helluvamess | [tlv] character inbox

[tlv] character inbox

"If you're hearing this then I can't be fucked answering right now or some other shit-covered fuckwich is going down on this boat so I'll get back to you when the fuck I can!"

---

[The door to Blitzø's cabin looks like a typical shitty apartment door. Inside is pretty much exactly a shitty apartment. The door marked "Loona's room" does not open when tried and it appears that Blitzø himself sleeps on the couch. The walls are covered with images and drawings of horses, however every picture of Blitzø has his face scribbled over.]

[text/audio/video/action]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only | Expand All

He's stronger than Astarion might have guessed from the thin limbs, the small body - but he's a whole other race, of course. And he's not about to complain when he's so richly benefiting.

The harder thrusts, the snug curl of Blitzø's tail around his cock, the sound of their bodies colliding; it's good, it's all so fucking good, and he just lets his mind go blank. He doesn't need to think, doesn't need to consider what happens next, doesn't need to wonder if he's being good enough. He can just drown in sensation and let the imp fuck any intrusive thoughts out of his head.

He rocks against him, deliberately tightening up around him, moaning on each thrust.

He's rapidly starting to approach the point of no return where it's so, so tempting to just say fuck it and proceed to see if he could fuck Astarion hard enough to leave an impression in the mattress. But there's that weird sense of something off somehow, like Astarion isn't quite present in some way, that's... worrying.

Mentally cursing because it would be so much easier if he didn't give a fuck, Blitzø slows and stills himself as much as possible.

"Hey, Astarion... gimme a colour real quick. Green?"

Astarion blinks a couple of times, trying to find words. Colour? Nope. He's read through a couple of Earth books on kink but nothing is connecting right now.

"I'm fine, darling - don't stop, please."

He rolls his hips, fluid and needy.

Well it's an answer, even if he'll have to make a note to talk about the colour thing with Astarion just to be sure in the future. But right now that needy reassurance was more than enough and Blitzø grips Astarion's hips tighter, fucks into him with a sharp snap of his hips and works to reclaim the pace again. This time he doesn't hold back when he feels the need to press into him harder, rutting his hips as though he could manage to get just a little further inside Astarion this way, the vampire's cock caught between them and his tail squeezing it rhythmically.

He only manages it for a moment or two before the pattern comes undone as Blitzø himself does, his hips stuttering as he comes and his fingers digging into the meat of Astarion's ass.

Astarion shivers all over at the sensation of it, the heat, the way Blitzø's cock twitches inside him as he comes. It's good, it's simple, it's easy. Even when he's been sleeping with John lately he's caught himself overthinking, wondering if he's getting in too deep, if there's something alien and emotional slipping in at the edges of their arrangement - but this is just pure pleasure for its own sake, and it's not something he's used to.

He reaches down to stroke rapidly at the head of his cock and comes a few moments later, with a silent gasp, the mess of it getting on both their stomachs.

There's a moment that feels much longer than it is where they both stay like that, locked together with Blitzø breathing heavily as he feels his cock slowly softening and the cooling come on their skin. He exhales and withdraws from Astarion slowly, easing the vampire's hips back down and sitting up to check that he hasn't left any inadvertent puncture marks.

It's tempting to just curl up now, but Blitzø makes himself slide off of the bed, well aware if he follows that instinct he likely won't move for a while. Although if Astarion is worried, he also makes his intentions clear.

"This place better have a fucking towel for you. Do vampires drink water by the way?"

Astarion stretches, arching his back, curling and flexing his feet. The aftershocks of orgasm run through him pleasantly.

"There's towels in the bathroom," he murmurs, tucking a hand behind his head. "I can drink water but it doesn't really do anything for me."

There's towels and a face cloth, which is even better, and when Blitzø returns he sets a glass of water down for himself and takes a moment to clean them both up a bit before giving in to the desire to lay down. He curls on his side next to Astarion, his tail curling loosely against the vampire's leg.

"Can't fucking help with any other kinds of rehydration so hope you don't need that." Not that getting bitten by a vampire wouldn't be hot in the right situation, but he's pretty sure demon blood is not among the recommended food groups.

Astarion does not submit to being cleaned, but instead takes the cloth to fix himself up. It's an odd kind of intimacy he's nowhere near accepting from a one-time partner. He does, however, let his hand slip down to stroke a thumb along Blitzø's tail.

"No, not at all. Considerate of you, though."

The devil hadn't really struck him as someone likely to be a thoughtful lover, and he'd gone into this not expecting one. He's not sure if it's a pleasant surprise or not.

