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[illithidnapped]

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[rebellionyell]

[Being able to guide, maneuver, and support Astarion's body with the benefit of extra moving parts made enhancing the experience easier and it wasn't an unbalanced experience. Dante was equally experimenting with territory that was new and unexplored and as long as he wasn't exerting power or applying any meaningful force he could hold onto this form for far longer than he would have been able to in a battle. So this up to the minute encounter was just as novel an experimental for him as it was for Astarion.

His body was cocooned in leathery, textured armor that responded well to a less than gentle touch, that allowed for an approach that was more reactive and less careful. Of course it also meant that Dante had to be cautious, understanding the certain limitations, but there were ways to enjoy those limitations as well. Using his fingers for anything as delicate as working Astarion's body open was out of the question, claws weren't ideal, but his tongue was invested in the foreplay. If...well it wasn't a matter of if so much as when they would need more than an enthusiastic tongue, Dante would happily sit back and watch Astarion finger himself open.

Talented fingers twisting and stretching tight muscles for Dante's admiration held quite the appeal, but it was also for practical reasons beyond the appeasement of Dante's filthy need to watch Astarion finger his own body.

He flattened his tongue against the tight ring of flesh, lapping at his partner lazily when Astarion's curious fingers sought him out. Demon anatomy was certainly different, Dante's outer shell was a protective barrier, folds of leather protection girded his cock. Tangling his fingers with Astarion's he helped those inquisitive digits feel their way through folds of too-warm leathery flesh to find the protective pocket protecting his vulnerability. It was unusual, but no more complicated than slipping a hand into someone's trousers.

Once he'd helped Astarion expose his cock beyond the protective barriers he left his partner to explore, luxurious moans vibrating from him spilling over his tongue that was alternating eagerly between stroking Astarion's perineum and tracing playful circles around the sensitive ring of flesh. There was plenty to explore, from the size and shape, amplified by his current transformation, to the texture. Black as night just as the rest of him, with veins of bright red giving it the same molten appearance that ran thematically through his body.

There was also the protective pocket that still encased his balls and all of it was open to curious appreciation.

While thoroughly enjoying, not only the view, but Astarion's attention, Dante freed up his own hands, carefully flattening his palms against his partner's skin, smoothing them up his side. It was a stark contrast against white flesh, skin that felt to him smoother than silk against his armored touch, just one more sensation that sent a wave of pleasure swelling through his body.]

If there's anything you wanna try [Dante growled softly against the curve of one impossibly perfect ass cheek] let me know.

[He punctuated that statement by carefully sinking his teeth into perfect, muscular flesh, sucking with the intent to mark Astarion. Likely one of many marks he'd leave behind, though this one would no doubt be the most amusing.]

[illithidnapped]

[Astarion’s gasp is a feverish thing. Hot and curling in his chest, fingertips clawed as they rake themselves across the hardened map of his skin— purely reactive to that bite; still unused to being bitten, rather than indulging his own monstrous instincts.

But with an arched spine and a few acclimating breaths, he adjusts to the heady, intoxicating sting of it, reveling in the vulgarity. In the notion that here, right in the heart of Kirkwall, a vampire’s being marked by a demon of all things.

The Chantry would weep.

But then he sinks low, pouring his lithe contours across Dante’s own, fitting himself greedily to every inch of offered heat. With Dante now exposed (and so stunningly fascinating in his inhuman appearance), Astarion takes his time running his fingers along that warm, stiffened span, teasing and testing response— shifting between a light, roaming touch and circling the whole of his length (difficult given the sheer size of him, but not at all impossible) with constricting, dragging strokes. All of it wickedly admired.]

You do spoil me.

[And how Astarion revels in it, distracted when he fits his mouth to Dante’s tip, lips smoothing down with slickened care, meeting the shuttling movement of his fingertips.

Lurid. Obscene.

Remarkable.

And though he can’t quite fit all of his companion in without glutting himself like a vicious snake, he does, for a time, relax his throat well enough to work Dante down into the narrow span of his throat, shoulders hunched and low— hips held high, feverish and deft and—

Oh, he filthily heaves for breath when he pulls back, spit glistening as it trails from the tip of Dante’s cock to his own lips.]

