His lips pressed a tender kiss to your cheek, his breath still unsteady with a warmness that contrasted the freshness of your lovemaking and the way his cock kept pulsating while softening within you.
He dragged you against him. “Are you alright, darling?” His voice abruptly soft, touched with... care, concern; an unknown tenderness that caught you by surprise.
You nodded against his shoulder. “Yes…” you murmured, fluttering closed as exhaustion settled in and the comfort of his presence lulled you, feeling his quick heartbeat beneath your ear. “Just... give me a second.”
A sweet smile tugged at the corner of his lips, looking at you with adoration as he brushed a damp lock of hair away from your face, fingers running gently over your neck. “I’ll admit, I didn't think I’d be the one left wanting more… but here I am.” He said quietly. “That, my love, was truly something else for someone so lovely.” He pressed another sweet kiss to your cheek, remaining just a little before pulling away.
You let out a shaky laugh, the closeness between you both grounding your still-tingling nerves. Lifting your head slightly and reopening your eyes, you met his gaze with a warmth that made your heart swell. “You know,” you started, “I might just have to keep you around a little longer. You’ve made it hard for me to want anyone else, Astarion.” You reached to cradle his cheek as your hidden confession floated in the air between you.
He leaned into your touch, his hand hovering over yours in a loving gesture. “You’re really going to make me do this, aren’t you?” Astarion said, feigning frustration, though his eyes softened with a rare sincerity in his voice. “I had plans, you know. But it seems I’m not allowed to have anything for myself any more.” He let out a mock sigh. “Guess I’m yours, darling. For now. Don’t get too comfortable with it.”
You smiled softly, tilting your head. “Oh, how tragic,” you teased with mock frustration as well. “I didn’t realise you had such grand plans, Astarion. How terribly cruel of me to steal you away from them.” Your fingers gently traced the edge of his ear, a smirk playing on your lips. “Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll learn to live with it. Just try not to get too comfortable, either, darling.”
Astarion let out a soft chuckle, his fingers leaving your hand to cup your cheek tenderly. “Well, well, what a vile little thing you are,” he said with a playful smirk, grazing your cheekbone with his thumb. “Using that sweet face of yours to get your way... You really do enjoy this, don’t you?” His laugh was light, almost like a caress, before he leaned down, pressing his lips to yours in a slow kiss that left you aware of all the emotions he couldn’t express using words.
He held the kiss for a moment to savour your lips before pulling back to rest his forehead against yours, closing his eyes as he basked in the shared closeness.
After that, he slowly adjusted your position so that you lay more comfortably against him. Once settled, he pulled a soft blanket over you both, wrapping his arms around you snugly.
“Rest now, my love.” He murmured softly. You felt his words settle over you like a soft lullaby, and you snuggled closer to place yourself against him, wrapping your arm gently around his waist.
There, in his embrace, you let yourself fully relax in the quiet comfort of the moment with the rain outside. The feeling of his skin against yours, the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek, the gentle sweep of his fingers through your hair and your arm—it was everything you needed, a perfect, tender end to the passion from minutes ago.
With a contented sigh, you pressed a soft kiss against his chest before your eyelids started to grow heavy as you drifted into a peaceful calm in his arms.
As the hours passed, the heat of the night slowly faded, leaving you both tangled in each other’s embrace. You both drifted into sleep, your bodies still flushed and sweaty from the intensity of your passion that night. Astarion’s arm was wrapped around you, pulling you closer. The odd warmth of his body against yours was comforting.
As the soft light of dawn filtered through the tent, the storm was now nothing more than a distant memory, and a sudden weight pressed down on you.
Your mind, still slow to fully wake, started to be flooded with vivid recollections—the sex, the words shared, the undeniable connection you felt...
A sharp pang of awareness hit you as you became acutely aware of every quiet sound. 'Had I really just done that?' The question lingered in your mind, though it wasn’t that you regretted it—not with him, not when everything felt so unexpectedly right. But still, a knot tightened in your throat. You’d never been this irresponsible before, never allowed this kind of situation with someone you’d only known for a couple of months.
You slowly pulled yourself from Astarion's embrace. The warmth of his body left a mark on your skin nonetheless. As you sat up, the blanket tangled around your hips, and a sudden rush of cool air hit your naked chest, causing an uninvited shiver to you that woke you a little more.
Your eyes drifted to him, still peacefully asleep beside you. His bare chest rose and fell in slowly, and his expression was soft and relaxed in the morning, a sharp contrast to the intensity of your previous night.
While you stood there, tracing with your eyes his form, the weight of what had just happened was still pressing heavily above your shoulders. Embarrassment crept in, not just for the passion you’d shared but for the place you were in—his tent, in camp, with your friends only a few meters away. The unsettling thought wormed its way into your mind: what if they’d heard you?
Your eyes flicked towards the opening of the tent, a bead of cold sweat rolling down the back of your neck. You pressed your palm to your forehead, the reality sinking in. What if they had? The embarrassment felt like it was growing, and you had to swallow back the rising anxiety carving in your chest.
The thoughts swirled and twisted in your mind. Reaching for your shirt, you slowly sat up a bit more; you felt a sting pain in your muscles from the night’s activities. Your fingers fumbled clumsily to the fabric as the weight of your thoughts made everything feel more difficult. You tried to dress as quietly as possible, not wanting to disturb the fragile calm of his slumber.
The texture felt harsh against your sensitive skin, while the cool morning air grazed over the parts of you exposed and between your thighs as you raised the shirt over your head to dress it.
Just as you finally managed to pull it into place, you caught a soft shift beside you. Astarion’s eyes fluttered open, his vision still cloudy with sleep, but his attention immediately locked onto you. He didn’t speak right away; his focus was on the way you moved.
He curved his lips into a small, lazy smile. There was a softness in his expression now that you didn't see before. “Good morning... sneaking off already?” He sighed with the remnants of sleep in his tone. He looked down to where your fingers grabbed the fabric of your shirt, then back to your face, his smile growing wider. His hand reached out to grab your arm, pulling you back towards him gently. “Didn't peg you as the type to leave me after our first time, darling...”
The way he still wanted you close stirred something within you—a warmth despite the storm of emotions inside you. You couldn’t help but smile softly at the thought. “I wasn’t going anywhere...” You replied quietly.
Astarion’s hand moved to your waist, his touch fierce yet tender as he pulled you closer, guiding you to lay back completely against his body. His chest pressed against your back as he nestled his chin in the crook of your neck, pressing soft kisses there. You could feel the weight of him, enveloping you in a way that was both comforting and deeply intimate.
His arm wrapped securely around your waist, drawing you even nearer as he gently adjusted his position, making sure you were comfortable. You could feel the tension in your body melt as his movements spoke of quiet care, though the nervousness inside you didn’t entirely dissipate.
He must have sensed the shift in your mood. “Is everything alright?” Astarion murmured softly, concerned. His lips brushed over your ear as he spoke, a gentle kiss to your cheek that seemed to reassure you, though you couldn’t quite shake the lingering anxiety that clung to you.
“I... I just—” You broke off. “What if they heard us, Astarion?”
“We’re safe, darling,” he murmured, his voice a soothing caress that chased away the remnants of your worry. “No one knows a thing. The storm was our shield last night.”
Astarion’s hand lingered at your waist as he shifted his weight, guiding you gently. And with a slight motion, he turned you to lie on your back and face him fully. His gaze locked onto yours, his crimson eyes glimmering with something unspoken. He propped himself on an elbow beside you, sliding his other hand from your waist to cradle your cheek.
Seeing the faint worry lingering in your eyes, he offered a small, tender smile. “You know, love,” he began, “this is different. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t. I never imagined I’d feel like this—like I’d actually want this... someone.” His thumb brushed softly over your cheekbone, as if the gesture alone could convey what words struggled to express. “Last night wasn’t just indulgence, not with you. It was... real.”
The way he looked at you then was as though he’d laid down his armour, revealing a part of himself you’d only glimpsed. “I’ve spent centuries taking what I was told to, living by someone else’s twisted desires. Wanting something—someone—for myself? I’d almost forgotten what that even felt like.” He hesitated. “But here we are... and being with you, feeling this... it’s more than I ever dared to hope for.”
Your breath caught, and the sincerity in his voice made your chest feel both heavy and light at once. You swallowed, a warmth blossoming where your anxiety had been. “I want you to know that I meant every word,” he whispered against your ear.
As he drew back, his fingers entwined with yours, and he gave you a small smile, one filled with that rare sincerity he reserved just for you. “So, let’s not let the world outside intrude on this, hmm?” His eyes gleamed with a quiet plea. “Not yet.”
The words hung in the warm morning light, soothing the unease within you. Astarion shifted slightly again to recline back onto the soft bedroll, pulling you with him. You instinctively wrapped an arm around his waist to hold him close.
But as your fingers traced along his side, you brushed against something you forgot. A faint crease formed between your brows as you looked down. There was the bandage you had tied the night before, stained with a faint bloom of red where his wound lay concealed. A quiet ache of worry unfurled in your chest as your hand rested against the edge of the bandage.
Without thinking, your fingers traced lightly over his abdomen, avoiding the more sensitive area near the bandage. “Astarion,” you called softly with a new urgency. “Are you... alright? I might’ve moved too much last night.”
Astarion’s eyes opened a bit more as he recognised the genuine concern in your voice. “Oh, my love,” he purred with a smirk on his lips as he glanced down to where your hand rested on his stomach. “If anyone could survive your... enthusiasm, it would be me.” His tone softened as he covered your hand with his.
You bit your lip, the persistent worry stirring as you recalled the intensity of the night before. “Still, I should've been more careful with you,” you replied with a faint blush warming your cheeks. “I didn’t even think about it last night... I just... wanted you.”
He shifted slightly, pulling you closer until your foreheads touched, his lips barely brushing yours as he spoke again. “Believe me, last night... was everything I never knew I needed,” he said, with a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “You've given me a moment of calmness I never thought I’d experience again.”
Your hand pressed lightly against his chest; he let out a quiet, contented sigh. His own hand drifted down to rest against your waist, drawing you even closer.
He brushed his lips softly against the tip of your nose, placing a sweet kiss there before he spoke. “The truth is, I’m not used to someone worrying over me. I’ve learnt to dismiss my wounds and to push through the pain alone. You make me feel seen, darling…”
A soft smile tugged at his lips as he leaned back just enough to catch your gaze, reaching with his hand your cheek to rub his thumb along your cheekbone in a gentle, absent-minded swipe. Your heart softened as you wrapped your arms around him, letting yourself melt. You nestled closer to him, the soft heat of his body a constant pull as your fingers traced lightly over his skin, careful not to touch the bandage.
Astarion’s fingers moved in slow strokes along your back, his touch lingering at the small of your waist. The quiet way his body urged you nearer made your pulse race in a way that was both comforting and thrilling. You could feel the passion of the night still lingering in the air between you, a magnetic pull that only seemed to deepen the longer you were in his presence.
“You know,” he murmured lowly, his velvety voice wrapping around your thoughts. He leaned in, his lips brushing over yours as he closed his eyes briefly. “I find myself wanting more.”
A small shiver of anticipation ran through you. He moved slightly, shifting his body to bring you closer, his hand sliding down your side until he could grab one of your buttocks. It stirred something inside of you—something that made it hard to breathe, hard to think.
You pressed your lips to his to give him a soft kiss before pulling back to meet his eyes. The intensity in his look made you ache with longing. “Astarion, are you sure you’re alright?” You asked softly. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
He froze for a moment, his eyes narrowing with something dark and intense, and then he leaned forward, capturing your lips in a kiss that was slow and sensual, tasting of the night and everything you’d shared. His mouth moved against yours with a quiet eagerness, and you let yourself melt into him, your hand sliding to his waist, feeling the bandage beneath your palm.
But you pulled back slightly, concern flitting through your mind again. Astarion’s eyes glimmered, his expression a blend of amusement and something achingly vulnerable. “Darling,” he replied, his voice a rough, affectionate murmur. “I can handle anything you give me.”
You leaned into him, grazing your lips with his as you spoke, “I just want to make sure you're alright... I don’t want to push—” Without letting you finish, he leaned forward to kiss your lips again to silence you. His mouth moved against yours with a quiet desperation, a demand for attention.
Astarion’s hands slowly roamed your sides as he shifted, positioning himself above you on the bedroll. You could feel the warmth of his body radiating into yours, his thighs pressed tightly against yours.
Your hands moved instinctively, sliding around his waist, bracing yourself against his lower back, feeling the curve of his muscles tense under your touch. The kiss deepened, slow and calm, as if he tasted every inch of you, pushing any lingering uncertainty away.
One of his hands moved to catch your hand and entwine his fingers with yours before pressing your hand down against the pillow. His other hand found your other wrist, lifting it gently above your head and pinning it there, his grip firm yet laced with a sensual care that only deepened your wanting of him. His thighs pressing tighter against yours.
Astarion’s breath was shallow against your lips as he finally broke the kiss to meet your gaze, his pupils wide with a need that mirrored your own, his mouth curving into a wicked smile as he held you in place. The subtle weight of him, combined with the feeling of his fingers interlocked with yours, created an undeniable sense of belonging, a wordless claim that ignited every nerve.
“Don’t worry about me,” he murmured roughly because of his desire, his lips brushing against yours as he spoke. “Just stay here. With me. That’s all I need.”
Tags: sexually explicit content, elements of dubious consent, light bondage/restraints (handcuffs), masturbation, edging, orgasm denial, nipple play, oral sex, fingering, unprotected sex, cum play, this is 100% pure smut from start to finish
Length: 10.9K
Summary: Obi Wan chooses to undertake a trial that prevents him from sex for one year, and asks you to serve as his witness. As his close friend, you don't mind helping him. The rules of the trial are very clear. You make it your personal mission to find every exception.
☆☆☆
"I'm sorry," Obi Wan murmurs against your lips.
He says it even as he continues to kiss you. Even as his thumb nudges against your jaw, rubbing up the soft skin of your cheek. His hot breath is still inside your mouth as he whispers, "I don't know what came over me."
It's been over since it began. He's pulled away repeatedly, humming variations of denials and apologies against your lips, your cheek, your neck. But stopping still seems nearly as impossible as starting did.
The two of you don't do this. You don't kiss. You flirt, and you fight, and you share stolen moments that you can later pretend never happened. You touch him in the dark, and you don't talk about your feelings. You don't look at one another with heady desire coursing through your veins anymore. You just don't. You just can't.
And that's why, when he leans in again, instead of melting into his touch the way you want to, you glance up from his lips, catching his eyes. It's the barest of hesitations, but it's enough to make him slow down, swallow, pull back.
"Sorry." He says it low, stuck in the back of his throat, and it makes you feel like you're drowning.
It fucking kills you to hear him like this - quietly losing his air of formality. His hair is mussed where you'd grabbed onto it, and as he pushes himself up from the bed, he grazes thumb and forefinger over his short beard, like he's trying to wipe the taste of you from his mouth.
You watch his movements, entranced and silent. He glances back at you, and suddenly the distance between where you lie and where he stands feels like a growing chasm. You lean your weight onto your elbow, about to get up and join him. You don't know what you'll do or say, but you can feel him pulling away, back into himself.
As you sit up, he takes a single step back, and just like that, it's over.
"I-" he starts quietly, eyes meeting yours and then darting away, "I need to... clear my thoughts."
Your mouth falls open, his name about to come out. But you don't know what follows it. For once, he's tied your tongue.
"I'll be in the refresher," he says, turning abruptly. "Excuse me."
Before you can begin to think of anything to say, he's heading toward the refresher, the warm, damp air from your own use billowing out when he opens the door.
He stops only to gather a change of clothes, not even glancing back as he closes the door behind him.
--
When the room is quiet, and all you can hear is the soft sound of water flowing in the distance, you roll onto your back, closing your eyes. That had been too far. That had been looking for trouble.
And fuck, you're still aching for it.
You're still reeling at the things he'd said. His walls had dipped for the briefest of moments, letting you in, and somehow, you'd managed to blow it, snapping him back to his senses at the worst possible time.
He'd caught you off guard. If only you hadn't hesitated, he would have found relief. Instead, you have to lie here, just thinking about the way his mouth felt against yours. Thinking about the way he'd instantly started to pull you apart at the seams, from the moment he'd gotten his hands on you.
You're practically throbbing under the soft fabric of your sleep clothes as you slip your legs beneath the covers. Stars, what you wouldn't give for some privacy right now. Years of discipline are failing you spectacularly as you squeeze your eyelids tight, trying to think of something - anything - besides the way his beard had brushed against your neck when he'd been talking in your ear.
Your hand is flat against your leg, rubbing thoughtfully, when you hear the door open again, Obi Wan emerging fully clothed.
You try not to be obvious, glancing over at him only once, then returning your stare to the bunk above you. When he shuts off the light, you listen to his bare feet as he crosses the room, then vaults gracefully up the short ladder to his bed above you.
It almost feels like you've been caught at something, even though your hand is still resting at your side. You try to focus your thoughts, calm down, and go to sleep. But all you can think about is how big and warm his hands were when they'd held your waist. How hungry his kiss had been. How deep and dark his voice had gotten against your ear.
"I should thank you..." A softer, more subdued shade of that same voice drifts down from above you.
You nearly flinch at the break in silence.
"For keeping your promise," he adds.
The hum of the ship is the only sound as you process his words. It's the last thing you'd expected him to say, though you really hadn't expected him to say anything. Usually, you don't have trouble spotting his sarcasm. This time could be an exception. You aren't certain what would be appropriate to say back.
"You're welcome," you venture.
You fight the urge to admit that it had never been your intention to stop. That despite your better judgement, you still want to take things as far as he'll let you.
After a few long heartbeats, you speak up again. "I uh, thought you felt it was a mistake. Asking me."
A soft exhale. "I should never have said that. I've put you in a difficult situation. Forgive me."
Your eyes search the darkness. As usual, he leaves so much up to your interpretation. Another long moment passes. Suddenly, you want to keep him talking. Something about the way he's holding you at arm's length tells you that if you let things end here and go to sleep, your friendship is going to shift in ways that can't be undone. So you try to think of something else to say.
"How was your shower?"
"Cold," he answers. "Very cold."
Your eyelids flutter. You try not to picture his rigid body, his hand braced against the shower wall as the cold water pulls him back from whatever might have been on his mind.
"I'm sorry if I've made things more... difficult for you."
He doesn't answer for a long time. Then you hear him slowly shift in his bed. "I suspect that by this point, things would be difficult regardless of anything you had done."
"You mean going this long would have been hard for you no matter what?"
"No," he says quietly. "I mean that this was a terrible time for us to be assigned to a joint mission."
"Oh?" you reply, your heartbeat kicking up as you try to keep your tone casual. "Why is that?"
His hesitation is palpable, almost like you can hear him holding back his response.
"You can tell me," you encourage, letting your voice grow soft and breathy.
"Well," he lets out slowly, "I spent the majority of our conversation in the galley thinking only of taking you against the wall. If this was a solo mission, I would like to believe I could avoid such thoughts."
For a moment, all you can hear is the white noise of all the remaining blood in your head rushing to your center, and you ignore the urge to make an embarrassing noise. Instead, you swallow, replying, "It's a good thing I wouldn't have let that happen."
Another pause. "Can you be so sure?"
Your face is growing hot. It's like you can feel him toeing the line, waiting for you to pull him back. You open your mouth, words coming out tentatively. "It's, uh... it's my 'sacred duty', isn't it?"
"I might have tried to coerce you," he responds.
If he keeps offering up blunt confessions wrapped in his soft, chaste delivery, you're going to lose your mind.
"I'm well acquainted with your tactics of persuasion, Obi Wan," you say lightly, as if you aren't seconds away from touching yourself. "What would you have done to coerce me into letting you fail?"
"I think the question is better asked, what wouldn't I have done?"
Shit, he's doing this on purpose. He must be.
"You still haven't answered my question."
"I might have appealed to your sense of decency; tried to convince you to have mercy on me."
You should stop the conversation here. You should laugh and give him some clever quip about him never showing you mercy in training matches. You should tell him it would never work, and leave it at that.
But instead, your throat going dry, you simply ask, "How would you do that?"
It's an opening that shouldn't exist; a lit path that should have remained dark.
He answers, slowly, "I would have held you against that wall, rather than let you leave."
"Mm-hm," you hum softly, listening intently as his words become quieter.
"I would have ended that foolish argument."
Your fingertips graze the side of your leg again. "How?"
"I'd have kissed you. Properly."
"Yeah?"
"And I would have shown you exactly what you do to me."
It's hard not to let your words come out as an airy whine. "What- what do you mean?"
"You know very well what I mean."
Your chin tilts up. Your hand slithers below your waistband. "Obi Wan..."
"I might have pulled your clothes off, then and there. Would you have stopped me?"
You shake your head, though he can't see it. "No."
"If you'd let me, I would have touched you. Stars, I wanted to."
You can't answer. You're circling around your clit, wetness soaking your fingers.
"I wanted to ask for what you'd offered me before."
"Wh-what I'd offered?"
"Your mouth," he answers, sounding like the very thought is painful. "Though I couldn't. If you had said it, I would have had to refuse."
"Refuse?" you breathe, reduced to repeating his words. "Why?"
"Because I-" He cuts himself off. "I would have..."
You try to keep your panting quiet.
"With the way you... use your mouth on me, I couldn't have stopped there. I would have fucked you... I..." he grinds out. "I would have-"
A moan escapes your lips, and he goes suddenly silent.
The recycled air hangs still for an eternity.
He'd heard you.
You can do nothing but wait. Wait for the question. The confusion. The accusation.
But it never comes.
Then, finally, movement.
He rolls in his bunk, and you freeze, pulling your hand up and lying still as you hear him shift.
You want to say something, to make an excuse, to pretend nothing had happened. But the sound had been unmistakable. And your breath is coming too short to even speak.
You have no idea what he intends to do, but for some reason, he seems to be getting out of bed.
You can barely make out his form when he slowly steps down from above you, crowding into your bunk in the darkness. He comes closer, whispering your name, and when you don't reply, he leans down, giving you plenty of time to pull away.
You don't make a move; don't say a word. His mouth finds yours, and you sigh softly against it.
He kisses you, slowly this time, exploring you carefully and precisely. He waits to feel every movement that you reciprocate, brushing his bottom lip delicately across your top lip, waiting for you to spread open for him, which you eagerly do. Minutes pass before he finally slides his tongue into your mouth and drags a needy sound out of you.
He passes a hand down at the same time, reaching under your clothes and between your legs with a quiet certainty. Pressing his first two fingers down, he sinks into your wetness and draws them out again. His lips pull apart from yours.
"You were touching yourself," he says, the faint light in the room dancing in the reflection of his eyes. His hand drops to the bedding, evidence smearing across the fabric as he looks to you for answers.
"I..." You're obscenely embarrassed, but you try to keep from dropping his gaze. "I didn't mean for you to... to notice."
His features have taken on an emotion you can't quite place. "How long have you felt... like this?"
Your face flushes. It must be a joke, but you have no idea how to respond. "What do you mean?"
He shakes his head. "I had no idea you..."
"What?"
"When you offered to help me, I hadn't thought..."
You look at him for a long time, taking in his blown-out pupils, his kiss-swollen lips, his undeniable sincerity.
The truth washes over you, slowly sinking in.
All this time, he'd thought you'd been simply putting up with his request. That you were being a good friend. That you'd only offered to help him out of obligation.
His gaze falls off to the side, then drags back to you. "I had thought it was for my benefit alone."
You try to find the words to express how fucking mad with want that he's been driving you this entire time, but you come up empty. Instead, at long last, all you can say is, "No."
"No?" he whispers.
You shake your head softly. "No."
For a moment, he looks as if you've punched him. Then his wide eyes flicker down to your lap. "Show me, then," he breathes. "Will you?"
When he lowers his hands to your hips, resting his thumbs inward, awaiting your permission, it's like his touch is scorching you; boiling you over, even through your clothes.
You suck in air, trying desperately to clear your head. There's a reason you can't just give in and let him sink his fingers back in exactly where you need them. There's definitely a good reason. If only you could think of anything beyond how good his hands would feel on your skin...
But, no. Biting your lip, you shake your head and use every remaining shred of your willpower to say, "If you want, I'll show you. But not like this."
His face falls, confusion staining his features as he pulls his hands back. "What do you mean?"
You try to keep your panting quiet enough that he can't hear it, pressing back on your elbows and lifting your chin to look past him, over the side of the bed. "Could you get my pack for me?"
His uncertain look lingers, but he pulls your pack up and hands it to you. Digging inside, you find what you need.
His demeanor shifts the instant he catches sight of them. "You packed them anyway."
You give him a shy shrug, looking at him coyly through your eyelashes. "Never hurts to be prepared."
He swallows. "Those would not be necessary for what I had in mind."
He gives a pointed downward look, and you try not to shiver. Steeling yourself, you answer, "If you want to watch, we should put certain... assurances in place. As your witness, I think it's best to be safe."
It's a lie, of course. A lie to finally get what you want, after all this desperate trying.
His reaction earlier had shown you that the only way you can be sure to finish what you start is to literally hold him in place. You can't risk him losing his nerve again. Despite the fog of sex clouding your thoughts, you know this is your final chance, and you have no intention of wasting it. You aren't just going to offer him simple, straightforward relief. You're going to draw it out until it's the only thing he can think of. Until he can do nothing but give in.
"So," you ask, dawning your best false bravado and sitting up to encircle one of his wrists in the first of the binders. He doesn't pull away, but he hardly looks pleased. "What's it going to be?"
As you ask the question, you activate the first binder and meet his eyes. The uncertainty is still there, but it doesn't completely mask the excitement beneath. He exhales, then tucks his other arm behind his back, allowing you to chain him to the handle of the durasteel panel at the end of your small bunk. His shoulders are pulled into a hard line and he rests in a kneeling position, looking down at you as you slowly lie back on the bed.
"Thanks for trusting my judgement," you tell him, getting comfortable in the soft covers, but hesitating before slipping your hand beneath your clothes again. His eyes follow your movement, and your fingers rest just shy of where they should be going.
"You left me few other options," he replies, settling back against his restraints.
Looking up at him, you suddenly feel self-conscious. Has your coercion gone too far?
"You had options," you clarify. "You still have them."
He smirks. "Hardly. Remain a free man, or watch you pleasure yourself. To call that a choice would make me a fool."
You give a soft breath, then your fingers drop low. You can see his smirk falling away just as your eyelids flutter shut.
Your hand glides easily to where it had been only moments before, listening to the sound of his voice as you'd touched yourself. Your chest is tight with the anxiety of knowing he's watching you, but it's equal parts unnerving and thrilling at the same time. You start to play with yourself and the mix of adrenaline and desire shoots through you like lightning.
"Undress for me," he instructs. "Let me see."
It isn't said with anything resembling a demand, yet you shake your head, leaning back against your pillow. You're in charge. He has to know that.
"I know you aren't used to it," you reply, wrist slowing as you give him a soft smile, "but I'm giving orders at the moment." Your hand stills. "You're here to watch, nothing more."
You can feel him tense as your movement disappears. He stays quiet, as if waiting for you to continue, and when you don't, he finally speaks up.
"Don't stop, darling."
His soft encouragement nearly makes you pull your slippery-wet fingers over your clit and come on the spot. Even as you begin to drag your wrist in achingly slow circles again, carefully avoiding putting too much pressure anywhere dangerous, you're thinking about it. Maybe you could afford to tip over the edge and bite your lip hard enough to hide it. But not after he's worked you up this much. You're going to be a mess, and you know it.
Instead, you use your other hand to unbutton the top of your bodice and breathe a little deeper, holding your voice steady as you casually reply, "There it is again. You called me that earlier."
"What?"
"Darling," you say softly, trying to let it sound like an offhand observation.
"I used to call you that all the time."
Your brow creases. "I don't remember that."
"Ah," he says, sounding suddenly reserved. "Perhaps it was under my breath, then."
You open your eyes to look at him, expecting a smile, but finding him completely focused between your legs.
Stifling a whimper, you push your pants off with hurried, uncareful hands, staring up at him the whole time. You've given in much too quickly - you were supposed to draw this out. But you can't help it. He's talking you right up to the edge without even trying.
"Oh," he groans, watching you spread your legs for him and delicately begin to play with your pussy.
You lower your lashes and drag your eyes down his still fully-clothed body. You need to keep focused - keep pushing him closer to where you are.
"I should confess, this isn't the first time I've touched myself thinking of you."
He gives a small nod, not tearing his eyes from their spot. "I know. The holos."
You swallow, building your courage. "Not just then."
His eyes briefly flick up to your face, an urgent question in his gaze, but they hang there for only a second before he's distracted back to your center.
Letting out a slow breath, you let yourself ease your middle finger against your clit, the air on your skin chilling the wetness running along the insides of your thighs. "After that night we fell asleep together."
