handleyourshit | TLV Inbox

This is Rosita. I'll hit you back when I can.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only | Expand All

"Well I think that much can probably go without saying." Astarion and Rosita are both confident and proficient and - apparently - experienced with a variety of partners. Jacob hasn't been shy, to her knowledge.

So she reaches to lay a hand on his arm, offering, "This - we're safe. This can be safe. Tell me what you want."

Astarion sits down on Jacob's other side, nuzzling lightly against his jaw.

"We talked about how you would feel," he breathes. "Between Rosita and I. Mm?"

It's not fair how fucking easy it is for him to fall into this. It's not fair how much sway they have over him.

"Yeah," he agrees gently, clearing his throat and taking a long drink before setting it aside. "He uh - fucked me the other day and it - it came up that it's not something I would like with anyone except you around."

As Astarion comes close, Jacob reaches up to thread fingers in his hair, turning ever so slightly to kiss Rosita.

She doesn't ever want him to feel helpless, but she does want this to be easy. She wants this to be comfortable, and she tilts her head to watch the way Astarion settles, lets Jacob come to her for the kiss.

Before they break though she's shifted closer, fitting her body more closely to his, fingers finding their way under the hem of his shirt to skin.

"Around?" she hums, low and throaty. She takes the cue from both of them to clarify, "Or were you thinking of fucking me while he fucked you?"

"Or vice versa," Astarion murmurs, a cool hand slipping under Jacob's shirt and running up his spine. "Not that I know if you're equipped for that sort of thing, of course."

She just strikes him as the kind of woman who might be.

The two hands against his skin light him up like fire. The image in his head of what's being suggested only fuels the flames.

He keeps his fingers in Astarion's hair as he trails a kiss to her jaw so he can hide the way his face still burns. "Are you?" he wonders of her. "That something you keep for necessities in your pack?"

It's not his face that gives him away. It's the way she slides a knee between his and feels his interest against her thigh, and she smiles.

"It's not something that made the cut, no," she has to admit. "But I know my way around a good, hard pegging."

Which isn't exactly helping her initial misunderstanding, but the interest is genuine so she's happy to go with it for the time being, and she rolls her hips so her body slides against Jacob's.

"That what you want? Rocking up into one, back onto the other, don't care which way it goes?" Her dark eyes tick to find Astarion's over Jacob's shoulder where she has her head tipped. "And you? Sharing for a night?"

Astarion has not encountered the word 'pegging' before, but it's delightful. No notes.

"A night, at - at least to start," Astarion says, feeling something almost like shyness. He's not exactly used to putting himself out there, more accustomed to simply being available and letting people come to him. He's especially not used to it with people like Rosita, when their relationship up to now has been altogether platonic.

"I'd like to touch you, darling. Maybe Jacob can tell me what you like."

"Oh yeah, that I can do."

His voice is deep with want, and he doesn't bother hiding it anymore. His hand cups her ass automatically as she comes close, and he gives it a little squeeze.

"Gotta get those clothes off first."

"That's a good start," she answers, honest, even eager. Encouraging.

One step at a time. She slides her hand up to lift Jacob's shirt, waiting for him to help her get it off over his head; once that's out of the way though, she goes ahead and reaches for Astarion's hand to pull to her.

She kisses his palm - "Then touch me," she invites. - and leans her cheek there after, trusting.

Astarion doesn't, at first: he just looks at her, taking in the way she looks in this new light, then leans in to kiss her lips delicately.

His fingertips trace over her cheekbone, then into her hair, stroking across her scalp as his other hand runs up and down her side.

He leans back, helping her get his shirt off, then props himself up with one hand.

Watching a first kiss, it turns out, between two people you care about is almost as thrilling as participating yourself. "We aren't in a rush," he assures them both, the hand on her ass going under her shirt, feeling bare skin under the layers. "It ain't like we gotta hurry."

She hasn't had a first kiss like this in... quite some time, actually. She spends a lot of time using sex to blow off steam, to comfort herself, to distract herself. All she needs is attraction, pure and simple, for that. It's how it started with Jacob, even.

But it's been a long goddamn time since she started with affection and then moved to anything more, and the difference is marked. Astarion's touch is cooler than she's used to, although it's not a surprise; she has always loved hands in her hair, allowing it to be her one vanity in life. Easy, she thinks to herself, cautions herself, and lets Astarion decide - but when he kisses her, she leans slowly, steadily into returning it, and softly hums her approval.

The corner of her mouth quirks. "Clothes off first," she reminds them both, tracing Jacob's patchwork of scars blindly down his ribs, then skipping past to Astarion's.

