“Dexterity Check First, My Sweet:” finger-licking smut 🔥with Spawn!Astarion for “Bites in the Night” part 9
Astarion x f!reader | E | 3K of finger fucking licking smut
Summary: Flaming Fist soldiers on your heels, caught red-handed trying to steal some food, and your Vampire Rogue has one place in mind for you to hide: Sharess’ Caress. Where better to spend an hour laying low together than a pleasure house… where he can tutor you on the dexterity skills that got you into this mess
CW: Vaginal fingering, finger licking, breast play, anal fingering, generally arrogant Spawn Astarion, Act 3 spoilers if you squint maybe…
Ao3 link | Series on Ao3 | Masterlist
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“Can’t you run any faster?” Astarion hisses at you, eyes narrowed as he glares over his shoulder, leading you down alley after alley in Baldur’s Gate. The clanking of armor still echoes behind you—the Flaming Fist still trailing.
And you, you’re hustling, but it’s harder given your wardrobe. “This was your idea,” you pant, aggravated in reply. “You said ‘Wear a dress for once, darling. No one will suspect us if you look decent for once…’”
His hand shoots out from the shadows, pulling you into a darkened doorway. His chest heaves, lock picks in hand. “I know what I said. It’s true, my sweet. You do look decent for once. It’s not my fault you can’t use those hands for anything subtle and smooth that isn’t my cock.”
He flashes a quick smirk your way before picking open the door you both press against. That smirk that melts your innards and makes you quiver instantaneously.
Turning, you keep an eye out for the soldiers who caught you stealing from the vendors. Of course after weeks in the Shadow-Cursed lands, food and gold were scarce. What little you still had only stretched so far in the City. So, you and your Rogue decided to take a… new course of action. One he swore was foolproof… easy… something he did a thousand times over hundreds of years… And he had insisted you look ‘decent’ in a dress for it.
Which was how you now find yourself squeezed against some alley door, panting, and afraid of being arrested as the soldiers who caught you nicking food from the stands close in.
“Hurry, Astarion,” you elbow him in the shoulder where he crouches beside you. “They’re coming.”
“Darling you can’t rush art,” he sneers in reply.
“It’s not art, it’s crime.”
“Maybe next time, you'll not get us caught then. Maybe you need some lessons on just how to expertly use those fingers…” he pauses, even as the clanking of armor draws even closer. He stands quickly, spinning you both, pinning you hard against the planes of the door as he crushes you against the wood. His mouth devours yours, your eyes filled with nothing but his pale skin and mussy, silver hair. Your every sense is consumed by his taste in your tongue, his scent in your nose, his wiry body bearing down, covering you completely.
That passion, that ardor steals your breath, lost in the sound of his breath in your mouth and the wet working of his lips, his tongue with yours.
So distracted you barely even notice the flurry of guards rush right past you until they have long passed. Barely noticed that he’s hidden you from their sight in his distraction. Kept you safe. Then he breaks, his devious smirk at your arousal only makes you pant harder. “You clever devil,” you rasp, trying to swallow. “Kept us hidden… and clearly you do enjoy this dress.”
“What would you do without me?” he taunts, reaching for the handle of the door, letting it creak open behind your back. “They’ll be back, we need to lay low for an hour or two…” that wicked gleam in his eyes only darkens. “How fortunate that we can hide here…”
You turn, taking a step inside the door. Instantly, you recognize it from your adventures so far. The scent of perfumes and sweat, of alluring flowers and dirty bodies all at once. Thick crimson curtains draped over every wall and door, ready to soften the cries of orgasm and the sounds of sex.
Sharess’ Caress.
“What better place to hide than a pleasure house?” he gives you that feline grin that more than announces his intentions for how to pass an hour or two. “Oh, what a shame we will have to hide away… just the two of us… away from everyone else back at camp…”
“Did I call you clever?” you roll your eyes, despite the way your belly floods with heat. “I mean sly, cunning…”
“And very, very hungry,” he interjects, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you towards the stairs. “Starved practically…”
“How do you know where you’re going?” you hiss from behind.
“You forget so quickly these are my hunting grounds, my nocturnal domains. How fortunate you get me of my own free will during the daytime,” he quirks back at you over his shoulder as he turns down a hall and then another. “You’ve been dancing with a professional,” he smirks, breathing deeply as he draws to a sudden stop outside a door. “But you already knew that, my darling. Already experienced the fruits of my practice on the unworthy…”
“Gods,” you pant, “and you think me worthy?”
“Most worthy, my love,” he chuckles softly, turning the doorknob beside you. “Won’t you come and find out why it’s a pleasure house, my sweet?”
You smile, devious, “Emphasis on the… come?”
“I’m in such a good mood to be here with you, my darling, that even your unrefined wit won’t put me off or… soften… my regard for you,” he giggles, leading you behind the curtain that covers the entryway. Its fabric is thick, a dense sort of velvet, darker than blood.
You stumble into the dark, and instantly those hands… those strong, lithe, dancing hands, catch you. You hear so many other voices in the distance, a cacophony of moans and slaps and screams. You turn, looking for Astarion, an edge of… surprise in your heart. Surprise that warms quickly into a heady fear as he leers at you.
The soft light only makes every angle and cut of his face sharper, his skin almost lustrous, those hands leaving your grip to already begin to tear his tunic from over his head. Earth-shattering. Ruinous. He is beyond handsome.
And he’s yours.
“You can’t stop staring, darling…” he rasps, drawing closer in, closing in around you. The skin of his chest, the way every muscle and vein is familiar to you, it makes you force a swallow. “Not that I'm complaining, of course,” he gives that short burst of giggles to punctuate. “But we really… really must do something about those hands of yours.”
He catches them together in just one palm, his touch cool despite the growing heat that caresses your skin. “Strength doesn’t come from brute force all the time, slashing and twisting…” he breathes. You gasp, moaning suddenly as his other hand has already managed to somehow slink into the hitched hem of your skirt, his touch barely ghosting up your inner thigh. “You needn’t be so gruff and commanding all the time, darling,” he purrs. “Let your fingers find their own way, one by one in that merry dance…”
“Gods,” you groan, as indeed one by one they slip into your folds, sliding in so easily with how drenched you already are for him. He flashes that sideways grin down at you, eyes narrowed as he is savoring the way you shudder at his touch, at the way your mouth hangs open suddenly to feel him pleasuring you. “Please, more,” you sigh, arching back to find something to brace your body against. “I want more inside me, I want you inside me.”
“But I am, darling,” his grin only twists higher, “and this is my lesson for you, so you had better listen and learn.” His hold on your hands tightens, his thumb massaging over their backs, deftly and rhythmically stroking your taught muscles. His legs stride between yours, hips pressing hard against you, making you back until you smack the your knees on some soft furniture. But quicker than breath, he steadies you. Fingers slipping from your folds and your body to unbutton his breeches.
You don’t even need to look to know his cock stands at the ready, and you giggle as he presses it into your waist, so hard you feel its twitching through your gown. “Already?” you tease, feeling a blush sweeping over your cheeks and up your neck.
“Well, you’re going to need something to practice on…” His eyes gaze at you, glazed with desire, that crimson shine almost a bright red as the lights from the candles around you flicker and flame. “And, I will too,” he adds, voice thick in his throat as he takes the ribbons of your blouse in those long, lean fingers. “Something to play with, as an example of course…”
His breath is heavy, each inhale and exhale almost deafens you. He is close but refrains from brushing against you, nothing more than the way his fingers pull those thin laces of bodice, one by one.
Slowly. Painfully deliberate.
His gaze never wavers, doesn’t even have to look to know where to grip, where to touch. Until at last, the panes of your bodice split, your breasts achingly hard to feel the free air, the rush of his heavy breaths caressing them.
You try to catch his mouth, to bring him into a kiss, but he only shoves you back down to your heels. “Tch, tch,” he sucks his teeth at you, shaking his head in mock disapproval. “This isn’t a lesson for your mouth. Your tongue is already so good at sucking and swallowing, my pet.”
Oh, you shudder. His words alone push you to that precipice of need. Not to mention that constant washing sound of the pleasures around you. It makes you whimper to be denied.
“Shh,” he chuckles quietly, one long pointer finger on your lips to tap gently. “Think about how enjoyable it will be to put these skills into practice daily… nightly too…”
Your brow raises, mischief swirling in your belly as you quickly part your lips, drawing that finger between them to suck it hard.
His cock pulses against your belly, his mouth groaning loudly at the warmth and wet you swirl around it.
“Eager and naughty. You belong in this pleasure house, my love,” he growls. Slowly, he lowers himself to sit on the seat behind you, a settee you realize, covered in softest velvet. Your breathing grows rough, every inhale you make is filled with the perfumes of the house, masked heavily by that fresher scent of his skin.
Your mouth waters, his hands rucking up your skirts, clawing around your hips as he settles you on his thighs. He throws the skirts behind you, ensuring he has complete control, a perfect view of your soft-curled mound, your shaking thighs. But he leaves you aching, your pulse pounding as he can feel your folds soaking his skin and throbbing as you grieve the emptiness inside you.
His fingers seem to dance in the air as he reaches for your body, where your breasts hang so exposed. So easy for the taking. Fascinated, hypnotized by their dexterity, you watch as each of his fingers moves, of its own accord, each playing across your skin. His touch is delicate and deliberate.
The muscles of his hands clench, each movement visible as the candlelight caresses that masculine outline. Light warming his pale, pearl-like skin. Shadows following the ridges and trails the veins make over the backs of his hands, weaving gently up his arms.
You can’t resist, bringing your own touch to dance along those protruding blue lines. Mimicking the soft and commanding pressure he makes as he cradles your breasts, one in each hand, fingers twirling and plucking your nipples hardened to pebbles in his masterful touch. You can’t help it, can’t control it as the rhythm of his touch on your breasts alone sends those shivers of pleasure down your spine, your body under his thrall as climax pours through you. Hot and wild, you buck on the limited friction of his thighs, your cum coating that flawless, smooth skin.