I should ask [he starts, drawing himself away from where those wings had set him, edging his hips lower— nearing the slender midpoint of Dante’s hips] what it is you want.

After all, I already stole you in the streets once before.

[rebellionyell]

[Dante watched Astarion's body arch and squirm in response to teeth stinging at flesh, infatuated that biting could have a similar intoxicating effect for Astarion in spite of his instincts that motivated the desire to bite and feed. Dante didn't have a taste for blood, but there was a certain lust for it and to that end the response only had an enabling effect one that he would put aside temporarily.

There were other sensations at play, Astarion's fingers doing their best to find purchase in his skin, sexual aggression he could revel in without hesitation, the oscillation between light curiosity that came with testing the strangest waters to the zealous need to dive into their depths. He lay on the floor for the time being luxuriating in Astarion's preoccupation his own hands soothing their way from the slope of Astarion's shoulders to the perfectly formed curve of his ass.]

You make it pretty easy to do.

[Dante said, laughter rumbling it's way to his throat only to be choked off by groan when Astarion's curiosity melted into action and he finally went down on him. The half-demon had to fight not to close his eyes because it was too mind-blowing not to watch Astarion wrap his lips around him, soft and generous. The impressive skill to take Dante into his throat while being careful not to bite had him fighting to behave himself.

The urge to thrust was almost overpowering, but he didn't want to choke Astarion on his cock, not today anyway. Instead, he watched him through the frame of his partner's thighs, glowing eyes fluttering, fighting not to clamp shut. There was something that was gloriously filthy about the whole scene. The most vulnerable parts of Astarion exposed to him, mouth working him over expertly, pulsing wetness around him, the slurping wet noises at every pass.

It was almost too much when that mouth withdrew from him and his entire body shuddered in response, hips flexing forward to chase the sensation of those lips, but when Astarion readjusted himself, this allowed Dante to sit up, he was tantalizingly close to where Dante wanted him and it was a battle of wills not to simply take.]

Bit of a dangerous thing asking a demon what he wants [Dante said pulling Astarion flush against his chest, lips caressing the column of his partner's pale neck] there's a lot that I want to do to you.

[He lowered his eyes following the path of Astarion's body to his own obvious arousal, freeing a hand he gently palmed the underside of Astarion's cock, the textured palm of his obsidian hand hardly substantial as. After a few passes he paused delicately running the tapered end of a clawed finger against the tiny slit, both to tease him and to apply gentle pressure pushing inside carefully, just a fraction and thrusting experimentally a few times, before withdrawing Astarion's fluids coating his fingers.

He didn't hesitate to press those fingers against the elven vampire's lips.] Right now I wanna fuck that gorgeous ass of yours.

[Clearly being a demon was not a prerequisite for having the mouth of a gentleman.]

The only question is do you want me to take you raw and have me on cleanup and aftercare detail later or do you wanna give me a show and let me watch you finger yourself? [He drew his tongue along Astarion's throat a few times, over the tiny puncture wounds left behind as scars. Without really thinking about it Dante covered those marks with his mouth and sank his teeth into the delicate skin, not hard enough to break flesh, though the temptation to taste Astarion's blood was quickly mounting from curiosity to a lust-driven desire.]

[illithidnapped]

Almost as dangerous as asking a vampire what it wants—

Not that I’m against the idea.

[His moan is purely reflexive as he’s bitten, shocked at the sensation of sharper teeth (knowing they exist is one thing, but feeling them) as they sink into his skin, and he isn’t incapable of marking exactly where they fall— knowing exactly what they’re undoing by way of overriding his scars, if only briefly—

It isn’t unwelcome.]

I’ll admit, it’s tempting to run you utterly ragged without any amount of preparation... [If anyone could take the taxing nature of it with artful expertise well in hand, it's Astarion. And beneath that truth, there's a desire for it, too: the appeal of raw sensation, rough and hungry and every bit as wild as their own unmasked natures— oh yes, he absolutely could sink deep into the opportunity all too eagerly.] But I intend to drive you mad before we’re done here.

