Astarion learns something new about tiefling anatomy, and immediately puts it to use. (Here on AO3)
The mattress dipped, rousing Rin from the doze she had fallen back into after waking.
“Did you bring the coffee?” she mumbled into the pillow.
“Mmm.” Cool fingers trailed over her shoulder.
“Oh, good,” she muttered, drifting off again. The bed was so warm and comfy and…
The touch skimmed over her neck, then over the backs of her arms. A slow wandering path that made her squirm and giggle, when it found the spots that tickled.
“I’m asleep,” she protested, the words uselessly breathy, her face still pressed into the pillow. “If you wake me, I’ll bite.”
“Promises promises,” Astarion murmured – the sound close, warm with amusement. His hand drifted again, less teasing now, more soothing. An unhurried palm over her shoulder, down between her shoulder blades, smoothing the tension out of her muscles.
Rin sighed, heavy and soft. The warmth of the bed pressed into her front. The coolness of him brushed over her back. He was waking her body one nerve at a time.
His fingers followed the edge of the blanket and slipped beneath it, finding her waist. A gentle squeeze. A quiet anchor.
Then, without warning, his hand travelled lower. A lazy slide over her hip, then the curve of her backside, and Rin’s breath caught in a way that had nothing to do with ticklish spots. Her body, traitor that it was, responded immediately – a little arch into his hand, a shiver, a sharp ache sparking in her stomach.
She let out a small sound, half a complaint.
His fingers traced the curve of her hip again, before smoothing over her ass.
“Star…” she whispered, suddenly wide awake in the most unfair way.
The mattress moved again. He pulled the blankets away and straddled her legs, settling his weight over her thighs to pin her. Before she had a chance to complain about it, those clever hands were back. Languid, measured strokes that travelled over and up, thumbs following the ridge of her spine, fingers splaying over her hips and ribs. Then back down again, firmer.
Rin’s hips shifted without permission, chasing the pressure. Another noise escaped her throat, muffled into the pillow.
Astarion’s hand followed her movement, catching her at the waist, guiding her back into stillness with an ease that made her stomach flutter. Then, one hand firm at her hip, the other drifted to the place where her tail met the curve of her body.
His fingers grazed over the top of her tail, where the cartilage formed three ridged plates beneath the skin, before the raised line of it smoothed out.
She jolted – not away, but into the bed, her breath catching.
Astarion went perfectly still, and for a moment, they were both frozen in place.
This was her moment to say something. To tell him he didn’t have to. It was okay if he didn’t like her tail, because –
But before she could force the words out, his fingers trailed over the ridge again, and the thoughts fled her mind completely. It had been a long time, since anyone had touched her there.
He didn’t rush, moving with maddening patience, stroking the length of that raised line as if he was learning it by heart. He didn’t grab or pull, just used the pads of his fingers in a careful glide that made her skin prickle hot beneath his cool touch. He traced the shapes of her plates, and each pass of his fingers triggered a wave of need – curling deep inside her.
She lay helpless, lips parted against the pillow, suddenly aware of how fast her heart was going.
Astarion’s palm settled more fully against the base of her tail, fingers curving around it with quiet certainty. He pressed there – gently, experimentally – and Rin let out a sound she would absolutely deny ever happened.
“Oh,” he breathed, and his thumb swept once, slow and deliberate, along the underside.
Her hips rocked, betrayed by instinct, and Astarion hummed low behind her. His thumb kept rubbing methodical circles over that unbearably sensitive spot beneath the base. His knees tightened against her thighs, bracketing her, holding her still, while his other hand came to close around her tail too.
He dragged his hand down her tail in one smooth stroke, from base to the finned tip, and Rin bit down on the pillow – because the sensation was different there, sharper, brighter, sending sparks down her spine that made her try desperately to arch her back, to lift her ass toward him. Her tail twitched in his hand – but his grip was firm.
He ignored her wriggling and repeated the movement a few more times. Slow, up and down, the length of her sliding between his fingers. He varied the pressure, until another involuntary moan from her told him exactly how she liked it.
Gods, she had forgotten how good this was.
“Darling,” he drawled, “your tail is blushing.”
She buried her face deeper into the pillow, but before she could even register any embarrassment, another pass of his hand sent a shiver through her, pulling a wrecked little moan from her lips.
Once, twice more, he stroked her, adding a pull to the motion that made her tail quiver and slicked her thighs with want, and then his fingers curled lightly around the tip. He gave the fin a squeeze, realising, perhaps, that the cartilage was far more pliable than it looked, the edges soft rather than sharp.
He made a quiet humming noise, curious, and lifted her tail a little higher. His thumb traced the edge of the fin, following the soft curve as if it were something delicate and newly precious. He pressed a little harder, moving the fin from side to side, making it flex beneath his touch.
She felt his lips brush against it, barely there at first. Slow. Testing. Then he pressed another kiss. It took her a moment to realise she was keening, high and needy, and she stopped herself. He opened his mouth in response, licking a broad stripe over her fin, before closing his lips around the tip.
A fang caught, just barely, before releasing – and she shuddered like she’d been struck by lightning.
She tried to say something. His name. A curse. A plea. Nothing coherent came out.
The thumb still at the base of her tail swept over the skin again, pressing harder into the cluster of nerves buried there. Her whole body snapped, arching toward him with an animalistic grunt that had her fisting hands into the sheets below her.
“Yes,” he said, voice rough. “Again.”
Another press of his fingers, combined with a firm stroke along the length of her tail, and she was writhing and panting beneath him. She squeezed her thighs together, muscles tensing as –
“Not yet,” he rasped, hands leaving her tail.
