rebellionyell | Faderift Inbox

I like yours intact. [Astarion counters smoothly, starting to settle down at last: arms folding themselves across Dante's front, chin set atop his flattened hands just where they meet in the middle.]

...mostly.

[Breathing leveled, shoulders relaxed, he lets that teasing joke fall away the moment it's said and done.] Still, she seems to have taken quite a shine to you, I noticed.

[And despite all his earlier mad-dog bristling, the way his tone carries now feels far from disapproving of that fact.]

Heh, I'd be at a loss if you didn't enjoy a little mauling. [Suggesting that, while he could appreciate having his throat intact, he enjoyed Astarion's attention even more.

Tucking one arm behind his head so he could prop himself up enough to be engaging, his free hand still alternating between combing through curls and fingertips skimming along the shell of perfectly tapered ears.]

Has she? [At the very least Dante has been cordial, if not outright playful and polite with her, but he was that way with most people. Benign but friendly, and maybe a little antagonistic and weird, if he could keep himself that way, it wasn't about peace so much as about notoriety.] It could be because I was appropriately intimidated by her dress at the masquerade, I could never pull off a chandelier in heels, I don't have the legs.

Mhmm. [Astarion hums in distracted amusement, taking to returning the favor in the next beat: he toys with those silver strands where they’ve spilled across the sand, twisting a few across his index finger.]

Maybe she just has a thing for devilishly good looks, too.

[His hold eases back, and those stolen locks of hair unravel to tumble into place once more.] But...

[Hm. How to say this.]

She could use it, I think. Someone like you loitering around— so long as you don’t let it turn you against me, that is.

[Oh so selfless, Astarion.]

So worried. [Teasing Astarion a little bit was necessary, but he didn't want to overdo it just in case might be feeling a little bit insecure.]

Not that you need to be, delicious piece of meat that I am [Dante might look like a middle-aged bum, but he could still be a little full of himself when the occasion called for it, if only for comedic value, or just to be irritating.] you're kinda stuck with me now, unfortunately for you.

[Adjusting himself so that he was face to face to Astarion, his voice lowered into something more conspiratorial.] Plus you know too many of my secrets, can't let you go wandering off too far with them.

[A startlingly handsome middle aged bum, by Astarion's measure. Point made when he smooths his hands high along the edges of Dante's face, settling heavy across his cheeks in the next second— thumbs resting just beneath the rise of them.

It's a prelude, naturally.

A pause before Astarion leans in to steal a single, surprisingly chaste kiss.]

And just who would I tell your secrets to?

[Dante would never admit to it, even though he could feel the warmth suffusing his face, coloring his alabaster skin a dusty shade of crepe. It doesn't happen very often, but neither do these chaste touches and the soft press of lips.

There's a part that wants to look away and close the shutters against the intensity of it, but the part that's always the most stubborn holds Astarion's gaze.]

Well, there is Miss Mariette [Dante said with a wry smile, never having met this lady before now, but it helps cut through the moment a little] she might tell it to her mop, then I wouldn't stand a chance.

[Of course Dante believes Astairion would keep everyone of his secrets and craning his neck upward he returns the kiss, just as soft and chaste, maybe his lips were slightly parted, but he doesn't go any further than that.]

I trust you.

...Mari-who— oh. [Shameful, forgetting his own damned joke, but in all fairness it’s been a long night so far.

A long series of them, in fact.

When that kiss meets his lips, though, it prompts a simple, easing little pull along the corner of his mouth. He smooths his hands back to settle along either side of Dante’s temples, blunted nails scratching lightly. Just a temporary fixation.]

You shouldn’t.

But I certainly won’t deter you, my darling. I’m not selfless enough for that.

Forgetting my casual affairs so soon? And here I was beginning to think you were serious. [Dante wasn't exactly at his most lucid at the moment, the more kisses exchanged between them the more he wanted to plunge his tongue into Astarion's mouth and forget everything else. The more those fingers caressed his face the more restless his own hands were to comb through soft curls and fondle sensitive ears.

There was a lot that Astarion's provocations tempted Dante with, particularly his darker and more unrestrained urges, things they haven't discussed.]

