Archive of Our Own

"Halsin – erm, sorry to bother you but could you go a mite slower, please?" Gale calls out from the seat of the wagon to the lumbering horse before them.

Their burly stallion, strapped to the nines, chuffs and sets a slower pace. His hooves steadily click and crunch across unpaved road. Rocks of too many sizes, ranging from small bits of gravel to huge handfuls, stand in their path across the Evermoors.

"There. How's that feel?" Gale asks his passenger.

To his amusement, the passenger in question is drenched in sweat and gripping the sides of the wagon box with clammy hands. His knees are practically flush with his chest in his effort to crunch himself into a wet ball.

"I highly doubt the speed of it will make a difference," Astarion glares at him from under his brow bone and bites back through bared teeth. "This blasted road hasn't seen civilization in– UFF!!"

With a crunch and a THUD , one of the wagon's wheels rolls over a large stone and sends the contents of the wagon flying momentarily before falling hard. Their rears slam against the seat and their fine hair gets tussled with every impact.

Astarion steels his face to conceal an embarrassing fact; that every single damn time they ride over something large like that, it sends tremors up his body and makes him throb down there . It's utterly humiliating.

"Oh, don't be –  OOF – so dramatic," Gale stutters when they pass over another, smaller rock. "Even a homebody such as I can appreciate the novelty of a good wagon ride, no matter the turbulence."

Astarion curls his nose in disapproval.

"I'm starting to think it's not so much the turbulence as it is the company!”

"Whatever do you mean–"

WOOMPF! They hit another bump and go weightless before pounding the wood of the wagon. The feeling of his nether regions bouncing full-force on the vibrating grain makes Astarion blanch and cover his mouth in horror.

"Uh oh. Feeling ill, are you?" Gale asks with a curious lilt. "No need to be shy, I most certainly understand. When I was young, my mother would rent us a stagecoach in the winter and every time, without fail, I would get si– I mean, feel a bit queasy."

Astarion says nothing.

"Alright, I got sick. But she developed a most foolproof remedy for wagon sickness as time went on..."

The wizard tells a story about how she conjured a root of ginger, some water and a carefully restrained fire bolt to heat it up right then and there in the carriage. The story doesn't exactly comfort Astarion, seeing that he's being rocked to oblivion, and the 'remedy' he describes is actually far more complicated than any 'fool' could handle.

On the other hand, the uneven ba-bump, ba-bump, bump of the wagon sends him reeling. His head throbs, his bones ache, and his lower half is aflame with unwanted arousal. So, he lets Gale prattle on about medicinal witchcraft so long as it can distract him from the barrage of sensations inside of him.

Halsin, their chestnut-coloured beast of burden, hauls them over rocky highlands and across streams of murky water. Just as the sun begins to grate on Astarion's eyes and the crisp air threatens to shred his throat, they arrive at a stable that Tav marked on their maps.

Gale eagerly steps down from the box (though his robe gets caught on something along the way, it yanks his skirt up and makes Astarion forget his anger for a moment) and goes to speak with the handler about a delivery. Astarion, despite the abject stench of the stable, sighs with relief before hopping down with measured ease.

"If you kick anything in my direction, I'll tell Gale to confiscate that pipe you love so much. Are we clear?" He waggles a finger at Halsin as he approaches his gear.

Halsin just cranes his neck to point a wet, beady eye at him and snorts.

Astarion takes that a resounding 'yes' before taking a look at all the straps and bits across his scraggly back.

He has little experience with horses, the filthy things, but it only takes a few seconds of staring at his gear before Astarion starts undoing it and taking the shaft of the wagon from his shoulders.

"Just a moment," Astarion says as he steps up to Halsin's front for the straps round his face.

Chills go up his arms as he prises the neckpiece from the wild-shaped druid. His horse head is bigger than Astarion's torso, and the way that shiny black eye moves around is unsettling. It blinks rapidly at him and even peers at him so far that the white part of his eye makes an appearance.

"What? I'm not going to scratch you behind your ears, if that's what you're thinking," the vampire says, wrinkling his nose in disgust. "When we get to town, there will be plenty of children ready to rub their sticky little hands all over you. Believe you me."

He removes his neckpiece with an unceremonious click .

Suddenly, horse-Halsin brays loudly before burying his wet snout into Astarion's privates. His bassy snuffling is muted by his trousers – and rightfully so, otherwise he might die of humiliation.

"AAH! Bad druid! BAD!" The vampire shrieks falsetto at the feeling of Halsin's warm muzzle against him, jumping back and flicking him once on his shaggy temple. “Do. Not. Do. That!”

"Mmrrfgh!" The stallion shakes his head, flopping his thick brown mane about in defiance. “Hnffh. Hnnfffh.”

He pulls back from Astarion's warmth but doesn't stop himself from hovering near his center, inhaling in hard bursts like he’s smelling something sweet. "Snrrrf!"

“No. No!” The vampire protests as he claps a hand around Halsin’s muzzle and wrenches the struggling mound of muscles away. “Nngh!”

Alarmed by the commotion, Gale comes rushing in with a new pouch on his hip and a letter in his hands.

"Is everything alright?" He asks innocently.

"W-we’re fine! Now let's leave this place already. I'd rather not get used to the smell – though I'm sure Halsin would disagree." Astarion fibs before glaring at the naughty horse and guiding him to the stable doors.

They hop on their friend's back before heading back out into nature for another half hour of travel. Being jostled up and down on horseback isn't much better than the wagon, but he'll take the pain of sitting on a saddle over the embarrassment of being shaken and sniffed any damn day.

Tired, incensed, and annoyingly damp, he spends the rest of their trip avoiding Halsin's snout.

–

The night is young, the wine is flowing in the tavern downstairs, and the party is raging. It's a fine evening indeed, until Gale walks up to his room and hears a variety of muffled sobs from within.

"Hello?" Gale calls out awkwardly into the wooden frame. "Whoever you are, I must ask you to take out your frustrations elsewhere. I'm afraid this room is occupied."

"Go. Away!" A familiar, foppish voice croaks out in response.

"Astarion!" Gale rejoices at the sound of his friend's whiny trill. "What are you doing in there? Did you happen to grow tired of the festivities like I did?"

He enters his own room and the smile drops from his face when he sees a soft heap piled upon his temporary bed.

Blankets and pillows – surely stolen from other tenants – lie strewn about in a circle and engulf what looks to be a tiny, tiny fraction of a vampire's hair and a book opened halfway before his face.

The image of him lying in a blanket cocoon and enraptured by a book tickles the wizard for a second, until it quickly worries him.

Astarion is crying, whimpering and gripping that thing like it's about to slip out of his hands and run away. He can't see his face, but Gale can hear his gasps and sobs from where he's stood.

"By Mystra's plucked brow, what's wrong?" Gale asks incredulously as he sinks into the bed next to him.

"Not a damn thing. Go away already!" Astarion yells at the wizard, ultimately betrayed by his quivering voice and the mucus in his throat.

"Hmm. I hardly believe that," Gale ignores his domineering tone and leans over to see the damage. "Look at you, you're a mess! I believe a healthy dose of quality time between friends is in order."

Astarion's face is purple and soaked to his chin. His temples glisten with tears. A silky, white handkerchief lies wet and crumpled on the bed.

He shoots Gale a lethal look before wrestling the sheets over his head and tucking his legs into a ball. The book falls shut with a small thud .

"I'm not spending 'quality time' with you! Leave me be!" Astarion snarls from inside his cocoon.

"Well, unfortunately you are in my room, so our presence here isn't so much a breach on your privacy as it is on mine. Respectfully speaking." Gale retorts.

Astarion grows silent. Suddenly, he yanks the blankets off of himself and sits straight up.

"I'm in your room?" He asks in disbelief, glancing around at the bed and the desk and the shelf above it.