She cried out, deprived and betrayed, lifting her head to look back at him accusingly. His eyes were dark and hungry, meeting hers with searing heat. He was shirtless, and her complaints died in her throat as she took in the clean lines of him – shoulders, chest, arms. The elegant flex and pull of muscle beneath skin as he moved, taking off his pants.
She rolled to her side, trying to turn to him. But he was too quick, hands catching her hips again, pushing her back down to her stomach. He hooked his fingers into the thin band at her waist, pulling the scrap of material that had been her very last defence down her legs.
“Oh, look at you,” he whispered, obviously pleased at what he had done to her.
She felt the solid weight of his body, lowering himself over her to kiss the crook of her neck, to nibble an earlobe. She wasn’t about to let him slow things down though, and arched her back, pushing her ass up into the hard length of him.
He growled, and nipped at her shoulder, breathing heavily. The scrape of his teeth made her clench, made her buck beneath him, made her moan wantonly.
“Patience,” he said in her ear.
“No,” she said back, arching again, rubbing against him, where she could feel how much he wanted her. Her tail wrapped around him, as if it could pull him closer. He was flush against her, but it was not enough. Not nearly.
He had the gall to laugh. A low, husky sound.
She would kill the bastard. But first, she needed him to –
He moved quickly, lifting away from her. Hands gripped her hips and pulled her up, manoeuvring her with wicked ease on to her hands and knees. She was trembling in anticipation, struggling to hold still, as he pushed her knees further apart with his own, and positioned himself behind her.
She was slick and ready, and yet the stretch of him, as he began to sink into her, was nearly more than she could take. She whined, arms shaking, trying hard to breathe through the overwhelming sensation.
“Fuck,” he growled. “The noises you make…”
She moaned again, helpless to stop herself.
“Yes. I want to know all your sounds.”
He was still so controlled, purposefully torturing her with a pause, rather than seating himself properly, where he belonged. Enough of that, she thought, and thrust herself back onto his cock, gasping as he speared deep inside her.
“Ngh!” he grunted behind her, finally losing composure. She did it again, trying desperately to fuck herself on him, and the low, broken sound it drew from him made her clench tight around his girth.
He took control before she could manage a third stroke, holding her still with a bruising grip on her hips. He was breathing nearly as hard as she was, now. She liked it.
“You little wretch,” he said hoarsely. She shivered in delight.
She was about to tell him he deserved it, when he gripped the base of her tail again, and words became impossible. He started moving, rutting slowly into her, using his hold on her tail to keep her in place, to keep a steady pressure on the sensitive nerves there.
Instinctively, her tail coiled around his arm and over his back. She didn’t think she could remove it if she tried – but he made a sound of approval, or satisfaction, and his pace sped up.
She thought she might die.
It was all she could do to keep herself up, as the exquisite dual torment of his cock, hitting that spot deep inside her, and his fingers, pressing the other beneath her tail, made her entire body light up with pleasure so intense it burned.
“Yes” she hissed, “pleasepleaseplease,” and he obliged, his movements becoming faster, but no less deliberate. He fucked her thoroughly, each stroke slamming into her, her breath punching out in mewling gasps.
She was lost, the world fading away to nothing but howling nerve endings and ragged breaths and lights behind her eyes and heat, heat, heat –
His rhythm stuttered, and his voice, low and ruined, broke on her name. He reached a hand down, between her trembling thighs, and when his fingers found her clit, she actually screamed.
What remained of the world dissolved into white, as she unravelled completely.
She lay limp on the bed, having turned at some point on to her back. Every part of her felt pleasantly numb and floaty, her mind still soft with bliss.
“Good morning,” Astarion purred next to her.
When she turned her head, he was, as usual, propped on an elbow to watch her. His expression practically dripped with smug satisfaction. “And, you’re welcome.”
She huffed a laugh, and she would have shoved his shoulder if she was ready to trust any of her limbs just yet.
He nuzzled closer to her, peppering her face with little kisses. “You know,” he said in between pecks, “I’ve never done that before.”
She scoffed. “Yeah, okay, sure. It was my first time too.”
“No, really,” he met her eyes with a smile. It was a little bit shy – unusual on his face. “I didn’t know…” he cleared his throat. “I’ve never actually been with a tiefling, before you.”
“Oh,” she said, looking away quickly. That hurt. That hurt quite a lot more than she’d expected.
“Listen,” she said, hating the hitch she didn’t quite manage to disguise from her voice. “That was lovely, but I don’t expect you to… do that again. I’d rather… I’d rather you didn’t, actually, if you’re not attracted to…” she waved a hand through the air, struggling to express her racing thoughts. “If I’m not your usual type. I mean, if certain parts of me aren’t to your –”
A hand on her cheek interrupted the words spilling out of her mouth, turning her head toward him. She closed her eyes, not wanting to see him feeling sorry for her.
“Rinoah,” he said softly. “You have it all wrong.”
He kissed her forehead, and she felt a little braver, so she looked at him. That earned her a smile.
“It was never about preference. It was never about what I might have wanted. He forbade us from engaging with tieflings.”
Some things fell into place for her, then. “So no one would read the scars for you. That’s why I was the first…”
He nodded. “Rin, I’ve been staring at your tail every time you turned your back to me, since the first day I saw you. I’ve wanted so much to run my hands over it. But I thought it was rude to touch –”
“Well yes,” she laughed. “It is very rude to touch a lady’s tail like that, actually!”
“I would never touch a lady’s tail like that,” he grinned rakishly. “Ladies wouldn’t make such delectable noises.”
And then she did shove him.
