[ Astarion falters for a moment, his rehearsed routine thrown off by her question. He can genuinely say that, out of all of the hundreds of people he's bedded, he's never been asked to do an impression. (Well, not that sort of impression, anyway.)
Ever flexible, he picks up again after a moment, grinning impishly. Unfortunately for Nepione, the unexpectedness of her question means he has to rely more on his actual personality than his fabricated fantasy one. ]
'Oh, Astarion. I want you. I need you. Let's incorporate this idol of Selûne into our carnal relations.'
[Despite the way she's flushing so hotly, her laughter is so genuine, so real that she might wonder how long it's been since she's really let herself laugh like that. Burying her face into his shoulder momentarily, she grins.]
No.
[She waits until she can marginally piece herself back together before she continues.]
That's definitely not happening. Well—Perhaps the first part. Definitely not the second. That's like a very hands-on approach to blasphemy. I'm not certain that's what Selûne means when she's spreading messages of love and tolerance. Unless... you're concerned that the rest of you is not as pleasing as an idol of Selûne.
[See, she can definitely make naughty euphemism jokes.]
[ Oh, what a shame. A little blasphemy would really have spiced things up. ]
Trust me, I've had no complaints.
[ A little bit of ego flaring up again. He takes great pride in his appearance — all aspects of his appearance. Selûne can eat her heart out, as far as he's concerned.
He tugs on her hand again, guiding her onto land before urging her down with a hand on her shoulder. There's plenty of things that could be done standing, but he doesn't savor the idea of kneeling in front of someone; he'd rather them both on the ground, where he can at least feel some sense of power. ]
Lay back and let me take care of you, and I'll have you blaspheming yet.
[He earns one more short huff of amusement from her. No, she'll wager he hasn't. Even if he has, he'd never admit to it. He's much too proud. Much too vain. Possessing either of those, however, is not a crime, though she's also inclined to say that there's more to him than both.
She doesn't need a great deal of hinting. At least none more than he's already giving her. She lowers herself, keeping her attention on him as she does, and in the same way he's tugged her hand to encourage her to follow him, she repays him in kind, a careful pull as she modestly posits herself. Or as modestly as she can. Old habits die hard.
"...let me take care of you."
In this instance, it's only carnal in nature, but those words are so foreign. No one else has ever said them to her before. It leaves her with a very curious feeling.]
You're certainly not humble, are you. We shouldn't attract any undue attention.
[ She's right. Humility is for boring, ugly people, neither of which Astarion is.
He looms over her like a predator eyeing its prey, pressing a finger to her lips and saying, ] Then I suppose you'll just have to be very quiet.
[ It's a line — perhaps one of his cheesier ones — but it seems the sort of line to drive a repressed cleric mad with lust, he thinks. Quite frankly, he doesn't give a rat's ass who hears, but she clearly does, and that sort of thing does tend to flame the desires of the inhibited. ]
[She would venture to say that sometimes it's not necessarily what Astarion says that garner's reaction, but rather how he says it. Much the way it does in the moment that finger presses upon her lips. Or maybe it's the way he's looking at her. A combination of all of the things, perhaps. It is possible, likely even, that she is a touch weaker to him than she's thought.
Playfully, she snaps her teeth at his finger, but it lasts only a moment before she puckers her lips instead.]
I will be only as quiet as I feel is necessary.
[She murmurs it, but of course, that likely won't happen. There's a point at which she won't care anymore. Lifting a hand, she reaches for the curve of his neck, tracing claw along its turn with an unspoken appreciation. He's more than just handsome, which she's admitted to already. He's actually quite beautiful. Easier to see it now when she lets herself do so than trying to be wilfully oblivious.
Or ignorant.]
I could be persuaded otherwise. As we've already noticed. Apparently Selûnite discipline crumbles a touch in the face of brazen vampire spawn.
[ He doesn't waste time getting to work, sweeping kisses down her neck, her sternum. Her body is flushed with heat, a not unpleasant feeling against his own eternally cool skin. There's something novel — perhaps almost charming — about the living; they're warm, messy. Hard to believe he used to be the same, once. ]
Oh, a few contrite prayers and your lady will forgive your transgressions, [ he says before pressing his mouth to the plane of her stomach.
That's all gods care about, isn't it? Showing proper reverence? In truth, Astarion thinks Selûnite discipline — and any other form of religious self-denial — is a load of crock, but he doesn't dare spoil the moment with that opinion. ]
[It really takes little for him to draw shudders out of her. It would be very easy to lose her focus in him. In the feeling itself. That is likely the point, to make someone like her stop thinking so much.]
...Do... you think so?
[It barely leaves her. Quiet and hushed. She's clearly distracted by sensation, the little ripples that he's left atop an otherwise undisturbed, pristine self. There is something about the sight of him, the press of lips atop her skin. Her hands draw down against her frame and with some care, she threads one's hold into the curls of his pale hair, as white as a full moon. Her other blindly traces the line of his jaw before she carefully dusts touch along the edge of his ear.
It comes as no surprise to her that she wants to actively touch him. That is the way she is. Touch is an important thing to her, though he would surely laugh if she said any such thing.]