"That's right! Oh, but I don't mind, really. We've spent far too much time travelling together for me to be picky about sharing a space all of a sudden." Gale smiles pleasantly before rambling on. "Say, did you really not know this was my room? If I remember correctly, you and Karlach are situated down the hall. That's quite the miscalculation if I say so myself."

"I– I had no idea. I thought…" Astarion looks wistfully at the door, tears shiny on his face. "Ugh. My head."

"Well, no matter. I'm sure you have plenty on your mind already. But I must ask, what's in that book that's got you so out of sorts?" Gale gasps. "Is it the first edition of Irenicus Irving and the Golden Goblet? I always heard it was a tearjerker before they localized it."

"What? No. I don't think so." Astarion sniffs. "It's just some stupid romance novel. I'm pretty sure it's Karlach's. Or… Wyll's? Oh gods, what's happening to my brain?"

The vampire frowns and runs his hands over the horde of soft things he's acquired from the other patrons. One of the blankets is as thick and airy as a cloud. He squeezes it gently.

"No judgment from me. Even I enjoy something a little risqué from time to time."

Astarion wipes his face with vigor.

"It's not risqué. It's not even remotely graphic." Even through a wet, congested throat, he staunchly defends the book's honour. "I had just gotten to the part where Roan takes Alyssia into his arms and confesses his undying love for her and…"

The elf's sentence dies out with a tremor and a squeal. His face curdles and his eyes tingle anew. Quickly, he goes to cover himself with a shaky hand.

"And she– and she–"

"There, there. Let it all out," Gale croons, reaching out and rubbing small circles into Astarion's shoulders. "Some stories have the ability to wreak absolute havoc on our heartstrings, don't they?"

Astarion looks at him through the gaps between his fingers.

"I – sniff – I suppose so…"

"I know just how to cure what ails you. Some good old animal companionship!"

The vampire considers whatever that entails. He did always think Tara's fur and feathers looked pleasant to the touch.

"... okay."

"Though, Tara is off with my mother and I'm pretty sure Shadowheart took Scratch to a handler for the evening… Aha! That's it." Gale gives him a final rub down the curved expanse of his back and stands up with finality. He cups his hands around his mouth and bellows out to the hallway: "HALSIN! Do turn into a horse again, please!"

"What?!" Astarion rips the the cocoon off of him, soft cloudy layer by soft cloudy layer.

"We would like to see you eat an entire apple in one bite!" The wizard continues to call as he steps into the hallway. "And perhaps many more, if you can!"

"No, we wouldn’t!" Furiously, Astarion chases him around in just his night clothes and a pair of socks; even when Gale can't find him and has to go downstairs to look. “You wretched— get back here!”

The tavern is eons colder than the bed – and far less forgiving to boot.

The next day, he finds an etching of himself on a signboard, barefoot and wrestling a wizard by a table full of bewildered patrons.

–

"Astarion, I demand that you explain yourself at once. The garments of a flighty and ornate tribe such as yours should not require such effort to wrap upon your person." Lae'zel hisses into the screen between her and the bathing room.

"I– ugh, just give me a moment, will you? I'm having enough trouble without you breathing down my neck." Astarion retorts from within.

"Your armor should be restricted to three layers," she continues, eyeing down the inanimate screen. "One to protect your flesh, another to deflect only the most powerful of attacks, and one for your… sensitive areas."

"I'm fully aware of how clothes work, Lae'zel." The vampire snarls, audibly losing his patience. "Just grab the others and go. I'll meet you there."

"We are ready to depart," Halsin's voice rumbles deep behind the githyanki, from where the stairs meet the second floor. "Is something wrong?"

Lae'zel turns to see the druid's head poking out from the staircase.

"The pale one has been taking far too long to don his gear."

"Has he now?" Halsin asks, stepping closer. "Have you tried communicating to him that he is beautiful with or without his hair preened?"

"I can hear you!" Astarion yells to his new bystander.

Halsin laughs a bit, despite himself.

"What is the matter, my friend?"

The druid staggers when he's hit with the tart scent of pomegranates; the very same one he was tortured with during their time in the Evermoors.

"Nothing. I'm fine– ow!" The sweet-smelling vampire says before a noises of impact sound out from the room.

Something light and wooden lands with a clunk on the floor. A string of curses soon follow.

"Chk! Handle this. I will convene with the others." Lae'zel leaves faster than anyone can say anything, her armor clinking and clanking as she marches off.

Halsin steels himself in front of the screen. Something white-hot and intrusive is licking at his insides. That cloying smell is making its way into his nostrils – into his brain.

Now that Lae'zel isn't clanking and hissing about the room, he can hear it; the sound and feeling of Astarion jumping. Up and down, up and down. Thud, thud . 

"Gods – damn – these stupid – rrrgh!" The vampire rages within his private sanctum.

"At times, I find myself envious of your diminutive stature. Had I been leaping about, I may have fallen through the floor." Halsin chuckles at his own comment.

"Is this funny to you?"

"I would first have to understand the problem before I could find it… well, funny."

"Mmph. Fine. My damned trousers aren't coming past my – er, they aren't fitting. I swear they fit a tenday ago."

Halsin can hear the teeth in his voice and the grueling fight between him and his pants.

"Are you in possession of any spares?"

Astarion sighs heavily.

"No. Yet another case of my sudden lack of foresight. Tsk."

"How far have you progressed?"

"Up– … up to– …" Astarion struggles in the conversational corner Halsin's backed him up to. "... m-my rear . And quiet down! You'll have the other tenants thinking something hilarious is going on."

Halsin ignores the glaring contradiction in the vampire's loud protests and moves closer to the screen – close enough that he can see slivers of him through the gaps. The interior is tantalizingly sunlit, and he could spot those white curls a whole plane of existence away.

"If you, erm," Halsin clears his throat when that sweet and sour aroma singes his nose again. "If you need assistance, I am happy to provide it."

"Oh, listen to you. Drooling at the bit to have a peek at me, aren't you? Why don't you turn into a horse and break the door down while you're at it?"

The druid cringes.

"If it comforts you, I… can elect not to make use of my vision."

Astarion is silent for a moment.

"You'd do that? Just to help me pull my damn pants on?"

"We are, like many creatures, blessed with the ability to walk backwards after all."

"A-alright then. Turn on your heel and get stepping," Astarion says, allowing him to enter his space.

When Halsin pushes aside the screen and walks blindly in, his eyes flicker to the body-length mirror next to the tub, where he sees nothing except himself and the room.

Ah. I remember now. He does not bear a reflection.

Mentally, he chides himself for wanting to breach the vampire's privacy like that. His breath quickens and he focuses on the floor instead; the sweet air clouding his senses.

It takes a moment to make his way towards Astarion but eventually they make contact, touching backs. He can feel the fuzz on his skin and his curls — tickling Halsin right between his shoulder blades.

"Okay… now help me tug these wretched things up."

The druid reaches back and accidentally grabs a handful of doughy flesh. It's round, soft and thick in his hands.

"HALSIN?!" Astarion yelps and Halsin's heart jumps. His hands go grappling at the druid's wrists, pushing them down until his fingers touch a waistband. "My trousers, not my arse!"

"M-my apologies."

He wrests it between giant hands and gives it a yank, as strange as it is to bend his arms behind his back as he does. Then he gives it another one. And another one.

Nothing gives. Astarion wasn't kidding. It won't inch past his buttocks.

"Hmmf! Dammit! I knew I shouldn’t have had that boar," Astarion thinks out loud.

Halsin's nose flares around a sharp inhale. He could shake his fist at the outrage that is not being able to see Astarion's season-thickened body; even if only an extra finger's width around his thighs.

Astarion smells so sweet, feels so round, so close to him. Halsin can feel the cool swell of his rear and he can't even have a glimpse.

His awkward tugs turn into frustrated ones, hard and forceful. Astarion’s feet thud against the floor as he tries to jump into the tugs.