"Clothes first," Astarion agrees, with one more kiss, and then leans back a little to strip off his shirt and toss it aside. No body hair at all, and no scars besides the configuration carved into his back.

"Now you," he decides, and leans in to make a start, leaving more than enough room for Jacob to help.

She touches those scars with her light fingers and he shivers, biting back a soft moan. Jacob pushes himself back up, pressing a kiss to Astarion's temple, murmuring an agreement.

He's already got a hand under them, so it's no effort to start to peel off the layers, leaning in to steal a kiss from her, too, every now and again.

"Alright, lay down," he tells her softly, though he isn't eager to get her off his lap.

And she isn't eager to go, although she does. She's not shy about helping to strip her shirts off, her bra following suit to reveal a modest pair of breasts. She's somewhere between the two of them, a mess of scar tissue at the back of her ribs, a hole punched neatly in the front of one shoulder, other nicks and cuts here or there in addition to the pronounced one on her cheek, but none of that matters.

She lays back, tugging the tissue paper flower out of her hair and dropping it atop where her clothes land, but then she's all in on the pair in front of her, over her a bit now. "Lucky me," she purrs, and leans up to kiss Astarion's shoulder, slides her arm around the back of Jacob's neck to keep him close.

"Lucky us," Astarion agrees, and leans down to kiss his throat. He can feel her pulse under his lips, hear both their hearts beating, but he does nothing about it. Instead, he keeps working his cool lips over warm skin, kissing open-mouthed at her shoulder, her collarbone, the swell of her breast.

"Gods, you're beautiful."

He lets Astarion explore her, lets him marvel at her, while Jacob lies down beside her, tracing the lines of ribs and muscles with his fingers. Occasionally, he trails his hand to Astarion's shoulders, around his back, even as he focuses most of his attention on kissing her mouth.

It's slow and lovely and there's no reason to rush this part. He wants them to have the chance to be familiar as he has with them. They're both so goddamn beautiful to him.

"Lucky us," he agrees. "And his tongue does more than complain and insult, you know."

Rosita loves sex, loves the pleasure of it, but this - the gentle, reverent treatment, the attention - this is heady and she shivers pleasantly around the unevenness of her breath.

"I'm more than open to the possibilities," she manages, voice rough, skin already flushed in the wake of that thorough kiss; her fingernails pull lightly across the low of Astarion's back, not even close to catching, but enjoying the plane of sleek muscle there. She's a bit at their mercy at the moment, but she slips a hand below the waist of Jacob's pants, too, hooking around his hip to anchor the way her hips try to roll against first one and then the other.

"Good," Astarion murmurs, and slides down lower, carefully divesting Rosita of her pants and underwear.

He kisses her stomach, her inner thighs, moving in between her legs by slow inches. He can smell her skin, her growing arousal, and there's a matching pulse of it he feels in his own body.

Jacob pulls back enough to let Astarion work, though Rosita's hand on him keeps him from going too far. The drink, the sight of both of them, it makes him dizzy.

"Goddamn," he murmurs and he doesn't actually know what's affecting him more. He doesn't care. His mouth finds the rise of her breast and he presses his hips against her side.

She's been conditioned by the last few years to be quiet and it's what she tends to default to now, but even so she doesn't bother stifling the low moan Astarion's efforts draw out of her; she helps shimmy out of the rest of her clothes, and lets her knees fall open shamelessly, eagerly for him while her fingers tangle in his hair.

"Don't go away," she murmurs to Jacob between kisses to any part of his skin she can reach, back arched to encourage him where he is. "God, you're both such good teases -"

"Well, now. That's not my intention at all," Astarion chuckles, but he's as good as his word, in this instance: he licks a slow, flat stripe right up between her thighs, tasting her wetness from the source.

His lips close around her clitoris and he puts himself to the task of working his tongue tirelessly over it, circling the little bud over and over, applying the barest bit of suction. He's not as experienced with women, but he's still had entire human lifetimes to work this all out.

"I ain't going anywhere," he assures her. "All I want is right fucking here."

Astarion makes a beautiful sight there between her legs, after all. It's a sight Jacob intends on enjoying.

His brings his lips to hers, letting his hands take over teasing and tracing along her breasts, to her stomach, anything to bring back that quiet moan.

There is plenty of slick there to give evidence of how interested she is in being exactly where she is, in them doing exactly what they're doing; she shudders and lets her fingers nearly fist in the ends of his hair, but does not push or pull him. God knows he's doing just fine on his own.

The kiss with Jacob swallows down exactly the sounds he was trying to illicit, and she pants into the crook of his neck when they break, ragged.

"Keep going like that and I won't make it to being fucked," she half praises, half warns because: "And I really want to at least one of you to fuck me."