INBOX II

[illithidnapped]

VOICE | ACTION | TEXT

[previous inbox]

Comments

[doggish]

buy me whiskey. a healer told me once that would work as substitute in a pinch.

[Okay, one, that's to rub on babies' gums when they're teething, which you shouldn't do because it's alcohol and it doesn't actually numb anything so much as sends them to sleep because it's alcohol— but also, two, no Anders absolutely did fucking not, thank you very much.]

will you at least be home in time to lie with me before i sleep?

[illithidnapped]

I can't tell if you're being smart and banking on how little I remember about being alive, or if that's actually how it works.

[The logic is fairly sound.

No it isn't, Astarion. NO IT ISNT— ]

And yes darling I promise you I will. It's not as if I like leaving you after all.

If it wasn't for the sun and stars, I'd never be far from your side.

2/2

[illithidnapped]

[ . . . ]





well.

Except for when it's one of those days. The ones when you're. You know.



In one of Those Moods.

[doggish]

[He is CHANGING THE LOCKS— or, well, no, because that would require actually getting up, but still. He's thinking about it very strongly.]

bold words for a man who is out buying me tissues and has left all his pretty silk at home for me to use in the meantime

[illithidnapped]

[Oh like a LOCK is going to keep him out.]

What are you going to do? Throw on everything I own and sweat in it?

You. can't. even. get. yourself. out. of. bed.

[doggish]

[There's a defiant little pause, and then:]

yes i can

thats' two clothes of yours down

several more to go

though at the rate im sweating it will not take long

[Ugh, the fever's getting worse, and so is his handwriting.]

and now the pups are riled again, they get confused about the mixed scents

moresstro fell off the bed

[Well, it's an attempt at her name. Don't @ him.]

[illithidnapped]

You're lying.

about the



not


[Hang on he's distracted trying to hard swap between waking up his next unfortunate target healer and actually processing the possibility that Leto might very much be doing precisely what he says he is.]

you're not actually out of bed are you

[doggish]

[There is






a pause.]

just to pace around

[illithidnapped]

get back in that godsforsaken bed before I kill you myself

[doggish]

ive been in bed all day

i will not die just because i wanted to walk around a bit and get some fresh air

and its so boring

[There's a pause, and then, hastily:]

by opening the shutters not walking around outside, do not come running back, i am not walking about

[illithidnapped]

gods above you and that wild little beast truly are one and the same.

can you not study? sleep? daydream about riding my cock?? create elaborate scenarios in your head involving my sweeping you off your feet in princely regalia???

1/2

[doggish]

ive s

you think fantasizing about riding your cock is going to make me less restless

i cannot decide if that's more insulting to you or me

[doggish]

[And then, after a pause:]

you forget i used to be friends with a prince

there is a lot of gilt-laden braiding involved in their regalia

and, in his case, a metal picture of andraste on his crotch

neither of which is particularly charming to think of when it comes to you

[illithidnapped]

Correction: their regalia. We Baldurians have a little thing called taste. Though I__

[One dragging line of ink marks his altered train of thought.]

Did he put her face there because that's his only taken lover? You know

Chantry

everything

[doggish]

[Oh, god, did he? Forget the petty squabble, Leto has to pause to think about this.]

no

i think

wait

no

andraste is the maker's bride— yes, because varric [Anders, actually,] once wondered on the wisdom of shoving a god's bride between one's thighs each morning

it was meant to honor her

[How to wear Andraste-Based Crotch Armor in a Maker-honoring way, etc etc.]

[illithidnapped]

[um.]

Was it.

Was. It.

w a s. i t.

[Baby. Baby. Baby. B A B Y.

LOOK HIM IN THE NONEXISTENT BOOK EYES. AND TELL HIM. THAT IT WAS MEANT TO HONOR HER.]

[doggish]

[He barks out a loud enough laugh that poor Montressor wakes up with a start, growling and barking at nothing at all.]

MEANT to honor her, you notice i wrote

I didn't wear the damn thing

nor do i claim to believe it

what, don't you wish for a set of your own? you'd look so dashing

[illithidnapped]

Well then I'd have to get a cast of your face made for my codpiece. So









Why not?

[doggish]

[Darling menace.]

because i would never be seen in public with you again

because i think you would rather die than wear something so unfashionable

because you would walk around sporting an erection 24/7 and that would kill even you

just ask me to settle between your thighs for a full day and call it even

[illithidnapped]

[Tsk.]

you know I would look all the more dashing with your face pushed down flush and hot where it belongs.

But then you'd need to rest and get better to reach that particular outcome instead of stubbornly ruining the rest of my wardrobe alongside anything that isn't that

tight

feverish



coughing, sore, tired, had-best-be-drinking the honeyed tea I left behind for it, throat.

[doggish]

[There's a momentary pause, for Astarion is distracting even via text.]

i can rest and ruin your wardrobe all at once

i'll bet i could still rest and get you off, too. you're fond enough of letting me sit on your cock for hours at a time.

[. . .]

you're too tempting for someone who won't let me put even my hands on you

you might well make up for it by telling me more about what you'll let me do when i'm rested


and yes i drank it

you've grown better at making it, it was good

[illithidnapped]

[:)]

I'm choosing to take that compliment as a constant due to the fact that I distinctly remember you saying, and I quote

"this is delicious"

the first time I made it for you.

[Did Leto actually ever say that?]

and do be careful: what you say next will decide whether or not I elaborate more on what I'll permit you to do once you're all hale and whole

[doggish]

[See, the problem with being both sick and stuck in a teenage body is that his initial instinct is, in fact, to be a little brat about it. So it takes a moment (and a very large ink blot) before he manages to write out a reply.]

"it's even better and more delicious than it used to be", does that soo is that better?

you've learned to add honey. it is an improvement. i like the sweetness. take the compliment as it was intended.


what you'll permit me?

[Ah, brattiness can't always be fully quelled.]

[illithidnapped]

[And yet the thing about being Astarion is that his initial instinct is to hunker down and be a brat about it, too.

A two centuries old brat.]

what

I'll

permit

you




apologies, was I unclear?

[doggish]

this from the vampire who will, i have no doubt, be begging me to let him fuck me the moment i'm healed, for he's gone without for so long

needy thing, don't act as if you won't— or need i remind you that it was you, not i, that was so insatiable he fucked me for a full 24 hours once?

besides: you do not PERMIT me to do anything

i don't know why you think you'll start now