Hearing him stumble like a baby deer, Halsin regretfully takes a peek. He sees that the vampire’s feet are bare and pale with delicate arches, toes spreading against the floor.

Blood rushing through his body, he averts his gaze before he can glean anything else.

"Ow! Halsin! My gods. Ah!" Astarion grabs the edge of the tub for support. "Th-that hurts.”

"Have you… been experiencing changes in your body?” Halsin asks, even though Astarion has clearly never smelled like this, looked like this, or felt like this before.

“Ever the tactmaster, aren’t you darling?” Astarion swallows. “The answer is no . I-I’m the same as I was a tenday ago. These must have just shrunk in the wash or something.”

“Then it would be best if I could turn around for better leverage. Seeing as you are in a state of normalcy and, well, it is nothing I haven’t seen before,” he says, thinking of the times they shared a bath in a spring adjacent to each other.

Astarion grumbles, caught in his fib. “Fine. But you have to promise not to say a thing.”

The druid hums a mindless response and turns around. The image before him makes him choke on his own spittle.

Astarion, normally thin and lithe, is soft in the waist. The white meat of his pert ass spills slightly over the band of his trousers – as if someone had left a sunflower bun on the rim of a cup. An extra layer of fat forms little creases in the curve of his back.

He's sun-dappled snow. A baked confection wrapped in a gilded blue ribbon. The puff of a dandelion as fresh and pure as can be.

Halsin takes a deep, shuddering breath.

"Well?” The vampire croaks out, peeking one glassy eye at the druid. His bright purple ear contrasts heavily against his white locks. He doesn't make eye contact with him for more than a split second. "Just give it a grab already."

Halsin gulps when he takes hold of his waistband and feels Astarion's pillowy, cool rear between his thumbs. He tugs on his trousers and greedily watches his ass ripple above his hands.

"Mmf!" Astarion's back muscles twitch as he grabs desperately onto Halsin’s arms. His body is still toned under this enticing new layer of softness. What an image he makes. “I think it’s almost there…”

Oakfather, lend me your strength, the druid prays in his thoughts.

He tries for another moment before realizing that the front of the waistband is caught on Astarion's thighs. Halsin reaches around his hips and twists his fingers into the fabric there, thick fingers digging into the band.

“Wait. WaitwaitwaitWAIT—!” The vampire’s fingers go scrambling at the larger elf’s wrists before he wrests his trousers so hard that he goes crashing into Halsin's chest. He gasps in shock and fights to control his breathing. "HNNNH!! Uff! Ha–ha…"

Astarion whimpers as his back presses flush against Halsin's front. The druid's arms trap him, warm and as wide around as an infant tree, on either side.

Halsin's knuckles dig into the fat of his groin as he gets another, closer whiff of that sweet scent and jerks the fabric harder on a whim. He grunts into his neck, using his strength to finally wrench it around the swell of Astarion's pale rear.

“UNNH! Ah! What in the hells?! Nnh!" The vampire cries out, grabbing at Halsin’s arms to support himself.

For some unholy reason, the feeling of Astarion's cold little hands grappling at his much bigger arms sends chills down Halsin's spine. He relishes in his pained noises – his every sob and whimper – how he has no choice but to bounce in Halsin's hands every time he pulls.

And that scent. It's in the curve of his neck, behind his ear, even the crook of his elbow if Halsin's nose is accurate.

Nature itself could not replicate that rich smell: it's something next to a pomegranate or jasmine or powdered skin, perhaps all at once. He rests his chin upon his shoulder and takes another greedy eyeful of him before stroking him where his thighs meet his hips.

"Hhh, oh gods…" Astarion moans, hooking an arm around Halsin's neck. He rolls his hips in frantic circles, no doubt rubbing himself against the seam of his trousers. "Please…"

The druid loudly breathes in his scent, huffing and puffing with reckless abandon. His hands travel lower. They hold him tighter, explore him further.

The two of them rock against each other, gasping and growling in barely restrained excitement as Halsin cups Astarion's surprising lack of a bulge. The druid's lip curls back – he doesn't know if he's about to say something or just groan in arousal when a knock at the screen gets their attention.

"Astarion? Lae'zel said she wanted to leave without you. So, naturally I came to get you." Shadowheart's familiar voice bleeds through the gaps.

The hairs on Halsin's neck stand up at the presence of another. He hunches over, holding the little elf closer. A low, guttural noise forms in his throat as he widens his stance and glares at the screen from under his brow.

"I– er–" Astarion stutters as the larger elf draws him tight into his rumbling bosom. He fights against the arms wrapping around him and the maw breathing onto his nape. "I'll be out in a moment. Halsin, shh! "

"Fine,” Shadowheart replies. “But don't expect me to stay and watch you come out in nothing but your greaves."

"Only in your dreams, darling.” Astarion laughs nervously and palms Halsin's mouth to silence his growing snarl. "N-now, you don’t want to be late, do you? Aha.”

Clank. Clank. Clank. Shadowheart's armor grows further and further away, to their relief.

Halsin blinks a couple times before the cloud in his eyes retreats. He chuffs, moist and heavy, against Astarion's hand. The vampire slowly takes it back, lingering on Halsin's lips and flaring his nose just the same.

"Okay. No more. We have to go. No – really, I mean it." Astarion gulps and tries to twist free while Halsin breathlessly stares at him. He speaks soberly. "And do make your leave first. If someone sees us come out at the same time, I… ugh. I don't even want to think about it."

"Perhaps I… could help you… with your shirt.” The druid poses, huffing between every suggestive word.

Astarion's nose wrinkles in anger.

"Get out, Halsin!" He growls, wrestling his arms harder than ever.

–

Astarion rose five hours too early from his trance, drenched in sweat and sensitive to the touch. His objectively soft blanket scratched terribly at his skin. Even his wooden slat, a source of comfort for him, started to grate at his scalp and shoulder blades. That marked three nights in a row he's been in absolute shambles.

His unraveling worsened when he decided he needed a change of scenery. It took only a light step for Astarion to sneak past Gale, whose definition of 'keeping watch' was apparently being nose deep in a book by the campfire. All he had to do was sidle across camp behind the wizard's unknowing back.

The night air, though it hid him quite nicely, was cold and crisp. When the vampire ducked into Halsin's tent, he was blanketed in warmth and met with an herbal fragrance.

His visit could have been nice and innocent. Nothing more than just a nightly check-in. But now that Astarion is on his knees, stripped to his panties, huffing the very musk that wafts off of the druid – he realizes he is truly out of his mind.

"Hhhh… hhhh…" His chest rises and empties at a ferocious pace. His lashes flutter up and down.

Astarion crawls closer and that spicy, wooden smell he remembers so clearly makes his throat tingle once more. That masculine scent tames the fire in his skin for just a moment.

He kneels before Halsin's hand and his joints wobble when he remembers how massive those were on his body. How hard they wrested his clothes. How gently they cupped him down there. 

Astarion rubs a thumb across Halsin's wrist and observes the position his fingers are in. They're joined and pointed together for meditative purposes, as thick as they are.

The vampire gives them a gentle squeeze, to which he remains unstirred.

He smiles and even gives him a naughty little poke in his cheek – hollowing it for just a second. The druid doesn't respond. He just lies there, meditating and smelling so damn good Astarion couldn't get it off his mind since.

Astarion shoves his flaring nose into the crook of the druid's neck and just barely resists the urge to feed off him. That heady scent of his should be enough to sate anyone's longing, surely.

–

"Well? Just give it a grab already."

Halsin's subconscious groans. Of all memories to relive, it had to be this one.

A moving image of Astarion stands before him, as pallid as a snowball and cold to the touch. He's about as half-naked as he was before, including the cute little panties stretched around his buttocks.

Dream-starion looks at Halsin through knitted brows and teary eyes. He bites his lip coquetteishly as they come closer to each other.