A loud huff of breath escapes him. "You... you didn't..."
Building toward orgasm isn't going to take long. You're practically soaking your fingers as you admit it to him: "Right afterward; just like this."
You let out a little shudder, speeding up your movements when you hear the soft clink of him readjusting in the binders.
"Let me touch you."
You leave it hang, as if you hadn't heard it.
"I touched myself here, too, imagining it was you."
Your free hand lifts to your left nipple, brushing it softly at first and then circling it until it starts to harden. Your bodice is open at the top, but still held tightly together at the bottom. As you near the edge, you study Obi Wan's face, watching his frustration build at each slow, deliberate movement. You pull your other hand up and drag your slick over your sensitive skin, using it to bring your other nipple to a hardened bud.
"Have you ever been touched like that?"
He doesn't answer, jaw tight and eyes fixated on your roving fingers.
"I think you'd like it," you go on, cupping your breasts and lazily drawing your fingertips over your skin. Then, you sit up and crawl the short distance to him.
"What do you think?" you ask innocently, hands spreading under his outer tunic. You rub your hand experimentally back and forth a few times to see if he'll bristle, but if anything, he seems to lean into your touch. Sliding your hand beneath his outer tunic, you brush his nipple through the remaining cloth. Delightfully, you find that it's already hard.
You smile, pushing his outer tunic over his shoulders. "You're a little more indecent than I thought, Obi Wan."
His lips are parted as he stares down your body, then back to where you're touching him.
"You have no idea."
You suck the edge of your bottom lip into your mouth, then take both your hands and trail them lightly against the soft fabric of his inner tunic, from his shoulders down to his stomach, palms flat. Then you bring your thumbs up to his nipples and begin to tease. His eyes roll up, then fall shut. He doesn't say anything out loud, but his chest begins to heave with shallow, harsh breaths.
You go on like that for a long while, drinking in every sharp intake of air, every roll of his shoulders, and every time he opens his eyes to look at you through a glossy daze.
"Let's make you a little more comfortable, hm?" you finally say, reaching to remove his inner tunic as well, but struggling with the resistance of the rest of his clothes, the multiple layers all held tight by his belt. You lower your hand, then stop to look at him before gently tugging at it.
"Can I take this off?"
"Yes," he answers before you even finish your last word.
You grin, freeing his waist and shoving both his tunics back, pushing open his neckline to reveal the bare skin beneath, until he's naked to the waist. With his clothes still draped halfway over his arms, you simply stare. The muscles bound to every inch of his frame are almost too much of a distraction to notice the obscene bulge straining in his pants. Almost.
"You, uh..." Your voice nearly cracks and you carefully clear your throat. "You look... really good like this."
Obi Wan, still gazing at your nearly naked body, barely seems to have noticed you talking. "I can't say what I think of the way you look." After a moment, he adds, "There aren't words in Basic for the things I want to do to you."
You feel a pulse between your legs, then smile weakly. "Let's just focus on you for the moment."
Your thumbs brush over his bare nipples again and he gasps. "That- that feels..."
He dissolves into short breaths, going silent for a long time as you drag the tips of your fingernails up and down his chest with feather-light touches. His biceps flex in time with your hypnotic rhythm as his skin pricks into goosebumps.
"Good, isn't it?" you say softly, not expecting a response as you watch him curl and flex beneath your touch. You go lower, daring to slide your hands low enough that they graze the skin beneath his belly button.
When you can see his stomach beginning to tighten in apparent frustration, you start to tease his nipples again, and he lets out a noise somewhere between startled and relieved. You only tease him briefly, then give him a moment's break to catch his breath, tracing his bare shoulders with your fingertips.
"How..." he manages after his panting subsides, "...did you know..."
You give him a wry smile, flicking your thumbs back and forth softly over his nipples again. "How did I know you'd like this?" you finish for him. "Just a feeling."
He moans in response, hips bucking forward. His face is starting to get flushed, and you suppress the urge to lathe your tongue over his neck.
"Why don't you lie down for me?" you purr into his ear.
He pulls at the binders, making an obvious point. "You've made that rather difficult."
Hesitating, you look him over, trying to let the logical part of your brain swim back to the surface. On the one hand, you know taking him out of the binders is going to lead to a conversation about getting him back into them, which ultimately could put an end to this. On the other hand, the image of Obi Wan lying beneath you, spread out, completely at your mercy...
"Just one hand."
You hold his gaze for a moment, waiting for him to agree. He raises his brows in that charming way he has, not saying anything back. Ever the skilled tactician, even in a moment like this, he's not going to volunteer anything he doesn't have to.
"I'm going to let one hand free, just so you can lie down," you clarify, reaching behind him to use the fingerprint scanner on the pre-programmed binders. You rest a hand on his shoulder, leaning close to the side of his face. "That means you lie down as soon as I press this button, right? Nothing else. Nothing to break the rules."
His eyelashes are hanging low as he stares at your mouth, not answering. It takes him a long time to drag his eyes back up to yours, and when he does, your heartbeat kicks up wildly. You click the button, only vaguely aware that he hadn't yet answered.
His hand finally loose, he doesn't let go of eye contact as he reaches for your chest, lightly dragging his fingertips beneath your collarbone.
"L-lie down," you whisper, not moving as he smooths the side of his knuckle down your bare skin. You arch your back instinctively, letting out a short, soft moan when he grazes your nipple. Your eyelashes flutter closed, despite your efforts. You force them open again.
"My goodness," he says breathlessly, sweeping his hand up to your cheek. "You are beautiful."
Fighting hard against the flush that you can already feel is settling deeply in your face, you force a dismissive smile and lift your own hand over his hand. "The words of a man currently tied to my bed, who would say anything to make me let him loose."
He meets your gaze straight-on. "The words of a man too desperate to tell anything but truth."
"Obi Wan," you murmur softly, not sure if you mean to chastise or encourage him.
He slides his hand to your jaw, starting to lean in for a kiss. That finally pulls you out of your daze. Heart racing, you lean in first. And harder.
Before he can meet your lips in a slow, sensual kiss, you close your mouth over his, plunging your tongue deep and drawing out a moan from him.
Using the momentum to push him back against the panel, you raise his hand up above his head, kissing him with every bit of the passion you've been holding back, ignoring the pulsing need to give in and simply press your body up against him, kiss him, taste him. Instead, you focus on getting his hand into position, and give a satisfied hum against his mouth as you clip the second binder back into place.
He makes a displeased noise in the back of his throat, but he does not stop kissing you.
His lips are ravenous, as if he knows the second he stops, you're going to pull away. He isn't playing with you; isn't going along with your teasing. He's unabashedly trying to feel whatever he can get. You use it to your advantage, pushing his pliant body toward the bed, sucking his bottom lip as you ease him down until he's lying beneath you.
When you finally pull apart, you murmur against his mouth, "I'm sorry."
He's looking up at you, lips parted, looking slightly accusatory but overall like he would very much like to continue kissing. "That was quite unfair."
"I... I couldn't trust myself," you admit, sitting up.
He licks his lips, then answers in an infuriatingly calm tone, "You might have trusted me instead, then."
You sit back, letting your eyes travel brazenly over his body, his arms held above his head and the rest of him lying spread out for you. You swallow, then try to match his unaffected tone. "Well. You never agreed to the terms, did you?"
His chest is heaving, but he still maintains that silky-smooth intonation. "I was hardly given the chance."
You drag your fingers up and down his skin, starting with his arms, which look thick and bracing from this angle. The dark hair of his underarms is inexplicably salacious.
"And if I gave you the chance now?" you ask, fingers drifting lower, brushing over the sensitive skin of his sides. You watch him shiver, skin prickling.
"The terms were... quite restrictive," he retorts, then closes his mouth to breathe through his nose.
By the time you reach his waist, he's visibly straining under your touch. He no longer looks combative. He just looks very, very serious.
You brush your fingers along his pants, taking care to stay above the waistline. After you've run your nails along it a few times, you casually ask him, "Can I take these off?"
He nods his head, ruffling his hair in the back. "Please."
"Mm," you answer, then slide your thumbs back up to play with his nipples again. "Good to know."
He sucks in, letting out sharp, harsh little breaths as you toy with him. You bring one thumb up to your mouth, lick it, and then slide it across his right nipple. Then you lean over his body to blow softly over the wet skin.
He jerks, sucking air between his teeth at the sensation, and meets your eyes. "Wh-why did you ask, if you weren't - ah - going to..."
He trails off as you lightly drag your nails down his chest, not stopping as you brush over his hardened nipples. His back arches off the bed and you can see the muscles of his arms clench tight.
"Because," you reply, forcefully nonchalant, "I want to make sure you won't stop me."
"I assure you," he grinds out, "That is the furthest thing from my mind."
He's dangerously close to encouraging you. Should you remind him that he can't technically ask for this, or you will have to stop?
No. He knows the rules. He said it himself.
You tease a finger beneath his waistband, then go back to stroking him lightly over the chest, humming approvingly at every little panting breath he gives in return.
You try to think of a way to re-frame things, giving him a careful reply. "Besides... it's not like you have the means to stop me, if you wanted to."
He nods along vigorously, watching you get closer and closer to his straining cock with every brush of your hand.
"You're right," he breathes.
You palm him through his clothes, his head falling back in relief when you finally touch him. The weight of his cock in your hand makes you want to moan. He's leaking through the fabric, so hard it must be painful. He gives a small whimper at the contact.
Your mouth already watering, you continue to give him soft, slow strokes, watching his face contort beautifully. Enjoying the sensation, you intend to draw this out as long as possible. The thought suddenly makes you shake your head a little.
"I can't believe you thought I was doing this all for you," you say softly. "You really thought I wasn't enjoying myself? That I wasn't into this?"
"Believe me..." He pauses to catch his breath, opening his eyes to look down at you. "If I had thought that those holos you sent were anything but instruments of torture, I would have taken your door off its hinges getting into to your quarters."
"What?" you blurt out, hand stilling on his cock. "But... you wouldn't have been able to do anything."
His brows furrow slightly. "On the contrary. Giving myself pleasure is strictly forbidden. Giving you pleasure..."
"...would have left you even worse off," you finish for him, trying to be reasonable.
He gives you a rakish grin. "A sacrifice well worth making."
Fuck, you need his cock in your mouth.
You gather fabric tight in both your hands, dragging his pants off his hips all in one slow, deliberate pull. You keep the fabric taut, gripping hard until his cock bursts out, standing rigidly all at once. Enveloping the leaking tip in your mouth, you can't hold back any longer. You take him all in one swallow.
He gasps, shockingly loud this time.
The sound warms your cheeks, heat pooling in the pit of your stomach, and you begin to bob your head over the length of him as he lets out anguished sounds from deep in his chest.
You keep your hand wrapped around the base of him, pumping him steadily, drool filling your mouth embarrassingly fast. His hips are bucking to meet every jerk of your hand, and your eyes roll back at the feeling of him filling you up. You lift your eyes to see his face, but from this angle all you can see is the underside of his beard and his flushed, open lips. His head is thrown back in what looks like silent agony.
You slide your lips back to his head, sucking there until he makes a deliciously urgent, overwhelmed sound. Then you pop off of him for a moment, licking your lips and letting him catch his breath. His chest is flushed red, sweat beading at his brow. He looks down at you, eyes wild.
"Fuck," he whines raggedly. "Oh, fuck..."
You smile innocently. "Good?"
He drops his head back, panting. "Unbelievable."
You hum in response, gently kissing the side of his cock. He twitches, and you flatten your tongue, licking a slow stripe from his base to his tip, then spread your lips and take him again in one languid mouthful. You drag several more expletives out of him, gripping his thigh with one hand and starting to tease his balls with the other.
"Oh, yes," he moans, hands dropping limp against his restraints. "That's it. Don't- don't stop..."
Your eyes go wide and you slow down, hesitating. Isn't that... isn't what he just said...
You hold him with one hand, stopping and swallowing so you can speak. "I, uh- um..."
He sits up, pulling at the chain to look at you, eyes glossy and lost. "Your mouth," he rasps. "Please."
That seals it. Damn him.
He's at the edge of coming. You can feel his dick throbbing in your hand, and you could give it to him. You could, but...
"I... I can't," you answer, hating the words. You stroke him a little, not able to move away or let go. Not able to stop entirely.
Breath escapes him in erratic huffs. He sounds like he's almost laughing in disbelief, but his face is all desperate panic. "What?"
"I can't," you say, sounding like you're pleading. "You told me you couldn't ask for it. You made me promise."
His mouth is hanging open. All he says is your name as an obtestation.
Your face crumbles. "I'm sorry. I have to. You... you wanted this."
He shakes his head. "No, no, listen-"
"I should really..." You need to excuse yourself. Put as much distance between you as possible. Lock yourself out of the room if you have to. But looking at him like this... His hair is a matted mess. It's flattened against the crown of his head and jutting up behind his ears where he'd rubbed against his own arms, writhing under your touch. His jaw is slack, his chest ruddy and covered in a thin sheen of sweat. You've never seen him like this before. If you didn't know better, you'd think he'd seen battle.
"S-should really..." you repeat, face pinched tight in denial as you jerk him slowly and watch him buck at the slightest touch. "I should go."
"No, wait," he urges, voice cracking a little. "Just- just stay. For a moment."
"I don't think I should." You finally pull your hand away and he sighs roughly.
"Let me feel you," he pleads, eyes meeting yours.
"No, I... I'm not supposed to," you reply, wanting absolutely nothing more than to give in.
He shakes his head. "Please. Let me touch you."
A flush overtakes you, and you sit up to pull the edge of a blanket over your unclothed lower half. "I can't... let you do that."
He looks physically pained at your answer. "You cannot leave me like this. Only a touch. Just one hand. I'll do nothing to break our agreement."
His offer is so clearly going to make things harder for him, and perhaps it's selfish to accept it. Perhaps you should hesitate; let him take some time to reconsider.
Perhaps a better friend would have taken a moment to meditate on exactly what it meant for you to allow this one final concession. Or any of the other little concessions that have led you to this very choice.
But you aren't a good friend. You are a very bad, very fallible friend. And you release just one of his wrists. And he's sitting up, leaning toward you before you've even moved the blanket.
He kisses you, hand dropping down immediately, dragging from your stomach down to your navel. It feels like he's setting you alight. When he goes lower, you bite back a pathetic whine. You're already so worked up, the faintest attention from him is overwhelming.
"Uncuff me," he whispers against your lips, fingers grazing your sensitive skin.
You sigh helplessly. Stars, you want nothing more. You swallow, shaking your head in a feeble attempt to regain control. His fingers slide between your legs and his mouth falls open when he feels how wet you are.
