helluvamess | [tlv] character inbox

"Extremely," he says. "Just because I can sew doesn't mean I want to be putting my clothes back together after every assignation."

He steps back, loosens the lace at the throat of his shirt, then pulls the whole thing off over his head. From this angle, at least, he doesn't have a mark on him. His skin is pale and flawless.

Ok, he's seen Astarion fight and the little he has gotten from the man made him reasonably confident that Astarion isn't unfamiliar with combat either. So the lack of scars does surprise him a little.

"Either you've got some vampire type healing bullshit or you're the luckiest fucker in fights I've ever seen. Buuuut I'm guessing it's something like the first one?"

Maybe like Johann even, healing so fast it's almost like a race to see how many marks could be made before they vanished.

Blitzø removes his own coat and gloves with a lot less care, his choker the main item he cares enough about to set carefully on a table before losing his shirt and boots too. His own skin is a mottling of scars, stark white against red and scattered across his body.

"Vampire type healing bullshit," he agrees - to say nothing of the extremely noticeable scarring on his back, but there's no need to turn around right now. He's not sure if the white patches of skin on Blitzø are scar tissue or just some natural variation for imps where he's from.

He sits down on the end of the bed, eliminating the height difference and then some.

"Not half bad, darling," he murmurs.

"Soooo~" Blitzø jumps up on the bed, putting him at eye-level with Astarion properly and letting him reach out to drag a claw down his chest. Not hard enough to break skin, but testing what response that might get.

"Does that mean you like it rougher than normal or what? Cause I've stabbed and made out with some kinky fucks so it's not off the table."

"I'm not as fast a healer as I used to be, and I'm not washing blood out of these sheets," he drawls - then tilts his head, expression softening. "What about you, darling? How can you lose yourself?"

"Oh, me? I'm usually the one in charge." He says it almost dismissively; the idea of what he would like instead of catering to someone else's tastes is a little odd still, and too close to losing control. Since he's spent most of his life trying to ensure he's got some measure of control and freedom to do what he likes, giving it up feels unsettling.

Nope, better to try and distract Astarion from any of that shit by leaning in to kiss him, all sharp teeth and a long forked tongue.

Hm. Astarion kisses him with intensity and skill, his own fangs sharp and his tongue hungry, but he's good enough at multitasking that he's not exactly distracted. He is, at least, very aware that the answer he got wasn't to the question he asked.

He runs his cool hands over Blitzø's chest, his arms, mapping out the texture of his skin and the lines of his body.

It's definitely different than kissing other humans, not the same as imps or other demons either. The fangs are pretty fucking hot in his opinion, though he knows better than to push too hard and risk spilling blood - he doubts demons taste anything close to good.

The wandering hands earn an appreciative noise and Blitzø climbs onto Astarion's lap properly to wrap his tail around the vampire's chest and bury a hand his hair and give an investigative tug.

Astarion makes a smothered sound against Blitzø's mouth and pulls back just a fraction, a crooked smile tugging at his lips.

"Darling. Do you want to play rough, or is that just what you're used to?"

He blinks at Astarion's question, confusion crossing his face in a brief flicker before he firmly squashes it back down.

"Is that what you want?" His tail curls a little tighter, the spade curling to trace patterns against Astarion's chest.

"Or you like it better if I treat you right?"

Astarion lifts his eyebrows and does him the favour of cutting to the heart of the matter.

"You don't have very much sex that's meant to make you feel good, do you?"

Blitzø stares at him for a moment, blinking as Astarion, rather rudely, points out exactly what he's avoiding dwelling on.

"I mean, does it matter?"

Mmmm.

Astarion delicately trails his fingers to the tip of Blitz's tail.

"It does if you're fucking someone who wants you to have a good time."

Astarion's touch sends a shudder through him, and Blitzø's tail loosens from his chest and winds around his wrist instead. Weighing up what Astarion is asking, Blitzø lightly trails his claws down the vampire's neck and shoulders, idling following the lines of muscle as a way of avoiding direct eye contact.

"I guess most of it's been about other people but that's like, making deals and shit in Hell. There's this royal fucking asshole prince back there, we meet up every full moon and I fuck his brains out in return for a magic book of his. That answer your question?"

"...It does," Astarion murmurs.

Though it does put them at something of an impasse.

"Do you know what you like, when you're not just...wringing whatever you can out of other people's pleasure?"

This is weirdly more effort than he usually has to put into this shit, and Blitzø resigns himself to actually trying to think about what Astarion is asking him.