"Please…" He whispers, but the sensual purr of it is infinitely loud in Halsin's ears.

Everything is twice as slow in this realm. The little elf is lit by the sun, trailing his dainty hands up his arched back. He cuts a most intoxicating shape – small waist and smooth curves topped with a head of adorable curls.

Only one thing is missing. Halsin gets a peek of it when Astarion cranes his neck to take an embarrassed look at him.

Pointy nose. Round, red eyes. Full, parted lips.

He prays to no one – for not even the Oakfather could see him now – that Astarion doesn't turn away and hide from him.

Unfortunately, the vision decides to be wholly realistic in this regard, and that beautiful, pale face of his flits away before Halsin can drink it in.

–

The real Halsin is disappointed at first when he wakes in his tent without vampire, or any satisfaction to speak of. He is, after all, staring at the dark expanse of his ceiling and not Astarion's exquisite face.

He's granted instant relief from it when he takes in a lungful of air and is hit with a wave of sweetness. The source of it wriggles on his chest, fuzzy and cool, save for the hot puffs of breath misting onto his skin.

His mystery guest is straddled upon his arm, holding it in place while something soft and split up the middle rubs his hand in an arc. Halsin's body tingles when he realizes that soft something is wet .

"Hhh! Hhh! Oooh, fuck…!" They moan into Halsin's barrel chest, strangled and subdued.

The silhouette, made only visible by lit canvas of his tent, writhes before him. A mop of curls on one end and the curve of a familiar rear on the other.

"Astarion?" Halsin says flatly.

Startled, the smaller elf gasps and shoots up off of his chest; clearly about to make up some falsification about why he's here, humping his arm of all things, when Halsin cups him through his panties.

"Ah! I– I–" His excuses die in his throat.

The druid hushes him through his teeth and lights a rope-adorned lantern by his right with a thrust of his free hand. He smiles when the tent fills with warm light and he finally gets to see Astarion's face again, eyes watery and lips agape.

That funny expression is almost enough to distract him from the way his half-naked body is grinding against his hand.

"Speak to me. Truthfully." Halsin encourages him, even while he's blinking the tiredness from his eyes.

"I…" Astarion's voice is impossibly small when he tries to explain himself. "I think I'm sick. Or getting fat? I don't know… I don't know… damn it…"

A tear beads on the pink line of his eye before dripping down onto the canvas. He sobs with an open mouth, but not before his hand goes to mute himself. Astarion’s been forever cursed to worry about his image, even at a time like this.

Halsin's heart melts at his predicament. He can't deny a display of vulnerability so intense, no matter who the actor may be. He grabs his pale hand and strokes it idly with his thumb.

"Is a healing spell in order?"

"I tried… Me and Shadowheart… didn't work…" Astarion can only choke out non-sequitors between sniffles and sobs. With a whine, he pulls his hand away from Halsin's. "Everything hurts… this stupid… th-this…"

He trails off. He must not know what to call it.

"Except for this, surely." Halsin meanly points a knuckle at Astarion's slit, digging into the softness there. "It would explain what I've woken up to."

"Nnnh!" The vampire jolts in shock, breathing faster and swirling his hips harder. He nods frantically.

The druid can't stop smiling – something he'll chide himself for later. Instead he presses a hand to Astarion's forehead and feels a feverish heat spread rampant through his palm. The sick vampire flinches and closes his eyes.

"Poor thing. This heat is raging within you."

Halsin tugs his fingers in the seat of his panties and pulls the fabric aside. Astarion jumps at the cold air breaching his pussy.

"Ha—?!" He whimpers loudly at sudden baring. "Nnn… no… don't look at me..."

The druid, of course, looks anyway. In doing so, his heart quickens. Astarion's cunt is white, chubby, and silky. His juices soak the bridge of his briefs and the skin between his thighs.

Halsin dips large, rude fingers into his slit and ignores the way Astarion jerks and twists. He scissors his folds, flattening them until that pink clit of his protrudes just a little. He plays with him, rubs him, pokes a thumb across him for good measure.

"Nnnnnuh! Hhh–ha–ha! Mmmph!" Astarion humps his hand back, clit flicking across Halsin's thumb.

In under just a minute he's soaking, practically dripping all over the druid's generous hand. Wet, shallow noises mark their every move, and the intoxicating smell of his slick pervades the whole tent.

"Oooh, gods! H-Halsin!"

"Shhh. We must lower our voices.”

"Ah! Ah! Nn-nngh!”

Astarion is reaching quite the noise threshold. He's not yelling per say, but he's crying loud enough to draw attention.

As kindly as he can, Halsin wraps a hand around that neck and guides him to where he was before – nestled in his chest. The smaller elf sobs quietly and lets him, his pale cheek pressed to that barrel once more.

At first, his crying isn't enough to truly worry the druid. But as time goes on, Astarion keeps crying as he humps his hand – continues to cry as Halsin rubs gentle circles into his clit – and cries even harder when he massages his slippery folds.

Tears trail down his face and dampen the threads in Halsin's woven shirt, one by one. The druid wraps a hand around that delicate face and watches the way it eclipses his head.

"Good. So good for me," Halsin whispers plainly to him, for his poor brain might not like an excess of words. His hand rubs at the little elf’s temple, brushing his curls and scratching the outer flesh of his ear.

"Hhh–hh– I'm closer… feels so much b-better…" Astarion gasps, breathing in Halsin's musk no doubt.

"Does it now?"

“Yes!!” Astarion nods a dozen times, knitting his brows and gritting his teeth. “So close…”

He spreads his knees, rolls his pussy against those fingers and digs his own into Halsin’s arm and shirt. He’s in something like a trance; glassy-eyed and rubbing his cheek against the druid’s body as he rocks himself into a climax.

Lucky for him, Halsin is more than happy to breathe in the scent of his arousal and stroke him until he does. After all, his heart pounds every time he gets to see a new expression on that pale little face.

An amazing one reveals itself when he rubs a circle deep into Astarion’s clit: to which the vampire’s jaw drops so far that Halsin can see the wet muscle at the back of his throat.

“OOOH—mmmphh!”

Halsin claps a hand over his gaping mouth.

“Shhh.” The druid carries on, eager to give him what he needs. He holds firm even when he huffs and puffs furiously against his skin.

“Hmmf!! Hmmff!” Astarion’s frantic breathing is voiceless and strangled. His eyes roll into the back of his head while he claws at the strong hand gripping his face. He tries to wrestle himself free but proves no match for the druid's strength.

Halsin feels a pang of guilt when he sees a vein pop out on his forehead.

"Mmm, kmmmf! Mm! Mmnngh…" Astarion whines through his nostrils and squeezes his eyes shut, forcing a tear down the bridge of his nose.

His milk white pussy throbs on Halsin's fingers. He rocks himself on the fat of his palm and the arch of his hand. Halsin pushes back and strokes him helpfully, curling and winding against him just right.

"Mmmph…!!" Finally, Astarion's thighs clap around his wrist and he gyrates in tight, furious circles. Once, twice, three times before falling slack and breathing for life through his nostrils. Those grey eyelashes of his flutter with exhaustion, and the hands that were fighting the druid fall limp.

The air is cloyingly sweet by the time he's finished. What may have been a bouquet of just incense, herbs and tobacco is now utterly Astarion.

"Hff-hff-hff-hff-hff…" The vampire's nose flares around the breath he's forcing through those tiny tunnels, perhaps not aware that he's pervaded the tent in its entirety.

Enamored by his thoughtless expression, Halsin smiles and runs his hand through the mess, palm gliding across his folds. He gives them a wet pat-pat-pat , to which Astarion glares at him through the fog.

He eventually lets go of his mouth and strokes his hair instead, allowing him a moment to catch his breath. When his chest is finally moving at a normal pace and that big vein in his forehead has gone down, the druid whispers gently to him.

"It would be selfish of me to ask you to speak again, wouldn’t it.”