Heh...well if you weren't a little bit selfish, I'd get away with running amok. [And as if on cue Dante's hands coast their way down Astarion's flanks.] A little bit of discipline and a yank on my leash every now and then is a good thing.

[But something in Dante's head switched on and he sat up, still cradling Astarion in his arms since, for whatever reason he just didn't want to let him go. It could be the very subtle change in the term of endearment that registered somewhere.]

But I should probably be the grown ass man that I am, much as I would like to do things with you that would scare the fish. You mentioned you were taking care of a friend.

[The myriad little secrets they yet keep from one another...]

I'm sure I'll always know just when to yank you right back into heel. [He exhales ever so proudly against the soft-edged span of Dante's lips, the last held-out recesses of composure— just before he barks out a breath of shocked, lilting laughter at that entirely cheeky grope.

The bite he fits to the edge of Dante's jaw in retaliation never breaks skin.

And then they shift, and the topic changes and it— well it's surprisingly sober, given just how deeply Dante's been mired by more than drink tonight. Easing his way into it, (all of it, in fact), Astarion's temple slips down listlessly to nestle across the edge of Dante's shoulder, seeking out tireless heat. Slow enough to bring him down from the freshly kindled sparks of arousal.]

I am. [It's not a masking confession, or an evasive one besides; he isn't aiming to keep this secret from Dante in any respect.

Not like the memory of trampling quickly though clinging pools of mud, the bog sticking fast to his heels.]

Fenris.

He's been a long, long time away now.

Since before you joined Riftwatch, in fact. [And isn't it funny, how time passes, stitching everything together so neatly. Everyone.] Stoic thing. Very sternfaced, and a powerful competitor when it comes to fighting face-to-face.

[And, because it's true:]

Exceedingly difficult to miss.

[They'd only brushed against the surface when it came to their sexual misadventures that there were certainly quite a few secrets left. Partners were a rarity, trust even more so, and Astarion being a man? Outside of experimentation he was an adjustment, but his captivating personality, bountiful beauty, and his charismatic sense of style.

And then there was the trust, or maybe a level of intimacy Dante hadn't allowed himself in years, in spite of Astarion's protests. He'd seen enough of Dante that the half-demon couldn't help trusting him. The inviting sting of Astarion's teeth against his jaw is a pleasant reminder, sinking into flesh, drawing on that tainted demonic lifeblood.

It stirred an impious delight that hummed darkly in his own veins and called out to the part of him that often cubed such things with fighting. Astarion had asked him not to hold back, and he did give him the devil he craved, but his own impulses required more discussion. The desire to explore that here were they might be seen was an incredible impulse that took a lot of self-control on his part.]

Ah, we've spoken a few times though not in person, so I'll have to see what it is that makes him difficult to miss [did Dante troll him a little bit? Yes, he did, he had no other choice] and because you've said he's a powerful close combat fighter, that's something I'll have to see firsthand. I like a glowing review after all.

[And on a more compassionate level Dante wound an arm around Astarion's shoulders, warding off the wind streaming off of the ocean water.]

I'm sure you must have missed him very much I...ah...[well Dante wasn't very good at this sort of thing, but then again, he'd been taken off guard when Astarion came out here to look for him.]...didn't mean for you to come out here, especially in the middle of a reunion.

[For all of Dante's bluster, interpersonal relationships were a struggle.] You can probably tell this isn't my area of expertise, but if you need anything.

[Glowing, Dante says. And though it's not an intentional joke, Astarion finds himself given to laughing all the same. The barest little breath of a thing, abandoned not long after in favor of easing into the quiet of this moment. The sound of the waves, the isolation that thrives here compared to the nightly mess of Kirkwall's bustling. It might be cold this time of year, true, but between Dante's constant heat and Astarion's own circulation, he doesn't really feel it beyond the faintest nip across his toes where his boots have dug shallowly into the sand.]

...I did miss him. [And isn't that a funny thing to be able to admit out loud, arched fingertips trailing light as they brush absently across Dante's own. The words are there before he even knows they've left the tip of his tongue, let alone his subconscious.