[ Her touch is very gentle, nonthreatening. It doesn't feel bad at all. He doesn't quite know what to do with that information, so he files it away uninspected. There will be time for navel-gazing later.
For now, he continues his journey towards his destination, splaying a hand out over the surface of her stomach as he trails down her hip, her thigh, dragging his fangs just lightly enough over her skin to excite her without exciting his hunger. ]
I think I'm the only one who needs to hear your pleas right now.
[Her breath softly catches. There it is. A little flutter of anxiety wrapped in pleasure. Alarmingly, she likes the sensation of his teeth more than she feels she ought to. Like a little threat that isn't a threat at all, but she almost wishes it was. She shifts beneath the attention, not nearly enough to disturb him. Just enough that he deserves to know that he has an effect on her. He's earned that, at the very least.]
...Astarion.
[Simply because she wants to say it. It sounds lovelier like this when she does, coloured by something that is not quite affection, but somewhere between that and desire. A sort of passion that she's more comfortable keeping to herself. She draws her lower lip beneath her teeth for just a moment, trying to ignore the way the colour in her features deepens.
She leaves the one hand in his hair. The other traces touch up over his wrist and across the back of his hand that he's spread atop her stomach, gently gripping. If she were braver, she'd slide her fingers between his, but not yet. Not yet. Humble or not, he makes her want.]
[ It feels good, having such an effect on her. Powerful. In theory, at least, he has the control to give pleasure and take it away. He presses another kiss to her inner thigh, deliberately withholding of anything further. ]
[Lightly, perhaps just a little playfully, she swats his hand gently after issuing a soft hum. He really is too much. Or just enough. Enough that she can say she genuinely enjoys this.]
Even now— [She begins, unable to keep a smile from creeping into her features.] —you're teasing me. What have I done to deserve this? Is this a punishment for being on good behaviour?
[Because she could believe that. But she suspects it's more that he wants to hear her ask for it. To do that thing she told him she would not do—beg. Or maybe, he simply wants to hear that she wants him.]
[ Astarion stares up at her, eyes suddenly wide and curious, like a switch has flipped. It's the charlatan in him coming out, ever the performer. He cocks his head as if confused, his hand trailing down to her thigh where his fingers rub gentle, absent-minded circles. Except they aren't absent-minded at all — it's all very, very calculated. ]
Why, Nepione, [ he says, the picture of innocence. ] I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about.
[He has to know what he's doing, even with a touch that seems so remarkably innocent. Although he is so very good at making her heart race, there is something almost endearing about his ability to so quickly change his demeanour. That she even thinks so will warrant later consideration.
As much as she wants to frown, to pout, she thinks she wouldn't have the focus to do any such thing. For just a moment, she removes her gaze off of him.]
...I'm the better innocent between the two of us. [But he is awfully cute and she has enough sense to bite that back. As the glow of her eyes settles back onto him, she shifts, just in slight. Clearing her throat, she resists the temptation to nip down into her lip again. At this rate, if she did, she might just make herself bleed.] I... Er. I didn't want you to stop. It felt... nice.
Oh, [ he says, mockingly surprised. How was he to know? After all, she hadn't used her words.
Ever obliging, he dips down to press gentle kisses to her inner thighs, frustratingly chaste by design. It's what she'd asked for and nothing more; verbalizing her desires had seemed quite difficult, so of course he intends to pull on that thread further. He glances at her, expectant. ]
[They are only kisses and yet, he could easily make her feel faint. That is likely anticipation and reality colliding. It takes every bit of her own willpower not to simply shut her thighs. Not because she doesn't want him there. Instead, she simply trembles.
He's mocking her again. It might not be mocking, per se, but it's awfully close. With her attention firmly locked onto him, she gives, or attempts to give, very careful consideration to whatever her next words are likely to be.]
W-well... yes, but. I'm... finding it difficult that you would go through such effort just... to do that.
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Ever flexible, he picks up again after a moment, grinning impishly. Unfortunately for Nepione, the unexpectedness of her question means he has to rely more on his actual personality than his fabricated fantasy one. ]
'Oh, Astarion. I want you. I need you. Let's incorporate this idol of Selûne into our carnal relations.'
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No.
[She waits until she can marginally piece herself back together before she continues.]
That's definitely not happening. Well—Perhaps the first part. Definitely not the second. That's like a very hands-on approach to blasphemy. I'm not certain that's what Selûne means when she's spreading messages of love and tolerance. Unless... you're concerned that the rest of you is not as pleasing as an idol of Selûne.
[See, she can definitely make naughty euphemism jokes.]
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Trust me, I've had no complaints.
[ A little bit of ego flaring up again. He takes great pride in his appearance — all aspects of his appearance. Selûne can eat her heart out, as far as he's concerned.
He tugs on her hand again, guiding her onto land before urging her down with a hand on her shoulder. There's plenty of things that could be done standing, but he doesn't savor the idea of kneeling in front of someone; he'd rather them both on the ground, where he can at least feel some sense of power. ]
Lay back and let me take care of you, and I'll have you blaspheming yet.