"Oh, darling, uncuff me."
You shake your head again, eyes squeezed shut as his fingers delve deeper, your slick dripping over his hand. "N-no, Obi Wan, I can't," you plead, close to the edge already.
How can you tell him that the binders are now your last shred of self-control and you have no idea what will happen if they come off?
"Mm-" you whine high in your throat, letting yourself give into the feeling of him touching you, if only for a moment. Then you reach down to grasp his wrist, as if to stop him, but making no effort to actually go through with it.
Feeling his wrist move beneath your palm, you can't deny the thrill of letting him do this to you while holding onto his arm. You're acting as if you're holding him back when you're practically guiding him through it.
He curls his fingers up and presses them deep inside you, making you moan. It's such a needy, depraved sound that your eyes widen in surprise and you suddenly realize that you need to stop before you lose control completely.
Obi Wan catches the look in your eyes, though, and it's in that moment that you realize - you already have.
He leans forward to kiss your neck, pumping his fingers faster. "Let me taste you," he whispers against your neck, breath hot and ragged.
You lift your head, giving him more space to drag his tongue across your skin. "We shouldn't."
"There isn't a single rule you would be breaking."
You bite your lip, unable to focus on anything but the way he feels inside you.
"Please, let me hear you come, or I'll spend my nights dreaming of it until I go mad. Let me taste you. It's all I ask."
"Fuuuck." You drag out the word.
Every other day of your life, you can be a Jedi. You can be mindful and temperate and restrained. But not tonight. Not with his eyes so soft, his deep, accented voice sliding thick around your name, pleading for all these lovely sins.
If it had been anyone but him, you could have said no. But it's Obi Wan.
Obi Wan, whispering soft encouragement when you lean into his side, pressing your finger on the button.
Obi Wan, rolling over your body and wrapping you in his arms the instant he's free, pinning you to the bed and sucking at your neck like you're dripping honey.
Obi Wan, pulling you down to the edge of the bed with the strength and wildness of a man who's been denied far too long.
Obi Wan, kneeling between your legs and sliding his tongue into your pussy before you can say another word.
"Obi Wan..." His name spills out of you like a confession. Like you've been waiting to moan it like this since the day you'd agreed never to do it again.
His eyes are closed, his proud, regal nose buried deep between your thighs. He starts to drag his tongue up the river of slick pouring out of you, over and over and over while you squirm at the warm, unyielding pressure he's giving you. He's nowhere near your clit. This is all for him. Just tasting you, like he'd said.
It takes him a few minutes to gain some semblance of composure, finally pulling back to lick you properly, from the pool of your wetness all the way up. His tongue is flat and firm, and he makes a noise in the back of his throat when you roll your hips against him.
"Shit-" you gasp, pleasure winding steadily through your body with every methodical drag of his mouth. He's kissing you; sucking you - fervent, hungry, almost punishing. When his tongue delves into you again, the bedding twists beneath your hands.
"So good," you urge him on, wishing you could come up with better words to describe what he's doing to you, but your mind is half gone already, melted into a puddle of 'yes' and 'ohh' and 'just like that...'
You fight to open your eyes. It's going to be over too quickly if you keep them closed, letting the heat curl up hard and sudden. You need to stretch this out. You want to enjoy every moment, every detail. But looking down, you quickly realize, is only going to send you rocketing over the edge.
His eyes are still closed, his brows knitted hard together. You can't resist running your fingers through his beautiful golden hair, enjoying the way the dim light plays in the feathery locks. Running your hand along his ear, you sigh without meaning to. You could come just from the sight of him.
"We can... slow down," you force out, trying to make him give you a second to breathe. He just keeps licking you. Same steady pace. Same hard grip on your thighs.
"If you want," you try again.
He finally slows, murmuring warm words against you. "You haven't the faintest idea, do you?"
An electric thrill courses through you at the sound of his deepened voice, hearing and feeling it at the same time. "Mm?" is all you can manage to squeak out.
Then he pulls his mouth from between your legs and looks up at you, beard sopping wet and just the barest hint of a smirk on his lips. "How badly I've longed for this."
As he replaces his mouth with his thumb, rubbing softly at your clit, you gasp and stammer out, "Because of the Nikk-" you shudder, shocks of pleasure rolling through you as he slides the back of his index finger up and down, gathering your wetness. "Th-the trial?"
He slides that finger, along with a second one, back inside you. Your gasp turns broken, choked off in the back of your throat.
His blue eyes are piercing in their intensity, his voice low and a little rough when he gives you his answer before sealing his mouth over you again.
"No."
Your eyes roll back in your head as he plays with your clit, tongue stroking over you as your hands bury themselves in his soft hair.
"Obi Wan!" you choke out, all the heat inside you gathering tightly and ready to burst. "Fuck!"
He gives you perfect rhythm, working you from two directions at once; inside and outside, steady and merciless. You can feel the soft bristles of his beard against the tender skin of your inner thigh as his jaw moves, and you mentally file it away - knowing the memory is going to haunt you every time your own fingers bring you relief when you're alone.
When he finally sends you flying over the edge, your moans turn into ragged whimpers, your body tensing hard as your pussy convulses and twitches around his fingers. You cry his name again, almost in shock at how good it feels. He's wringing every bit of your orgasm from you, dragging his fingers in that perfect curl until you have to sit up, palms digging into the mattress and rocking your body forward as the pleasure starts to flirt with overstimulation.
When you do, though, you can see the motion his body is making. It's dark in the room, but the light coming off the nearby control panel is enough to see Obi Wan's hips thrusting even as his upper body stays pinned between your thighs.
A sudden wave of euphoria shoots through your veins as you realize he's fucking himself against the bed while you're coming in his mouth.
"Fuck," he gasps, pulling off only when you shove back his shoulders. His eyes don't leave your center. "I can't... I need-"
Your mouth is still hanging open as you collapse back on the bed, legs trembling. You blink at him through a daze, watching him where he kneels. His hand - the same one he's just slid out of your pussy - goes straight between his legs and he moans.
His expression is like nothing you've ever seen him wear before. He looks completely debauched; eyes so big and soft and tormented, deep red flush set high on his cheek bones, and mouth dropped open like he's fighting for his breath. Despite your bone-deep satisfaction, you feel a flutter in your stomach from seeing him like this.
"I can't," he repeats, using one big palm to cradle your thigh as he strokes his cock furiously. "Please..."
Your hand slides down to touch his as he grips your soft skin, thumb dragging through the wetness that's spread all over your inner thighs. Your head still in the clouds, you manage to pant out, "You... made me promise..."
"A promise, is that all?" he asks, voice shaking. "Keep it. I just... need to feel you."
Wondering if it's your hazy thoughts or his words that are making no sense, you loll your head to the side. "How... could we...?"
"It isn't against the rules. I swear it."
Technically, many things could be allowed within the rules. The way the Nikkama is worded... though it's been translated so many times...
There's the letter of the law, and the spirit of the law. Which one can you bring yourself to follow?
With Obi Wan staring up at you, stomach smeared with his own sticky mess from rubbing himself against a mattress instead of you, technicalities suddenly sound incredibly tempting.
"Damn," you say softly as you unabashedly stare at him. "You truly are a great negotiator."
His brows knead together. "Negotiating? No, darling, I am begging."
He sinks one knee into the edge of the bed, leaning over you. "This is a cry for mercy."
As he strokes himself, you find yourself spreading your legs.
"Obi Wan..."
"Please, I... a-anything," he stammers hoarsely, hand grazing his cock and then tightening as he looks down. "I need it quite- quite badly."
You watch the way he palms himself, brazenly drinking in every inch of your body. And you realize how truly weak you are.
"You... couldn't put it inside..."
Relief seems to flood him as he shakes his head, leaning into you and stroking himself faster. "No... no..."
He thumbs gently at your pussy, spreading you open, and groans.
You make a high noise in the back of your throat, not able to answer as the heavy warmth of his cockhead is pressed against you, sliding between the lips of your pussy.
Obi Wan makes a sound like he's taken a blaster bolt straight to the chest. He still has one leg on the floor and you can feel his thigh shaking, struggling to hold him up. He's half pressing himself down into your warmth, frantic and messy as his hips buck at their own pace.
You're still buzzing from your first orgasm, but there's something deeper than just the physical that's starting to burn again already. The look on his face alone is enough to make you throb.
"We... we have to stop," you say, in a voice that's anything but convincing. "We- we have to."
"It's alright," he pants out, eyes glassy as his hands slide to your waist, holding you steady to fuck through your slick, inviting warmth. "It's alright."
You know it's not, but feeling him rocking against you like this, desperate and needy and savage, you can no longer bring yourself to care.
"F-fuck." His voice breaks, dropping off from a whine. "It's too much-"
He drops his hand into the bedding, the other hand holding your leg open as he thrusts against you, slipping over and over through the wet mess of your pussy as you writhe beneath him, hips rolling at the stimulation. His thick head dragging over your clit with each thrust is stoking the heat inside you, building it up all over again.
He looks up at you with sudden, shocked eyes as if he's pleading for you to stop him, but you're too blissed-out and worked up to do anything of the sort. He reaches down, gripping himself and whimpering, still rutting against you, even through his fist.
His hips buck once more, twice, then...
"Fuck, I'm coming..."
He shudders, the head of his cock thrusting over your clit and shooting warm ropes of cum over your pussy, coating you until you're dripping with it. As each spatter of cum hits your skin, waves of pleasure and relief flood you, almost as if you're the one who's finally being allowed to come after weeks and months of building it up.
When he finally finishes, you let your head fall back, exhausted.
"Shit," you breathe out. "That... was incredible."
A low groan is all he gives you in response, still thrusting his softening cock against you. His eyelids dip low and he seems lost in a trance. You close your own eyes, letting yourself enjoy it. You can't deny your satisfaction, soaking in his sticky mess.
"I'm... I'm sorry, Obi Wan," you tell him after a few long moments of feeling him slowly drag against you. You wonder if he's quiet from disappointment, or something else. He doesn't answer you.
"I guess we failed, then?" you ask softly, trying to hide the desire in your voice when he slides over your clit. He doesn't stop moving, just slows to a pace that sends shivers down every inch of your body.
Still looking like he hasn't quite come back to himself, Obi Wan finally replies, "I wouldn't say that."
You smirk, but it's cut short when you feel him start to glide against your entrance. You stiffen, unsure whether it was an accident.
"I... I thought..."
"It's alright," he says soothingly again, just as he had before. He doesn't make any effort to elaborate.
He slides back and forth a few times more, then gathers some of the cum that's dripped down your legs with the head of his cock, pushing it back inside you. It's only when you feel him pressing at your entrance again that you realize he's starting to get hard.
"Obi Wan..." you murmur, eyes rolling back when he tenses, about to push in.
"Yes." He says it as a statement and a question, all at once. Looking up to meet your eyes, he waits, as if wondering if you'll ask him to stop. As if terrified that you will.
It's then that you realize, you aren't going to stop him. You simply don't have the power within you. Whatever it is that draws you so deeply to Obi Wan is stronger than you can bear to hold off anymore. But you have to put up a show, even if the lie is only for his benefit.
You swallow. "I don't think we should."
His eyes close with a particularly slow thrust. When he opens them, he replies with an edge of nervousness in his voice. "You don't think we should, or you don't want to?"
Trust him to get to the heart of the matter. You tamp down the hot whine in the back of your throat. "It doesn't matter," you reply, knowing you just gave your answer.
"I -ah - I won't..." he breaks off into a moan when the head of his cock presses shallowly into you.
"...won't put it in?" you ask, vulgar.
He shakes his head, mouth open. "No, I won't."
Your pussy sucks him tightly, making you gasp. "N-not all the way?"
He moves, and you hear the obscene sound of him sliding in and out of you. "No. No."
He shoves in a little deeper this time, making room for himself. Everything in you is burning to ask him for more. Feeling this much of him is like torture. He's right there, so big, so thick, and you just want him to fill you as completely as only he can.
Instead, you nod along with his words. "As long as you're in control."
He pulls out with a gasp, thrusting against the side of your pussy as if you've brought him back to reality for a moment.
Gasping to catch your own breath and fighting the urge to clench your thighs around him in frustration at the loss, you ask him shakily, "You're in control, right?"
He nods, arms trembling as he holds himself over you, still simulating fucking you with quiet ferocity.
"Perfectly," he promises, the word sounding drawn out, like he's barely aware he's saying it.
"Good," you tell him, fully concentrated on his cock spreading you open again, pushing into you with careful restraint. "Okay."
He holds there for one blissful moment, then frantically pulls out again, rubbing over your clit and moaning. The sound makes your pussy throb, clenching around nothing.
"I- I just need..." he lines up with you again, and you can feel a heavy spurt of precum dribbling from his cock just before he pushes inside. "Oh, need to feel you."
This time, when he stretches you open and you watch his face get drawn and tight, you realize this is the last time you can stand it. If he pulls out again, you will actually lose your mind. You feel like you've lost it a little already.
You reach a hand up, brushing back the hair that's fallen over his face, then wrap both your arms around his neck. "You are feeling me, Obi Wan."
He lets out a deep groan, pushing shallowly in and out of you.
"Do you want to come inside me this time?"
He makes a choking sound, hips stuttering wildly as he pulls back out. "You would let me?"
Heat warms your cheeks, as you suddenly remember his earlier words. "Well... didn't you say something about begging?"
Obi Wan meets your eyes, his cock hanging heavy against you. "Please, let me finish inside you."
It makes your stomach flip, and it takes your full concentration not to come on the spot. You force out a teasing, "What happened to your Jedi resolve?"
He's still holding you in his gaze as his voice goes low and plaintive. "You've broken it, darling." He gives a little groan as he pushes the tip of his cock back inside. "Along with the rest of me."
His hips shift down a little this time, and his next thrust is world-shattering.
You make a noise somewhat like a sob and he slowly pulls back, moaning deep in his chest.
"I'm sorry, that- that was a mistake, I-"
You spread your fingers through the hair at the back of his head, drawing him down to your lips for a kiss, and he sheaths himself again, fucking into you as if by instinct.
As you melt into the kiss, all the smiles and the wide eyes and the hesitating glances disappear instantly, as if a switch has been flipped. The air suddenly feels electric, and he's inside you, and everything is right in the universe.
He caves his body into yours, pounding into you with a desperate, relentless rhythm that you can feel humming in your blood. It feels like someone kick-started your heart for the first time in years.