Maybe tonight's doomed to be filled with guilt. Unsightly truths and all their snarling ends, because he hears Dante's kind-hearted offer, appreciating it for how he knows it is (unlike promises made by so many others) sincere. But he's still hanging on his own confession, and the heavy weight that feels as if it's been dead-dropped into the center of his chest.

Like something he either needs to swallow or simply spit out.

And while normally he'd opt for the former without a second thought, Dante's earned himself the latter, by now. A thousand times over.] More than I probably ever wanted to admit.

That night in the Mire. When we were attacked, and you— [one ragged little hitch] were kind.

When you risked your neck for mine. [Because that's what it was, even in hazy memory there's no denying it.] I was mourning his loss. I thought he'd left without a word— that he chose to leave, rather than being pulled away or...I don't know. It doesn't matter.

I was upset.

[There. There, he thinks to himself stiffly, that's a start.]

I wanted to bite back at everyone within reach. Everything, too. [His forehead tips forward slightly, nestling just against Dante's jawline, though the pressure's light. Small. He isn't certain how much touch is fair for something like this.

Confessions that aren't all false drama or honeyed words.] I found the cargo we fought so hard for while you were still asleep, recovering from your injuries.

And... [Well. No turning back now.]

...I was the one that destroyed them.

[Dante knew and understood something about Astarion, enough to know that his emotional whiplash had something to do with a suppressed life. He didn't talk with Astarion about his time as a slave, but the time must have been significant enough to prevent him from conveying his feelings in a way that was good for him. That he very likely had to choke down his feelings about everything significant and now regulating them was a learning process.

Dante had never been a slave, but he understood those growing pains as well, when his own trauma had forced him into periods of regression, of childlike mannerisms, behaviors that often did not befit a young man or even a grown man. Even now Dante played so much close to the chest and presented this unflappable, boisterous, and sometimes disinterested bravado as a means to conceal himself. It was often better than trying to express himself in a way that was a bit more constructive, he was still reckless with his own life. Getting from where he was to where he is now took work, reflection, pain, and acceptance.

And he was still a mess, but he was a markedly better mess.]

You're a naughty boy and you deserve to be punished [Dante said in response to patiently listening to Astarion's confessions, humor coloring the edge of his voice] but not tonight.

[Instead, Dante leans back just enough to tip Astarion's chin with his fingers so they were looking at one another, even though it must be difficult to meet Dante's eyes at the moment. There were so many ways Astarion could have lashed out at him that night, he could have left Dante for dead, or offed him in his sleep if he wanted, but he didn't.

Instead, he destroyed the cargo, and it was as much about lashing out at Dante as it was lashing out at himself.]

Thank you, I'm glad you told me. It must have been rough dealing with it alone I get why you wanted everything to hurt, even yourself. [And Dante wasn't going to say anything about it to anyone, of course, there was no gain in it now.]

And it's okay, it's in the past and done. [He couldn't do anything about it even if he wanted to, and he didn't want to swamp dive for ruined goods months later. Instead, he traced the haunted edges of Astarion's eyes with his thumbs.] I was a stranger to you, you had no reason to trust me or my reliability, I hope I've changed your mind a little bit.

[Dante offered with a lopsided grin.]

And if there's a time where you have no idea what to do with yourself, you can come find me. You can yell and fuss, you can be angry and passionate, hell if you need to hit something we can grab a few training swords and go all day until you're satisfied. [It was something Dante could do and he was good at it.] For now I think you can let yourself off of this hook, but in the future if you sink another cargo wagon, I'm gonna need flowers, chocolates, romance, make-up sex, a little groveling, an entire party in celebration of yours truly...and if I think of anything else you'll be put on notice.

[Okay, Dante wouldn't make Astarion jump through those kinds of hoops, but the horror of it was there.]

For now, I'll settle for a kiss, if you want to?

Edited (because html is hard sometimes) 2022-02-17 14:56 (UTC)

Ooh...[He tries.] I certainly hope so.

[To his credit he truly does try to make it entirely convincing, his would-be-sultry teasing in response to hypothetically posed punishment—

But his own naked, wearied sincerity betrays him all the same: his tone’s too genuine, too sobered to pass for playful indifference. And it means (devoid of any true barriers between them) that he’s sorry, in his own strange, difficult, utterly mangled way. Chin resting patiently against Dante’s fingertips, a heavy weight— so very far from fearful or hesitant.]

