Chapter 3 - Kiss my arse
They both showed up on the throne room, she was all made up. Incredible, what Zoya accomplished with some simple hair curling scrolls that made waves, some diamond powder dusting on her cheeks, and a white dress.
The Ascendant was sitting on his throne. Black opalescent outfit, one of her favorite on him. The palace was refurbished, but in a weird direction. The lower levels were green and black, the upper levels before the elevator used to be red. Now they were green and cold, too? A black simple throne and a court of… spawn, dignitaries, some important Baldur's Gate fucks… She looked around the room. The coldness of the room made her not sure: was she above or below? Was she where Cazador held his parties, or were they at the lower levels, accessible only with the elevator?
As they stood in the entrance, Zoya subtly elbowed her in her side.
"Kneel." The girl hissed at her. And it was obvious she was trying to actually help her.
Ana stood still. And she spoke. Didn't have to be loud, her voice spread over the room like black ink in water.
"No."
What followed were gasps of outrage and disbelief. Some courtiers were looking at this with delight in their eyes. She realized instantly: then some of them some realize how fragile his rule is, because he has no modifiers for intelligence, like Sarevok did. And Sarevok fell. This one… Should count his rule in months, not years, if he doesn't wise up quickly.
"I shall not kneel for him." She said in a quiet voice, with no challenge, no mockery, no insult. A calm, quiet statement.
The sooner I can make him sick of me… It worked last time, he refused to bring me over to be his spawn because I couldn't… I couldn't kneel. I couldn't. I wanted to… but the way he spoke… I couldn't. He broke up with me, and I never became his bride. And felt only relief. Stick to the game, just stick to the fucking game.
If I make him sick of me... He will throw me back into the portal. Won't let me stay as a reminder of his humiliation, and a pawn to undermine his power to be used in arguments, a woman bested him, so the fuck can he do.
"Are you sure." A velvet voice interrupted her musings. Completely calm.
She respectfully nodded her head, kept her face and voice serious.
"Yes my liege, I am sure." Gasps of outrage from the courtiers, vampires, dignitaries of Baldur's gate, flatterers and busybodies abounded.
Such insult… Publicly, from a bride… Dear gods.
"Very well." Ascendant responded from his throne.
Suddenly, her eyes narrowed. What is he planning?
As she looked at him, she could see he suddenly started to think hard, hand on his chin, forehead wrinkled as he considered something of paramount importance.
"The cook… Didn't he recently serve an undercooked roast?" He asked from his throat.
"Yes." Someone offered.
Her eyes got huge.
"Bring him." He ordered calmly, not looking at her, all a benevolent, worried ruler.
The trembling dwarf was brought in… Chief Roveer? She wasn't sure and couldn't check. The cook from Sharess' Caress? Couldn't tell.
Astarion didn't extend this, he just grabbed the man and drained him. So quick. He wiped half of his chin. The body fell with a dull thud on the floor near the throne.
"And what about now?" He asked calmly, regarded his own manicured nails. No satisfaction in his eyes, a simple question. There was still some blood in one lip corner.
She hesitated, but stood.
The cook was already dead.
"We can do this all day, you know…"
He said quietly, looking somewhere at the floor, in a bored tone, but this obviously was for everyone, not just her…
"Bring me… The servant girl who broke the expensive set…" He said.
"Wait, my liege! Please!" She raised her voice.
Slowly, but not because of doubt, but because she wanted to properly demonstrate her subservience, she kneeled.
Slowly, she extended it, arms in front of her, head bent, neck exposed, full supplication, nape painfully exposed. On all fours.
"Come closer." He offered.
She got up, and as meekly as she could, walked over. As respectfully, subserviently, as she was capable of.
Three feet before the throne, she never once raised her head, she literally fell to his feet.
To his shoes.
"Better." He said calmly. He reached out and grabbed her by the shoulder. Pushed her to sit in his lap. Warm arms came around her.
She was stiff, wanted to move away, but was scared what he would do. She couldn't relax in his embrace. He sensed it, and she felt it pissed him off.
Definitely a good idea to wait a week he had, to mold this creature into at least behaving in public… In private… Well… There were all sorts of delicious ways to make her behave… From cooks and servants to tying her naked in bed… Or…
Astarion kissed her ear, and she barely controlled a shudder, so the courtiers didn't see it. That was enough for him. He was embracing her, and moved his lips to her ear, and spoke quietly, just for her.
"You can melt into me… And be how you were with the one who was so pathetic… Or you can sit here in my lap naked… the choice is yours." He said.
"You will sit nicely, in my lap, perhaps naked, as I rule our night horde from my throne!"
ourhorde myass.
She forced her body to yield.
