handleyourshit | TLV Inbox

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

Never let it be said that he isn't obedient, especially when his own desires line up exactly with what's being asked.

He takes a few more shallow thrusts, then starts to drive harder into her, only to meet Astarion in the same way when he pulls out. He actually cries out from it, the pleasure ripping a deep groan from his chest.

"Fuck."

He's not going to last like this, but he curls his toes, gripping the sheets with white knuckles, snapping his hips against them.

"Yes -!" she moans when he kicks into another gear, when she's able to relax enough into it that the friction is only pleasurable now, no longer vaguely uncomfortable as she warms up.

And she is warming up now, arousal building in her with teeth again. Her hand on Astarion is actively holding onto him now as she figures out how to rock up to meet Jacob, as she realizes she can feel Astarion passing their lover back to her with his own rhythm.

"Fuck yes, just like that, keep going -"

Astarion is very, very good at this - knowing exactly how to thrust in counterpoint to Jacob's movements, filling him up when he pulls out of Rosita and drawing back when he pushes in.

He feels good, every sensation and each cry of pleasure bringing him closer to that edge, and still he feels himself retreating into his own head. Playing the role and giving them exactly what they need even as he dissociates, his face pressed between Jacob's shoulders to conceal the distant glaze of his eyes.

"You're close, aren't you?" he murmurs against Jacob's skin, sounding heated, lust-drunk, present in a way he can't quite feel. "I can feel you aching for it, Jacob-"

He can't hear it in his words, can't hear the way he leaves, but he does hear his name and reaches back, searching for Astarion's hand, that closeness he's come to get used to.

He presses hot, desperate kisses to Rosita's mouth. "Yeah," he pants. "God..."

Jacob was doomed from the start between them, every sight and sound and feeling pushing him close before he ever got in this position. So he bites back a cry, a gruff moan, and buries his face in Rosita's neck as he spills himself inside of her.

Astarion tucks his face out of her view so she doesn't see, either - and she is looking. Watching the two of them and how each movement, each sensation changes how they move, how they look. The sweatslick slide of skin over skin, body into body, is heady and visceral in a way she's both comfortable with and craves, and her breathing catches high and wordless as she feels Jacob falling apart.

And in case there was any doubt: "Come in me, please, please fill me u-" she gasps, trailing off into a ragged noise of her own that is swallowed into the kiss, that moves to lust-filled moans as she feels him fall over that edge and she transfers her attention up to Astarion over his shoulder.

Astarion is still keeping his face hidden, though not consciously or intentionally; he just can't stop kissing Jacob's shoulders, his back, can't stop himself sucking and biting little bruises into his skin. He's fucking him in quick, jolting thrusts, letting himself be a little more selfish now, chasing pleasure.

He says nothing, just makes a strangled little noise into his skin as he comes a minute later, grinding in deep and shivering through it.

He doesn't stop moving until Astarion does, sucking in deep and shuddering breaths as a wave of actual, all consuming emotion washes through him. He can't identify it and it leaves him woozy and drained in its aftermath. It's not altogether unpleasant, just new. He keeps one trembling hand on the bed, propping himself up so his full weight isn't on her.

He doesn't say anything for a long moment, just basking there in the moment.

The short, sharp strokes from Astarion transfer through Jacob into her, lessened of course but still enough to make her shiver and shudder. It's not quite enough to bring her off again but the hum they've built in her body is pleasant anyway rather than frustrating, the edge taken off and her focus on giving pleasure more than taking it.

She's panting, dark hair stuck to her skin and blankets tangled around them, but also bodies on top of bodies, and sometimes that's too much but here, now, she brushes her lips along Jacob's chest and kisses the salt from his skin. She cards her fingers through Astarion's hair.

And she chuckles softly from deep in her chest, murmuring a heartfelt, sated, "Fuck."

Astarion makes a soft sound, tilting his head into the touch like a cat might, his awareness drifting back into the moment.

"Would you like more, Rosita?" he asks, voice low and syrupy. "I think some promises were...implied, at least."

He squeezes Jacob's fingers, his other hand running lazily over his chest.

Jacob holds fast to his hand. It's not the most natural of positions, but he keeps it there, bringing it around to his shoulders.

"I'm sure we can think of something," he murmurs to her once he feels can can talk again.

"More?" she echoes, licking her lips, abd she chuckles. Obviously she knows what he means, even as she wonders vaguely how much they thought she expected.

"Why would I want more now when I can just use it for leverage for more next time?"

She is not a timid woman, especially not in the bedroom, but there's still the faintest trace of a real question in the idea of a next time.

Astarion laughs softly against Jacob's shoulder, his scattered kisses gentle now, the brush of his lips soft and cool.

"I do respect the idea of holding onto some leverage. Next time, then."

He lets go of Jacob's hand to settle a hand on his hip, slowly and carefully pulling out of him.

"Yeah, and it's someone else's goddamn turn in the middle."

Not that he's complaining. Not that he would ever complain.

He drops his other hand to the bed and when Astarion move away, Jacob does, too, sitting up and stretching his arms over his head, feeling a pleasant ache all through his back. It also gives him the chance to pull Astarion into a kiss.

Rosita, too, pulls herself enough away that she can sort herself out a bit. Not much, she's reasonably quick to pull a pillow to herself and prop up herself up so she can just look at the two of them from where she tucks her legs up closer to herself.

"You liked it," she scoffs. "A lot, from where I was sitting."

"He likes complaining," Astarion murmurs, as he draws away from the kiss with a smile. He stretches out comfortably on his side, head propped up on one hand. "Feel free to blame my bad influence on that count, Jacob."

"No, I own my shit, thanks."

He does lie back between them, his hands on his stomach. He can't think of anywhere he'd want to be right now, except for here. And he doesn't think his exhausted body would carry him far anyway.

"Next time, we'll be prepared, at least."

She smiles, gently, at that. At both of them. She follows the exhausted lines of Jacob's body with her eyes, the languid sprawl of Astarion's, and there's appreciation in it of course, but there's more of something else.

She still needs to talk a few things through - with both of them - but for now she just shakes her head and says, "Thank you."

"Our pleasure," Astarion says, low and teasing, but then his expression softens; his eyes crease at the corners when he smiles genuinely. "Thank you, Rosita. This...isn't how I expected the evening to go, but it's...much better than I might have anticipated."

"Uh huh," he agrees with a nod. "I mean, I had hoped it might end this way." Teasing again, but with more than a hint of sincerity behind it. "Maybe not with Garth Brooks in the background, though," he says, pushing himself up to retrieve his phone, which, now that they're quiet, he can hear playing softly in the background.