You did, though.

Change my mind, I mean. [A tall order for someone like Astarion, who dreads or avoids anything he can’t control by any absolute measure, more often than not.

His hands slide lower, falling to either side of Dante’s collarbone, fingertips curling.] And that doesn’t come easily.

[Which is why he stresses it now, just before leaning down, fitting the softer span of their lips together in a single, ceding kiss.]

So.

Wish granted, darling.

[Capitulating his self-control for the moment, Dante drew Astarion level with him, arms hedging the slighter body close enough to abandon any space, save for fingers flexing against his collar. He knew it was selfish to keep him, but damn if a single kiss wasn't enough to undo all of his half-demon resolve. And for Dante a kiss was an intoxicating enough to encourage more.

A teasing brush of his tongue against the tempting seam of lips, a request for entry, then the soft moist recess of Astarion's mouth coupled with the rousing points of his teeth that always lent a touch of exhilaration to every kiss. Every point of contact Astarion's mouth had with his body.

He'd be lying if he said he didn't do things to intentionally nick himself on that razor's edge. This time was no exception, a controlled swipe of his tongue against teeth, enough to cause blood to weel on the surface, not enough for any injury. Part of him enjoyed this blood trade, enjoyed the look in Astarion's eyes.

After several moments of tasting and plying, idle hands moving to roam roaming, kneading Astarion's back, stroking his hair and ears, he withdrew just enough. Though he broke the kiss he didn't let his companion go, instead tracing the tip of his tongue along the line of Astarion's jaw, over his cheek, and up to his temple leaving behind a trail of blood as he did.]

Thank you. [He murmured at last dropping a kiss onto the smooth forehead.]

Oh, don't start. [He puffs mildly. Delicate despite the nature of that huffing dismissal itself, eyes drifting shut under the nudging pressure of that kiss, lips curled just at their edges— his tongue still marking the lingering taste of that deliberately (of that, Astarion has no doubt) spilled blood, bright and beautiful to his senses.

That he shivers in the wake of it all, fighting the entirely damning urge to go rigid by meager degrees, is no doubt the end result of both the heady scent of well-streaked iron and the roaming run of roughened hands just before their retreat.

Devil.

His inhale is slower, then. Steadying. Like trying to find his own footing.]

Not that I'm one to complain over doting gratitude, but even I know that thanking me for the bare minimum's only going to encourage the absolute worst of my own instincts.

You'll have only yourself to blame for it, next time.

[A joke.

...and possibly also not one at all.]

But...there is one more thing.

I need a favor from you.

Haaa...why do I do the things I do? I'm my own worst enemy. [Dante's voice was airy and amused not to mention completely unrepentant, not terribly concerned about Astarion's worst instincts. At least he had a warning and maybe he was just a bit curious.

Regardless he smoothed a few strands of silvery-white hair behind the curve of the vampire spawn's ear and leaned himself back again, his expression sobering slightly as Astarion appeared to go take on a more serious tone.

Favor huh?]

Sounds serious. [And of course his interest was piqued.]

What can I do for you?

Aren’t you just. [Astarion teases lightly, leaning into the trace of those roughened fingertips where they slide, instinctive as always. Fond, to say the least. Like an overgrown cat, there’s no mistaking Astarion’s genuine contentment when it blooms.

But—

Yes, the subject change is serious. Dante’s clearly right, considering how that momentary flicker of ease fades in the seconds that follow— Astarion’s expression rounding out alongside the press of his hands.]

Someone stole his memories, I think. Tried to alter him while he was away— that’s why he didn’t come back. [It isn’t really Astarion’s story to tell, but Fenris isn’t shy about it, either. And what’s more, given the cause itself, Astarion feels justified enough in pressing on.

He trusts Dante, in a way he trusts almost no one else.]

I suspect Venatori. Or at the very least, someone from Tevinter.

And while I know he’s more than capable, [beyond capable, in fact] you’re in Forces with him. You’ll be there at his side on missions where I won’t be, you understand.

Just.

[An inhale. Light. Bracing. It's such a difficult thing, showing his own figurative belly.]

Watch his back.

Please.

Well...since you said please [Dante's comes up just shy of bemused, but also consenting to the request as well.] I'd normally charge a fee for bodyguard services, but given that the client requesting my services is special I guess I can make an exception.

[Giving Astarion a reassuring squeeze as a testament to his joke he continues.]

I'll keep an eye on him when and where I can [and working on the repairs of Fenris's manor might just be useful in that capacity] if we're on missions I'll make sure he doesn't wander off into the sunset.

[I'll make sure he doesn't wander off into the sunset.

Ah, but doesn't that thought just sting, somehow. Maybe it's the residual pang of loss, still so fresh within Astarion's veins: he'd been so bitter, so hateful in the wake of losing Fenris the first time that even mentioning its deterrent starts to gnaw at him, low and sharp within his chest.

Stupid. Pointless.

He curls his fingers tighter against the fabric of Dante's shirt.]

If it’s his choice to go, then...fine.

Tempting as it might be, I can’t leash him. [No, that’s not right.] I won’t leash him.

Still.

[Still, letting the word dislodge all his stiffness, easing down into something softer. Far more unguarded.]

I’m not one for gratitude but— Thank you, my darling. I’ll rest a little easier knowing he won’t be trudging around entirely exposed.

[Mild, when he corrects with a tepid sort of laugh:]

Ahah. Well.

You know what I mean.

Okay, okay. You don't have to expose your soft nougaty center to me I get it.

[Dante said teasing Astarion and with all of the formality their affinity had to offer he leaned in to worry the shell of one ear with his teeth briefly, with all of his cheek and facetious manner in place.

Even though he's not willing to admit it Dante gets this is something important.]

But you're welcome and if he just happens to be exposed, we both know I carry layers.

[A mercy. One he won’t forget. One he won’t admit aloud, either, though he does sigh beneath the set of those teeth, all but melting into Dante’s arms.

Make no mistake, he's found comfort in the wake of such a vitriolic storm.]

Or a trade in the moment, perhaps?

You strip down, he wears all your layers instead. [Mild by Astarion's typical standards, his daydream-laden laugh, though it's actively pressed through the overly sharp edges of a jagged grin— completely and utterly incorrigible.]

Now that I’d like to see.

Only if you enjoy a good bodice ripper [Dante just had his own mental image of busting out of anything Fenris wore.] I could probably get his leggings up to my thighs, but it would be cheeks out after that.

[Dante emphasized this by bringing a hand down on Astarion's cheeks, just hard enough to be felt and underscore his playful mood.]

On the other hand? I think I want to see him in my clothes now. [Dante was chuckling a bit too, but it wasn't for the same reasons. He was picturing his 6'4" fitting duds on Fenris who was maybe a hair taller than Astarion himself.]

Mmmm [Dante nodded his head almost conspiratorially now feeding off of Astarion's incorrigible nature right into the territory of fun, but bad ideas] I wonder what that would take? Losing a bet? He is a gambling man.

[Should he laugh at that? Doesn’t matter, he’s laughing regardless for that perfunctory contact so unexpectedly shared, his long fangs glinting in pale moonlight.] Ambitious besides.

[Or maybe competitive is the better word for it. Perpetually driven to rise to a challenge.

Still, somehow Astarion imagines the two getting on like a house on fire if a decent game is in play.

That, or they’ll just set a house or two on fire. Hard to say.]

And if you win, I hope you know I'll be demanding a very thorough description, thank you very much.

[Competitive was probably the right word for it, even though Dante was exceptionally bad at gambling and often lost at bets as was his curse. He still engaged due to his own nature which was, admittedly, quite exploitative if anyone thought to take advantage of it.

And there were people, though arguably they were people Dante viewed as being outside of the realm of causing him real harm, or people he cared about.]

I could do one better, turn up at your door and give you the experience in person. I might be several sheets to the wind for that to happen, but it could happen. [What's gambling without drinking anyway? That's all part of the enjoyment.] It'll be terrifying for the neighbors...probably.

Or enlightening for them. [He snorts mildly, resting his cheek somewhere just across his folded hands, right over the center of Dante's chest.]

You're nothing short of a wonder in your natural state, you know.

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