At first, Halsin thinks he won't get anything out of him. That he might just fall asleep here and that'll be the end of it. But then, Astarion's lip quivers and he lets out a weak sort of moan. "... still hurts…"

The druid raises an eyebrow at his claim but is quickly shot down by his subsequent sobbing. Well. It's quite difficult to argue against that. "Hm."

Halsin wipes the tears from his pale, wet face as he thinks. He tries to lock into whatever cunning Astarion seems to possess, but can only imagine the vampire on his back.

He keeps thinking. And keeps coming back to that same image: legs back, knees bent, belly split into little rolls. Those glistening, red eyes looking up at him.

Stomach boiling with renewed energy, Halsin sits up and hooks an arm under Astarion's legs, carrying him briefly. The smaller one gasps at the change in his center of gravity, before Halsin lies him down and slides a pillow beneath his head.

He’s staring up at the druid now, looking taller than ever. He gulps.

"Oh, gods.” Astarion’s face curdles and he closes his legs, hiding himself from the bigger elf’s view. He turns on his side. “I’ll just— I’ll just go...”

“Shh-shh-shh…” Halsin presses a warm kiss to his knee — slowly, gently, so as not to intimidate the poor thing. “No need.”

Astarion stammers without ever actually finishing a word, as he watches Halsin spread his knees and look at him long and hard.

The druid’s brow furrows and his amiable smile fades from his face. He breathes through his mouth a little, draws his head nearer.

He almost can’t believe Astarion is really here, lying before him; half-naked, thick around his hips, and begging him for release. His drenched stomach swells with every breath. And that cunt of his lies exposed, his soft white lips soaked in his own arousal.

That face he longed to see is staring at him, wide-eyed and flushed like a plum. His curls are flat against the pillow, his cheeks are wet with tears, his lips are full and twitching. Everything about him — from his belly folds to his collarbone — is exactly what he dreamt of.

Halsin leans down and captures a slow, greedy kiss from him, huffing his fumes and rocking against him for entirely too long before Astarion has to push on his chest to get him to stop.

He pulls back and the vampire finally breathes again, gasping and sobbing at the druid’s mercy. His knees flutter uselessly in the air. His toes just barely touch the floor. And most obscenely, a drop of his juices rolls down his throbbing cunt.

When Halsin has been staring at him for far too long, he twists away before the druid grabs his leg and rubs it gently.

“Please…” Astarion weeps weakly for help. “Do something… please?”

Halsin snaps out of his reverie and presses a heavy, toothsome kiss to his thigh. It’s plush and irresistible to nibble at.

“Of course. Forgive me.” He smiles again before gripping his panties and tugging them away.

His cute underwear dangles, blue and gilded, in Halsin’s hand. Rather pervertedly, he contemplates keeping them. For now, he sets them to the side and coaxes Astarion’s legs back open with two gentle hands. 

He says nothing of the naughty message written inside. Instead, his hands roam across his pale thighs — up his belly — then down his pussy, playing with his lips for a better look at his pink, moist insides.

“Hhh! Uh! Ff— oh fuck…” Astarion’s hole twitches a few times between the druid’s fingers. His stomach crunches and his thighs twitch. A hand reaches down and tickles the bigger elf’s shoulder. “Hh-Halsin…”

Drawn closer by that sweet smell, Halsin leans down and drags his tongue across those glistening folds.

THUD!

“OOOH!!!” Astarion’s thighs CLAP around his head, hard enough to make a loud noise and briefly punch the air out of the druid’s ears.

Halsin sees stars for a moment, instantly reminded of all the times he fell out of a tree or played with large stones as a child.

“Sss—shit! Oh gods…! I’m sorry! It’s so— I don't know! Fuck, are you…?” Astarion half-whispers, half-shouts.

The druid smiles at him through the haze and drunkenly hooks his arms around those white thighs — so far in fact that his fingers graze the dimples next to his cunt. His feet get trapped between his rear and Halsin's shoulders.

“... ‘m sorry…” Astarion croaks again, no doubt feeling shame from his little accident.

Halsin doesn’t complain about the fuzz in his head or the throbbing in his ears; he simply lowers himself and steals another taste. His tongue lavishes those folds, circling his clit along the way and suckling on it for fun.

He takes him between two lips and sucks hard, enjoying the way Astarion's legs twitch and fail to kick free. That helpless reaction is enough of an apology in his eyes.

"Nnnuh!" The poor elf makes a noise between a whine and a sob and grips the blankets strewn about the tent. His wet stomach ripples in the low, warm light, looking like a swirling bottle of honeymead the way he trembles. "Oooh–hh…"

With a loud smooch , Halsin presses a forceful kiss to his clit before diving in and lapping at it quickly. He crawls closer, leans further, and buries his mouth in the fat around it, even tilting his head at an angle at one point to really get in deep.

It's half a minute before he realizes Astarion is silent. No moans, no whimpers, not even a soft cry. He closes his lips around him, keeping him warm, and looks up to see him tearfully squeezing his eyes and mouth shut. He's gritting his teeth so hard, his fangs are showing.

Only a whine ekes out of him – swallowed down as quickly as it came out. His chest rises and empties, rises and empties around breaths he's trying desperately not to give voice to. It's terribly cute.

Halsin, in a silly mood, buries his nose in Astarion's pussy and snorts so hard it sends ripples through his fat, sounding off like a perverted war horn.

SNNRRFFBBH!

"AAAH! Wh–wh–what's wrong with you?!" Astarion gasps, his eyes and mouth wide open once more. 

Smiling at his cracked face, Halsin laps at his clit again, flicking the nub back and forth on his wet muscle of a tongue. His lips lock around that soft cushion where he hums, licks, nods, and relishes in rubbing it around.

Funny enough, the impulse to ask him to lower his voice is gone. Instead, he smiles harder when Astarion hisses and claws at him.

"UUUuunhh! You a-arsehole– ah– oh, gods!" The vampire's hands go grappling at his hair, scratching up his scalp and tugging on his strands. His thighs shudder around his head, cold and pillowy against his temples. "You–?! You– unnh!"

Halsin nods and puts his jaw into it, devouring his soft heat and ignoring the squelch that accompanies every toothless bite.

He can feel himself throbbing in excitement but is too immersed in Astarion’s taste to wrap a hand around himself, at least for now.

"Ah!" Astarion sobs, jerking and twisting his hips with every lap of the druid’s tongue. 

He grinds back in frantic arcs and swirls his hips in little circles. When Halsin looks up again, he can see Astarion covering his tearful face with weak, limp-wristed hands. It's amusing to watch his diligent mind fight against the whims of his feverish body.

"Speak to me."

"I… I can't…"

"You must, my heart. Describe it to me — how my tongue feels against you.” Drawing out every sensual vowel, Halsin whispers to him before locking eyes with him and sucking his clit nice and slow.

" Gasp – good! Uh! S-so good!" Tears drip down Astarion’s face and trail down his folded neck.

“Mm…” Halsin hums in approval before pulling back his hood with a gentle hand and tickling his nerves with just the tip of his tongue.

“Oooh! D-don’t do that… ah…” Astarion complains, his weak voice croaking through his teeth. He smothers Halsin’s head with his thighs again, his muscles twitching and rubbing against his ears. “Stupid… hnn…” 

The druid presses a hot kiss to his nub and watches him jolt in shock.

“You want me to remove myself.” Halsin teases him with a grin pulling at one side of his mouth, fingers rubbing playful, shallow circles into the fat above his cunt. 

Astarion trembles and digs his claws into the druid's shoulder. Like a wailing she-cat, he bares his fangs and cries in earnest.

“Wh—?! No! Nonono! More! Please! I need it…!” The little elf sobs in agony, pale body racked with tremors. "Hh– hnn… hh…"

Gasp – gasp – gasp – Astarion can't seem to stop gasping. His lungs are filled to their limit and all he can do is shriek in tiny bits of air before sobbing them back out. With every cry, his chest goes rising and swelling at an odd rhythm.

Rather guilt-ridden, Halsin's heart pumps faster for the little elf in despair.

Seeing no reason to toy with him any longer, he buries his face in his white, juicy mound and laps at it, nodding passionately into his slit.

It's not long before Astarion is twitching in his hands, pulling on the sheets and collapsing into the pillow.

"OOH! O–oh shit! Unh!"

Halsin patiently tongues his pussy as it grinds against him, over and over and over again. Astarion's soft thighs lock around his head – not so much that he couldn't just pry himself free, but he allows the little elf to 'trap' him anyway. He's a gift the druid can't refuse.

"S-so good!! Nhhh! U-uh! So GOOD! Oh, gods!" He's so out of it, he's answering questions Halsin hasn't even asked.

Astarion's quivering hips peak high in the air, so high that Halsin drowns in his juices and he has to tilt his head to breathe. Not taking it personally, the druid sucks his clit to spur him on, make his climax a little more intense if it's even possible.

"H-hhaa…!"

Apparently, it is. Astarion softly humps his puckering lips as his own mouth stretches around a noiseless cry. When his stomach empties of air, Halsin can see it: the tear-streaked face of a vampire in complete ecstasy. He grins into his folds.

"Halsin, plea–ase! Ooohhh!"

Thud! Astarion's hips fall flat against the ground and his knees give out, teetering on his feet. His beautiful, thickened belly rises and falls at the mercy of his lungs. Halsin wipes his face and briefly imagines a nightly feeding schedule for the two of them, perhaps containing double morsels from both sides of his own neck – anything to see him grow fuller.

" Gasp… ha… ha… ha…" The vampire's throat whistles with each quivering breath.

His face is scrunched, soaked in sweat and tears, and his mouth is hanging agape. Out of sympathy, Halsin rubs light hands up and down his slippery body. And, rather selfishly, he savours the way his digits sink into Astarion's burgeoning, pale flesh.

The druid is content to lie beside him and massage him and kiss him to sleep, even if his own arousal is throbbing unattended, but the little elf won't stop trembling and crying. He covers his face with a limp arm and weeps so hard his shoulders shake.

"Uh– unh– hnn– huh–..." Astarion sobs and sobs until his voice is congested. "What in the hells has guh– has gotten into me…? I-I’ll go. I’ll just go.”

Halsin feels a sting through his chest – the same sort of guttural spike one would feel at the sound of a babe's cry – and he leans over to kiss his exposed wrist with a smooch . He doesn't resist the urge to nibble a tendon with his lips, though.

That kiss turns into another one: a hot one pressed to his neck. It's initially gentle, meant only to comfort, but Halsin huffs excitedly into that curve when Astarion keeps moaning and weeping.

That shirt of his, the one that looks like a tiered shell, takes less than a minute to slip off of his person. 

A fully stripped Astarion tries to twist out of his embrace, but Halsin crushes him with all his weight and tenderly licks the bite mark in his skin.

The druid's breath quickens, his heart pounds. If Astarion tries to leave now, Halsin is sure he'll chase him and drag him back like a monster.

Wanting to save him from that fate, Halsin rocks their bodies together and gently kisses him, grazing his earlobe with his lips. He notices a healed-over mark on it and smiles fondly at his pretty love.

"Shhh.” He hushes into the delicate curve of his throat. "You are perfection. I wish to stay with you, truly."

Halsin speaks reassuringly into Astarion's ear between nibbles. He grins in satisfaction when he feels two light hands grab onto his waist.

"Hmph… look at me." Halsin reaches down and wraps a hand around his own base, grunting from finally being touched after all this excitement. "Look."

He thrusts his hips and his hardness rubs pleasantly up Astarion's belly, just beside his cunt. The vampire jumps in surprise when it slides next to his navel.

"You did this to me. You are perfect. Hhff… perfect…" Halsin rants derangement as he rocks against his body, stiffer than iron and finding pleasure in just staring at that shocked face as he shows him.

Astarion's eyes turn round. His plump mouth grows still.

And amazingly, he stops crying.

He reaches between their bodies and gingerly grasps his tip. He moves it around in tiny circles. Halsin snorts; even the barest of touches feels good.

Still wet in the eyes, Astarion cradles the shaft and squeezes it curiously. His flesh is rock solid, bulging with warm blood. There’s no give.

The druid can't help but bite his lip and thrust forward an inch.

Delighted, he peppers kisses upon Astarion’s temple, his hair, his jaw; anything that won’t get in the way of his playtime. He yammers about how beautiful he is, how perfect he is, how good he is.

Astarion’s curious hand turns into two, and it isn’t long before he’s glassy-eyed and stroking Halsin in-kind. He runs his fingers over every vein and palms the head thoroughly.

“Damn!” The druid hisses through clenched teeth. His back muscles bunch — he spreads his feet to brace himself against the floor. 

He bucks forward and pokes his tip into the fat around Astarion's clit. It flicks his hood before slotting across his slippery front.

"Oooh!" The vampire squeals and jumps. "H-Halsin… oooh…"

Astarion purses his lips and knits his brow in a cute, desperate pout. His gaze flickers down to Halsin's lips one, two, three times before he lifts his head off the pillow, pink mouth softly puckered.

"Mmm…!"

A laugh bubbles in Halsin's throat at the pathetic noise. When Astarion leans in for a kiss, he backs away. He deprives him for another inch. Then another one.

"Nnh! Hh–hh–hh!!" When Astarion falls onto the pillow with a foomf and starts crying again, Halsin is all too quick to dive back in and kiss him with apologies until he calms down. He whines into his laboring mouth, "I need it… plea-asepleaseplease…"

The druid pulls away and sees that Astarion's arm is straining downwards. He follows that fine muscle and nearly chokes on his own spittle again.

He's got his pussy spread between his hand, swollen pink insides grinding against Halsin's ruddy cock. The druid’s arousal is so stiff, it's dark red bordering on purple at this point. It bounces on his bundle of nerves and rips moans out of the two of them.

Insides growling with hunger for Astarion, Halsin steadies his posture and grabs himself at the root. Together, they get closer, rub harder.

With a schlick, shlick, shlick noise, his tip sinks in and out of Astarion's soaked folds, sliding against his clit without ever breaching his walls. It's exciting, blood-boiling – he doesn't know how much longer he can hold back.

One impulsive jerk of his hips has him slipping in further than before. His length slots effortlessly into that wet heat, and not a fraction of a second passes before Astarion shrieks at being filled.

"AAAA–!!"

CLAP!

"Sshhh…" Halsin folds his hands over the little elf's mouth and nose. He was, perhaps, a bit rough in his ministrations but Astarion just lies there and blinks rapidly up at him, chest throbbing violently for air. With no avenues to breathe, he whines a surpressed 'mm!' in his throat.

Halsin shallowly slides himself in and out, and another moan dies in Astarion's airways. The druid's pace is agonizingly slow and his eyes never leave, even for a second. He gives him a kiss on the forehead out of guilt – after all, he has to crush all his weight on him to be able to move properly.

"Mm… mm!" Astarion's lungs spasm when that cock bottoms out inside him with a pap and their lower halves come together warm and fully flush. His eyes flutter back until just the whites of his eyes are showing. It would be cause for concern, if not for the fact that he's rubbing wildly at his clit. "MMM!”

Halsin moves his hips faster and groans at the feeling of Astarion’s wetness tugging him back in. His walls are unfathomably hot and possess a grip like he’s never felt before.

“Hm! Nnnnh! Nnh! Nnh!”

The crushed elf cries out with every joining of their bodies. His hand scrambles against Halsin’s and he looks at him, sweat-soaked and hair tossed, with feverish desperation.

“Temper your voice… can you do that for me?”