"Thought about this for so long," you confess, losing yourself in the perfect strokes he's giving you. "You feel... so fucking good, Obi Wan."
He's panting out obscenities between every moan, but pauses to hear you speak. When he stops, at long last, it's to take off your bodice. Your breasts fall softly free of your clothing and you sigh in contentment as he pulls your naked body close, kissing you deeply.
His arms fall to your waist and he pins you down to the bed, fucking you hard and mean and perfect. His cock is so deep it's making you want to cry in relief as the waves of pleasure overtake you.
"I'm... I'm gonna come," you blurt, embarrassingly quickly.
He answers in a voice you've heard in devotary halls and senate chambers. A voice of smooth confidence and authority. A voice you've heard speaking countless holy words.
His voice is shaking as he begs.
"Come for me, please."
You gasp his name.
"Come on my cock."
Your fingers clasp helplessly around the muscles of his arm as you twitch and writhe, face pulled tight in devastating bliss.
"Come all over my cock and let me feel it."
You come for him, the feeling ripping through you with shocking intensity as he fucks you recklessly, hungrily, desperately.
He snaps his hips hard suddenly, a shocked, "Fuck, Fuck!" tearing out of him. He spills deep inside you, coming and coming and coming as your pussy milks every drop out of him.
"Oh, fuck," you moan, as he pulls back and stuffs you full again. You can feel his cum starting to leak out as his thrusts become slower and more ragged.
"Ohhh, stars," he breathes out, suddenly empty of obscenities. "Oh, my word."
He stays there, head bowed and cock deep inside you, draining the last of himself until both of you have quieted your moaning. Then your eyes meet, and you blush. You share a knowing look, and then you kiss him.
He kisses you back, cupping your jaw gently, then slowly pulls out, making you both groan. He lies down next to you in the messy blankets, pulling you close, and you roll over to look at him properly.
"That was..."
"I know."
He kisses you again.
You lie in silence, then, just enjoying the feeling of being held by him. Finally, you work up your courage and ask him the question that's been waiting at the tip of your tongue.
"Are you... I mean... was that alright?"
He regards you, looking confused. "My darling, how could you ask such a question?"
Your lashes flutter and you look down, caught off-guard for what feels like the hundredth time by his affection. "No, I mean... with the Nikkama, I'm just... I'm sorry if I let you down."
Obi Wan's eyes go soft, and he whispers your name. "Would you like to know why I chose to ask you to act as my witness?"
Despite your bone-tired body, you're suddenly wide awake. Finally, an answer to the question you'd repeatedly thought you'd figured out.
"Yes. Please tell me."
He looks down. "Because..." He pauses to lift your hand to his mouth, kissing your knuckles. "Of all the people in my life, there are few with whom I would feel comfortable discussing... well... matters of a carnal nature."
You nod, unsurprised.
"And... of those few, there was only one person whom I felt I could trust never to return any feelings of mine."
Your eyes go wide.
"No matter how absurdly attractive..." He kisses your hand. "How wildly intoxicating..." He kisses your cheek. "How maddeningly irresistible I may find her."
He leans down and kisses along your jaw, tracing his thumb alongside it. His words are making your head swim.
"Wh... why would you think that?" you whisper, utterly stunned and confused.
Obi Wan answers matter-of-factly, "When you ended things between us-"
"When we ended things," you interrupt, brows furrowed.
He looks at you evenly, then softly continues, "When things came to an end between us, you asked me to promise we would never behave inappropriately again. It was my belief that was what you wanted."
You feel like a rug the size of a planet has been pulled out from under you.
"We both agreed... I mean, I thought we both agreed we were becoming too attached."
He smiles gently. "We did agree on that."
"And I... I mean, we..."
"When you asked that we spend less time with one another, I certainly agreed it would do some good. What I didn't expect was that the next time I reached for your hand, you would pull away."
You can hardly speak. "So you never..."
He lifts his eyebrows good-naturedly. "You broke my heart, my dear girl."
Years of unrequited moments come crashing down all at once. Every time you'd looked at him longingly from across the room, wondering if things could be different...
And the way you'd treated him during this entire trial...
You'd been torturing him. It was no wonder he thought you were doing him a favor by indulging him.
"Obi Wan, I... I regretted ending things," you confess, looking up at him. "I thought so many times about telling you my feelings, but I always held back because I thought it was what we both wanted."
"Well," he replies lightly, though his eyes are penetratingly intense. "What do you think now?"
You capture his mouth in a kiss that's full of every emotion you've left unspoken for years. You don't need another moment to think about it. You've thought about it so terribly, terribly long.
He pulls you close, deepening the kiss as you sigh softly through your nose. This is where you want to be. No question.
When you part, you're both smiling like a couple of padawans. You lay your head on his shoulder and pull the blankets tightly around your neck. Obi Wan drags lazy kisses along your brow, and your eyelids begin to grow heavy. You should really get up and tidy things before you drift off, but right now there's nothing that could make you want to move from his arms.
In the silence that follows, Obi Wan draws slow circles with his fingers over the soft skin of your shoulder. You clear your throat quietly.
"Just to say it, though," you murmur into his skin, "I am sorry we didn't pass the trial."
You can feel him smile against the top of your head.
"What is achievement without failure? I am more than willing to try again. Provided that... you were there to help me?"
"In ten years?" You lift your eyes to him, warm in his embrace. "Of course I will be."
--
A/N: Thank you to everyone who waited so patiently for this final chapter! I hope you liked it! <3
summary: dad and husband vader moments because i want to
tags: mild smut, slight breed!ng k!nk, mentions of pregnancy and labour, kids
masterlist
At this time, your eldest was less than two weeks old.
The little boy had been a rather tough birth. After a long hours of labour, the boy came out healthy and rather big. He had all of his limbs, 10 fingers and 10 toes. The boy was big, especially for one's first baby, a side effect of having children with a man as large as Vader you supposed. The postpartum bleeding afterwards nearly took your life had you not been in the hands of the finest doctors in the galaxy.
During recovery, your husband had begun being more…. present. A change that had been most peculiar seeing as he only used to appear when he wanted to fuck his child into you. Once you became pregnant, he begun to appear during dinners or at bedtime to sleep or again, fuck you.
He seems to appear more now. Not talking much to you or anything, but just lingering every now and then looking at your son in his crib or in your arms. Each time you offer your darling boy to him, he tenses and hesitation fills his eyes. You’re unsure whether the hesitation was because he’s afraid to hurt the baby, or he didn’t want a child.
Deep in your slumber, the whimpers of your son in his crib stir you awake. Blearily, you open your eyes and the sight of Vader looming over the crib greets you. His tall frame towers over the crib, all powerful and terrifying. His gloved hand reaches down to the baby. For a moment, your heart lurches, what if he hurts the baby?
But Vader’s hand seems to be harmless, stroking the baby, quieting his small whimpers. Was he soothing the baby? The warm and quiet air of the room is far too comforting and you nearly fall back asleep as you watch Vader and your son. Exhaustion still seeps in your bones, weighing you down to pull you back to the land of sleep. You try to resist, but eventually exhaustion takes over.
Before you drift away, Vader leans down, and quietly he says “There, there your father’s here, hmm? No need to wake up your mother, my boy.”
Something in your heart, perhaps maternal instinct, you supposed. Despite the lack of evidence to support it, your heart tells you that he somehow would be a good father.
—-
Vader likes you pregnant, all barefoot and belly swollen full of his child. He craved you more now that you were pregnant with his second child, always touching you and pulling you into bed to spread your legs. Your eldest is barely 2 years old as head already keen on another.
Late at night, he’s balls deep into you. Thrusting at a merciless pace that has your sensitive body trembling in pleasure. He’s made you climax so many times, filled you with his seed over and over again as if you weren’t pregnant with another son of his.
Just as he’s about to shoot another load into your sweet cunt, a sharp knock on the door interrupts him.
A voice came from outside the door. “Lord Vader! I’m— I’m sorry to interrupt, but it's the young master! His fever is too high, we think he’s seizing.”
Without hesitation, you move to push him off of you but your legs are shaky from the countless orgasms he gave you. Your swollen belly doesn’t aid your cause. Vader gently pushes you back down, “I’ll go to him, don’t force yourself up if you can’t. I don’t want you to…hurt yourself or the baby.”
He dons his robes before heading to your son’s bedroom while you try to gather yourself. Down the hall, your little boy needs you and you need to get it together.
Shakily, you clean yourself up. You forgo a nightgown and quickly wear your robe, before heading to your son’s room. Walking through the hall, you hear his cries and you hear Vader too.
The sight that greets you both melts your heart and twists it. Vader is on the bed, cradling your son in his lap, gently soothing him through the sobs.
“Shh, I’m sorry, I know it hurts. The doctor will be here soon, hmm?” He says to your son.
“See, there’s mummy. She didn’t forget you. Do you still want her kisses, to make you feel better?” he asks your son.
When your son sees you, he cries out for you, sobs wracking through his small body. You sit down next to Vader, reaching out to stroke your son’s head and kiss his head. The little boy leans into your touch, body relaxing when you calm him. His temperature is high, he wasn’t even feverish when you were breastfeeding him or putting him to bed earlier.
His skin is flushed red, even in the dim lighting of the room. “Have they called the doctor?” You ask Vader, voice trembling with worry.
Vader merely nods as he continues to rub your son’s back. The little boy eventually gets sleepy and wants to lay with you. Vader lays the boy’s head on your thigh, making sure his head is supported. Vader pats your son’s stomach to lull him to sleep while you stroke his little head.
“He was fine when I put him to bed,” you say quietly, trying not to jostle the sleeping boy.
“Wasn’t feverish when I fed him earlier either. I don’t know how I didn’t feel him coming down with something.” you continue, guilt and worry lacing every word.
“It’s not your fault. Children get ill all the time, him included. I think.. I might know what’s happening but let’s wait until the doctor get here.” Vader somberly replies.
“Speaking of which, they better get here soon or else they’re dead. Why pay them so much and they can’t even get here quickly?” grumbles Vader.
A sharp kick from your baby earns a small whimper from you. “Baby’s kicking hard again?” He asks.
You nod, “He’s usually active this time of night. Kicking my bladder for fun. Do you want to feel?”
Vader reaches out and places a hand on your swollen belly, feeling his son move inside you. Eventually, he helps you back to bed. He promises to not kill the doctor for being late and insists you require the rest. After all, its his baby growing inside you.
By the time the doctor arrives, Vader wants to kill him for arriving so late. The only reason the doctor is alive is that his son needs a doctor and his pregnant wife would faint if he killed a man in their home.
He decides against waking you up since the results won’t be available till morning anyways. The doctor administers some medication and thoroughly ensures checks over his son.
Vader orders the doctor to stay overnight, in case another seizure comes. Vader picks up the now sleeping boy and brings him to your bedroom.
“Papa?” his son sleepily calls out.
“Hmm? What’s wrong, you feeling bad again?”
“Wanna sleep with you and mummy.”
“I know. That’s why I’m taking you to our room. Mummy’s going to make you all better with her kisses, hmm?” Says Vader
His son is already asleep again before he can reply.
A/N: okay this was a fun one! a little shorter then normal but maybe that’s good? listened to the inspo song on replay as i wrote this one… i hope you enjoy!! requests are still open lovelies <3
° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂
The neon sign made your eyes squint as you entered the building, immediately adjusting to the dark lights and blasting music. You feel your chest shake as the bass buzzed through your body, a smile dancing across your face.
You move through the rooms and finally go to your area. You begin to get dressed in your signature piece and adjusting it to fit like perfection.
The drive there was chaotic as the boys continued taking shot after shot, all of them laughing with spilled drinks and yelling at the tops of there lungs out of the window.
“Next stop, here we are!”
Chris high fives Josh as the pile out of the limo, all of the boys acting like dogs walking in practically panting at the sight of the women in the building.
The inside of the building is dark, the smell of tobacco and strong liquor floods their senses, all four of the boys watching as the bottle girls walked through the crowd.
“Oh hell yeah,” Josh let out a satisfied sigh, all the boys agreed and carried on through the crowds.
Finally settling into reserved seats at the table in the very front, right next to the stage. Only the best for the young Washington, all eager to see the next performer.
“Hey! You’re on in 2 minutes!” One of your fellow girls yelled out to you, with a huff you replied with a simple ‘I know’.
Finally work your look being satisfactorily you looked yourself up and down in the mirror, confidence growing with every second as you watched your body move. Heels on, hair fluffed, tight corset with stockings, to complete the look you pulled on a long fur coat that shielded your entire body knees and up.
As the previous girl left the stage you gave her a smile and walked towards the place marker, giving yourself a simple pep talk before you were on.
You could hear the music playing, cheers for the other performers on seperate stages, whistles and cat calls. Normally you were not a fan of this behavior, men often disgusting you. However, if you could use this to make money off of them it was a win in your eyes.
Finally you hear the beat of your song come on, taking a deep breath you begin to make your way out, the pink and red lights taking over your sight.
“Birthday boy over here!” Chris stood up suddenly and begin pointing at Josh, all of the boys wooping and calling out to grab your attention.
You kept your head down waiting to look at the crowd until you were closer, with your head down you began letting the coat slip down your shoulders. Your body being slowly revealed for the crowd.
The noises these men made gave you confidence as you tilted your head up, giving out a wink to no one in particular. You held onto the pole and let your body move with the music, closing your eyes and dancing.
“Oh shit.” Immediately the group looked at eachother, mouths wide open.
“Is that…” Josh was speechless, his eyes drinking up every curve of your body, he tuned out his friends and watched you move.
Mike, Chris, Matt and of course, Josh watched you move, your body and movements surprising all of them. You had never been one to show much skin, and to be doing this? It shocked them all, that’s why they just couldn’t take their eyes off of you.
You began your routine, twisting and grabbing the pole, doing some of your signatures that made the crowd go wild.
Your eyes dance across the men watching you, a familiar pair of deep blue eyes lock with yours. Josh?
You continued as usual but your heart began racing, you knew it was his birthday but you never thought out of all places they’d be here. You mentally cursed yourself for not asking what their plans were earlier.
No one knew about your secret job, well except for Hannah, Beth and Sam. The rest of the group thought you were just a server, never knowing the real reason you carried so much cash.
You never wanted this secret to get out, the persona you naturally carry was a much more tame and shy version of who you are in this exact moment.
Josh was a statue, no one could break his stare. He felt himself becoming animalistic as you kept your eyes on him, moving your body sensually. It almost seemed as if it was for him only, everyone else disappearing in the background.
A man near the boys patted Josh on the back whispering, “I got you man.”
“Hey! Birthday boy wants a surprise!”
