illithidnapped

He feels Dante unravel more than he hears it, despite the fact that no part of it (not the harsh impact of their shared thrusts or the howling groan Dante manages to let loose) is either stifled or softened: fingers scrabbling for purchase in pale hair, dark leather— biting forgotten as he simply gasps in feathering patterns, cheek to Dante’s bloody throat. Thrusts giving way to violent stillness. To the beauty of spilled heat, hot as embers, while his toes curl against his boots.

Greed seethes within him.

When he kisses Dante, it’s as though he means to steal the very breath from his lungs. Lips still stained with the man’s own blood, tongue still tasting of it, shoulders drawn tight and high.

How he wants more.

Impractical as it is. Impossible as it is, too, given the fact that they’ve now made subtlety an absent party to their late night engagement. But that feeling of Dante caught warm within him, hand still settled around him, mouth flush against his own—

What a wretched thing, knowing he can’t keep it.

"Well," he breathes, that lone word more air than anything else as he finds his own voice once more through the haze of contentment.

"You certainly don't disappoint."

Dante's hand stills against Astarion's waning arousal just as soon as as his partner bears down on his mouth with a kiss that threatens to consume him. How could he not surge up into it, part his lips and invite Astarion's tongue in for a taste and to be tasted. Blood was thick and warm, coppery in his own mouth and there was something intriguing and tempting about those lips that were soaked with his flavor, his blood now flowing though the vampire spawn. His jaw worked restlessly, mouth plying at Astarion's own trying to hold this connection for as long as they could tolerate it, until breathing wasn't an option, but a necessity.

He pressed his forehead against Astarion's, his arctic blue eyes (still blown with a desire that head yet to be tamed, only quelled for the time being) fixed on the deep red of his partner's own. He took the time to gather some of his composure, difficult to do while their breathing was so intermingled. Several moments passed before shuddering breaths evened out, but even then Dante didn't let him god, still saddled inside of him even though his cock was no longer engorged it was less about getting off and more about keeping Astarion connected to him in this way.

Dante wasn't the first to break the silence, but he does snort a laugh in amusement, pressing a few brief kisses to the corners of Astarion's mouth before leaning back a bit.

"Yeah?" Dante said raising his hand, curiously observing the coated residue threaded between his fingers, "you're not so bad yourself, you know?"

he punctuated his teasing by licking his fingers, both curious and playful, adding the mixture of oil and Astarion to the other flavors he'd be certain to commit to his memory.

His eyes dilate at the sight of it. His heart skipping in his chest.

For that alone, he steals yet another kiss. It trails in time to those fingers, every curl of his tongue drawn out, lashes fitted low over his eyes.

They’re still a mess, the both of them. Will no doubt stay that way until they find someplace to properly wash off which— Astarion hadn’t really considered before now, given the state of a city with both limited space and resources. His face is streaked with dark crimson, from cheek to opposite jawline, made all the more pervasive by how he’d taken to burying his profile against Dante’s neck in those last few moments. He doesn’t want to pull away. To lose that lingering feeling of connectivity and heat.

He does it all the same after a few beats longer, ruddy kiss set to the rise of Dante’s cheek.

Still, he does his partner the decency of smoothing down his shirt, refitting his trousers, just before rising to tend to himself.

“Oh believe me, I do know.” He confesses with a vivid little smirk for good measure.

“I’ll admit, when I agreed to come here and fight, I didn’t expect it all to end in an exceptionally good time.

Might have to keep turning up for more secret assignments, if this starts becoming a trend.”

Dante rolled back onto his free hand when Astarion began plying him with more kisses, a deep, rich chuckle rumbling from somewhere in his chest. He did his best to return it, but he didn't want to interfere with Astarion's onslaught so he let him go until he was satisfied. That's when he knew it was over for the time being, his companion redressing Date and himself, tidying them up as best as he could considering and Dante considered. He considered his sticky hand, his body that smelled of sweat, sex, and blood. He considered how his neck and must also be smeared with crimson kisses.