We learn quickly, don't we he, he thought. He narrowed his eyes in satisfaction, beholding her from up close: this won't take long at all.
Sing. Just sing. Or go with poetry, anything will work. In her mind, to survive, like hardest exams, like hardest unavoidable moments, she started to quote what she knew by heart, first shit that came to mind.
why are you hanging on
so tight… to the rope that I am hanging from… off this island
this was an escape plan (this was an escape plan) carefully timed it so let me go…
He did deal with some shit, a king and a judge of his domain. She made sure she made a perfect subservient, adoring picture in his lap.
Suddenly, a soft touch.
… and dive into the waves below…
"What are you thinking about, my love?"
A gentle hand on her hair, cheek. His eyes… He is fascinated. You want what you can't have, and when it looks like she is not even playing a game, but truly saying no, you want it even more. I hate those people with passion, she remembers.
"I… I am nervous. You're… very intimidating, my liege." She spoke, not daring to look into his eyes, her chin down. Technically, she spoke quietly - but practically she ensured everyone could hear her.
He smiled at her.
Stroked her back reassuringly.
"You will learn… Everyone should be afraid of me, but you, my little love." He said, and it was so tender, it flayed her with desire to melt into him.
That so, she thought.
She decided to risk it.
"When I was scared or intimidated or unsure…" She revealed to him, speaking now truly quietly, as if revealing deepest parts of herself in trust… "I learnt to… quote poetry. Or write it from memory. Just... speak in my mind. I know tons by heart, in two languages… It just… worked. To ease me." She shrugged.
It was gods' honest truth, too.
Just not really a fucking secret.
"Really." He said. A gentle hand on her hair, her cheek, his eyes were so soft. "Then share with me, what you were just thinking about." He said.
She hid her head in her shoulders, all shy and scared.
She had no control over the poem that went into her mind first, to show him. It just happened.
"Master… It's in my first language, besides…"
Quiet and shy voice followed: "…I thought you don't like poetry."
"I don't." He confirmed, took a moment. Repositioned the way he was holding her, so she was pressing her side to his chest, his touch sure.
"But I should make an exception for the thoughts of my consort, should I not? He asked, just a little seductively, and pressed his forehead to her forehead.
Fuck. It absolutely was working on her. He was openly showing her intimacy and openly, loudly, ignoring the courtiers. Making them wait, and he had enough power they fucking stood and waited.
"My liege... I am worried if you won't link a tadpole with mine I… wouldn't even know where to begin translating." She said the truth.
"Hmm. The Absolute was defeated weeks ago. Let's see what's left in that brain…" He said and she felt him connect.
It should be possible. She said, mind-linking.
You carried the parasite for months, my liege. If you tried at any point to use the practiced abilities… The neural pathways changed. The unique biology and biological components tadpole is made of, even if it melted, burnt, in your brain would actually lend new chemicals your brain cannot make on its own. Thus it would facilitate new neural connections, that's most likely how the brain works, at least here in Faerún. Any telepathy done while tadpoles were still there, created new networks, she thought at him.
He thought: what does this creature know?
"Let's see…" He muttered quietly, and focused again.
You still have a tadpole… but ceremorphosis is suspended indefinitely… we have to handle this. I won't have my bride owned by anyone but me…
Yes, my liege.
Still a tadpole? So as long as "her" Absolute in the line she "belonged to" isn't defeated… Good to know. There are inherent connectors to the line, people can't just fucking move about, makes sense…
He connected to her sufficiently she could speak, and he would understand. So she spoke.
Absztyfikanci grubej Berty
I katowickie węglokopy
I borysławskie naftowierty
I lodzermensche bycze chłopy
Warszawskie bubki żygolaki
Z bandą wytwornych pind na kupę
Rębajły franty zabijaki
Całujcie mnie wszyscy w dupę
Big Berta's wooers,
and Katowice's coal-miners,
and Boryslaw's oil-drillers,
and lodzermenchen, big guys,
Warsaw's whipper-snappers, gigolos,
with a bunch of elegant sluts,
Brawlers, fools, juggernauts,
… you can all kiss my arse.
[https/iriascend./post/134335415132, parts of translation provided by hexephra, parts by me]
Astarion burst out laughing, held on to her with only one hand, on the throne's handle with the other, laughing until his laughter actually echoed around the room.
The whole court looked at her shocked -and impressed, she recognized. Suddenly, she knew: this was the happiest he was, since Cazador died.
More! He demanded.