The man was obviously drunk, but the crowd cheered and began to clap. You knew they wanted to see you bring him up with you, so you did.
You found yourself moving towards him without thinking, pulling his hand up the stairs and letting him sit on a chair on the small stage.
Holy Shit. Josh couldn’t believe his eyes, this was his own personal fantasy coming to life. Was he hallucinating again? Your hand felt soft in his, the smell of your perfume was familiar to him. He had never smelled it in any setting besides with the group, this time the scent seeming much more intimate.
A string of curses entered his mind as he felt himself grow hard just for your fingers touching his shoulders, your eyes making it very difficult.
He has always wanted this, but normally he’d pictured it a lot less public. He didn’t mind this at all though, his secret kinks beginning to be satisfied.
You danced in front of him, sure to let everyone else see the show clearly. You circle him like prey, standing behind him and leaning down to whisper
“Surprise to see you here, Josh.” His jeans grew tighter with every word you whispered, a small groan leaving his lips. Your voice never having so much seduction dripping as now.
You grazed his bulge as you hovered over his lap, your eyes locked onto his as you rolled your hips with the song, smiling as you watched him fall apart under you.
You knew your time was coming to an end, you lifted off and held his hand leading him off, before letting it go you pulled him in for a long kiss.
His eyes were wide as you pulled away, you winked and said,
“Meet me in room two, I have your birthday present.”
Watching as he went back to his table with the boys you grabbed the bills across the stage, quickly stuffing them into your corset bra before blowing a kiss to the audience.
The whistles faded as you strutted off.
You let out a choked out laugh and sped to your dressing room quick to touch up your make up and hair, spraying some more of your signature scent.
You could not believe the words that left your lips, you have never once been this confident, especially with Josh. Josh was one of your closer friends, but recently the way his hand lingers longer, the look in his eyes as you enter a room, his voice on your ear.
He was making you feel differently, the nights recently have been full of picturing him above you, your finger giving yourself pleasure wishing it was him. Now was your chance and you knew it.
He always had a way of being in power, he knew he had control when talking to you. You would always become shy around him, his jokes making you more nervous than anything. He loved it.
“There’s someone waiting for you”
You yelled out an ‘Okay’ and made your way to the private rooms, your heart beating out of your chest as you opened the door.
There he was, sitting down on the edge of the bed.
“You came.” Josh seemed surprised but you can tell he is very excited, especially by the growing tent in his pants.
You smiled at him and nodded before sitting next to him.
“Well you are the birthday boy, since I couldn’t come to the party I thought i’d give you your present here.”
Josh was intrigued, not fully sure what those words meant.
“I’m waiting”
You laughed as he tried gaining control of the situation, his joke failing to change the dynamic
“Oh yeah?”
Josh swallowed as you slid down onto your knees positioning yourself comfortable between his legs. He hesitantly nodded,
“Mike and Matt bought me a new sound system so, gotta beat that.”
You hummed at his humor, your fingers tapping against his thigh. You rested your head against his knee and looked up at him through your lashes, his eyes growing darker with every move you made.
“Tell me, what do you want Joshy.”
Josh licked his lips as he looked at your body, your curves perfect framed with your outfit. With every breath he watched your breasts move up and down, his eyes taking in the sight.
“Need help deciding? Lots of options, I know.”
You stuck out your bottom lip with begging eyes, your hands moving up his thighs and resting on his belt. Josh was quick to understand your movements, his belt soon to he pulled off and forgotten in the background. He pulled down his jeans and underwear, leaving himself exposed for you.
“There we go, does the birthday boy want my mouth?” Your voice was sultry, almost a whisper.
Josh nodded eagerly, for once the power between the two was in your hands. It was unusual for Josh but you took the opportunity wanting to make him come undone for you.
Your hands began to work on his length, earning soft moans from the man. You smiled watching him close his eyes and mouth ajar.
“Good boy.”
Josh’s adam’s apple bobbed as your words met his ears, your lips wrapping around his tip. He opened his eyes to watch as your mouth sank down, taking him in with ease.
Your mouth coated it in saliva, his length becoming more difficult to swallow down.
“Fuck, you are good at this” His voice made your core drip, desperation in his needy voice.
Josh has always been a tease to you, his jokes always making you blush. It was your turn to make him grasping for more.
Your head worked up and down, earning explicit noises from the man, it only encourages you more as you stroked the base focusing your mouth on his tip. Your tongue swirled over it, suckling on his most sensitive spot.
His hand moved to cup your face, he wanted to see you take him into your mouth. You didn’t break eye contact as you hallowed your cheeks for him, working your mouth like a drug he desperately needed.
Josh bucked his hips up as he began to feel himself get closer, his eyes snapping shut. You continued your pace eager to watch him fall apart, you needed to hear the pornographic noises from him, everything you have imagined to come true.
As you thought, Josh was loud in voicing his pleasure, continued curses left his lips as his white ropes filled your mouth, quickly swallowing his salty seed.
You stayed in your position watching the man before you pant, his forehead covered in a thin sheen of sweat, you could tell he needed this. Whatever stress he was holding onto was gone.
Finally Josh opened his eyes, staring down at you as you stayed positioned between his legs. You smiled up at him which warmed his heart
“Definitely better than a sound system, honestly their gift is nothing to compare.” Josh wiggled his eyebrows and wink with humor lacing his words, you couldn’t help but giggle as you stood up.
“Better be.” You grabbed his belt and helped him redress his lower half, the room growing quiet.
After he was fully dressed you looked at him, your lips softly planting a kiss on his cheek.
i’m so happy with all the support i’ve been getting from everyone!! i love how the until dawn community is expanding and all the new people ive met + fics ive read. love this community 🫶🏻
“I don’t know if you’ve changed any since middle school but I really hope you’ve learned the difference between pranking somebody and just being a fucking bully.”
You can also find this story on Ao3!
Chapter Four / Chapter Five / Chapter Six
[CHAPTER FIVE]
"Chris, you are... not good at this," Josh says, holding a 4 of diamonds in his hand. "This is, like, the third time you've gotten my card wrong."
"I'd be better if I wasn't drunk off my ass," Chris defends, smacking the deck of cards on the counter. I say nothing, too busy trying to calm my laughter and holding on to Matt for balance. Laughing, himself, he holds my forearms to keep me steady.
Although they'd left us for a while, Matt and Mike eventually migrated back into the kitchen at the sound of the laughter. I was shocked that Emily wasn't wrapped around Mike like she usually was, but no one would ever hear me complain or even acknowledge her absence.
"I don't think we've ever actually spent much time together," Matt says, straightening up as he wiped a tear from his eye. "You're cool. I'm sorry for maybe seeing kind of, standoffish, earlier...?" He rubs the back of his neck in embarrassment.
"Oh, no," I giggle. "It's awkward meeting new people, I get it. Thank you, though." I knew Matt was more meek than the others, but I didn't realize he was a sweetheart. Mike pats me on the back.
"She's maaad cool," he confirms. By the way his words merge together I can tell he's drunk. "I've never gotten to talk to her thoughhh, Emily think she wants me or whatever."
"Emily thinks everyone wants you," Josh snorts. Mike gasps, placing his hands over his torso dramatically.
"Don't they?" I cringe. Josh taps the counter loudly, drawing our attention to the lineup of shots.
"What are the, uh," Chris starts, looking into his shot as he tries to find the words he needs. "The girls! Sam, Jess, and Emily, the twins, what're they doing?" he asks.
"Some skin routine, or something. Jess brought an entire kit," Mike sighs. "I'm pretty bummed out that she said girls only, that stuff is fire." We all clink our glasses together and take the shots, Matt shaking his head violently after he swallowed.
"Goddamn, shit is nasty," he hissed, scrunching up his face. Everyone else can't help but laugh, though I can feel my face starting to burn. It could be nothing or anything, but in the past I've learned that sometimes it means I just need some air.
"I'm gonna go get some air," I say, hiking my thumb behind me towards the back balcony.
"Gonna hurl?" Josh asks, that stupid grin on his stupid face.
"No, just need some air." I walk out the door and outside. Shit. I forgot my coat. I decide against going inside - it would be embarrassing if they realized. The night was going so well, I didn't want them to watch me take the walk of shame to grab my winter garments.
I clear off a part of the railing and lean against it, shivering and holding myself. The icy air did it's job quickly in cooling my skin and opening my lungs. Despite my shivering, I took slow, deep breaths until I hear the door opening and closing behind me.
"Hey," I greet, not turning around.
"Cold?" I chew on my cheek as Josh leans next to me, holding one of his thick coats in his hands.
"Freezing," I admit, laughing. Josh says nothing, instead gently placing his coat over my shoulders. Holy fuck it was warm. Despite my reservations I quickly put it on and zip it closed, letting out a heavy sigh of relief. "Oh, wow, thank you. It's so warm." Josh laughs loudly and leans again on the railing next to me, our shoulders a hair apart.
"I have it hanging next to the fireplace," he explains. I look up at him through my lashes, and he looks down at me. "So, always nice and toasty... like a Hot Pocket." I look back out across the snowy forest in a failed attempt to hide the smile from my face. I don't know why I thought it was funny - because it wasn't.
I've always hated that Josh was able to make me smile, even when he was at his worst bullying me. If he was making jokes nearby, I was the one nearly bursting a blood vessel trying not to laugh. I know he sees me, though, because he had a twinkle in his eye and a gentle grin of his own.
"Are you feeling okay?" he asks me, tilting his head in an attempt to be on my level.
"Yeah, I'm fine," I reply, surprised he was asking. "I just need a break sometimes." I pause. "Thanks for checking."
"Alright, girl, well," he starts, leaning against me for a second. He's so warm I almost ask him to stay there. I knew at that thought that I should start drinking less vodka and more water. "I'll give you your... your alone time."
"Thank you, Josh." I say. He pauses, and suddenly there's much more hesitance to leave. I wonder why. Is it that I said his name? "Are you okay?" he takes a deep inhale.
"Yeah," he starts, though I'm immediately not convinced. "I just need a little space, sometimes, too." There's another pause. He's still leaning against me, our shoulders pressed together. For a millisecond I can feel my head move to lean on his shoulder and I freeze. Josh opens his mouth again, hesitating to speak. "I don't know how I'm feeling about Mike, lately."
"Mike?" I repeat. He nods, taking another deep breath.
"Hannah's got a thing for him," Josh states. He's looking across the forest with his eyebrows furrowed. "And he keeps playing with her feelings, I think."
"You think?" He nods again.
"He hasn't - he won't reject her. He knows how she feels about him and he just let's her. I think he digs the attention or something, but it's pissing me off. I tried to tell Hannah he wasn't into her, but -" he cuts himself off and shakes his head. I can tell he's getting angry at just the thought of the subject. "But she just won't listen. How can a girl so smart not see what he's doing?"
"I don't know," I murmur. I wasn't sure what to say, or how to comfort him. "She asked me about him, earlier." Josh looks at me as he waits for me to continue. "Asked what I thought about him. I just said he wasn't my type, he's got a girlfriend, whatever."
"Oh, well, what is your type?" He smirks. I roll my eyes and lean hard against him as he laughs at me.
"I think she knows Mike doesn't feel the same," I say. "She just doesn't care."
"The land of delusion," Josh huffs before looking at me. "Wanting somebody you can't have, well... I guess that sort of runs in the family." I side eye him and my heart rate picks up.
"Sam?" I gulp. Josh bursts out in laughter.
"Oh, Jordan," he starts, rubbing his eyes. "You kill me."
"I'm funny, I know," I grin. We make eye contact again and the pressure of his shoulder against mine increases as he leans further into me before, finally, pulling away. The absence of his warmth is immediate and I frown.
"I'm just worried about Hannah, is all," he clarifies, suddenly. "I'll see you back inside."
"See you." I smile, softly, and listen as the door opens. Instead of closing, though, I hear gentle conversation and a 'she wants some alone time right now, man.' I turn around to see Mike trying to go to the balcony with me, Joshua blocking his way. They continue to bicker, but I can't hear anything else until Mike notices me watching.
"Hey, Jordan, just thought we could get to know each other better without Emily bitching you out!" He calls. I frown and look at Josh, who is staring at the back of Mike's head so intensely I half expected to see smoke start rising from his dark hair.
"You talk about your girlfriend weird," I blurt out. I look around me as if Emily would descend upon us at any moment and exact her wrath. "Don't you like her or something?" Mike laughs and shakes his head, finally pushing past Josh, who stumbles a few feet back.
"Of course I do," he says, placing both hands on my shoulders. I tense up immediately and make an attempt to gently shrug him off, but he just tightens his grip slightly. "But sometimes she tries to keep me from making new friends, or trying to strengthen already existing relationships. You understand, right? Jealous girlfriend things."
"I'm about to go inside," I gulp. I want his hands off of me now. I don't hate Mike, but the discomfort was incredible. "Just go on in and wait for me."
"Oh, come on, let's -"
"She said she's going inside." Josh butts in. I furrow my eyebrows and Mike finally lets me go. My feelings are complicated, both appreciation and annoyance swirling in my chest. Appreciation for the defense, and annoyance for not letting me handle it myself.
The appreciation wins over.
I pull the coat up over my cold nose and look between Josh and Mike. It's now, as Mike holds his hands up in defeat and he and Josh bicker, that I realize Josh's coat smelled so good. Did he smell this good? My drunken mind considers getting really close to Josh to find out.
It smells like pine, firewood, and cologne. I was almost sure though that the pine and firewood was from the cologne itself. I close my eyes. The scent was comforting and made me feel warmer.
My serenity is interrupted by Mike slamming the lodge door behind him as he finally relented and went inside. I jump, startled, and slip, falling flat on my back. There was enough snow that it didn't hurt, but I wasn't happy. I can hear Josh laughing.
"I'm going to try to help you up," he says through giggles. I start to sit up, slowly, and he offers is hand. I take it, and smile mischievously. "What're you-" I pull him down into the snow with me, doing my best evil laugh as I stand up. Josh rolls around, trying to get a grip on his surroundings, and he grabs my leg and pulls me back down on top of him.
I land on his chest and he lets out a huff, the air from his lungs being knocked out of him. As I try to get up, he wraps his arms around me and doesn't let go.
"Hey, hey! Release me, wench!" I yell. I try to sound serious, but I'm giggling and beaming.
"No can do, lady. Feel the wrath of Mr. Winter!" He rolls over so that I'm sunken into the pile of snow that had accumulated at the edge of the balcony. It reaches just over my ears.
And he's on top of me, his hands now on my hips and holding me down, his knee resting between mine. I'm shaking, but not from the cold anymore.
"Comfy?" He asks, moving his hands from me to hold himself up.
"Five stars," I sigh, rolling my eyes. I wish I wasn't smiling. I wish my heart wasn't pounding. "Can I get up now?"
"I don't know, all this alcohol and being wasted shit has made me tired," he yawns. His breath smells like booze and breath mints he'd been popping all night. He moves slowly, as if giving me an opportunity to stop him, and lays fully on top of me. "I'm going to sleep." Instead of shoving him off and screaming, like a part of me tells me to, I let him. His breath is warm on my neck as he fake-snores loudly. I shudder.
"Okay pal, get off me before somebody comes out here and sees this."
"Embarrassed?" Josh laughs breathily, his warm breath continuing to send chills through my body.
"Nervous."
"I make you nervous?" He sits himself back up again, that dumb smile back on his face. I try to think about the terrible things he'd done to me in our elementary and middle school times, but I can't seem to be upset at him no matter how much I try. I'm feeling something different for him. Not disdain or annoyance or the usual hatred.
It's something different.
"Yes." I relent. "And you do smell good."
"What?" I laugh out loud in embarrassment and disbelief at myself.
"I've had too much to drink," I sigh. I smile at Josh, and he smiles back, but he appears nervous and his eyes can't reach mine. He chews his lip as he starts to get up. I almost frown as he does, the warmth and weight of his body was comforting. He reached out his hand, again, and this time I take it.
"Let's go back inside," he mumbles, brushing the snow off of me. I smile as he does. "Okay?
"Okay."
----------
I sit at the counter of the bar, resting my chin on the palm of my right hand. On the other side stood Josh. He has a cocktail shaker in his hands, shaking it like a professional bartender would.
"Another water for the fair young lady?" He asks, taking my glass and filling it with the clear liquid, adding as much dramatic flair as he could.
"Oh, yes, m'dear, thank you," I hum. Chris and everyone else had headed to bed long ago, leaving Josh and I alone in the kitchen, the both of us deciding to be mostly sober before even going to bed. Josh slides the water to me and winks. I laugh, then snap my mouth shut.
"What is it?" He asks, tilting his head and leaning over the counter.
"I..." I start to laugh, moving my arm to hide my face. "I sound so, so drunk." Josh laughs at me before pushing the glass of water to me again.
"Drink up, madam," he says. I grab the glass, slowly sliding it towards me as Josh and I lock eyes. I raise an eyebrow and bring the water to my lips, downing it quickly like a massive shot.
"I'd like another, please. And make that a double."
"As you wish," he laughs. He gives me water in a much bigger glass, not bothering with the theatrics this time as he gets himself a drink as well. Instead of walking around the bar to sit, he stays opposite of me and leaning over the counter. I take a sip from the cup. I can feel myself growing more sober as time passes, but not by much. "How're you feeling?" I tilt my head in thought. I wondered for just a moment if I should be honest with him.
"I'm feeling good," I admit, smiling to myself. I can feel him watching me. "I'm..." I swallow, a bit nervous. "I'm glad I came. Thank you for tolerating me." My eyes move to his. The kitchen was completely dark save for a single light above the stove. For a moment I think he almost looks handsome in this lighting.
I must be wasted.
"I should say the same," Josh sighs, looking away from me. He's staring at the counter now. "I know I'm not... Your favorite." He starts, inhaling deeply. "But you've been showing up, anyways, for Chris and... And my sisters. I love Chris, and I love my sisters, more than anything, y'know? So... If they call you friend, you..." His eyes meet mine for not even a second, seemingly too nervous to meet my eyes. "You let me know if you need anything and I'll try to help you out, alright?" My eyes are watering. Why are my eyes watering? Why is he saying this to me.
"...okay," I croak. I can barely get the words out of my throat. "Thank you." I gulp down the rest of my water in an attempt to snuff out the fire burning in my chest. The air becomes heavy and thick with awkward tension. I wonder if he can hear my heart pounding.
"Do you want to put on a movie?" Josh asks, snapping me out of my fog.
"Uhm, sure. What are you thinking?"
"I've got Scream," he grins. "Do you like scary movies?" I roll my eyes, but I can't hide the smile growing on my face. "Ahh, there it is," Josh says gently, his voice low. My face feels like its set on fire.
"Is the couch fine?!" I gasp, standing up quickly and stumbling backwards. Josh laughs and asks if I'm okay, but I ignore him and scurry to the couch. Above the fireplace was a massive television. Josh turns it on and flips through channels to his own recording of Scream. I can't help but laugh.
"You recorded Scream?"
"Hey, man, don't be a hater," Josh sighs. As the movie starts he takes his seat. I'm at one end of the couch, and he's at the other. As we watch the movie, I take suspicious glances every now and then at Josh. Sometimes, I look at him and he's fully turned to look at me.
"Is there something on my face?" I ask when I catch him again. He shakes his head.
"No, I just want to see your reactions to the movie," he admitted. He's sounding less sober and more tired. As I look back towards the TV I can feel the sofa move as he moves towards me.
"I've seen this before," I whisper.
"Say what?" Josh scoots closer again so he can hear me. When I look at him again the movie starts to disappear. I don't know what I'm thinking.
I scoot closer to him.
"I said I've seen this movie before," I repeat, slightly louder. Josh is staring at me now without hesitation. I can tell he's tired, yet he has no issue with keeping his eyes on me. He looks like a puppy dog, pleading for any sort of attention.
"Oh, have you?" He says. This time, he's whispering, yet he's close enough that I can hear him just fine. I only realize, now, that our knees our touching, exactly as they did at the pizza bar. My heart rate picks up as Josh scans every detail of my face.
"Mhm," I hum. I look at his lips. They look soft. My hand twitches as I resist the urge to reach up and brush my thumb across his lip. How much have I had to drink?
"Jordan..." He starts, leaning in.
"Josh?" I gulp, looking back into his eyes.
Green eyes.
His hand slowly moves itself to my forearm.
"I am..." He laughs softly. "I think I have to be wasted." His hand slowly moves up my arm and to my shoulder but he doesn't stop. He brushes his thumb across my collarbone before he gently settles his hand gently at the side of my neck.
"Me, too," I whisper. Josh parts his lips and slowly moves closer to me, his thumb brushing my jawline. Is he going to kiss me? Holy shit. Is Joshua Washington going to kiss me? My heart pounds and I worry for a moment that I'm about to die. My chest is going to burst open at any second now.
"So we should stop," I say breathlessly, my hands quickly moving to his chest. It was surprisingly solid. My heart is twisted harshly, my chest so tight it felt as if my ribs would shatter at any moment. I half expect him to call me ugly, to scoff and roll his eyes, tell me it was just a joke.
But he doesn't.
Instead, he closes his eyes and rests his forehead against my own.
"I'm sorry, Jordan, I don't know what came over me," he spoke softly, just above a whisper. His hand doesn't leave it's place on my skin, and for some unspeakable reason I don't mind it. "Can I just... I'm... I don't know. Things feel fine with you," he admits, whispering as if I'll break if he speaks too loud. "Can we just stay like this for a while?" I nod, closing my own eyes as he rests his head on my shoulder. My hands move to his head as if on instinct, one hand brushing his hair softly and the other tracing circles on his back. He slowly wraps his arms around me in a loose hug, his weight pushing me backwards as he fell deeper into sleep.
Instead of laying back, myself, I slowly guided his head to my lap, where I continued to run my fingers through his hair.
"Chris would go insane if he saw this," I chuckle, a small smile on my face.
"You drive me insane," Josh mumbles something I can barely catch.
"Says you, Mr. Locker-Rats," I scoff. He smiles at the nickname.
"That's such a stupid name," he laughs. He takes a deep breath and his smile falters. Thank you, Jordan," he sighs, turning over into his side. "I really needed this."
"Hm?"
"I need this..." Josh says as he drifts off to sleep.
I'm sober now.
I know I'll remember this. I'll remember this for the rest of my life. The fragile body of my worst enemy left open and vulnerable to me like no one else had ever been, his head in my lap, with what felt like his soul held in my very hands. I felt as if one wrong move would break him.
Would he remember? Will he still be so kind, so gentle when everyone else can see him be kind to me?
I didn't think so. I sucked my bottom lip between my teeth. Despite my reservations I continue to slowly pet his thick, soft hair. It's now, as I look down at him sleeping, that I start to realize that maybe I don't hate him anymore.
Maybe we could be some sort of friends.
I smile to myself and sigh, leaning back against the couch. I swear right then that I wouldn't fall asleep. Once the movie was over, I would go to my own room to spare Josh and I the embarrassment of being found in such a comfortable position with each other.
"You've changed," I murmur. "I think I like it." He says nothing. As the movie goes on, I watch his body rise and fall with his steady breathing. He'd been good to me today.
As the credits roll, I gently slide out from under him and replace my lap with a pillow under Josh's head. He doesn't move, and I lay a nearby throw blanket over him. I contemplate removing his boots, but decide against it to avoid waking him up. As I crouch down to his level, I take a moment to examine his face.
I hate to admit it, I do, but he looked serene. I thought to myself that maybe it was time to admit that he was physically appealing. I felt a safety and comfort around Josh, now, that I'd never felt before. Why? Is he really that different? Does he really care about me?
Or are we both drunk?
I chew on my lip as I stare at him. I don't know what's happening to me, I don't know what's come over me, but I run my fingers through his hair one more time as I place a gentle kiss on the tip of his nose. He shifts, and for a split second I think I see him trying to hold back a smile. I squint, but he doesn't move again. I sigh.
"Goodnight, Joshua."
--------------
Hey y'all! Thank you so much for your patience. This chapter did not want to work with me and kept not saving progress made and I kept having to re write it. I believe this chapter is a bit longer than normal, so I hope that makes up for it! The next one will be longer, too. I love talking to everybody, so thank you all so much for the kind comments, they make me so happy. Much love!!
Also: Accidentally posted this early, so some may be seeing this a second time. If that's you, this is the FINISHED chapter! Thank you.
PAIRING: josh washington x gn!reader
WARNINGS: no use of y/n
GENRE: ANGST
SONG INSPIRATION: you by petit biscuit
WORD COUNT: 2.2k
REQUESTED: yes
navigation | ask | josh washington masterlist
you wished you’d just kept your mouth shut.
how could a few sentences feel like they’d practically ruined your whole life? as dramatic as it sounded, it felt true. in the midst of telling the girls about your infatuation with josh, he had somehow overheard the entire thing.
you were all gathered on the sam’s bed, each of you wrapped up in blankets and pillows, dressed in mismatched pyjamas. the night had been full of laughs and cosy chats, all of you too wired to sleep. it started innocently enough.
it started off with jess teasing ashley about her oh so obvious crush on chris, sam ends up spilling about a lame attempt at a bad pickup line a guy had used on her from the other night.
it felt natural, easy, like the kind of conversation you’ve all had a hundred times before.
then, somehow, the conversation turned to you.
“so, who do you have your eye on?” jess had asked, eyebrows raised.
your cheeks warmed as you tried to brush it off. “no one special, really…”
“liar!” emily grinned, nudging you. “we’ve all seen the googly eyes you’ve had whenever you’ve been texting lately. spill!”
with everyone watching, it felt impossible not to tell them. so, you sighed, gave a half hearted shrug, and said, “okay, fine… it’s josh.”
the room went silent, then burst into an eruption of delighted squeals and whispers. excited about their excitement, you let yourself share the details, all those moments that had been replaying in your mind over and over again.
the way he’d remember your coffee order without asking, the times he’d stayed up texting you when you knew he had an early morning the next day, his habit of giving you his hoodie whenever he noticed you were cold, even if it meant he’d end up shivering.
“so what are you waiting for?” sam grinned. “tell him how you feel!”
“oh, yeah, right,” you laughed, trying to play it off. “i’m sure he’s dying to know his best friend is totally in love with him. no way.”
and then you heard it. a small sound from outside the door. a creak of the floorboard.
every head turned as you realised, too late, that the door was slightly ajar, and a shadow lingered just outside.
the shadow shifted, then josh stepped forward, his face unreadable in the dim light filtering from the hall. he looked straight at you, a strange mixture of surprise and something else in his eyes.
your stomach dropped. “josh?” you barely managed to say, voice caught somewhere between disbelief and horror. “were you… listening?”
he took a breath, looking like he was about to say something, then stopped, eyes flicking away for a split second before they found you again. “i… i didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”
everyone on the bed froze, waiting, probably holding their breath the same way you were. you felt the burning of their gazes, felt them all waiting for something, anything, to fill the silence.
but josh’s expression shifted, and whatever softness you thought you’d glimpsed vanished. “i don’t feel the same way about you.” he said finally, his voice flat, almost careful.
"i... didn’t mean for you to think that,” josh said, voice barely above a whisper.
the words were a gut punch. the room felt like it was closing in, the walls and ceiling somehow both too close and too far away. you barely registered the worried looks from emily, jess, sam, and ashley. their attempts at lighthearted comments and gentle pats on your shoulder felt hollow, too late to cushion the blow.
you swallowed hard, fighting back the rising lump in your throat. “i… i get it, josh,” you said, the words tasting like regret. “thanks for… clearing that up.”
it was getting harder to blink away the tears blurring your vision, so you got up from the bed in a rush, brushing past him without meeting his eyes. you barely registered the stunned look on his face as you pushed through the doorway, bolting to your room.
when the door closes behind you with a solid, final slam, you let yourself break. you flopped onto the bed, burying your face into your pillow, and the tears came hard, shoulders shaking as you sobbed.
you wished the world would swallow you whole. the humiliation burned through every part of you, leaving you raw and aching. confessing your feelings to him, accidentally laying everything bare for him and your friends to see, was painful enough.
but seeing that look on his face. the careful way he let you down, as if he had tried to be gentle with something fragile, hurt worse.
you could feel all of their pity. it was all too much.
why did he slip through the door at that exact moment? how could it all have gone so terribly wrong?
you cried yourself to sleep. it wasn't easy since every time you closed your eyes, you saw his face, his words echoing loudly on loop.
when morning light finally crept through your window, it felt too sharp, too harsh. you woke with swollen eyes and tear streaked cheeks.
you couldn’t face anyone, not josh, not even your friends. you had to leave and so you did.
you sent a quick, vague message to the group chat, letting them know you’d left early, then muted every contact on your phone. you weren’t ready to face them, to hear them try to make you feel better or worse, to remind you of what you couldn’t change.
you stared at your phone for a moment, that hurt and regret eating at you. you’d poured out your heart, indirectly telling your best friend that you were in love with him, and he didn’t feel the same. the realisation sat bitter and unyielding in your mind.
from the moment he walked in, you knew you’d lost him. the minute he looked at you with that sad, regretful expression, you knew it was over.
days blurred into weeks, and weeks slipped into a month. you hadn’t spoken to josh, not a single text, and every call he made went straight to voicemail. facing him was something you couldn’t bear. how could you?
whatever he’d say now would only twist the knife deeper. he’d made it clear how he felt. it was over. any trace of friendship, trust, or whatever you’d thought was between you was gone, shattered by his carefully spoken words.
you found out later, through sam, that ashley had surprisingly defended you after you left. she’d laid into him, calling him out in front of everyone. apparently, she hadn’t held back, telling him exactly how thoughtless he’d been. it was a shock to hear that ashley, of all people, had stood up for you like that, but still, it brought you small comfort.
you were lying on your couch, your attention drifting as the tv droned in the background, its images blurring while you scrolled absently through your phone.
a frantic pounding on your door broke the silence, jolting you upright. you froze, heart racing. you hadn’t ordered anything… and who would even show up at this hour?
the knocking continued, more urgent now. hesitantly, you stood and crept over to the door, peeking through the small glass.
there he was, josh, looking wild and desperate, eyes fixed on the door as he raised his hand to knock again.
you took a step back from the door, breath catching in your throat. his face was flushed, his hair tousled, and his expression, so desperate it was almost frightening. the pounding on the door slowed, but then he knocked again, softer this time, his voice muffled but pleading.