"I guess I like you, otherwise I wouldn't fucking be here without getting something else out of it." If there's a greyish flush to his face, he does his best to ignore it.

"Don't try and do any fucking emotions, crap. I mean you're hot, that's all. If you want to get rough with me, that's fine, but I don't heal fast or anything. I've been handcuffed, tied down, done a bunch of different drugs, wax, ice, electricity... fuck probably a bunch of shit that you've never even heard of so I guess it's hard to think what you can't do to me."

Which is... not what Astarion asked either. "Pleasure's pleasure. I don't wanna be sitting here trying to fucking rank what gets me off hardest. I'll be fine, sparkles. Being smaller doesn't make me fucking breakable."

"Of that, darling, there was never any doubt."

Emotions indeed. Pffft.

He leans in and kisses him again, reaching down to unfasten the imp's trousers, already palming him through the material with his other hand.

"Fuck, there you go, was starting to think I'd have to walk you through it."

Which is as much from his own relief as it is teasing Astarion as he returns the kiss, his tail releasing the vampire's wrist to curl back around his chest and stroke the spade over his nipple. Blitzø otherwise busies his own hands with sliding down Astarion's back towards his ass.

This is where Blitzø will encounter something odd, the ridges of scar tissue in a configuration which doesn't make sense in the context of any injury. Astarion shivers involuntarily - some patches are numb, some hypersensitive - and then pulls back from the kiss, taking Blitzø by the hips to turn him bodily and press him back-down onto the mattress.

"Slide up, my dear, give me some space." Enough room to pull the rest of his clothes off and get in between his legs.

He's felt scar tissue before, seen a lot of it over the years, but the shape doesn't quite make sense under his fingers, almost too neat and uniform for an injury from combat, and it doesn't make sense with what Astarion had said about his healing. But the question turns into a surprised curse as he's lifted and moved to where Astarion wants him, and Blitzø reaches up to drag a pillow down behind his head to avoid his horns digging too much into the mattress.

The scars aren't forgotten about, but he gets the sense from Astarion's reaction that it might be a mood killer to bring them up now, and so he doesn't, just lazily grins up at him as he helps kick off the rest of his clothing and sprawls without a shred of shame.

"Hope you're not planning on making this all one-sided. Or do I need to flip you over to get those pants off?"

"Maybe later," Astarion says, then lowers his head and takes Blitzø's cock into his mouth.

No great surprise that if you don't need to breathe and have two centuries of practice, you're going to be fucking tremendous at giving head.

"Fuuuck..." Astarion is definitely better than most anyone Blitzø has been with for a while. He sucks cock well enough to put succubi out of work, and Blitzø fights the urge to grab his hair and manhandle him as he would Stolas, in part because he feels Astarion doesn't like it and also because you don't fuck around with an artist doing their work.

Instead he settles for digging his claws into the bedding, figuring repairing it later is fair trade enough for what the pale vampire is currently doing to him, and watching him with half-lidded eyes.

"Satan-dammit, do you not fucking need to breathe?" Another full-body shudder and his tail flicks as it's pretty clear that the answer is 'no'. "Christ, you sure you're not from the Lust ring?"

Astarion makes an amused humming sound - a little extra vibration, why not? - and opens his eyes, red gaze dragging up Blitzø's body to his face.

The practical benefits of doing this are very few, if they exist at all. Having sex entirely for fun is alien to him; he knows people do it and he's sure he used to himself, once, but that's been long since forgotten. So why is he doing this, now?

Hard to imagine.

He bobs his head a few leisurely times before sinking his head all the way down, his nose pressing to the imp's stomach. He swallows around him.

Hooves are not great for traction on bedsheets, which is possibly a good thing as Astarion fucking hums and Blitzø struggles not to immediately try to get his cock as far down the vampire's throat as possible. Fortunately Astarion at least has some level of mercy in him as takes him deep a moment later, and there's a tearing sound as Blitzø's claws ventilate the bedsheets.

"Sorry, I'll fix it after--" he manages, although it's swiftly overtaken by a bitten-off curse.

He pushes himself up more on his elbows, if only to make it easier to watch as Astarion swallows around him and hiss under his breath at the sight.

"Fuck me, you keep this up and I'll be apologising for cutting this too short too."

There's the barest hint of a smile at the corners of Astarion's stretched lips, his eyes creasing at the corners. Sounds fine to him.

He slides easily into a rhythm, stroking Blitzø's shaft with his lips and tongue, taking a few moments to focus his attentions at the tip, before deep-throating him again.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject