Archive of Our Own

Part I
Sing For Me
(Astarion)

Astarion thought he’d seen the Elfsong Tavern in every possible state: well-visited as it was during a typical evening, nearly empty as the wee hours of the morning approached, illuminated brightly, or filled with cozy dimness. He’d seen it raucous when the harbour was full of merchant ships, and he’d seen it waiting in hushed awe for the performance of a renowned bard.

Off-key singing, bar fights, marriage proposals, long lost friends reuniting, drunkards bawling into a serving girl’s ample bosom. He’d seen it all during his nocturnal sojourns to woo prey for Cazador, and some of it had – admittedly – been quite entertaining. By now, Astarion believed himself immune to surprises where the Elfsong was concerned.

But it seemed that tonight, he would be proven wrong. Tonight, the place was transformed. There was no better word for it, really. The familiar golden radiance of the lanterns had been replaced by an intimate twilight that was only illuminated by the occasional glowing red orb floating just beneath the ceiling. He suspected that the light sources were of magical origin, or perhaps the work of some crafty alchemist. In any case, the red orbs swathed everything below in soft hues and fluid shadows.

The tavern was crowded with so many people, close to bursting at the seams. Every inch of space seemed to be occupied by bodies clad in smooth velvet or shiny silk, each outfit more outrageous than the next. The revellers sat in small groups around tables, stood against the wall in pairs, and were clustered around the central bar.

Even more packed was the wide space in the middle, where a veritable sea of people swayed in rhythm with the delightful performance of the musicians, who were situated on a stage framed by luxurious gold and burgundy drapery. The song mingled with the ambient noises of guests laughing, glasses clinking, and the murmur of countless voices enjoying a night of delicious excess.

As Astarion moved among the bustling crowd, his sensitive nose picked up dozens of different smells, some heavy and rich, others more fleeting than a summer breeze. Hot blood and full-flavoured wine. Perfume, sweat, and the unmistakable scent of euphoria. It was intoxicating, this feast for the senses, and he let the thousand impressions wash over him only too eagerly.

Cazador was dead. For good. And he was… still himself. Alive. Well, perhaps Gale would correct him there and use the word ‘animated’ instead, but right now… he did feel truly, entirely alive. The sheer vivacity of the party around him was infectious, making his body hum along with nervous energy as if he was a tuning fork resonating after being struck.

He smoothed the front of his richly embroidered jacket, now regretting that he’d chosen velvet as the fabric for his costume – too warm, too confining. But this celebration was, above all, a costume masquerade. The party guests wore a plethora of different costumes, displaying such a wide range of variations that it was impossible to take in even half of the creations people had concocted for this night alone. There were kings and queens, painted women and holy men (or the other way around because why the hells not), quite a few magistrates (he couldn’t help but smirk at these) with their corresponding rogues to judge (the irony was not lost on him), and Gods only knew what else.

More elaborate perhaps than the costumes themselves – ranging from highly realistic to shamelessly skimpy versions of whatever they illustrated – were the masks. Between simple silk ones to merely cover the eye area and lavish feathered monstrosities studded with jewels, one could find anything among the crowd.

Astarion himself had – ironically – chosen to be a vampire. The high collar of his white silk shirt hid the bite marks that would expose him as a true vampire, though he doubted anyone would notice them in these dark surroundings.

Having a knack for sewing, he’d only needed to make a few alterations on an ensemble he’d purchased from Figaro’s shop. The black tailcoat fit his sinewy figure quite well, harmonizing perfectly with the dark red vest, both made of velvet. He’d trickled a few drops of red paint onto the white shirt to give the role a realistic touch. The mask he wore was as black as his jacket, fashioned to look like a bat with its wings spread wide.

A waiter carrying drinks walked by, and Astarion swiftly snatched one of the cups off his tray. Even though he got little out of sipping red wine, it still smelled pleasant and gave him an opportunity to survey the happenings around him.

His companions, or at least most of them, should be somewhere among the guests. He didn’t expect to see Halsin or Lae’zel since neither of them was big on revelry of this particular kind. But he spotted Karlach – mostly because someone of her stature just couldn’t be overlooked – near a table, dressed as a golden paladin and playing cards with Dammon and some other tieflings.

Wyll was notably absent too, but Shadowheart and Gale had decided to join the festivities. The cleric had chosen a long, flowing white robe and a mask adorned with pearls, her costume likely meant to represent a goddess or some sort of celestial being. Astarion had to admit that she’d taken to the dancefloor with a certain grace as he watched her teeter with her eyes closed, enjoying the music.

Gale, on the other hand, had dressed as a Calimshan merchant, the exotic fabrics he wore bringing to mind sandy deserts and tanned people strolling busy marketplaces. The wizard was in the midst of an animated discussion with a man in a cat costume and a Dragonborn woman, his golden mask hanging a little askew.

But where on earth was Rosaleen? Astarion wondered, fidgeting with his cup impatiently. Even by the standards of fashionably late arrivals, she should have appeared by now. Of course, Astarion had no idea what kind of costume his mischievous little bard would be wearing. She had kept it a secret from everyone, even him, and the suggestive winks she’d thrown at him every time he’d asked left him dying of curiosity.

It still struck him as strange sometimes, this life-giving relationship that had grown from him holding a dagger to a small, frazzled, tiefling woman’s throat, and her simply taking it in stride. Not once during the gruelling journey that lay behind them had she lost her good spirits. She burrowed her way into his heart, rallied him when he faltered, and built him back up when he was beaten down.

He supposed it was just in her nature to grow ever stronger, adapting to the harshness of the world and yet somehow staying untouched by it. She was a bright, free-spirited, imaginative creature. A sun creature. Such a contrast to his own shadowed soul… but perhaps that was what made them so perfect for each other. Somewhere between her luminosity and his darkness, there was balance. Equanimity.

Love.

Because Gods help him, he loved her with all his heart. She had brought the dead thing in his chest back to life, and even though it had never stopped its slow, ponderous thuds, he felt born anew. Some wounds within him were still healing. A scar is never the same as unblemished skin, but at least it doesn’t bleed all over the place. His anger, hatred, and thirst for vengeance had been like that. Open. Exposed. Bleeding from him every second of every day.

Now, he felt… hopeful. He was free to make his own choices for the rest of his existence. He could want things, enjoy things. And right now, what he wanted most was to enjoy the sight of Rosaleen’s sweet face, dance with her soft curves pressed against his body, and then whisk her away into a dark corner to thoroughly debauch her.

It had taken time to ease into physical intimacy on his own terms, and then some more until his desires felt natural to him. Rosaleen had been patient every step of the way, constantly worrying about his comfort, especially in the beginning. Together, they had discovered what pleasure felt like when it came from love. There were no more boundaries between them. The closeness had become natural. Necessary. Thrilling.

Astarion didn’t know if it was the atmosphere of sensuality that seemed to suffuse the Elfsong tonight or his own lascivious mind, but his body was already on high alert, every nerve teeming in anticipation of laying eyes on his beloved.

So where was she hiding?

He’d just downed the last of his wine and was about to swallow when a melodious, lilting voice spoke from behind him.

“Hello there, handsome.”

When Astarion turned, he almost choked on the wine. Before him stood Rosaleen as he had never seen her before. She was a heart-stopping vision of female allure, painted in shades of scarlet and rose, her blush pink hair gathered into an intricate updo at the top of her head with stray curls framing the edges of her vivid crimson mask. It was covered in the finest silk of the same kind that encased her voluptuous form like a snug cocoon, leaving very little of her carnal assets to the imagination.

The dress itself bordered on the obscene. It made him want to cover her up. Or drag her into the closest hidden corner and fuck her raw. First of all, the tight corset pushed her full breasts high, exposing a mouth-watering expanse of pearly skin and a very risqué neckline. Though that wasn’t the part that pulled a stifled, inarticulate sound from his throat.

The glorious red fabric fell in rippling, shimmering waves from the generous flare of her hips down to her dainty feet, which were tucked into high-heeled scarlet shoes. But right there at the front, her blasted dress had a gap about half as wide as his shoulders, and he could see her long legs go up and up and up as his leering eyes did a full cycle.

Ruffled silk covered the upper part of her smooth thighs, which was, at best, a flimsy attempt at modesty, especially with the nearly see-through stockings to complete the outfit. Astarion could have sworn that he saw something delicate and lacy peek out at him from beneath the seam of her skirt as she shifted a little.

“Good Gods,” he uttered, distantly aware that he probably should tear his gaze away from her legs, but his brain refused to comply. “What are you wearing?”

“Oh… Don’t you like it?” Rose sounded crestfallen, which succeeded in breaking the hypnotic spell that had struck him at her appearance.

Astarion managed to focus on her face somehow. He could never grow tired of seeing her plush, cherry lips smile for him, of tracing every detail on her delicate features. From behind the red mask, her eyes glittered mischievously at him like a pair of brilliant pink sunstones.

“Like it?” he replied incredulously, stepping closer until their chests were almost touching. “My love, I think you just gave me an apoplexy.”

Her lips split into a wide grin, and he couldn’t resist leaning down to catch that cheerful spark with a kiss. She was a head shorter than him, small but shapely in all the right places. Her mouth opened eagerly under his, letting him taste the hint of something sweet and invigorating on her tongue. Intuitively, his arm wound around her at the same time as she huddled against him on her own, eliciting a low growl from him when her teeth started nibbling on his lower lip.

His hand settled at the base of her spine, finding an intricate silk bow that festooned the lower back of her corset. The scoundrel in him wanted to toy with the smooth fabric, fondle it a bit before pulling it loose… but he had to keep himself in check. They were in public, and although the general mood of the party was delightfully sultry, he didn’t want to let his hunger escalate too far, too soon. Somehow, he got the impression that he was fighting a losing battle on that front.

Reluctantly pulling back from their kiss, he brushed his lips over her cheek, just below the edge of her mask.

“You shouldn’t walk around looking like a delicious pastry ready to be eaten up. Some morally loose reprobate might decide to abduct you,” he murmured in a dark voice. Rosaleen regarded him dazedly for a moment before her long lashes lowered in false innocence. Minx.

“That’s a good point. Do you know any reformed reprobates I might find instead?”

“It matters little,” he let his gaze roam over the fine gold chains decorating her tawny horns. “Even the holiest saint would want to debauch you in that get-up. Do you have any idea what a temptation you are?”

She blushed at the note of roughness in his velvet voice, recognizing the desire behind it. He still had her firmly secured against him, her corseted chest pressing into his hard, muscular one, and he loved that she seemed to have difficulty keeping her breath even. Her tightly wrapped breasts quivered, and his gaze dropped to drink in the delicious sight.

“I never set out to tempt saints… but I did set out to tempt you,” she crooned, stretching to trail a path of small kisses along his jawline. A pleasurable shiver travelled through him. “Will you dance with me, dearest?”

Dance? He was already on the verge of causing a scandal by ravishing her in front of two hundred people. She probably wouldn’t appreciate that, right? His pants were uncomfortably tight around his raging cock-stand. He was dying to find out what she was hiding under her skirt, dying to pull up the layers of gorgeous silk and sink his teeth into the softness of her thighs. His imagination was running wild, trying to devise plans for getting her somewhere more private as quickly as possible…

But Rose wanted to dance, and he could never deny her anything. Forcibly, he reined himself in, gritting his teeth against the delicious friction the press of their bodies created, even more so as she made tiny, unconscious motions to bring herself closer.

“Alright… One dance. But then I’m going to –“ Astarion interrupted himself with a muted groan because her lush, tight little body undulated against him like she was a cat in need of affection. “Sweet Hells, Rose… You need to stop, darling, or I’ll do something utterly unconscionable.”

She gasped as he guided her to the dancefloor rather brusquely, and hearing how her heartbeat quickened in response to his words aroused him even more. The space was so crowded that they were constantly jostled by all the other bobbing figures around them. It seemed they were not the only couple spellbound by the erotically charged atmosphere. Many others were entwined in passionate embraces, swaying to the song of a buxom dwarf who serenaded the guests with her breathy alto.

Rose wound her arms around his neck without hesitation, and the humidity in the air intensified the sweet, flowery perfume of her skin, warmed by the blood running through her veins. It was mouth-watering, heady. She wrapped herself around him like a vine climbing a solid pillar, rubbing herself up and down on his body shamelessly.

Something touched the back of his thigh, trailing playfully up towards his backside. Her tail. Damn her, she knew exactly how crazy that thing made him. Squeezing her tightly against him, his free hand came up to take hold of her face, his grip more gentle than forceful.

“I have a feeling that the whole point of this evening is to seduce me,” Astarion hummed in her ear, just loud enough so the music wouldn’t drown it out. Rose buried her hands in his hair but took care not to dislodge his mask, massaging the sensitive spot behind his ear.

“Yes,” she simply answered. To tease him further, she tilted her head to the side, showing off the delicate column of her throat just as her tail started stroking over the curve of his ass.

“Is it working?”

He gripped the bunched fabric at the back of her dress, lifted her a little, and ground her against the hard ridge between his legs in an unmistakable answer to her question. A small, sinfully female sound escaped her, shooting straight to his already aching length. They rocked to the music together, more out of instinct than conscious thought, seeking the pressure of the other’s body, chasing the heat created by the delicious friction between them.

The fabric of their clothes emitted a constant, intimate rustle as he continued to torment himself by rubbing her silk-clad pelvis over his groin. The stimulation on his cock was maddening – not enough to give proper relief, and yet it was slowly driving him mad with lust to feel her flush against him, undulating and straining like she wanted to melt into him.

His breath came in quick, heated puffs against her fragile ear, and his tongue darted out to lick over the edge of it. Astarion took shameless pleasure in the way she jerked at the contact. Her head fell back, offering her mouth to him, and he captured it hungrily straightaway. As he got lost in the welcoming warmth of her kiss and the lush stroke of her tongue chasing his, it all faded away for a minute – the crowded surroundings, the party, the plethora of sounds and sights and other sensations.