Halsin slides an inch down so he can breathe through his nose.

“Mmm— nnh.” Astarion moans out his response, curls shaking with his frantic nods.

Happy that he and Astarion are so in harmony, Halsin cradles his head in his broad hands, grasping it firmly and staring deep in his eyes.

“Good.” His tongue hits consonants extra hard — his arousal bleeding through his voice.

“Haaa! Ah— ha… ha… ha…” Astarion gasps for life as his hand works his clit, no doubt feeling a rush of sensations as he does.

The druid, feeling uncharacteristically jealous of that hand, lifts his hips and lets them fall with a WHUMP , depriving and filling him with cock in one violent motion.

“AAA—kkh…….!” Astarion chokes his own scream down with surprising discipline. His eyes tear up, his jaw drops, his ears twitch. His body ripples lewdly from the impact.

Halsin hushes him for the thousandth time and rubs his purpling ears to soothe him. It's the same way he pets Tuffet when he's hungry.

“Goood,” he whispers. “My good little boy.” His thumbs run across boneless flesh, playfully squeezing at earlobes before gently caressing the squishy frames.

Amazingly, his pussy throbs around him. Halsin groans and bucks his hips in sympathy.

“Ah! Noo… not there…” The little elf whines and flinches.

The bigger elf gives him a flick on the lobe and smiles when he jumps and throbs again.

“There?” he asks sarcastically.

“No…!” Astarion’s eyes squeeze shut and he turns his face away. He tearfully slurs his words, “Stob it, you bastard!”

Gently, Halsin slides his hands around Astarion’s little head and knits his fingers into his curls while rubbing at those pliant ears.

“Ah! OW!” Astarion tilts his face away but Halsin grips him hard, damn near tearing his scalp to correct him. He tries to cheat by averting just his eyes, but it’s not good enough.

He doesn’t relax until Astarion looks him in the eye.

“Nngh, hh, hh… y-you’re deranged, you— ooh!!”

Pap! Pap! Halsin rocks them together, tugging Astarion down onto his length with every jab of his hips. It’s perfect — he slides in effortlessly — and Astarion is just light enough for him to be pushed and pulled.

“Ah! Fu– ah!” Those ruby eyes are nearly circles, staring into the druid’s as he fills him again and again.

Halsin grunts and groans through his nose, smile slowly fading as he gets lost in Astarion’s heat. His wet face, the little noises eking out of his mouth, the plump body in his periphery as he just cannot stop staring at that face; he’s perfect.

"Ugh! Quit… looking at me!" Astarion's lips curls back, revealing glistening fangs.

His head twists this way and that way and this way again before Halsin balls his fists in his hair so tight he feels one of those little curls snap out in his hand.

"OW!!"

"Hhhfff – hff – never." Halsin snorts huge puffs of hot air right in his eyes.

"You ha-have to! I can't… I can't…AHH! AH! OH– UNH!" Astarion flinches as Halsin claps himself into his pussy with a THUD and feels the vampire's walls burn hot from the brute force of it all.

That huge, porous face isn't drawn with a funny grin anymore, but an intense stare from under his brow bone. His nose is flaring and pushing so much steam out of him he resembles machine more than man. His lips hang open just a little bit and one look at those teeth might make Astarion sympathize with all of his own feedees.

The little elf tries to cheat again by closing his eyes and gritting his teeth. Halsin grips him tighter and jerks his head with a –

THUMP, THUMP, THUMP! Halsin crushes Astarion with all his weight as his hips snap against the vampire's newly-earned puppy fat. He can see his doughy softness rippling to a beat in the corner of his eye but he cannot bring himself to stop looking at those ruby eyes now that they're so wet and round and real before him.

"Unnh!! Hh! Uh! Ooo–ooh!" Astarion cries in agony as Halsin continues tormenting him with an improvised staring contest and a rough stroking of his walls. He doesn't wail for more than a second before their hips slam together and he stutters from the impact.

Astarion's pussy twitches around his pistoning length and Halsin sees something beautiful: fresh tears bouncing on the vampire's waterline and drip, drip, dripping their way down his distraught face. The heavy ones fall faster than the little ones. It unexpectedly make Halsin's cock throb back.

"Nnuh! Hnnh! Uh! Hngh! Nnh!" A big fat tear rolls down the middle of Astarion's cheek. It's a shiny, pearlescent bead on a porcelain vase.

"Perfect. Perfect…" Halsin isn't even sure he's blinked at this point. He's too preoccupied. The muscles behind his eyes work overtime, flickering back and forth between rich, apple-red irises and gaping pink lips.

CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! With a steel grip still fashioned onto that hair, Halsin fucks him deep and curls his body in tighter so he can lick at those tears. The moment his tongue touches salt, Astarion whines in pain and his hands scramble for purchase.

"AA—AHH!! UH! HAL—SIN! OO—OOH!" He cries out from underneath the druid's husky circle of a body. His every word is chopped in half from a violent CLAP . "UNH! UNH! OOH– GODS– NNGH!"

His knees are trapped on Halsin's shoulders and his hair is so firm in the druid's grasp it would take a Wish spell to get him out; he's essentially been crushed and folded into a ball. It can't be good for his poor, little spine, the way it's grinding against the floor with every bullish spike of Halsin's stronger hips.

"Hhhgh– hh, hhff!" The druid's nose flares wide. He's so, so busy with spearing Astarion's pussy that he can't offer any intelligent praise – just a rumbling snort and a tightening of his grip whenever Astarion dares to look away for even a second.

That suffocating weight, the harsh grasp, the neverending stare that gets him throttled for not reciprocating – it's no wonder Astarion is bawling like a baby. His grey little lashes bat wildly as tear after tear falls onto his cheeks. Pink lips tremble around a loose tongue.

"F-... feels good…" Astarion moans out with no coy lilt to his voice.

Halsin stops battering his pussy for a second and just rocks against him, slow and gentle. "Does it?"

Astarion nods frantically. "Yes! Yes!!"

Halsin smiles until the wrinkles in Astarion's face deepen and he's crying in earnest again. His delicate brow furrows, his mouth twists into a sad grimace. Tears gather thickly in his eyes – Halsin is almost sure he can't see anything through that molten glass.

"Yes…! Oh, gods… yes!!" He squeals 'yes' over and over again, but his face is painted with so many tears that his neck is drenched.

And most importantly, his eyes never leave Halsin's. Not for a micro-fraction of an inch. A wild curl nearly touches his eye and he doesn't even fully blink. He just flinches a little bit and keeps staring and nodding and crying, "Ye– nnh! Yes! Ye–es!"

His teary eyes draw to near slits, the drops rippling in his waterlines with every thrust. "I-I love you!" He wails through his congestion, "I need more…! I need m-more! Halsin… Halsin…"

The druid – despite the guilt creeping into his heart – can't stop moving his hips. With a sigh, he wraps his arms tight around the poor thing, warm and firm as can be while he slips through his walls.

"Shhh." Air whistles through Halsin's teeth as he hushes his lover, knees drawing closer to his pale rear. He presses a naughty kiss to that ear again and laughs when Astarion jolts.

"Hhh, hha…" The vampire gasps, surely feeling relief spreading through his scalp. He even uses what's left of his strength to arch his back a little so Halsin can slide underneath.

THUD! …THUD! …THUD! Halsin's back and leg muscles bunch together as he strokes half of his length in and out of Astarion's pussy, deep and slow. He grunts at the feeling of his insides pushing back at him  – the tip is kissing his womb again and again.

"Nnh! Nnuh! Uh!" The vampire cries out every time Halsin's balls settle heavy on his hole. He buries himself so deep that their fat melts into each other with every meeting, and so slow-moving that he can hear their sweaty skin go smrrch as they peel away. "Hh–ohhh… Halsin… ooh…"

His voice thrums pleasantly through the druid's head. Their skulls are pressed so close, he can feel, hear, and imagine the way Astarion's lips might be pursed or his eyes might be rolling back. Halsin smiles at the arousing image and buries his nose into the dark, moist expanse that is his neck.