Socjały nudne i ponure
Pedeki neokatoliki
Podskakiwacze pod kulturę
Czciciele radia i fizyki
Uczone małpy ścisłowiedzy
Co oglądacie świat przez lupę
I wszystko wiecie: co, jak, kiedy
Całujcie mnie wszyscy w dupę
Boring and grim socialists,
Pedeks and neocatholics,
Upholders of studies,
Worshippers of radio and physics,
Educated monkeys, sciencers,
Who look at the world through an eyeglass,
And know all: what, when, how…
…you can all kiss my arse.
Astarion laughed, with his entire body. To tears. Wiped them. Spoke out loud.
"Oh… I don't understand some terms and descriptors mentioned here."
"They're unique to my country and the political situation it had at the time." She said meekly.
"You will explain this all to me!"
"Yes of course, master."
He felt he made the right decision: the insanely valuable another portal opening return scroll would never need to be used.
He disconnected their minds, and directed his attention back to courtiers flattering him. He was both aware they're trying to gain his favor, and allowed himself to be somewhat swayed by honeyed words of people who would stab him in the back, in a moment, if he lost power… Speaking of backs, his hand was gently moving on hers.
She swallowed: rely on the fact he will keep degrading you. Banish thoughts of gentle touches, do not fall into the trap of balancing gentle stroking on your back, and how beautiful he is laughing, how his laughter almost makes you wet… Look to the dead body, still on the floor, "forgotten", and in reality a loud threat to everyone, especially her.
She looked at the dead cook. If she didn't go through this once before… She honestly didn't blame people who fell into this trap, hoping it will be a soft bed. Not one fucking bit. It was a thing of love to trust, it was a thing of goodness to assume others weren't monsters, not a thing of naivete. But she did this once already, and never recovered from the last time she hoped for a good ending.
The telepathy disconnected, Astarion went back to "ruling".
So she spoke in her mind.
I ty, fortuny skurwysynu,
Gówniarzu uperfumowany
Co splendor oraz spleen Londynu
Nosisz na mordzie zakazanej
I ty co mieszkasz dziś w pałacu
A srać chodziłeś za chałupę
Ty wypasiony na Ikacu
Całujcie mnie wszyscy w dupę
And you, fortune's sonofabich,
Perfumed shithead,
Who splendor and glamour of London
Wears on ugly face,
And you, who lives in a palace,
But used to shit behind the shack.
You, grew monstrously large on Ikac,
… you can all kiss my arse.
He threw her, naked, on the bed, and was naked himself in a second. He turned off the lights. He felt she was insecure about her body, he could tell, and he could still see everything in the darkness anyway. He wanted her seduced. She was tense, scared. He had to… gentle her.
He went on top of her, but didn't let his weight crush her. Gentle kisses. Lips, forehead, eyelids. Ears. Gentle kisses on the throat.
"You taste so good. Your skin, your sweat…" He purred, seeing if his voice would make her shudder in pleasure, like she did for the other one.
Nothing.
Ok, try harder.
He moved lower. Shaped the breast with his hand and gently, keeping her gaze, sucked the nipple into his mouth. His eyes closed in bliss, and he sucked as much of the breast as he could. They spilled in his hands, and both fit perfectly. His breathing was speeding up, his heartbeat too.
He pressed his ear to her heart: it was like a bird in a cage, quick, horrified, beautiful. That sound seduced him.
He pressed a soft, softest kiss, right on her sternum.
He looked at her with warmth in his eyes: "I… I love you." He said softly… surprised.
She realized: he thinks he is telling a vulnerable truth.
When they were, for hours, in the throne room, their minds linked and disconnected, like with the other Astarion. Confirmation: oh, this absolutely was "her" Astarion. Just fucking Ascended. Oh, did you want a healthy relationship, even for a little while? PSYCH.
There was a timeline she heard in his mind, he heard from afar, she had no memories of: she slept with spawn Astarion, loved him, opened for him completely. They were… together. Those were memories, sounds and frequency, that reached this Ascendant, not just her Astarion she didn't sleep with reached him. It was a timeline she didn't live, but if they could be in several versions… So could she, right?
How can it happen like that? So fast, so strong? He thought. During those days he was searching for a way to open the portal, and then to pay the price, he kept receiving visions of her, from several lines. And she put him on his knees. What she was, what she had inside, what she made him feel… Now she was here… So perfect, he thought. Unruly as fuck… But perfect. And a thousand times more incredible than in the visions, somehow. Even with all the frustration at her disobedience… Something, deep inside of him… was soothed. And energized both.
"I love you": her mind repeated the voice and tone and analyzed it... The same intonation like above his grave, she thought. Identical. She didn't dare to mind-touch check more, if he reacted to her… well, like Astarion. The other Astarion. But, Ascended, and if they met after his Ascension. She didn't want to know, how much more of the other one was in this one. She couldn't bear to confirm even more of her guesses.