He just savoured the desire building between them, drank greedily from her sweet essence, and enjoyed feeling her small hands caress his cheek, his jaw, the pulse at his neck. Unconsciously, his fingers started fumbling with the intricate bow at the base of her spine while the tip of her tail sneaked under his tailcoat, wiggling to get closer to his waistband.

“That ribbon is purely decorative, dearest,” Rose whispered breathlessly into his mouth. He groaned in frustration.

“How was I supposed to know that? I can barely think… This isn’t dancing. This is… fucking with clothes on,” Astarion defended himself, trying and failing to sound lofty.

“You can do that?” she asked, her eyes widening with curiosity. Gods help him.

“You can, but that’s not what I…” He took a breath to refocus his addled thoughts. Stroking his thumb over her swollen lower lip, he whispered, “I want to be inside you.”

A delightful blush crept up her neck at his declaration, suffusing her cheeks with a distinct rosy tint. Then she grasped his hand and tugged on it decisively.

“Let’s get out of here,” she urged, sounding breathless.

But forging a path through the overstuffed tavern was nigh on impossible. People were everywhere, bumping into each other for lack of space, laughing raucously as they drank, flirted, and celebrated at increasing volumes.

Rose and Astarion were swept this way and that by the countless moving bodies, and at some point, he had to take the lead because Rose was making next to no progress due to her small stature. He wasn’t what one would call bulky either, but at least his height and agility helped him to slip between the revellers with Rose taking advantage of his wake.

Still, the path to the upper floor seemed interminable, and his patience was running dangerously thin. The imprint of her body prickled along his skin, his depraved mind supplying him with a constant stream of lecherous fantasies. He could take her from behind, balanced on the tips of those red shoes as he bit into her neck and pressed her stocking-clad thighs together. Or maybe he’d make use of the gap at the front of her dress and take her against a wall. But whatever he did, she would still be wearing that temptation of silk and lace when he fucked her through the first climax.

They were still about a hundred shoves away from the stairs that led to the private rooms above when Astarion decided he’d had enough. A surge of triumph overcame him the moment he glimpsed the floor-length velvet curtain that seemed to cover a part of the wall near them, roped off with a thick cord made of golden thread. Perfect. It only took one stealthy sleight of hand to gain access through the cordon. He had done enough disappearing acts to work quickly and without drawing attention.

“Come here, darling.” Astarion turned halfway and caught Rose around the waist, eliciting a small squeak from her as they slipped behind the curtain into an empty alcove. He was familiar with these cozy nooks from his many visits to the tavern, though in the past, he’d always used them for hiding.

But he couldn’t wait until they were up in their room. He needed to taste her, feel her, anything at all. Just to take the edge off. Astarion turned her to face him, wedging her between his chest and the wall as he went for her smooth throat, licking over the hot skin, feeling the lively pulse throb under his tongue.

His body was buzzing with need, and it only became stronger as the scent of her filled up the small alcove. Honey. Flowers. Female arousal. The air grew heavy with both of their breaths, turning warm and damp within minutes. There wasn’t much space, but they didn’t care.

Just like before during the dance, they rocked desperately against each other, struggling to imitate the movements of coupling even though they both knew that a thousand annoying layers of cloth prohibited them from getting what they truly wanted. Rose gasped and strained as she clawed at the upper edge of her corset, thrusting her breasts into him.

“It’s too stiff. Can’t feel enough of you,” she complained, wiggling roughly. Astarion gave her neck a small nip before moving lower, dragging his teeth over the soft, flawless curve of her bosom. She whined with need.

“This was your plan, love. You wanted me feral. Now I’m feral. There are always consequences,” he warned her, just a hint of danger in his voice.

“W-what are you going to do?” Rose stammered. He sensed her excitement, smelled the intoxicating aroma of her lust. It became overpowering as he lowered to his knees before her.

“Eat your cunt,” he answered bluntly, too impatient for eloquence right now. His hands trailed a path up her trembling calves, teased along the hollow of her knees. But even in this position, his head was level with her stomach, so he had to push her further up the wall until her toes barely touched the ground. Her hands grasped his shoulders for support, clutching the fabric of his coat.

“Someone might… might catch us,” she pointed out, but her breath hitched as his fingers travelled higher and higher on her legs.

“Someone might,” he agreed, throwing her a searching glance. “Do you want me to stop?”

“Gods, no,” Rose gasped when he stroked a palm up her thigh, still holding her firmly with his other hand. He was now looking at the seam of her pleated skirt, his fingers getting ever closer to the secrets it was hiding underneath. Pushing her legs apart, he shifted forward, his broad shoulders filling the gap left open by her dress.

“Stay on your toes for me, darling. Pull up this dress and show me what I want to see,” he murmured. There was a dominant edge to his voice, a tone of command that he knew would thrill them both. He caught a fleeting look of embarrassment on her face before she obeyed, using one hand to slowly, so damn slowly, lift her skirt.

The first thing he saw was the lace-trimmed edge of her stockings, tantalizingly red as the entire ensemble. They were secured by small, cleverly crafted straps that led up to a pure, white garter belt around her waist. The little she-devil had deliberately chosen the colour of innocence for this saucy piece of lingerie. At first glance, the whole arrangement resembled a set of teeth framing her most intimate treasure – but then his eyes landed on her centre, and his breath left him in a rush.

He’d expected to see underwear, like white panties matching the garters. Or a red, lacy thing to mock him like a cheeky tongue. But there was nothing. Nothing. Her core was completely bare. Naked. Exposed. Not even the downy patch of hair he was used to remained. For a moment, all he could do was stare in dumbstruck shock.

Between the folds of her perfectly smooth cunt, the satiny, pink flesh was coated with a sheen of moisture. She wasn’t just wet; she was slick with arousal, likely from rubbing her thighs together during their kisses and grinding earlier.

As if drawn by an inescapable force, Astarion leaned in to lick the glossy trail off her skin and felt a spasm course through her muscles. The flavour of her lust was like tasting divinity. Like drinking her blood but more intimate somehow, downright obscene. There was no stopping him then. He pushed her legs wider yet, opening her to him, and when that wasn’t enough, he reached up to split her wet folds with his fingers like parting the petals of a flower until he could see everything.

“Gods, you’re a wicked man,” he heard Rose gasp. A smile stretched his lips as he imagined her face flushed with both embarrassment and desire. Astarion managed to control himself long enough to bite into the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, drawing just a few drops of blood before soothing the tiny wounds with a few generous laps.

Rose uttered a sound somewhere between a moan and a whimper, her whole body shaking with shivers. But this was where his patience for teasing her ended. His mouth was filled with her essence, life and lust intertwined, and it was as exhilarating as seldom anything had ever been. More. He needed more. And the feast he hungered for was right there in front of him, slick and hot and waiting.

With a low groan, he pushed his face between her legs, parting his lips over her cunt like he wanted to devour it whole. He started with a long, swirling lick across her tight entrance, then swiped his tongue upward to her swollen pearl, lingering there as he heard her stifled sob.

She wasn’t in the habit of staying quiet during sex. While he had always been relatively silent in his passion, except for urging her on with filthy words, Rose made music for him. He could draw the sweetest melodies from her lips, sighs and moans and curses mingling into a song composed just for him.

