Fire and Blood

Chapter 5: Night Moves

Summary:

SMUT!! Just a full chapter of smut for your dirty little minds, darlings. 

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Lying down on his bedroll, Astarion closed his eyes, trying to calm his racing thoughts. Images of Lizbeth in that revealing nightgown danced provocatively in his mind's eye, threatening to drive him mad with desire. He couldn't deny it anymore—he wanted her. But confessing that would only damage the fragile trust she placed in him today. Astarion decided to take his pleasure into his own hands. He unfastened his pants releasing his erection and began stroking his large cock, remembering the night before with Lizbeth.

Lizbeth watched Astarion retire to his bedroll without talking to her. Concerned, she walked over to his tent. She reached for the tent flap to give it a little shake to announce her arrival. Before she could alert him to her presence, she heard a hiss and a moan coming from his tent; thinking he was hurt, she quickly moved inside his tent to help, only to catch him in the act of pleasuring himself.

Astarion froze mid-stroke, his eyes wide with surprise as he saw the object of his lust standing over him. "What—what are you doing?" He managed to croak out, struggling to regain control of himself.

"I heard ....," she stuttered, unsure how to explain her presence in his tent. "Oh, um, sorry," she flushed, "I heard a moaning sound and thought you were hurt," she tried to look anywhere but his giant cock that was still in his hand.

"I-I'm fine," he stammered, quickly pulling his pants back up to cover himself. "You shouldn't be in here." His heart raced wildly, a mix of shame and desire battling within him.

"I wasn't..." He cleared his throat awkwardly. "I was just...don't you have any concept of privacy," he snapped. Scrambling for something else to say, he added lamely, "Goodnight, see you tomorrow."

He hurriedly shoved aside the tent flap, leaving her alone in his darkened tent with a racing pulse and a throbbing ache within her core, begging to be filled. "Damn it, come back, Astarion; this is your tent,"

Astarion paused in his hurry to leave, turning around slowly to face Lizbeth. "I won't apologize, it's perfectly natural" he muttered, returning reluctantly to the tent.

"I am the one who should apologize," she assured him, trying to keep her voice steady despite her heart pounding. "I missed you today. I was hoping to partner up with you at the ruins."

Astarion's eyes widened in surprise and confusion at her confessional remark. "Partner up... with me?" He took a cautious step towards Lizbeth, his heart hammering wildly in his chest. He cleared his throat, unable to meet her gaze. "It's late," he croaked, clearing his throat. "We should get some rest." With newfound determination, he crawled into his sleeping bag, turning away from Lizbeth so that only his firm backside was visible.

Lizbeth took the "we" as an invitation and crawled into the bedroll behind him, cuddling up to him and spooning him.

Astarion stiffened momentarily, feeling the weight of her body against his back. But he remained still instead of pushing her away, allowing her to spoon him tightly. The warmth of Lizbeth's body radiated through the thin fabric separating them, igniting a growing desire within him. Despite his best efforts to resist, his cock twitched again, straining against his pants.

"Are you sure?" He asked, taking deep breaths to calm himself. "We shouldn't—" His thoughts were interrupted by Lizbeth's hand moving lower on his abdomen, tracing gentle circles around his navel. "Mmm," he moaned softly, unable to suppress a shiver of pleasure.

"We can do whatever we choose, whatever you choose; we can just cuddle tonight if you want." She didn't want to pressure him; she just wanted to be near him in any capacity he would allow.