O dear rain, witness of my love | E | 1.9k words | AO3 | Astarion/Zevlor, comfort, cuddling, oral sex
Summary: Astarion's tent has given up in the face of the severe downpour going on. He decides Zevlor's tent will do very well while he dries with his favourite portable heater: Zevlor.
Astarion groaned with annoyance when water started dripping on his face. He sat up, huffing. He threw a glare at the satured roof of his tent. It was a tent made of flimsy material, and the unrelentless downpour was making short work of it. Astarion had been trying to read for the last hour, but the cold, the dampness and now outright drops were making it impossible. He threw the book aside and stood up, shivering. Memories of his coupling with Zevlor came back to his mind. Gods, he couldn't believe they actually did it. And it felt so…so good, so natural. Astarion had thoroughly enjoyed himself. He actually looked forward to a next time.
…if there was to be a next time. The future looked more than uncertain. There was no saying they would survive their adventure. Even if they did, there was no guarantee Zevlor would want to keep seeing him. Astarion didn't like to dwell on the uncertainty that was what they had, because it meant thinking about Cazador, and he'd very much like to forget about the bastard, thank you very much.
The spawn shook himself up and resolved to warm himself the best way he knew how. He lifted the flap of his tent, scowling at the apocalyptic downpour happening outside. He glanced back inside where condensation was gathering here and there on the oversatured fabric. Astarion resolutely grabbed his backpack and, taking a steadying breath, dragged his traveller's chest outside. He struggled with it as he got thoroughly soaked in the rain. He dearly hoped none of his travelling companions were taking a peek outside, his hair was a mess! The crossing of the camp only lasted five minutes at most, but Astarion was soaked to the bone. He gratefully took shelter under the porch of Zevlor's tent, which formed a closed vestibule with its two flaps brought down. His was one of the biggest in the camp. It was most likely a military tent, worn but sturdy. He lifted the heavy flap and was welcomed by warmth and Zevlor's smell. The man himself was sitting cross-legged, sharpening his word.
"Astarion!" he exclaimed with concern, weapon forgotten as he rushed to the spawn.
"How come you have a waterproof tent?" Astarion grumbled, letting himself be fussed about.
"You're soaked! Here– Let's dry you off."
The tiefling went back inside, disappearing behind the heavy flap. Astarion stood there awkwardly, shivering with the cold. Zevlor's face poked out, confused.
"Is something the matter? You're not coming?"
The vampire felt the tip of his ears heat with embarrassment.
"I'd rather not soak your nice interior," he smoothly lied with a flashy smile.
"Oh," Zevlor nodded.
He handed him the towel and went to lower the flap of the porch before retreating inside the tent. Astarion couldn't help a burst of fondness for the tiefling. He was always so attentive to him.
Astarion freely stripped. He toweled himself dry. He had no other camp clothes, so he wrapped himself in the towel and left his clothes on his chest. He slipped inside the tent barefoot and was surprised to find Zevlor busy arranging what looked like a decadent bedroll. The mat looked plush, and the fur blanket covering it was soft. Two great pillows were disposed with three smaller ones at one end. A fur blanket with a satin lining finished the set. Zevlor's surprised sound pulled Astarion out of his reverie.
The tiefling was looking at him wide-eyed, and the spawn remembered he was wearing nothing but a towel.
"I don't have anything to put on," he admitted with a lop-sided smile, feeling embarrassed.
"Oh! You should have told me!" the Hellrider scrambled to open his traveller's chest. "I have several spare shirts–"
Like the gentleman he was, he kept his gaze downcast as he gave the clothes to Astarion. It both amused him and made his heart burst with fondness for Zevlor. Zevlor was safety.
"I wouldn't be caught dead in these in Baldur's Gate, but this will do for now."
The Hellrider chuckled, eyes crinkling.
"Where are your clothes, by the way? Did you leave them outside?"
"They'll dry," Astarion shrugged.
Zevlor shook his head fondly.
"Why are you here, by the way? Are you hungry?" he asked gently, coming to take Astarion's hand in his.
"My tent is so soaked it started raining inside," the vampire pouted.
"By the gods, truly?"
"Can I spend the night with you? At least until this damned rain stops."
Zevlor's eyes softened so much Astarion was choked by the need to kiss him.
"I would be happy to sleep with you," he said quietly.
And for once, the vampire knew there was no innuendo. Grinning, he dragged the bed to the entrance.
"I want to see the rain!" he declared with some childishness.
Zevlor went outside to roll up the lateral flaps of the porch, leaving only a short roof so the entrance wouldn't get soaked. He tied back the flap of the entrance a bit so they could get a view without leaving the tent open to the wind. Astarion got rid of his trousers and settled in bed, looking like the cat who got the cream. The Hellrider shook his head fondly and slipped under the covers. The spawn immediately snuggled himself in his arms, all but purring with content. A warm hand carded through his hair, slowly massaging his scalp. They watched the rain fall in comfortable silence until Astarion started to pout again.
"What is it?" Zevlor asked, amused.
"I want to feel your skin…" the spawn murmured against his neck.
