To be tasted
The full moon overhead shines like a large, pretty pearl, the milky light spilling through the gaps in the trees lighting his way forward.
The nice, rosemary smell of the soap he’d washed up with floats around him as the wind blows through his hair, mingling with the smell of pine needles and the drying leaves crackling on the forest floor. Cicadas cry out noisily, and a few owls let out a few hoots in the distance. He wraps the blanket he’d swiped tighter around his shoulders, though it really isn’t all that cold.
A beautiful night- perfect for a romantic trist out on their own.
Astarion isn’t hard to find- he’s perched up on a boulder, looking up at the stars, his shirt already off and hanging neatly from a nearby tree.
He doesn’t need to announce his presence- as soon as he approaches, Astarion’s pointed ears perk up, and he stands up, hopping down onto the grass and striding toward him, full of confidence and bravado and wearing his best smile.
“There you are.”
Astarion’s smile is enticing- carefully hiding his sharp teeth, luring him in closer.
“I’ve been waiting.”
He steps forward, holding his hands out in an invitation.
“Have you now?”
“Waiting since the moment I first laid eyes on you.”
“Mmhmm. Is that before or after you held a knife to my throat?” Orochimaru teases.
“Ah, what’s a little knifeplay between friends?”
“Friends? Is that what we are now?”
“Maybe. Unless you want something more than that.”
Orochimaru cocks his head, resting his hands on his hips and smirking playfully at him.
“And what is it that you think I want?”
“It’s exactly like I said. You want to be known. To be tasted. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? To lose yourself in me?”
How long has he been practicing those lines, Orochimaru has to wonder.
And that’s not the only thing he’s wondering.
“And what about you?” he asks. “What do you want?”
Those words seem to reach out from his mouth and slap Astarion across the face. He stands there stunned, leaving Orochimaru to wonder how long it’s been since anyone asked him what he wanted.
“...What do any of us want?” he asks, deflecting from the question and stumbling over the words more than he probably intended. “Pleasure, of course. Yours. Mine. Our collective ecstasy.”
He holds his hands up, acting like it’s a stupid question.
“That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? To lose yourself in me?”
Orochimaru frowns for just a moment, but then forces it into a smile.
(He won’t think about it too hard. Not tonight, anyway.)
“Of course. Shall we?”
Astarion lets out a little sigh, and nods.
“That’s what I thought.”
He reaches out and grabs Orochimaru to pull him in closer, not wanting to waste any more time. Not when he’s finally getting his way after being thoroughly rejected.
Their mouths meet in a far bolder kiss than the nervous one he’d been given before.
Perhaps it’s the wine making Astarion braver. Or the lingering adrenaline of their recent triumph. Either way, it’s nice. Even though the hands that are shamelessly groping at him are colder than he’d like them.
Orochimaru’s heart flutters uncomfortably in his chest, though he can’t imagine what’s making him so nervous.
He’s danced this dance a hundred times before- probably more than that, actually. He is well familiar with the rules of this game, and all the intricacies of it.
All the same, he’s fairly sure he’s never slept with anyone quite as beautiful as the heartbreakingly lovely creature that moves to undress him, blanket, shirt, and underclothes discarded without much care for where they land.
Astarion runs greedy hands across the planes of his chest, tongue peeking out to wet his pretty, pale lips.
“Gods, you’re beautiful,” he purrs, getting onto his knees to undo the laces on his trousers.
Orochimaru hums, running his fingers through the man’s curly hair, admiring the way the moonlight makes it shine.
Quite a nice view.
“You’ve made me wait a long time for this,” Astarion pouts, in an absolutely adorable way.
“I hope I’m not too disappointing,” Orochimaru answers, though he knows he won’t be.
Astarion forces out a laugh, before finding more appealing things to do with his mouth.
The inside of his mouth is as cold as the rest of him, which perhaps shouldn’t be surprising, but is still a little alarming nonetheless. But still, he has a talented tongue and skillful hands, so Orochimaru sighs and leans back against the gnarled trunk of a tree to let himself enjoy it.
His technique is absolutely flawless, honed from years of practice. And maybe those eager noises he’s making are fake, but they sound so very lovely all the same.
(Performance it may be, but it’s an excellent one, all the same.)
Cold though his mouth might be, it sends a heat through his belly and up into his chest, electricity racing along his nerves, building by the second.
Before he can spend himself too soon, Orochimaru puts his hand on Astarion’s forehead to stop him.
Orochimaru laughs when Astarion looks confused.
“We’re both supposed to feel good here, aren’t we?” He reminds him. “Let me return the favor.”
Astarion looks baffled, quite frankly. But when Orochimaru urges him on, he starts to remove the rest of his clothes, revealing more of that pretty alabaster skin for his wandering eye to admire.
Blue isn’t really his color, Orochimaru has to think, once he gets down to his underwear.
Fortunately, that won’t be staying on for long.
Really, his body is so perfect, as if hand crafted to be a temptation.
Totally naked, Astarion holds his arms out, silently saying well, here I am.
Only the thin blanket Orochimaru thought to bring along separates their bare bodies from the ground as he guides them down onto it, Astarion looking utterly confused all the while.
Straddling his waist, Orochimaru laughs at his confusion.
(It’s almost cute, but a little unnerving.)
“There we go. It isn’t any fun if we don’t both have a good time, right?”
“I- right.”
Such painfully soft skin. The muscles just beneath twitch anxiously as he touches it, nipping at the spot where neck meets collarbone, trailing kisses across his chest.
Despite whatever anxiety is making Astarion so jumpy, he’s already embarrassingly hard.
Perhaps it’s not just a performance, after all.