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She doesn't need a great deal of hinting. At least none more than he's already giving her. She lowers herself, keeping her attention on him as she does, and in the same way he's tugged her hand to encourage her to follow him, she repays him in kind, a careful pull as she modestly posits herself. Or as modestly as she can. Old habits die hard.
"...let me take care of you."
In this instance, it's only carnal in nature, but those words are so foreign. No one else has ever said them to her before. It leaves her with a very curious feeling.]
You're certainly not humble, are you. We shouldn't attract any undue attention.
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He looms over her like a predator eyeing its prey, pressing a finger to her lips and saying, ] Then I suppose you'll just have to be very quiet.
[ It's a line — perhaps one of his cheesier ones — but it seems the sort of line to drive a repressed cleric mad with lust, he thinks. Quite frankly, he doesn't give a rat's ass who hears, but she clearly does, and that sort of thing does tend to flame the desires of the inhibited. ]
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Playfully, she snaps her teeth at his finger, but it lasts only a moment before she puckers her lips instead.]
I will be only as quiet as I feel is necessary.
[She murmurs it, but of course, that likely won't happen. There's a point at which she won't care anymore. Lifting a hand, she reaches for the curve of his neck, tracing claw along its turn with an unspoken appreciation. He's more than just handsome, which she's admitted to already. He's actually quite beautiful. Easier to see it now when she lets herself do so than trying to be wilfully oblivious.
Or ignorant.]
I could be persuaded otherwise. As we've already noticed. Apparently Selûnite discipline crumbles a touch in the face of brazen vampire spawn.
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Oh, a few contrite prayers and your lady will forgive your transgressions, [ he says before pressing his mouth to the plane of her stomach.
That's all gods care about, isn't it? Showing proper reverence? In truth, Astarion thinks Selûnite discipline — and any other form of religious self-denial — is a load of crock, but he doesn't dare spoil the moment with that opinion. ]
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...Do... you think so?
[It barely leaves her. Quiet and hushed. She's clearly distracted by sensation, the little ripples that he's left atop an otherwise undisturbed, pristine self. There is something about the sight of him, the press of lips atop her skin. Her hands draw down against her frame and with some care, she threads one's hold into the curls of his pale hair, as white as a full moon. Her other blindly traces the line of his jaw before she carefully dusts touch along the edge of his ear.
It comes as no surprise to her that she wants to actively touch him. That is the way she is. Touch is an important thing to her, though he would surely laugh if she said any such thing.]
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For now, he continues his journey towards his destination, splaying a hand out over the surface of her stomach as he trails down her hip, her thigh, dragging his fangs just lightly enough over her skin to excite her without exciting his hunger. ]
I think I'm the only one who needs to hear your pleas right now.
[ Very humble indeed. ]
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[Her breath softly catches. There it is. A little flutter of anxiety wrapped in pleasure. Alarmingly, she likes the sensation of his teeth more than she feels she ought to. Like a little threat that isn't a threat at all, but she almost wishes it was. She shifts beneath the attention, not nearly enough to disturb him. Just enough that he deserves to know that he has an effect on her. He's earned that, at the very least.]
...Astarion.
[Simply because she wants to say it. It sounds lovelier like this when she does, coloured by something that is not quite affection, but somewhere between that and desire. A sort of passion that she's more comfortable keeping to herself. She draws her lower lip beneath her teeth for just a moment, trying to ignore the way the colour in her features deepens.
She leaves the one hand in his hair. The other traces touch up over his wrist and across the back of his hand that he's spread atop her stomach, gently gripping. If she were braver, she'd slide her fingers between his, but not yet. Not yet. Humble or not, he makes her want.]
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Mmm, yes? Something you wanted to say, darling?
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Even now— [She begins, unable to keep a smile from creeping into her features.] —you're teasing me. What have I done to deserve this? Is this a punishment for being on good behaviour?
[Because she could believe that. But she suspects it's more that he wants to hear her ask for it. To do that thing she told him she would not do—beg. Or maybe, he simply wants to hear that she wants him.]
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Why, Nepione, [ he says, the picture of innocence. ] I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about.
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As much as she wants to frown, to pout, she thinks she wouldn't have the focus to do any such thing. For just a moment, she removes her gaze off of him.]
...I'm the better innocent between the two of us. [But he is awfully cute and she has enough sense to bite that back. As the glow of her eyes settles back onto him, she shifts, just in slight. Clearing her throat, she resists the temptation to nip down into her lip again. At this rate, if she did, she might just make herself bleed.] I... Er. I didn't want you to stop. It felt... nice.
[So more, please, is what goes unsaid.]
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Ever obliging, he dips down to press gentle kisses to her inner thighs, frustratingly chaste by design. It's what she'd asked for and nothing more; verbalizing her desires had seemed quite difficult, so of course he intends to pull on that thread further. He glances at her, expectant. ]
That's what you want, isn't it?
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He's mocking her again. It might not be mocking, per se, but it's awfully close. With her attention firmly locked onto him, she gives, or attempts to give, very careful consideration to whatever her next words are likely to be.]
W-well... yes, but. I'm... finding it difficult that you would go through such effort just... to do that.
[He's going to be the end of her.]