“please… i know you’re in there. i just… i need to talk to you.”
for a long, agonising moment, you hesitated, heart pounding in time with his knocks. part of you wanted to open the door, to hear him out. but the memory of his words still lingered, the wound still raw. what good could come from bringing it all up again?
but then he spoke again, voice breaking a little. “i messed up. please… just let me explain.”
you took a deep breath, your hand trembling as you unlocked the door and opened it, just enough to see his face clearly. josh’s eyes met yours. he looked exhausted, as if he hadn’t slept, the sadness in his eyes was so real, it almost made you forget your own pain.
he let out a shaky breath. “thank you,” he whispered, swallowing hard. “i know i don’t deserve you opening the door, but… i couldn’t stay away.”
you stayed silent, gripping the edge of the door. “josh, what are you doing here?”
“i… i couldn’t take it anymore. not hearing from you, not knowing if you’d ever look at me again.” he ran a hand through his hair, his voice thick with regret. “you were right to ignore me– i know that. and i know i hurt you. i was so… scared, i couldn’t let myself see what was right in front of me.”
“josh… you made it pretty clear how you felt.”
his face twisted, as if the memory hurt him as much as it hurt you. “i thought i knew, but i was wrong,” he said, stepping closer, his voice a whisper. “i didn’t realise how much i needed you until you were gone. i didn’t know how much i wanted… us. and losing you, just the thought of it– it’s been killing me.”
you looked away, fighting back the wave of emotions that threatened to surface. “why are you saying this now?” you asked, your voice broke “you let me walk away. you let me believe i’d just been… imagining everything.”
he let out a pained sigh. “because i was an idiot. i didn’t see what i had until it was slipping away, and i’ve spent every second since wishing i could go back and do it over.”
your grip on the door tightened as he took another step closer, close enough that you could feel the warmth of him, the desperation radiating off him. his voice softened, almost breaking. “i need you to know, even if you never speak to me again… that i love you. i’ve loved you for a long time, even if i was too afraid to admit it. and if there’s any chance, any at all—. that you could forgive me, i’ll do anything. just… please.”
your mind spinning as you searched his eyes. you could see it. the unguarded truth in his gaze.
and in that moment, you felt the walls you’d built around your heart start to crumble.
you felt your heart thud loudly in your chest, fighting to keep your walls intact, but the way he looked at you was unlike anything you’d ever seen.
you drew a shaky breath, trying to hold on to the anger, the hurt you’d held so close for the past month. “josh… do you know what it felt like? standing there in front of you, spilling my heart, and seeing that look on your face? like i was some burden you needed to brush off?”
he winced, the regret plain on his face. “i know… i know i don’t deserve your forgiveness. i can’t take back what i said. but please. if you knew how i felt right now, you’d know i’ve thought of nothing else since you walked away.” his voice broke, rough with the weight of every word.
“it’s like i can’t breathe when you’re not here.”
your hands trembled as you held the door, resisting the urge to reach for him. “then why? why did you look at me like that? you could’ve said anything else.”
he nodded, eyes downcast. “i know. i was terrified. you were the most important person in my life, and i couldn’t see beyond that… i thought if i admitted how i felt, i’d lose everything. and instead, i just pushed you away. i didn’t realise it was already everything until it was too late.”
the words hit you hard, his honesty unearthing feelings you’d buried for weeks. a part of you wanted to close the door, to protect yourself from the mess he’d made of your heart. but there was another part, louder, pulling you forward, remembering every time he’d made you feel safe, understood, seen.
“do you even understand what you’re asking?” your voice was barely a whisper. “you expect me to just forget it all?”
“no,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “i know you can’t forget. i don’t expect you to. but i’m here, and i’ll be here as long as it takes to show you that i mean it, that i’m not just scared anymore. i love you… and i’ll spend as long as it takes to prove it.”
his words hung in the silence, and he stood there, waiting, his eyes pleading. you could see how badly he meant it, how much he needed you to believe him. and slowly, the pain in your chest started to ease, just enough to let hope in.
you let out a sigh, the last of your resolve wavering. “i… don’t know if i can trust you yet, josh.”
“i know,” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath. “but i’ll be here. however long it takes.”
he reached out, fingers brushing your hand softly, and you felt that familiar warmth. despite everything, the walls you've built around your heart softened, for the first time in weeks, you let yourself hope.
“then prove it.”
comments and reblogs are appreciated ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ @nights-in-the-woods
| Do not repost any of my writes without credit to me
Pairing: Post prank Josh x f!reader
Prompt: The real events of that night start to reveal themselves as Josh is tied up.
Warnings: implied smut, make out sesh, cussing, crying, slut shaming, emetophobia warning, mentions of death
A/N: So this is kinda angsty? i never really write sad stuff but i wanted to try something new. This one is a bit short, let me know if i should add a part 2! remember requests are open through my inbox, comments or dm me! i hope you enjoy!
Also i’m sorry if it’s not the most game accurate depiction! I tried my best :,)
His hands traced every curve and line on your body, his tongue worshiping your skin. His lips grazing your own. You felt like a goddess as he let your name fall from his lips as a prayer.
His voice, his scent, his body, everything about him was overwhelming your senses. Even with the lights off he had your figure memorized, touching every sensitive spot you had.
His drunken mumbles began to form into a cohesive sentence, “I love you.”
~
You held onto your coat trying to keep any warmth in, shivering to regulate your temperate. Your gaze rested on his erratic form, his breathing irregular as he screamed out,
“You pussy!”
His exaggerated scream making you roll your eyes, your fingers found there way to the bridge of your nose with you pinched tight.
You pretty much ignored the entire argument, it was getting you all nowhere. You only started paying attention when he mentioned you again,
“Excuse me! Am I boring Miss righteous over here?”
You dead panned at your best friend, no evidence of a smile at all. You stood up and came closer to him,
“Josh, I think i’m speaking for everyone here, shut the fuck up.”
Your sudden outburst shocked the boys but Chris and Mike nodded in agreement. You began pacing the shed, your mind spinning rapidly,
“Why are we even here? This was so stupid,”
You let out a shaky laugh and continued your rant with it slowly turning from an angry cry out to sobs leaving your lips.
“We shouldn’t even be here.”
You repeated, over and over, your hands raking through your disheveled hair. The boys all watched your every move intensely, finally there was silence in the room.
You believed what you said, you were still in denial. Your two closest friends were gone, and it was time for you to realize this.
“Fuck! What the fuck.”
You kicked over a box of old tools, the noise clambering against the wall. You held your body tight, trying to find any form of comfort. Everything was wrong, this wasn’t how it was suppose to be.
“Hey, Come here.”
Chris pulled your body close to his, the heat from his build enveloping yours. He stood there silent, knowing no words would bring any comfort to you.
Everyone knew you were right, but no one had the energy or need to agree.
As he held your body you could hear snickers coming from tied up Josh, a heavy sigh leaving your lips as you prepared for his next verbal assault.
“I’m just saying, one heck of a performance. You don’t think I know what really happened that night?”
Your eyes squinted in confusion, for once you wanted him to continue. You stepped away from Chris and felt desperate to hear what he was going to say, you internally slapped yourself as you gestured him to go on with his rant.
“Josh? What are you talking about?”
He scoffed, the look in his eyes full of hatred. He thrashed his body attempting to get out of the tight constraints.
“Whoring yourself for a prank? Pretty low if you ask me, just as bad as good ol’ Mike here.”
Your stomach sank as you begin to realize what he was implying.
“I remember every. single. second. of that night. Too bad I wasn’t there for Beth and Hannah, instead with you.”
You shook your head, your tears continued and you yelled out a ‘No!’
“You took me back there just to distract me, fucked me real good huh? Should’ve known it wasn’t real, out of everyone that night,”
He paused before finally meeting your eyes, the look sending shivers down your spine.
“You, you disgust me. You hurt me the most.”
Mike and Chris exchanged confused looks. No one knew what that night had looked like for you and Josh, that being the one secret you had the power to hold. The one thing not distorted by that evil memory that night holds for you.
It went silent, your mind recalling the events of that night
~
“Shhhh Josh, they’ll hear.”
You held his hand as he led you away from the group, both stumbling and trying to find your way through the maze of his lodge.
Finally he jiggled with the door knob of his room, letting you in first just to whistle as you entered.
“Been hiding that all this time?”
You hit his chest and immediately went in for a kiss, your hands holding into the chest of his shirt clinging to be as close as possible.
Your kiss deepened, somewhere along the way both your clothes had been quickly discarded as an afterthought.
Josh let out an airy moan as you suckled on his neck, his hands wandering over your naked body.
You giggled and kissed him all over his face, wanting nothing more than to live in this moment forever.
~
“Josh…”
You sighed and despite the guys disapproving looks you moved closer to him, sitting down on the cold floor near him.
Josh ignored you, his eyes avoiding your ever knowing stare.
“What we did that night, what we said, I haven’t forgotten it.”
You bit your lip trying to find the words to say to this broken man, your eyes watering as you continued barely above a whisper ,
“That night, I wish it could’ve gone differently. I regret almost everything about it,”
You pause as he stares up with you, his eyes flooding with hurt as he took in your words. All the hatred he had for you was gone, and instead heartbreak.
“I don’t regret what we did, I would never regret you. Don’t think I have. I regret not being there for Hannah and Beth, for keeping you away from them. But I don’t regret what we shared.”
Josh kept quiet, but his expression had changed. It seemed like he didn’t know what to think, his mind continued to play tricks on him, he didn’t dare to speak after that.
You wiped the stray tears as you stood up and looked at the boys,
“Now what?”
You three argued over a plan, trying to figure out who would stay to watch Josh and who would go. Finally the decision falling onto you. You look back at Josh who seems defeated, his eyes devoid of emotion.
“I’ll stay here with him. Go with the others.”
Despite their push back the eventually leave, reassuring you they’d be back for you.
Once they leave it’s just you and Josh left in a pitiful silence, almost missing his screaming from earlier,
“Josh, I’m sorry,”
It had been the first time you had said those words to him, saying sorry would just confirm the worst.
“For everything, you didn’t deserve all of this pain. I don’t know why this happened, why they disappeared. I don’t know why you are hurt so badly, and i’m sorry that I don’t know.”
“It’s not your fault, I know that.”
His words were barely audible, but you understood him clearly. Finally, he looks back up to meet your eyes. His eyes were filled with tears, he was breaking down in front of you.
You desperately wanted to untie him, to hold him, but you knew better than that. He was off his medication, unpredictable, and you didn’t want another thing to go wrong tonight.
As the night continued your mind wandered back, replaying the events of that night.
~
The fire cast a warm light on your bodies, his skin looking like a bronzed gold, his chest rising and falling with every breath. He looked beautiful, just perfect.
“Like what you see?”
You smiled and hummed a yes, planting a kiss on his jaw. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you impossibly close to him, not wanting to let go.
“Y’know, I meant what I said. Wasn’t just being crazy romantic for no reason.”
He confessed with his eyes still closed. You blushed recalling his words earlier, thankful it wasn’t just a drunken mistake.
“I know.”
It was his turn to hum in response, pinching your side making you laugh.
“Not gonna say it back?”
You both knew it, you had been smitten for years. His teasing was just because he yearned to hear those words come from you,
“I love you too, Joshua.”
~
“Every day without a doubt, I remember that night with you,”
Josh’s sudden announcement made your ears perk up, letting your attention turn to him.
“I remember everything about it, your laugh, your voice, your body. I even remember the smell of the tequila that came from you as we ran off together.”
You smile and nodded in agreement, recalling exactly all he was saying.
“It was disgusting, had to keep myself from vomiting during the party.”
For the first time in a long while you heard his hearty laugh, it was different then the one he had been putting up all night. This laugh was all him.
“When we get out of here, we’re gonna help you Josh. I will be there for you.”
Josh nodded as he let the idea creep into his mind, maybe he wasn’t a lost cause? Maybe a future with you would be his saving grace,
~
“No! Where is he!”
You shoved Mike as he dragged you out of the mines, wincing at every contact you made.
“We have to go back, please. Please Mike!”
You screamed as he ignored you, your eyes being coated in a familiar substance.
“I love him! You have to do something!”
Your pleas go unheard, completely ignored as you’re forced out towards the lodge where you are the rest of the group are rescued.
Everyone in a complete shell shocked state, no words spoken.
The paramedics and police eventually seperate you all, taking you into different rooms for questioning.
“Have you found Josh? You have to be looking for him, in the mines.”
“No miss, we have no other confirmed bodies as of now.”
Bodies. They don’t expect to find anymore survivors, do they? Your face drains of any color as you feel the need to vomit out of disbelief.
~
He held you all night long, your bodies molded together in perfect unison. You felt safe in his arms, his body warmth lulled you to see as you listened to the best of his heart.
You had waited for this moment for years, pining over Josh. Little did you know, Josh had fallen in love with you long before you, his affection growing day by day.
It was perfect, the entire night was everything you could ever ask for .
As the morning light crept through the windows a knock at your door with a frantic Chris yelling woke you both out of your slumber, changing the rest of your lives forever.