Good. Orochimaru was starting to worry that maybe he’d lost his luster.
He runs his tongue along the palm of his hand, making a show of it, then takes hold of the man’s erection, stroking it carefully.
A soft whine catches in Astarion’s throat- half of pleasure, half of nervousness.
He isn’t sure why Astarion should be nervous, if he’s as experienced as he claims.
His hand is already slick with precum, so at the very least his body is still interested.
“Ah, hold on-”
“Hm?”
A little put out, Orochimaru nonetheless pulls his hand away and backs off, watching him and waiting for him to say something.
Astarion stares off somewhere indistinct in the distance, like his mind is somewhere else.
“Is something wrong?”
Snapping back to reality, Astarion’s expression is impossible to read.
“I just got distracted. Sorry.”
There is obviously more to it than that, but Orochimaru decides whatever’s going on in that pretty head of his can wait and be addressed in the morning.
For now, it may be best to let the man take the lead- for now, at least. He doesn’t want to scare him off, after all.
(Even though maybe Astarion should be scared.)
Orochimaru beckons the man toward him, leaning back and letting his legs fall apart.
“Well, then?” he offers, holding his arms out toward him. “I’m all yours for the evening.”
Astarion nods, regaining his composure and cocksure smile as he joins him.
Skilled mouth and skilled fingers put themselves back to work, all his trepidation gone now that he’s back in control. And when they finally join together, he mercifully doesn’t have to think about anything besides the pleasure.
Oh, it’s bliss. Sheer bliss.
He’s missed this so very much.
Astarion must have been telling the truth about being a magistrate before- his hands are painfully soft as they touch his body, sharp fingernails ghosting across his shoulders and the sensitive flesh of his thighs, feeling out all of the spots that feel good to be touched.
(Honestly, if he knew Astarion was this talented, he may have taken him up on his offer for sex sooner.)
The ground is perhaps not his preferred venue for this sort of thing, but that thought is washed away easily as far nicer feelings take its place.
Astarion is quite the sight above him, sweat rolling off his brow, immaculate hair a disarray as he gets lost in the pleasure, pretty mouth half-open as small gasps and shallow moans fall from it.
Oh, he’d missed this very much. The closeness to another person. The wanting. Being wanted. Feeling his heart race in anticipation and the desire for more. He hasn’t allowed himself any of this in years.
He wants more of it. Needs more of it.
Smirking, he rolls his head to the side, baring his neck as an invitation.
Of course, Astarion cannot resist the thrum of warm blood beneath his skin, and he bites down with little prompting, their hips still moving in unison as he feeds, giving and taking in equal measure.
Lord, it feels delicious. The pain mingles with the pleasure to create a delightful fog in his head, pushing out all the bothersome thoughts kicking around in his mind.
They will still be there in the morning. Right now, he’s more concerned about getting an orgasm or two than even the tadpole currently taking up residence in his head without even having the courtesy to pay rent.
The world starts to spin around and blur at the edges by the time Astarion is sated, pulling his teeth out of his neck to steal another kiss.
He hits climax for the first time with Astarion’s hand wrapped around him, their mouths glued together, muffling his moan.
He tastes his own blood in the kiss, but somehow it isn’t unpleasant.
The moon overhead serves as the only witness to the affair as they make good on their promise to lose themselves in each other.
The cacophonous chirping of birds rouses Orochimaru from what little sleep he’d been able to get, with an annoyed groan as the dawn light pierces his eyelids.
Far too early to be wanting to do anything, but he knows he doesn’t really get a choice.
In the trees above him a squirrel scurries about, an acorn clutched firmly in its teeth. A few birds flit about, calling out to each other, going about their lives unfettered.
And a couple meters away from him, Astarion stands, only half dressed, basking in the rising sun.
Orochimaru squints, unsure at first whether his eyes are betraying him as the golden light of daybreak spills across Astarion’s back.
Astarion’s entire back is covered in scars- and judging by the ornate pattern they form, they are quite deliberately placed. They manage to somehow be even paler than the rest of his skin, and despite being long healed, they still look terribly painful.
Strange.
“What? Not staying for a cuddle?” he asks, snapping Astarion’s attention away from the sunrise.
“You sleep lightly. I thought you’d be exhausted after last night.”
“I could always go for another round, if you’d like.”
“Ah, as delicious as that sounds, I don’t want to go… too far. Now-”
Astarion straightens up, turning back toward the sunshine.
“We should be heading back, before the tieflings need us to save their tails again.”
Orochimaru rolls over to sit up, reaching around to try to rub out the dull ache in his lower back with one hand, and groping around for his clothes with the other.
“Before that,” he says, keeping his tone casual. “I wanted to ask about those scars on your back."
“Hm?”
"If you don't mind, at least."
A shadow passes over Astarion’s face; he wraps his arms around himself and sighs.
“It’s a poem,” he says, venom in his voice. “A gift from Cazador.”
His fingertips ghost over the outermost edges of the scars.
“He wrote this one over the course of a night. He made a lot of revisions as he went.”
He says this with a wide-eyed, helpless sort of look that makes Orochimaru regret asking, despite his curiosity.
“Do you know what it says?” he asks.
“No- he never bothered to tell me, and funnily enough, I never thought to ask.”
Strange.
It doesn’t look like any poem he’s ever seen before- and certainly nothing like any of the writing he’s seen so far in this world.
If anything, it looks an awful lot like the contract seals he’s familiar with from his own world.
Orochimaru looks the scars up and down a couple times, committing the strange, jagged script to memory.
As soon as they get back to camp, he'll be sure to write them down.
“Well then,” he says, as Astarion finally moves to pick up his shirt. “Let’s be on our way.”