He just shrugs. "Not exactly any fun for future rounds if you end up too wrung out to get it up."

He will help himself to a sip of the water before settling down, because while he probably could keep going if Astarion wanted, it's also nice to just chill.

"So, never heard of the colour thing?"

"Mm? No," he says, unconcerned. "It rings a bell, I might have encountered it in a book at some point? But not in the heat of any particular moment."

"Makes sense." He tilts his head, still watching Astarion relaxing, looking for anything that might mean he's not entirely comfortable here.

"It's a thing to check in while you're, you know, fucking someone's brains out. Or anything like that where someone might not be ok. Green is good, red is bad, orange is slow it down."

He scratches his chin absently. There'd definitely been times in the past where he could have used this kind of information himself, so it feels a little dumb telling Astarion now but he's... a little worried.

"Listen, I don't give a fuck if you want me to rail you until you lose yourself, but I need to know that you're fine with it too. And if anyone keeps going after you've wanted to stop or called red, I'll fucking shoot them myself."

Astarion has some other questions now (why those colours? are these used instead of a safeword, or alongside it?) but that's something to look up on his own time.

When Blitzø goes on to offer to - protect him? - his lips twist into a joyless smile, but he doesn't laugh. That didn't go down well when he was accused of being a prude, after all.

"I'm fine with it, darling. More than fine. Thank you."

He doesn't believe that for a second but it's Astarion's choice if he wants to say anything more about it. Instead he curls on his side again, facing Astarion but not touching him beyond the light brush of his tail.

"So do you talk or sleep or want me to fuck off? I'm not good at this whole... after thing."

Astarion does laugh, now, but there's more relief to it than anything.

"Gods, neither am I. I was going to go - I don't really sleep anyway."

He gently dislodges Blitzø's tail and then sits up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

"Oh thank Satan. Usually I sneak out when they fall asleep but that wouldn't have fucking worked here."

Usually... after staying a while enjoying the stupid fantasy that he could stay if he wanted. Like it could ever mean anything. At least here there's some reassurance in the fact that they don't have to pretend.

He lets Astarion get up first, watching the way he moves... and then seeing those marks. He lets out a low whistle.

"That's fucking detailed work. Must have taken a while."

"...One long night."

He rolls his shoulders.

"I don't suppose you can read it? It's Infernal. The language of the Hells, where I come from."

There's a temptation to make a crude joke, but he's still feeling pleasantly relaxed and can't really come up with anything good, so just shakes his head.

"Fuck no, we speak the same shit humans do, since so many of the fuckers are down there. Wouldn't have even known it was another language if you hadn't said.

"What's it mean, wrong way, please turn over?"

Astarion coughs a laugh.

"Ha. No. It's part of a contract, between my former vampiric master and the archdevil Mephistopheles. The simple exchange of my soul and thousands more besides, for power beyond the imagining of any vampire preceding him."

He hasn't told anyone this. He hasn't even told John. Why is he telling the imp, now? No fucking idea. Maybe he's just tired.

The idea of a 'contract' makes his lip curl to begin with; all the rage in Hell, especially among sinners who at least had souls to trade with, they rarely meant anything good. The fact that Astarion didn't even agree to this though...

"Wait a minute, why the fuck do you have the mark if someone else made the deal?"

"The scars tie me to a ritual." Astarion gets off the bed and starts fishing around for his clothes. "The Rite of Profane Ascension. Myself and my six 'brothers and sisters' became the means of channelling its power, through these marks."

"Six..." Of fucking course. He groans and jumps off the bed himself to get dressed. "Satan's ass, what the fuck is with Hell and the number 7?"

It's probably a coincidence but he does wonder if there's some connections between the different Hells. Not enough to really dig into it but still.

"Still think that your shitstain master should have been included in it if he wanted it that fucking bad." Pants on and in the process of pulling on a boot, he pauses to look back up at Astarion.

"Guess at least here that shit won't happen?"

"He was halfway through it when I got here. Which is how I got here," he adds, as he slides back into his trousers.

"...My plan was to replace him. Kill his lackeys, overpower him, and repay the kindness he did me at the tip of a blade. Force him to take my place in the ritual and take the power he was promised."

Honestly that plan? Sounds perfectly fucking reasonable to him. Blitzø doesn't even seem concerned about the massive cost of life that would still entail.

"You think if you graduate you can go back and do that?"

Astarion is fairly sure that murdering seven thousand strangers in cold blood isn't graduation-compliant, but he doesn't point that out.

"My warden claims that if I graduate, I won't have to. I can use his deal for anything I want."

[tlv] character inbox

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

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)