Her body reacted to the consuming assault of his tongue like an instrument to the touch of a master’s hand. It trembled and vibrated, bent and bowed. She rolled her hips onto his mouth in rhythm with every lush stroke, seeking her own pleasure unapologetically, her long tail whipping out from behind her to wrap around his upper body firmly. Together with her hands, it pulled him closer to her, burying his mouth completely in her cunt.

He didn’t need the incentive but gloried in it nevertheless as he kept eating her out mere feet away from the bustling crowd of guests. The vociferous celebration was barely muffled, signalling how public this place was, how close they were to so many people, only a thin layer of fabric separating them from being exposed, and somehow, it made what they were doing behind the curtain all the more exciting. It was illicit. Shameless. And neither of them cared if they were caught. He was too far gone to give a damn, too busy feasting on her, too drunk on her desire. And Rose… Gods, Rose was loving this, perhaps even more than he did.

“Astarion –“ His name emerged from her lips in a desperate mewl, and he knew she was close to climaxing. The grip of her tail tightened. Her legs shook violently from the effort of balancing on her toes, but she didn’t fall. He wouldn’t have let her anyway. His hands had a firm grasp on her ass, holding her steady and half-suspended, at his mercy even though he was the one on his knees before her. Greedily, he sucked on her pearl, teased the seam of her opening with the tip of his tongue, taking every drop of sweet nectar she made for him like this was the last meal of his life.

She went over the edge the moment he released a deep groan into her heated flesh, thrusting his tongue into her tight channel. The muscles of her cunt fluttered and spasmed uncontrollably as she came, making his trapped cock throb frantically in response. It battered him with a wave of blind need that bordered on pain, and he squeezed his eyes shut, concentrating on his lover’s pleasure and nothing else. With utter diligence, he guided her through the storm of her orgasm, licking and nibbling at her core to prolong the delicious twitches until she jerked weakly at the overstimulation.

With one last taste, he pulled back from her and rose to his feet, wincing at the slightest abrasion of fabric against his aching length. Rose let her entire weight slump into him, though he had no trouble supporting her. She sought his lips for a deep kiss, uncaring about the fact that her arousal still coated his mouth and chin. Once they parted, he wiped his own face and hers with the sleeve of his jacket, then took a breath to bridle his racing heart.

“Have I ever told you how much I love making you sing for me?” he murmured affectionately. She looked up at him from passion-glazed eyes, a languid smile on her lips. At that moment, Astarion wanted nothing more than to see her face without the mask, but he contented himself with the prospect of being rid of it very soon.

“You have, my love. But I'm never tired of hearing it again,” she replied. “Although… you are, in a way, ruining my plans for tonight… How did seducing you turn into you seducing me?”

“Hmmm…” he hummed, feigning to be in deep thought. “Maybe you are too easily distracted by my wily charms and silver tongue…”

“Am I now?” Rose wondered innocently. This game between them was purely for fun now, with no intention of actual trickery behind it. She knew him better than he knew himself, and she could always tell when he was lying. As she brought her hand down between them and flattened her palm against his pulsing erection, the sheer pleasure of her touch pulled a helpless groan from him.

“Sweet Hells, don’t…” Astarion’s lids fluttered with enjoyment because she started rubbing her hand over his hard length. His coherent thoughts scattered, and his voice turned inadvertently pleading. “Gods, Rose… Don’t tease me so, love. I’m holding on by a thread. My cock has been rock-hard since I set eyes on you in this dress, no, this… menace. I’m in godsdamn agony.”

“Then take me upstairs, and I promise, I’m going to turn the pain into pleasure,” she purred seductively, squeezing him through his breeches. “Slowly.”

Part II
Play, My Darling, Play
(Rosaleen)

Rarely had she felt more powerful than the moment Astarion had set eyes on her in her costume. It was like watching a beautiful explosion happen and knowing she had been the one to light the fuse. She’d seen people overcome by many different emotions during her performances. She’d faced down a creature of unimaginable might and had prevailed against impossible odds. She thought she had known triumph in all its facets.

But that look on his face… Awed. Possessive. All-consuming. Like he would pounce on her any second now. Gods, that look had made her burn.

Rosaleen’s hand shook a little as she fumbled with the key to their private chamber. Her body still sang with resonating waves of pleasure, her cheeks hot as fire. Astarion stood behind her, his lips moving over her throat, the delicious scent of him all around her. It was so distracting that she missed the lock twice.

“It’s not that difficult, darling,” he hummed against her skin. “Just push it into the hole. Gently.”

“Gods, every word out of your mouth right now sounds like pure filth,” she gasped, her hand slipping yet again because she was thinking about things being pushed into holes. Her clumsiness elicited a dark chuckle from him.

“I can’t help it. All I can think about is your sweet ass rubbing against me. Open this door or prepare to be fucked against it.”

She did succeed then, and no thanks to him. They stumbled into the darkened room with Astarion carelessly kicking the door shut and Rosaleen somehow mustering the presence of mind to lock it. Though her brain was still soaking in bliss, she hadn’t forgotten that her roguish lover had managed to turn the tables on her, as he was wont to do. But she was more determined than ever to her plan.

In their love play, he was usually the seducer, the one controlling the field but also the one catering to her every need with mind-blowing attention. He enjoyed driving her out of her mind with pleasure, showering her with sweet adoration when she sang for him. There was no end to his creativity in bed, and she craved the hard, demanding side of him as much as she adored losing herself in his softer, gentle side.

And yet… there had been subtle signs that he might want something else from her. She couldn’t put it into words. It was inexplicable. But she had felt it during their intimate encounters when their bodies were joined in life’s oldest dance. Joined as one. It was like he struggled to let go of something, some last bit of… reluctance, or perhaps containment, but he didn’t quite remember how.

And since he couldn’t do it himself, he seemed to be reaching out to her instead. Between his shuddering breaths, she had heard a wordless whisper, a wish, a plea constantly calling her. The stronger their relationship became, the more intensely she perceived that feeling. And she recognized what it was, knowing it implicitly.

Tonight was about him. About giving him what he needed. But not without making absolutely sure that it was what he wanted.

Astarion’s hands were fumbling with the ties of her corset, loosening them impatiently, his mouth and teeth eating at her neck with increasing urgency. It was difficult to grasp a clear thought when he made such an effort, but somehow, Rose managed to lay a palm to his cheek, drawing his face away from her neck. His beautiful ruby irises were shadowed by the intricate mask he still wore, but she wanted to look into them unobscured. With a deft movement, she removed his black mask and discarded hers as well.

“Astarion, my love. Do you trust me?” The question made him go still and focus all his attention on her face. He seemed to sense that the answer was important since he didn’t mince words as he replied.

“Yes.”

She had never doubted his answer, but it was still incredibly reassuring to hear it spoken out loud. One word, enough to give her the courage to forge on.

“How would you feel about… letting me take the lead tonight?” His eyes went wide at first before turning dark with desire, suddenly glowing like red-hot embers.

“Keep going,” he whispered quietly.

Fingers splayed, her hand settled on his chest to exert the slightest bit of pressure, and he yielded to it instantaneously, letting her push him backwards until he hit the wall behind him. She felt his sharp intake of breath when his back connected with the solid wood.

“You know… there is freedom in surrender,” Rose dropped her voice to a low, seductive hum. “In letting go of control. I feel it every time I yield all of myself to you. When I let you hold me in your hands, trapped under your body, at your mercy. You could do anything you want to me. But I know you won’t. I know with every fibre of my being that I am safe.”

The melody of her bard’s voice had always had a fascinating effect on him. He stared at her like a man riveted, and the heart under her palm pounded fiercely against its cage.

“What does it feel like?” He sounded as if he might die of curiosity if she refused him an answer to this crucial question.

It seemed that her suspicions had been correct. This was what he needed. What he craved. But he couldn’t articulate it – perhaps it was too difficult, too shameful to ask for it himself. Perhaps he needed it to be offered to him freely.

“Like falling. Falling and being caught.” The words were intense. Earnest.

“Show me,” Astarion rasped, his eyes imploring. She searched his face for a long moment, looking for any sign of hesitation, unease, fear… but she found none.

Still, she asked, “Are you sure?”

He nodded at once before realizing she wanted him to say the words out loud.

“I’m sure. I want… I want to feel that freedom. The freedom of surrender.”

It was her heart’s turn to pick up a pace. Heat built between her thighs, a fire rekindled, burning even brighter than before. The thought of turning this wicked balance of power on its head made her wet, and she squeezed her legs together with a soft, audible exhale. But there was still one thing they needed to establish.

“I would never, ever want to do something you are not comfortable with, my love. So… if, at any point, you want to stop…”

“I know. I’ll say the word we talked about,” Astarion breathed, almost impatiently. He was shaking now, his hands spasming at his sides as if they couldn’t stay still.

“I’m yours.” His voice held no doubt, only keen anticipation. “Show me.”

Rosaleen grasped the lapel of his coat and pulled him down for a heated, messy kiss, her tongue sweeping into his mouth audaciously, licking up his delicious taste. When his arms lifted to wrap around her as if on instinct, she pulled back.

“There are a few rules to this, Astarion. Or, if you prefer it more in the language of law: these are my decrees, and you must abide by them.” There was a sharp intake of breath. Evidently, he was aroused by the commanding edge in her tone.

“What happens if I don’t?” he wanted to know, his eyes glued to the lascivious tilt of her lips.

“Such a consummate scoundrel you are, more interested in breaking the rules than obeying them. You should rather ask how I will reward you if you behave. Now… don’t move, love. And don’t touch. Be good and keep still for me,” she whispered, and a frustrated sound came from him in response.

But he obeyed, letting his arms fall to his sides as she ran her hands over his sculpted body. She opened the buttons on his elegant black tailcoat first, then the ones on the vest underneath, slowly pushing the heavy velvet off his shoulders.

Both garments fell to the ground at their feet, and Astarion scrutinised even the slightest motion of her fingers as she continued undressing him unhurriedly, revealing more and more of his formidable physique in the process. His breath started coming in short pants, every rush of warm air stirring the hair at the top of her head.

“Shh, it’s alright,” she soothed him, stroking a hand up his hard chest to touch the side of his throat while the other undid the buttons of his shirt one by one. His pulse fluttered and jumped against her fingers nervously. His lungs deflated when she drew aside the lapels of his shirt and swept her hand underneath the silk. His skin was cool and hard, all sinuous muscle and lean strength.

“I’ll take care of you, my dearest love.” Rose leaned in, her lips passing lightly over his smooth chest, showering him with reverent kisses. Her tongue flicked out to taste him, and she traced a slow path across the expanse of muscle to one of his nipples, teasing the sensitive spot with a swirling lick. His whole body jolted, a low whine pushing from his throat.

“You like it when I do that? The sound you made just now… Can you make it again for me? Perhaps if I do this…” she murmured, giving his nipple another fleeting lap before she closed her lips around it, sucking gently. Her fingers quested downward on his chest, dipping into the slight hollow beneath his breastbone and charting a trail over his taut stomach.

“Ah, Gods,” Astarion groaned as if in agony. His abdominal muscles were like slabs of finely cut marble, and she could feel his constant struggle to not move or touch as her fingers caught against each defined ridge. It rolled through him in waves, made him quake with the effort. His head fell back against the wall, throat rippling with a swallow. Had he ever looked more beautiful than now, suspended in raw desire, awaiting her next word as if it was the breath of life?

Rosaleen removed his shirt entirely, then turned around so her back was to him.  

“Undo the ties of my corset, dear.” His hands immediately attacked the complex arrangement of strings, but they were bereft of their usual dexterity. It took longer than they both liked, and when Rose felt the stiff corset around her ribcage loosen, Astarion’s fingers got diverted from their task. He fumbled with the silken bow again, yet it was just a pretence for trying to sneak a touch beneath the edge of the tight fabric. Trying to get to naked skin.

Without missing a beat, her tail came up to wrap around his wrists and pull him back decisively. That appendage was more muscular than many people believed, and she employed its strength now to successfully detain him, revelling in the frustrated whimper behind her.

“Sneaky rogue. I didn’t say anything about touching,” she managed a fond rebuke even though she burned with yearning to feel his hands on her. Being in this new role all of a sudden made her realize how much self-control it took to curb her own rising need. It was a different kind of thrill, powerful and altogether exhilarating.

“But I will allow you to watch. Just watch,” Rosaleen emphasised as she reached around to loosen the corset a bit more, which was easier now that he had done most of the work. Air rushed into her lungs freely, and she savoured the sensation for a moment before wiggling out of the stiff confines. Gods, it felt wonderful. She pulled the corset over her head and cast it aside, which left her upper body clad in nothing but a thin, strapless chemise. Her breasts were heavy and aching, nipples tingling from the lingering tightness of the stays.

Her tail was still wrapped around Astarion’s wrists, and he made no attempt to free himself even though he could have easily done so. She felt his fingers twitch, tendons drawing tight as if he was testing the limits of her hold, but more than that, she felt his excitement at watching her undress.

Rosaleen slowly removed the gauzy bit of cloth covering her breasts, and it joined the pile of clothes on the floor. Then she pulled the pins free from her intricate hairdo, letting the long, blush-pink curls cascade around her naked shoulders.

A backwards glance revealed that Astarion was staring at her now, devouring her with fever-bright eyes, his shallow breaths filling the heavy silence. She knew that he wanted nothing more than to touch her because he tried to slip from her grasp for real this time, unable to control himself apparently.

“If you keep disobeying me, I think I need to be much stricter with you,” Rose warned him. The grip of her tail instinctively squeezed around his wrists, and he made an inarticulate, raw, needy noise that sent a bolt of lust to her wet core. Well, this was new and… shocking.

Restraining him with her tail had been an unconscious reaction, and once she’d realized what she had done, she had expected him to say the word that would stop her. But he didn’t. He seemed to be… enjoying it, craving it even, judging by the escalation of his breaths, the tremble in his hands, the way his skin had warmed in these last few seconds alone.

“Turn around,” Astarion pleaded brokenly. “Turn around, love. I need to see you.”

Rosaleen didn’t give in to his plea, but instead took her time unbuttoning the silk skirt that had captivated him so completely earlier. She let it fall, revealing the stockings she had chosen with such care, and the pure white garter belt securing them in place.

“No… No, I don’t think so. I think you need to turn around. And put your hands against the wall so you don’t get distracted again,” she crooned, releasing his wrists. He gave a defiant growl in answer.

Rose looked over her shoulder at him, adding gently, “You won’t be disappointed, I promise.”

He did comply then, and as she turned around, she found him exactly as she had instructed. The sight of his bare back covered by the tapestry of harsh scars made her mouth go dry. Those corded ropes of muscle hugging his perfectly straight spine bunched almost violently as he pushed his hands against the wall. She stepped closer, reaching up to let her fingers trail a path over his tense shoulder, along the marble hardness of his bicep, following a prominent vein on his forearm.

She let him feel the brush of her puckered nipples over the scarred skin of his back, drawing something close to a sob from his lips when she kissed the ragged edges with exceeding tenderness. Her other hand sneaked down his abdomen to the waistband of his breeches. She opened the single button patiently, whispering soft praises into his damp skin.

“You’re doing wonderfully, my love. I think it’s time I rewarded you. Do you want me to touch here?”

As she spoke, she slipped her hand between his falls and grasped his cock without preamble. It was hot as burning coals, the velvety skin stretched taut over the steel-hard length of him.

“Fuck, yes –“ he gasped, bucking into her hand with a jerky, mindless thrust. She rubbed her thumb over the crown and barely held back a moan of her own when she felt how slick it was, leaking yet more pearly drops as she swiped once across the very tip. Another curse ripped from Astarion when she suddenly let go, but he went still as she readjusted their positions, pulling him back a little so there was enough space between his body and the wall for her to fit in the middle.

The moment she shifted into his field of view, his gaze raked over her body with such blatant, predatory lust that it felt like it had a physical force, like he was touching her with nothing but the crimson blaze in his eyes. Rosaleen saw his arms tense up as she kneeled before him and took off his boots one after the other, then pulled the pants down his legs and discarded them, leaving him completely naked. He was pushing against the wall so hard that every muscle had gone taut.

She smoothed her hands up his calves, widening her own stance as she briefly allowed him a full view. The thick, erect column of his cock was so close to her face, her mouth, that he had trouble holding himself in check. His hips made instinctive little movements, broken by the occasional shiver even though his skin was beaded with sweat now, filling the air between them with a heady blend of male lust and herbal spice.

“Please.” That one, small, desperate word was spoken with his smooth voice in tatters, the velvet gone, replaced by gravel and need. She had never known him to beg, and Gods, it was the strongest aphrodisiac she could imagine.

“Yes, love. But first… one more rule.” Rose gently caressed his trembling thighs, her gaze wandering from his weeping cock up to his gorgeous face. The line of his jaw stood in sharp contours, hard as hewn marble. He looked like he was in pain, but his eyes were almost unbearably intense, beseeching her to continue.

“Until I say otherwise: don’t move, don’t touch, and don’t come.”

Face slack, he gaped at her. His upper lip curled back from his teeth, revealing those sharp vampiric fangs. He seemed to have lost his words, and she continued stroking him in soothing circles.

“Don’t worry. I will help you. When you feel like you are getting too close…” She wrapped her fingers around the base of his shaft, lightly nuzzling her lips against the hot, tight skin before she went on, “I will sing for you, inspire you, incite you to hold yourself back. Because it will be all the sweeter if you do. How does that sound?”

“Yes,” he panted instantly. “Yes, Gods, yes. More. Please, more.”

The groan that left Astarion when she took the first taste of his cock was loud. She licked the wetness from the tip greedily, moaning as the musky flavour exploded on her tongue, and before she knew it, she had sucked the sensitive crown into her mouth, enveloping it in soft, wet warmth. A rush of elation flooded her, and she knew that between her legs, her cunt was dripping in anticipation of being filled with him.

But she had more important things to do first. Her mouth and tongue went to work on him with utter zeal, teasing the thin stretch of skin on the underside, then the pulsing vein further down his shaft as she leaned in to take more of him. With every inch she took, she worshipped him for his restraint, his willingness to surrender, his beautifully unhinged desire.

She praised him with long, languid strokes of her tongue, letting him slide in until he hit the back of her throat, holding him there for a lingering moment to savour the weight, the throb of his pulse against her lips. 

Astarion cried out above her in a high, frayed voice, and the thrilling sound mingled with the slap of his hand against the wall. She glanced up to see him staring down at her with an expression stripped of all civility. He was beside himself.

“More. Take more.” The words tumbled from his mouth, clipped and raw. But Rose stayed perfectly still, waiting.

“Please!” He burst out, shaking with need. “I’ve been good, haven’t I? I won’t move. I promise I won’t. Please, love, take me deeper.”

He had been good, all things considered. Though his thighs trembled with exertion and his lungs worked like bellows, his hips remained motionless. A bead of sweat rolled down his chin. His cock leaped against the roof of her mouth, more delicious drops seeping from the tip. How could she not reward him for such a magnificent display?

She no longer had the patience to tease him slowly, so she pulled away until his length almost fell from her mouth, and before his desperate whine had even faded, she came back. With each bob of her head, she took a bit more, swallowing around the overwhelming pressure, closing her eyes so nothing could distract her from the sensation of fullness.

A litany of crude expletives started spilling from his lips, interrupted by wordless moans and shaky breaths. She gripped his tight ass with one hand while her other sneaked to his balls, kneading them gently as her rhythm quickened. Her tail wrapped around his ankle, coiled upward to girdle his leg, and he went wild for that, spasming in her hold.

She was taking his entire length down her throat now, nose brushing soft, cool skin with each push. The essence of his lust filled her mouth, made her juices run down the insides of her thighs, made her hum ecstatically with the sheer, mad rush of it. She sucked on Astarion’s cock like she never wanted to stop, licked the pulsing flesh hungrily, felt it grow larger, harder, like it might burst.

“Sweet Hells – fuck, fuck,” he kept chanting brokenly, and she knew he was close to the edge, close to losing himself, close to shooting his release straight into her throat even though he wasn’t allowed to.

“Fuck, I… Help me, love. It’s too good. Gods, it’s heaven. I can’t –“

In response to her beloved’s beautiful prayers, her hum of elation rose in volume, gained substance like a fulminating storm, and became a melody replete with magic from deep within her. Rosaleen let it wash over him, let it infuse him with the power of her voice, and he uttered a hoarse shout as the spell struck him.

A tremor ran along the length of his body before every muscle turned to stone, even his balls tightening up in her hand. She pulled back abruptly and released his twitching cock from her mouth, though it kept lurching for a few moments as he battled to hold back his orgasm. And he succeeded. His lungs emptied of air, and his sinuous frame continued to shake like a leaf, but he had obeyed her rules. 

“So well-behaved…” Rosaleen murmured, rising to her feet slowly. “How are you feeling, my love?”

Tenderly, she caressed his tense features and wiped the sweat from his brow. She soothed him by stroking his damp hair and kissing his trembling lips. Astarion’s eyes fluttered shut, long lashes oscillating like a hummingbird’s wings.  

“In… Insane,” he rasped at her mouth. “Like going… crazy.”

“Poor darling,” she crooned. “Lie on the bed for me, handsome. You have earned yourself a recline.”

Astarion swallowed once, hard, before he staggered a step back, utterly bereft of his usual grace and poise. His movements were jerky and disoriented, but somehow, he ambled to the bed and slumped into it, breathing like he’d just run ten miles. She watched his chest rise and fall rapidly as he lay on the bed, his expression one of pained, unfulfilled desire, his swollen cock leaking pleasure all over his straining stomach.

His impatient, ravenous eyes followed her as she picked up the rumpled skirt and, with a decisive tug, ripped off the bow he couldn’t stop fondling all night. It unravelled into one long, blood-red strip of finest silk in her hands, which she held up before Astarion so he could see it clearly.

Rosaleen went to the bed and climbed over him, settling one leg on each side. Frantically, his gaze darted around on her body, so close but not touching, suspended above him as she rose higher on her knees. He couldn’t seem to decide where to look – her thighs, still clad in salacious stockings, her full breasts, her waist encircled by the white garter belt, or…

“Hells take me, you’re so wet… Dripping… Gods, that scent,” he groaned, his leer homing in on her cunt, spread out and shamelessly displayed before him. Without conscious thought it seemed, he licked his lips as if he was imagining his mouth on her, feasting on her as he had earlier that night.

“How can I not be when you make such beautiful sounds for me. Focus, dearest. The rules are still in place.” He’d started moving edgily under her, rolling his hips into the air, his hands sneaking closer to her legs. Rose reached for his face and grasped it gently, turning his attention back to her. He swallowed compulsively as she held up the silken ribbon.

“Be good and cut this in two for me.” She guided the fabric to his mouth, and he immediately parted his lips over it to bite down. There was a tearing sound as the razor-sharp fangs cut the silk like it was air, and his head gave a fierce jerk. She was left with two equally long strips of red silk, but searched his eyes carefully before she did anything else.

“You understand what I meant to show you, don’t you?”

“Yes,” he replied, his voice quiet but intense.

When she began tying his wrists to the solid bed frame above his head, she went deliberately slow, waiting for the word. It never came. First his left hand, then his right, until her gorgeous, pale lover was bound with beautiful silk. She left him a generous length of ribbon between the two knots so he would be able to bite through the restraints if it became too much.

He never protested, just stared at her like she was his whole world, his moon and stars, his goddess. Lust and love mingled into something brilliant, something inseparable in his ruby eyes. This unbelievable show of trust made her heart falter in her chest.

“Astarion…” she whispered, her eyes stinging. She blinked against the wave of emotion, her fingers intertwining with his, pressing his hands gently into the bedframe. He uttered a whiny moan when she shifted herself a little lower on him and her soaked cunt connected with his shaft.

And then, she gifted him with sweet, adoring words. How beautiful he was, how much she loved him, how his surrender set her aflame and soothed her simultaneously. How she longed to give him everything he wanted, read every wish from his lips, and lavish every part of him with her praise until he could no longer move a single muscle. She described the things she admired most, both the carnal ones and the more intangible secrets of his soul.

As Rosaleen composed this most beautiful of poems for him, her hands followed in the wake of her declarations. They feathered across his chest, danced over his collarbones, and swept down his flanks. She leaned in to catch his mouth with hers, revelling in the wild thrusts of his tongue. It was becoming difficult for him not to move, now more than ever.

When her nipples rubbed lightly against his smooth, damp skin, his hips bucked up uncontrollably, and there was a harsh pull on his restraints. She was momentarily side-tracked by the gorgeous play of tendons and muscles as his arms tensed, then relaxed again. Between their long, open-mouthed kisses, Astarion huffed out ragged pleas, each of them more frantic than the last.

“Rose. Love. Please… Let me… Inside. I need to feel you. I’m losing my mind. All evening… Please, I can’t think about anything else. Just you… Inside you… Need to come inside you.”

She had never seen him this needy, this desperate for her. It was godsdamn glorious, and her resolve was eroding swiftly at the thought of riding his cock until he was a whimpering mess.

“Can you hold yourself back for me one more time, darling?” she asked, withdrawing when he tried to nibble at her lower lip. Panic flashed in his eyes.

“I… I can try. I will try.” He didn’t sound convinced, but it was the effort that counted.

“Good boy. So eager to please. I will help you again. And what’s more… I will give you strength.”

Pulling back a little, Rose brought her wrist to his trembling lips, and he threw her a look of pure, staved need.

“Drink, dearest. It’s alright. Have your fill.” The instant she gave her permission, his teeth broke the thin skin and pierced the artery underneath. She felt a familiar thrill as her blood spilled into his mouth, the loss of it leaving her light-headed and ecstatic at the same time. Even though it must have taken every shred of his self-control, Astarion drank just enough to bolster his strength.

He seemed so mindlessly bent on pleasing her that it overruled everything else. His teeth retreated, replaced by the hungry lap of his tongue across the inside of her wrist, and she let him lick the small puncture wounds until they stopped bleeding.

A soft glow came to his eyes, only discernible because the room was so dimly lit, but it made her stomach flutter, nevertheless. Gently, she wiped the tiny red drop from the corner of his mouth, feeling his length swell against her heated core.

“Inside,” Astarion begged again. He looked delirious. Drunk. Exquisite. “Need to be inside. Please.”    

She straightened above his quivering body and reached one hand between them to align his rigid shaft with her opening. Her tail looped once around his muscular thigh, the flared tip gently brushing his balls, teasing him mischievously. For a long, breathless moment, she let the thick crown of him rest against her entrance, and their gazes locked on to each other like two dragons mating in full flight.

A helpless sob was torn from him when she started lowering onto his cock, her channel so slick and tight around him that she could barely concentrate on anything but the sheer satisfaction of it. He quaked with the staggering effort it took to keep still. His fingers flexed and stretched incessantly. The bedframe gave a dangerous creak as he tested the limits of the bindings. Wave after wave of tremors passed through his body.

“Gorgeous darling. No chains could ever hold you, could they? Look at you, powerful as a young god. A wild god. Held back by nothing but that last shred of your own control. You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen,” she praised him, her voice throaty with passion. He whined desperately in response, but it was cut off when she completed her descent, his cock sheathed to the root inside her channel.

“Hah, fuck! Oh dear merciful Gods –“  Nothing intelligible followed his harsh exclamation. The sounds he made were stripped of inhibition. Words were beyond him. He moaned more loudly than she had ever heard him, without shame, a symphony of agonizing bliss. She started rolling her hips, started rising and falling in one endless, continuous cycle of motion, her cunt already so sensitive that her vision wavered a little.

“Gods, you’re hard. I’m filled to bursting,” she gasped. “Does it feel good?”

“Yesss,” Astarion hissed, the white of his clenched teeth flashing.