“So — good… so — good…” Astarion slurs with the tiniest amount of air Halsin’s ever heard.

It makes Halsin lift his head and just stare at Astarion for a moment. At first, the little elf’s eyes turn as big as dinner plates and his lips move around unfinished words. Lucky for him, Halsin just leans down and steals a hot, biting kiss from him with quickened breath.

“Mmf!” He yelps — the skin on his face must be sensitive — and it takes him one kiss, and another kiss, and another to stop weeping so hard.

Salty tears form a thin, glittering layer on Astarion’s face. Halsin can taste it on his lips and in the soft corners of his mouth. He groans in sympathy and a couple words echo in his mind. Poor thing, poor thing, poor thing.

“I need you… need it…” Astarion rambles under his breath.

Halsin lavishes more open-mouth kisses upon him, at one point clacking their teeth together from the ferocity. His hips pound his rear noisily — and stutter only when he postures up on his elbows and brings his calloused paws over Astarion’s pert chest.

“HAA—MMmm!” Rough fingers go circling his nipples; and before Astarion can fully shriek in rightful surprise, Halsin grunts into his mouth and rocks into him faster just to watch his body ripple from the impact.

PLAP, PLAP, PLAP! His dick splits his walls, root to tip, filling him over and over again. Sloppily, he devours the noisy vampire with kisses, head angled so he can get in deep. Those weathered thumbs of his rub wildly at Astarion’s soft, sensitive buds.

“MMF— smack — nnnh, hmm!!” Astarion sobs through his nose, steam rushing through their bodies and into each other’s faces. His multitasking body jerks with every flick of his nubs, every pounding he takes, every heated kiss he’s treated to.

Halsin notices out of his periphery that Astarion’s eyes are rolling back. He’s so close he can see the shiny pink undersides of his eyelids twitching. He pulls back for just a second, humping him feverishly still.

“AH! Nnh! Aah! I’m— I’m— Uh!” Astarion whimpers, the thick vein in his forehead making another concerning appearance. Sweat drips down his vascular body. His pretty hair is slicked down to his temples, and cute tiny baby hairs lie silvery and wet on his skin. “UUUuuunhh!!”

Halsin can feel it: Astarion’s calf muscles tighten to impossible tension on his shoulders. Those little pale hands slap frantically at him. His chubby hips swirl in violent circles — curl, curl, curl, until he falls to the ground with a generous WHUMP.

No doubt exhausted and overstimulated, he doesn’t finish his high-pitched, slack-jawed sentence right away. Instead, his dainty feet cross behind Halsin’s back, petite calves digging into his shoulder muscles. 

“Do it!” He cries out to Halsin. “Do it! Please!”

The druid’s heart swells with joy. He must want him inside desperately. No — need him inside.

“Of course, my heart,” Halsin says with a grin tugging at his mouth. That’s when he feels a drop of sweat gather at its corner, and he realizes he must look a mess too.

He wipes it away without a second thought and braces his hands under Astarion’s knees. They are too easy to press to the ground. The little one is boneless. He’s white clay under Halsin’s body.

His stomach folds into sweet tiny rolls, and he stares, forehead wrinkled in distress, at the druid. Halsin gives him a reassuring kiss and tickles his knees with two mean fingers.

“Nnh!” Astarion’s pussy throbs at the teasing, but it works. His face relaxes and he gazes wistfully at where they’re joined. Surely, he can see himself swallowing Halsin’s length from there — he’s bent at the perfect angle.

Suddenly, he’s pulsing again and again around Halsin. He sees that they’re soaked from their stomachs to their knees.

“Ooh…” Astarion purses his lips and Halsin swears he sees his toes curl in his peripheral view.

He groans in arousal and sees no reason to wait any longer, so he grinds himself into Astarion’s walls with fervor. 

Blood gushes through him at the sight of his cock pumping in and out of the vampire’s pussy, those pliant joints pinned under his weight and his soft thighs spread as far as can be.

THUD! THUD! THUD! The dimples in their groins — the ones on either side of their parts — meet with every thrust. That beautiful, wet body of his quivers and jolts under Halsin’s strength.

“Hh! Ha! Uh!” Rather politely, Astarion doesn’t deprive him of the view by rubbing his clit. Instead, he grabs Halsin’s wrists and lets him fully enjoy spearing him with his cock, no matter how much it has him bouncing and swaying with each strike. “Fu— ha! Ah!”

Slowly, Halsin feels his heart tug in a million different directions. His blood pounds, his muscles clamp up, his jaw clenches.

He digs two strong hands into the fat around Astarion’s hips and fucks him viciously through his orgasm. Every thrust — WHUMP, WHUMP, WHUMP — has him pulling down Astarion for a brutal clapping of his pussy.

“UU—UNH! UH! HA! UNNH!” The vampire yelps with each slam and scratches at the druid’s wrists to no avail.

“Hhnngh!” Halsin groans as he empties his balls into Astarion with a fury the likes of which he’s never felt before. He’s almost certain he can feel a vein pop out in his neck as he grinds their bodies together. “Ha… ha… ha…”

His lover twitches and trembles underneath him, biting his lip and squeezing his eyes shut. At first, Halsin thinks he’s hurt until he arches his back and grinds his hips in circles once more.

Halsin smiles in relief that Astarion had his, four times no less. After his excitement recedes, his lungs and his brain have to work overtime to keep his big, lumbering body upright, like a hacked tree teetering on its last point.

The fog clears after a beat and the druid thrusts languidly, prolonging their pleasure only to see a swollen, ball-shaped bulge in Astarion’s belly. His heart pounds anew.

“Good gods. You’re with child.” Halsin assumes, not thinking so clearly after all the chaos.

Astarion smiles. Then laughs. It’s soggy and not nearly as full or funny as his regular laugh, but it’s his all the same.

“I’m not, darling. That’s… that’s… that’s a…” His smile fades. His brows knit together. “What is that?”

—

Gale stuffs a knuckle between his teeth to keep a groan from eking out. His hand is raw from trying to jerk himself dry in the dead of night.

“These absolute — uh — dullards. What do they — nngh — what do they think they’re — ugh — doing?!” Gale whispers around his finger, failing terribly to mute himself.

His cock twitches, his teeth grind at his finger bone, and he can’t tear his gaze away from the jackrabbiting silhouettes having splendiferous fun in Halsin’s warmly lit tent.

Their grinding, their moaning, their thumping; it sent waves of arousal through him, but he kept his nose dutifully in his book. That is, until Astarion’s cry of “Pleaase!” had Gale sweating and heaving around chapter five.

His eyes flutter as they twitch between the tent and the dark expanse of his eyelids. His heart slams against his ribcage. Babump, babump, babump.

Mystra above, he thinks. What if they catch me pleasuring myself to their tryst like a mad man?

He considers just going back to his tent and downing a sleep potion before an image pops into his head: the thick black shadow of Halsin's girth going into Astarion's body. His breath quickens and his hand moves faster.

It was impossible to ignore – so piercing it was like he was making eye contact with the thing. It was huge. And Astarion was taking every single inch of it!

A rebel drop of sweat rolls down his forehead despite the cool draft outside. He's working that hard at stroking himself that he's turned into his very own furnace. Gale feels a strand of hair fall in front of his eye and he considers stuffing it into his mouth out of lustful rage when he hears something peculiar.

"H-Halsin, what is that?! It's huge!"

The druid is so quiet, Gale can't make out what he's saying… above his own wheezing and gasping, that is.

"Oh my gods… don't tell me you have TWO!"

Gale feels a cannonball drop into his stomach and send his innards flying every which way. Eventually he wobbles back to his tent, unable to stomach the rest of Halsin and Astarion's would-be evening together.