The Hellrider sat up to remove his shirt. His lover eagerly stuck himself to him again, sighing with content. Astarion wondered if heaven was something like this. He gazed upon the tiefling and felt the need to kiss him. It was slow and gentle. They kissed lazily, enjoying each other's presence. The vampire moved to Zevlor's throat, sucking on the warm skin and leaving a hint of teeth on his jugular. He felt his lover's heartbeat quicken with a thrill. Arousal simmered in his belly as the sound of the rain intensified.
"Ah- We should- We should move the bed," the Hellrider gasped.
Astarion only hummed, more preoccupied with sucking a bruise on the side of his lover's throat. A displeased growl left him when Zevlor freed himself and got up. He closed the flap of the tent. The spawn was tempted to bite on his tail to show him how disasstisfied he was with this situation.
"Come on, get up," the tiefling said. "You'll get cold staying near the entrance."
The vampire made a show of standing up slowly with plenty of sighs and groans. Zevlor shook his head, amused, and pulled the bed back to the center of the tent before he lit a small oil lantern. Astarion remembered suddenly that his lover had lost his darkvision. He settled back into bed with a pout. When Zevlor tried to wrap him in his arms, he petulantly crossed his arms and turned his back to him.
"I'll sleep on this side of the bed, thank you," he grumbled.
"What can I do to make myself forgiven?" the tiefling was asking behind him.
Astarion bit his lip, arousal swirling lazily between his legs. He turned around to see Zevlor's eyes crinkling with fondness and amusement. He brought him down for a kiss.
"I think you should let me do as I please," the vampire purred in Zevlor's ear, nibbling on the tip.
He watched his tail thrash around with satisfaction as the tiefling cleared his throat.
"I–I think this can be arranged," he answered, eyes darkening with desire.
Astarion grinned wolfishly, making a show of eyeing the Hellrider's bulge. He licked his lips, the idea of having that ridged, hot cock inside his mouth made arousal rush south. He considered how to go about this. Should he have Zevlor on his knees? Or should he make him lie down? The vampire decided to take pity on the old soldier and spare his knees. Astarion sat up, a hand splayed on his lover's strong chest. He could feel his heartbeat pick up under his palm. He let his fingertips ran appreciatively down his torso. He heard Zevlor suck in a breath as he slowly undid the laces of his pants, freeing his hardening cock.
Astarion found it beautiful. It sounded silly even to himself: he had seen countless dicks in his two hundred years and they all look mostly the same. Zevlor's penis was a bit of a novelty for him in that regard as it was ridged. He was slightly thicker than average too. It had brought him much delight the last time they had been intimate. Gods, imagining it sliding against his sweet spot, stretching him, filling him… Arousal made him shiver. He took Zevlor's cock in hand, giving it a few loose, languid strokes. The spawn swiped the head with his thumb, enjoying his lover's tiny moan.
Astarion gave slow pumps to the penis in his hand, finding the way the skin pull almost hyptonic. The small whimpers of his lover was feeding his arousal. He observed his face carefully, watching Zevlor bite his lip, eyes glued to Astarion's hand. The Hellrider hissed slightly, features twisting in discomfort. The vampire removed his hand, heart thrumming as he asked:
"Did I hurt you?"
"Forgive me," the tiefling murmured. "The friction is too dry. I must have some oil somewhere–"
"Ah, I see," the spawn chuckled with a wicked gleam in his eyes. "If it is lubrication you need…"
Before Zevlor could do anything, Astarion gave in to his impulse and swallowed down his cock. The Hellrider almost howled, grabbing him by the hair before yanking his hand away.
"S-Sorry," he gasped.
The vampire smirked, mouth full. Always the gentleman. The spawn put all of his practiced skills into it as his lover grabbed the sheets. Astarion was enjoying himself, he realized with surprise. Not only did he enjoy reducing Zevlor to an incoherent mess, but he also loved the act. It was the first time he took any pleasure in this. It had always been a chore, one that he found unpleasant and almost degrading, deep down. But with Zevlor… It had not even crossed his mind to think about it. He simply did it, on a whim. He was enjoying it. He loved the weight of Zevlor's cock on his tongue. He loved the taste of it in his mouth.
"My heart! Ah, please, I can't–" the Hellrider was gasping above him.
A warm hand slipped into his hair again, caressing more than holding. It spurred the spawn on, swallowing down his length. He planted his gaze into the Hellrider's clouded one. He bottomed out, throat constricted around his lover's girth. Zevlor moaned, arching up, head thrown back as he spilled inside Astarion's mouth. The vampire let his cock with a pop, licking his lips wirh satisfaction. Even the bitter spent on his tongue tasted sweet in front of this debauched view. He let himself fall onto the bed, snuggling up against the Hellrider trying to catch his breath.
"Thank you, my heart," Zevlor told him, eyes crinkling with fondness.
Astarion tried not to blush as he let himself be kissed and embraced.
"Tell me how to please you," he asked the vampire softly.
"It's fine. I'm not in the mood for it," Astarion said.
The truth was more…complicated. But he didn't want to talk about it. His lover only hummed, wrapping him tightly in his arms and petting his hair. The silence was comfortable as they listened to the pouring rain outside. The vampire slipped into meditation as the heartbeat of his lover slowed. For once, his dreams were peaceful.