Something you won’t forget once this is all over.

[A show, then. Tongue lathing across those upheld fingers (and claws) before he draws back with deliberate purpose: a serpentine twist that puts Astarion across the edge of his mattress, hips raised for the purpose of gifting Dante the most shameless performance imaginable.

Back arched, legs splayed wide, breathing low and steady across his shoulder as he reaches back between his thighs. Every movement deliberate— matching the formless fluidity he exercises in stalking prey across the fringe edges of the battlefield or throughout shadowed side streets— the measured delve of two oil-slicked fingertips accompanied by the way he turns his wrist, fluctuating between shallow teasing and deeper, deliberate, vulgar measures.

Almost measuring just how long Dante can keep his own composure when afforded a sight like this.]

[rebellionyell]

[Dante had to confess, the desire to countermand the puncture scars on Astarion's neck with his own still hovered in the forefront of his mind like a temptress beguiling him into the stormy waters. Part of it had to do with the demonic lust for blood that still hummed darkly in his veins, a desire to consume that was rooted in the whispers of his demonic heritage. Part of him just wanted to leave his own mark, to erase traces of another man's mark of ownership with something that could be associated with higher pleasure for however long it lingered.

Astarion's involuntary response to the pressure of sharp teeth bearing into skin had piqued an interest that was slowly manifesting a need.]

I'd be dead on the water before I'd forget [Dante crooned, the inhuman tone of his voice colored in equal parts by amusement and barely suppressed sexual hunger] you're so radiant it's almost painful.

[Painful in the sense that it took an enormous amount of concentrated effort not to plunge into Astarion's beautiful and yielding body and ram himself home. To fuck him relentlessly into his own bed until his lust had remitted knowing a single orgasm wouldn't be enough to extinguish the flames stoked by Astarion's enticing gifts. Raw with that spike of pain that would dissipate quickly with every merciless thrust driving him inside a raw and unyielding body until it conformed.

Instead, he had to breathe through the urges threatening to overwhelm what remained of his self-control, to truly appreciate and makes space for Astarion's electrifying performance. Like a well-heeled voyeur he rolled back onto his haunches penetrating with his gaze for the moment. Crimson eyes glowed with interest as clever fingers commanded obedience as they slowly prise open the velvety tightness that Dante was only too familiar with, giving him flirty glimpses of flushed depths his composure as instinct threatened to rudely elbow his remaining reason out of the way.

Deliberate was an excellent assessment for the provocative spread of Astarion's body and as much as he drank in the sight of his companion's performance, he devoured the arch of his back, the spread of legs tipped wide for Dante's pleasure, shapely thighs, and muscle that was exquisitely defined. Perfection hewn from alabaster, though Dante kept it to himself, too much flattery and he knew Astarion would be impossible to get through a door, besides appreciation could always be demonstrated.

After watching long enough to salivate, Dante's desires demanded some latitude, and while he'd give Astarion the space he needed to tease the half-demon, there was nothing preventing him from touching. Folding his wings back and out of the way he surged forward fisting his clawed hands into the bed on either side of Astarion's head, Dante bent over him, eclipsing the elven-vampire's body with his demonic one, lowering himself until Astarion was pinned over the edge of his bed bearing his weight down. Was he being a hindrance? Yes, but the need to feel the lean, exquisite body pressed against him was worth the inconvenience and any sass that might come his way.

His teeth find purchase in the delicate arch of an ear, biting down, but careful, even in the throes of lust, to curb his aggression. He drops his hips, applying his weight, though not enough to get in the way of Astarion's own raised hips, it's enough to give him the friction he's craving. Grinding his cock against the gentle slope of Astarion's lower back wrenched a growl from his chest, muffled by teeth still inflexibly fixed on Astarion's ear like a vise. It wasn't what his body demanded if the precum pooling in the dip of Astarion's back was evidence, but it was enough to temper his impulses.]