His face was a picture of stark, unadulterated want, and it spurred her on to increase the pace, to brace her palms against his chest as she fucked herself with his cock, chasing after bliss with every sharp descent of her hips. He was unravelling beneath her within minutes, tearing at his bindings like an animal, tendons leaping, breath slamming in his lungs. Close, so close to the edge.

“Sing, sing, sing!” he begged, his voice pitching high, the last chanted plea coming out as a breathless howl. She did. A hoarse, euphoric melody rose from her throat, and the spell spilled from her hands, hitting him like a lightning bolt. She went still above him but kept his shaft lodged entirely inside her heat, making it just so much harder for him to grapple back his climax.

He sagged back into the restraints with his mouth hanging open, his eyes glazed, unfocused. Needy little whimpers burst from him, and she thought she might have heard her name between half-formed, utterly filthy words and garbled implorations.

“Rose… Please, I can’t. I need to… Need to…”

She started moving again, and he jolted beneath her, his cock throbbing.

“Do you feel like falling, my love? Like you are floating between heaven and hell, between the sky and the sea? Do you feel how I embrace you, hold you so tightly? Do you want to let go?”

Her voice washed over him in a soothing, affectionate whisper this time, a caress on his heated skin, a balm on aching bones. She rocked herself on him languidly, welcoming him into the very core of her, inviting him to lose himself in her body, her soul, her love. Astarion’s next words seemed to be pulled from some unfathomable depth within him, freed at long last.

“Yes… Please, yes. Let me fall… Catch me…”

There was a moment of silence as the world stood still around them. A moment where something was lost forever, and something infinitely more precious took its place.

Time to let go.

Rosaleen’s body strained at the fleeting, inexplicable sensation, gooseflesh racing across her skin as she looked deep into her lover’s eyes.

“Move,” she spoke the single word on a fierce snap of her hips, and he bucked up into her with a shout then and there. His thighs were impossibly tense as he started thrusting like his life depended on it, like he would perish if he didn’t get as deeply inside her as he could possibly go.

Chills skipped down her spine, but her second command emerged with absolute determination.

“Touch.”

Astarion reared up, and her own looming climax almost overwhelmed her at the sight of his teeth effortlessly ripping through the silk ribbon. Before she could even blink, his hand closed around her arm in an iron grip, and he tugged her forward, pulled her down against him, flattened her to his chest almost violently. The thunder of his heartbeat pounded through her ears like a war song played out on a hundred frantic drums. His hips were moving in a dizzying staccato rhythm, the shudders of his body making hers bounce and shake along with him.

He held her there, her small frame draped over his much larger one, forcing her to feel the abandoned, animalistic, uncivilized creature she had unleashed from inside him. He fucked her until she saw stars, until Rose thought she might be flung out of her body on his next thrust. Gripping her by the hair, he panted raggedly into her mouth, his breath like an inferno pouring into her soul.

“Begging you… The last one. Give me… the last one. Release me.”

His hand suddenly let go of her hair and dropped to her ass, clutching the flesh fiercely, trapping her against him. She barely had time to coil her tail around his arm before he impaled her with a swift, deep, explosive thrust that knocked both the air and her last command from her throat.

“Come!” Her reedy cry mingled with his long, drawn-out moan. Astarion pushed into her, possessed her, claimed her. She pushed back with just as much ferocity, just the same amount of unbridled need. Her mind flew, her body tensed. Every muscle drew tight, every nerve sang. Her orgasm was like a rolling wheel of fire, and she convulsed uncontrollably around his cock, her ears ringing with her own screams.

Or perhaps they were his screams. He was falling, coming apart, his climax crashing into him like an unstoppable comet. It devastated him. The hot flood of his seed filled her cunt, and somehow, inexplicably, she felt him let go of everything, giving all that he was over into her keeping. His voice broke, fading into a sob of pure relief.  

There is freedom in surrender.

Rose didn’t know if it was minutes or hours before they came back to themselves. Astarion lay beneath her, utterly spent, boneless. His abundant release was dripping past his hilted shaft, adding to the glorious mess they’d made. She would have to clean the sheets herself if she wanted to avoid scandalizing the chambermaids.

At some point, Astarion’s chest rumbled under her ear as he said hoarsely, “Darling… Could you take off the… For the life of me, I can’t move. Or maybe I don’t want to.”

Instantaneously, she reached up to undo the silk binding around his left hand, and his arm slumped limply onto the mattress. The hand he had freed earlier quested lightly over the curve of her spine, tracing the sharp ridges that became more prominent further down. Her skin was as soft as a human’s in many places, but always interspersed with the defined contours of her hell-born heritage. With a content sigh, Astarion rubbed his cheek against her furrowed horn and tenderly kissed her sweaty forehead.

“I love you,” he murmured, and her heart did a little backflip inside her chest.

“And I love you,” Rosaleen breathed happily.

And because he was nothing if not a shameless rake, Astarion continued, “I think this commanding new side you displayed today will become my obsession. I might need to be destroyed by your wicked voice on a daily basis.”

She giggled, blushing a deep scarlet at his words. “I was so nervous to say or do anything you didn’t enjoy…”

“You were incredible, my love,” he whispered softly, tilting her chin up until his gorgeous face came into full view. The red of his eyes glittered with profound affection. “And you were right. There is freedom in surrender, in falling and being caught by you.”

Their lips met, moving against each other with slow, savouring motions, each kiss a languid sip from a delicious elixir, each soft brush an exchange of tenderness. Eventually, Astarion let his head sink back into the pillows, a curious expression coming to his face. He looked almost speculative.

“I have a feeling that you planned this for a while. But there’s still one thing I can’t quite figure out. You’re such a gentle soul, my love. Where did you learn to be so ruthlessly, lasciviously commanding?”

She flashed a devilish grin at him. “I asked Shadowheart and Lae’zel to teach me.”

Astarion’s eyes went wide as saucers.

“Not like that!” Rosaleen burst out laughing. “Get your mind out of the gutter, you lewd vampire. I just asked them for a bit of advice on how to…”

“Wreck a man?” he supplied sweetly.

“Yes. Exactly.”

One of his brows curled dubiously. “But how would they know? I thought…”

“Please, those two continually wreck men between them,” Rose gave him a suggestive wink. “See, Lae’zel commands with authority. Shadowheart commands with praise. So, I took the best of both and laid my trap. I wanted to reduce you to an incoherent mess. I still had a few bardic inspirations in me, you know…” She trailed away pensively.

There was a mixture of awe, disbelief, and shock on Astarion’s face as he stared down at her.

“Good Gods, Rose. You’re… you’re diabolical,” he uttered with a hint of concern.   

“But… you love it, right?” Rosaleen asked, glancing at him uncertainly. Astarion didn’t answer right away, but instead rolled them over so she was on her back under him, his weight pressing her down into the mattress. A mad thrill coursed through her.

“I do,” he murmured lazily. “But… If we are going to play this game, we will be taking turns. It’s only fair, darling. And now… it’s your turn to be worked into an incoherent mess. Yes?”

“Y-yes,” she managed breathlessly.

“Sing for me,” Astarion cajoled.

She did. For the rest of this beautiful, intimate night where they had discovered something entirely new about each other, she sang for her beloved. And he never tired of it.