Nevermind Astarion who also had the additional bonus of having to deal with Dante spilling inside of him, maybe he should have had the presence of mind to ask or at least warn him. There was very little running water to be found and Thedas wasn't exactly up on modern plumbing. However what Thedas and Orlais specifically lacked in modern conveniences it did make up for with more natural means so he didn't seem all too fussed.

Exactly where Dante took off too when the presence of people became too overwhelming for him (something he was still trying to get used to since he naturally avoided the throngs most of the time)? He went out and explored the surrounding areas further from the city and while it had the potential for danger, there were other things to be found when you weren't looking and Dante had take up camp in a few of these places for the quiet ad to get some respite from the noxious environment of a war riddled city.

Climbing to his feet he wasn't overly concerned about the way his clothing fell so much as he was in stroking Astarion's bloodied cheek with the backs of his fingers. He missed him already, but he wouldn't say as much.

"Guess you don't need me to tell you how drop-dead gorgeous you are," Dante returned, smirking back, but knowing Astarion that's exactly what he wants to be told.

"I'll be sure to follow you around on these secret assignments if it helps expedite the trend," stretching his arms above his head languidly he voiced what was a concern for both of them, "should probably take a bath though before the well meaning come to their own conclusions."

Gorgeous. He does know Astarion too well. It earns a moment longer where Astarion's cheek rests heavier against those roaming fingertips.

Just a touch.

“Mm. Before sunlight circles around, too.” He chuckles blithely, gesturing with a gloved hand towards Dante’s neck. “Come on, there’s a basin inside the office. It isn’t much, but it’ll at least work for now.”

No one save for Astarion lingers at the requisitioned building this late, anyway. They’ve all found other places to rest properly, even in the aftermath of war. Somewhere with beds instead of desks. Rooms instead of holding areas.

“I’ll even scrub you off for good measure.”

Why does that sound like an innuendo.

Not that Dante cared that he had bite marks on his neck that were still glistening with blood and might require the entirety of the night to heal were seen by anyone in particular, he didn't want to piss off the whole village. Whatever weird ideas someone might get into their head at the sight of them with no other context to go on wasn't something he'd want Astarion to deal with.

"As long as there's water involved, I'm not picky," granted he'd probably have to find something else to change into at some point, but that could also wait, the bare minimum was more than sufficient for now as was the privacy to take care of business. They might even be able to get a few hours of undisturbed downtime in before the sun came up and work beckoned.

Well, maybe, Astarion's offer was coming very close to putting those plans on hold.

"Oh, well getting scrubbed off is too generous an offer to turn down," he offered a lopsided grin to his partner, knowing well what he meant, but even if it was more than that he would lean into it anyway, "and what kind of gentleman would I be if i didn't return the favor. I'll be through, get all the places you can't reach."

Did he mean Astarion's back?

There's nothing planned about the way Astarion slips himself into the crook of Dante's arm without asking, pulling him close around his shoulders, fingertips perched light atop his forearm. He's decided— somewhere long before now— this is what they do, the both of them.

Equilibrium.

"Ever the dashing hero I've always dreamed of," He croons smoothly as they slink into the alleyway shadows in full, still smelling of lilac and sex, and the alluring tang of copper.

"I'll look forward to seeing you try."

And falling into step, Dante tugs Astarion in so that he's snug at his side, it's enough to be intimate, companionable, but not enough to interfere with walking leisurely. It just so happened neither one of them had any particular qualms about personal space, invading it, and getting comfortable in it. Clearly there were a few benefits, aside from piggy back rides.

"Can't imagine that dream had a white stallion and blinding armor in it?" Dante couldn't imagine himself being any kind of white knight and picturing himself in a suit of armor gave him a child dressing up in dad's DnD cosplay vibe. He banished the thought before it could send a chill down his spine and instead focused on Astarion's challenge.

"And succeed" Dante said nosing Astarion's hair playfully, "you forgot to add that part."

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