And he giggles. With a little extra effort, he tweaks your nipples as you ride out the remaining waves. “Oh my sweet, see what skilled fingers alone can do?” he croons. His hips buck beneath your still-trembling thighs, making his cock jolt where it stands. Little trickles of his seed already leaking from that tight little slit. You want so badly to lick it clean, to quickly shove that hardness deep inside you to cool your burning lust. But you smile, taking it in your hands, not to be outdone by your arrogant, insufferable Rogue.
Plying that same silken yet commanding touch, you sweep a single finger up the trail of his precum, gathering it on your fingertip before slipping it in your mouth. Sucking it clean.
He groans, watching. His hands slide down your sides, holding your hips hard against his thighs. “What a good student you have become,” he praises in his honeyed tones.
You pull your finger from your pursed lips with a resounding pop. Licking the rest of those fingers one by one, you begin tracing just the soft pads of your fingers up and down his twitching shaft.
For hells take you if you weren’t about to stun him senseless with your fingers alone.
You keep your eyes on the motions you make, smiling harder each time his hips buck under your touch, cock twitching and jolting as you beat it in your grip. Maybe it’s the sounds that surround you, the wet slap of flesh, the moans of a hundred paying patrons, but your mind fills with a naughty idea.
Pausing, you clamber between his legs, pressing him wider with your knees. As he has done to you countless times.
“Just what are you doing, my sweet?”
You ignore the question, using a single hand to tug softly on the wrinkled silken skin of his balls. Gods, they feel tight and heavy in your palm already. Driving him closer to his own bursting release with each stroke you make.
“You’ll find out…” you grin innocently, meeting that flaming scarlet gaze of his. His tongue drags over his fangs, hunger lurking behind every clench of his body. The soft pads of your fingers slip further beneath him, following the hard seam of his erection until you brush the pert little hole of his ass.
Astarion hisses, arching his back as you press around it just a bit harder, circling it as he has done to everything on your body a million times.
“Darling…” he groans, raising his hips to let you in more. “Testing your dexterity on all of me, are you?”
You slip your touch inside, feeling him clench as you mimic the way he caresses you. The way he fucks you on those talented, eager fingers of his. You savor the way he growls, head thrown back against the velvet of the settee as you crook inside him deeper. For a moment, you forget all about his cock. Savoring the way you make him shake and quiver around your digits for once. But then, he clenches so hard around your finger deep in his ass, his cock ripples, thickening as you push him further towards the edge. He thrusts over and over into your other fist.
“Hells…” he pants, forcing his head up to meet your smile. “Where in gods names did you think to do that?”
You smile, so innocent and pouting and coy. “You’re not the only one who can read a book, Astarion…”
“Hgnf…” he grabs your wrists, the veins of his arms protruding even more as he flexes, pulling you down to collapse on his chest. “Lesson learned. Now I’ll claim my payment, it’s a brothel after all.”
No resistance is left in your body, too wet and hot and aching for anything other than letting that cool shaft of his cock to pierce deep inside you. And it does, sheathed so tightly in your cunt you cry, begging for more. Your scream could shake the walls, muffled only by those thick curtains.
“That’s right, my darling. Be loud, let them all hear you, hold nothing back like you do for me around the others,” he hisses low in the throat, hands tugging your dress apart all the more. All the better to let your breasts swing free with every unbridled buck of your body.
You groan, so loudly you’re sure you hear the curtains shaking.
And you do, as they pull back to open wide, the clatter of metal armor crashing through the soft slap of flesh. “Flaming Fist,” a cold voice startles you, anouncing. You gasp, clutching your bodice to hide the ample swell of your bosoms, burying your face against his chest as Astarion sits upright.
“What is the meaning of this,” he snaps in disgust and sneers in disdain, that commanding edge of his voice is dominating and cold. “I’ve paid good money for this, and you have no business to intrude on either my time or my pleasure.” He chastises, bracing his arms around you, curving you slightly around his side.
Hiding you.
“I’m sorry sir,” the soldier insists, far more timidly than before. “We’ve been trailing a thief we were tipped off today who would be pinching food stores from the markets today. We suspect she may be hiding here.”
“Get out or pay me the 500 gold I’ve already wasted by spending time speaking with you!” he bellows, gesturing roughly towards the door. “No one here but an angry, wealthy patron and his whore!”
That did it, sending them scattering and clattering as they shut the curtain firmly behind them.
You go still on his lap, a suspicious, scouring look on your face as you meet his arrogant, guilty eyes. “Tipped… off…”
His smirk curls wickedly to one side, shrugging demurely, a single hand splayed on his chest to feign innocence. “How else am I supposed to get you to accompany me here, say… Oh darling, I’d like to take you to a pleasure house so I can loudly fuck you away from prying eyes and listening ears?”
“You’d be surprised just how charismatic you might be if you checked, if you asked nicely…” you grind on his still throbbing cock, “…if you tried saying please.” You lean forward, pressing your hands on his chest to shove him back down. “Perhaps you could benefit from some lessons on asking nicely…”
That handsome face quirks, twisting harder as he smiles at you. “Dexterity check first, my sweet,” he purrs and crooks his finger against your clit. Reminding you just why you’re here.