He is acting well, she felt despair. But it's a lie. He loves nothing - only love itself. Just like in the graveyard above his headstone: he is trying to buy love with a relationship. An upgrade: no longer just sex we're offering, now we're offering a true relationship. Well done, Astarion. Progress.
Worst part: it was progress.
"I am supposed to seduce you… But it seems you're the one seducing me." He whispered, lips hovering above her skin, gentle warm breath a caress.
She looked at him still only with fear. Her hands white-knuckling the red sheets. No matter. He had still lots of tricks up proverbial sleeve.
If the sight of his body, his voice, and the way he worshipped, kissed, and adored, and kidnapped her, didn't arouse her… Like the other one did… Straight pleasure would.
He gently pried her legs apart to make room for himself, and settled lower. Kissed the mound, inner thighs. She trembled and moaned, a high, scared sound, but he wasn't sure if in pleasure, or fear.
He went in. Oh. God. She tasted so wonderful…
His eyes rolled back in his head, as he tilted his head and fit lips to lips perfectly. He held for a moment and she was moving in tiny bits… And then he started to kiss her, like he would be making out with her mouth.
Finally. Oh fuck. What the fuck.
He loved her smell and taste like a drug.
That pink flower started to open for him, and swell, just a little bit. There was, under the taste of her skin… Finally, a tiny taste of moisture, her body lubricating itself for him… The perfectly shaped pink petals swollen from licks and kisses, perfect for sucking them into his mouth. Lapping, kissing…
She moaned and tried to move away… And he realized she was afraid and wasn't enjoying it. Her body was - but she hated it. He had this experience a few times himself.
Don't be angry, control yourself, he told himself.
Try harder?
He moved to open, and hold her open, with his thumbs. He sucked the pink petals into his mouth fully. He could see her knuckles whitening even more, and she made a "mmm" sound but it was… Terror.
Fuck's sake.
This was offensive.
He swallowed his rage. One last try, he thought.
He moved to put two fingers inside of her, and suddenly it was obvious, she kept herself in place with sheer will this entre time. For as soon as she felt the fingers about to enter her body, she practically teleported, moving as far away from him as she humanly could, she shot away from him in true, unadulterated terror. Stuck to the headboard, as far away from him as she could get.
"No! Please! Stop!"
He looked at her - she was truly horrified, it… Gave him pause.
"I am too tight. Two fingers will rip me. One finger. I can't even put inside two of my own fingers." She explained, her chest falling and rising rapidly.
Aaahhh… No wonder she was so horrified, then.
"He didn't have you?" He asked, but was aware that there was more than one line, then there could be two or three or thirty seven or thousands of lines. It seemed he heard her from hers, himself from hers, and one more Astarion from the dimension she specifically wasn't from, where she and spawn were true honest to god lovers.
"No."
"How?" He couldn't not ask.
"He didn't force me!" She responded, so scared.
Astarion decided to swallow this insult, seeing how he could see how this looked like from outside perspective. Of course he was not hurting her, he was seducing her... This was a battle of wills: who will hold out despite the pleasure?
He looked into her eyes and licked his own finger. Then pulled her back down. Gently as he could, he ensured his finger was covered in wetness, and put it inside of her with all gentleness he was capable of.
Dear gods almighty… She wasn't exaggerating.
Thank fuck she stopped him, had he put himself inside of her, he would've ripped her. Despite lack of hymen, there would've been blood. But… no good. Some raped or assaulted women were like that. Technically it was still a vagina, made to be flexible and push out a babe… Practically it just didn't open, for anything.
She had to be stretched.
Well… he had six days. Let's see how her body responds.
He stirred his finger gently and looked at her face. So many responses of fear and pleasure looked utterly identical, he well knew… Her face shown only terror.
"Did I cause you pain?" He asked, tenderly.
"No…"
"Then why…"
"I don't want this…" She whispered looking at him, pleading.
Fuck.
Last chance.
He gently took his finger out and licked it. Oh for fuck's sake. No way he was gonna be able to stay away from licking her. He originally planned on licking her, because women loved it, but this… He loved. It tasted better than her blood, and her blood was absolutely insane. Made everyone else's taste like sludge from a sewer. He could go on such blood for days. It was loaded with power, with… life. And she tasted even better between her legs.
He fisted himself, and allowed the tip to rest exactly on her clit.
Her thighs trembled, and he realized, she again was holding herself in place with sheer will.
His mouth thinned into a line, he watched her… Her nipples hardened, goosebumps on skin… Chest moving up and down… The curve of the waist, and hips line both sleek and sharp… The thighs with flesh on the inside he wanted to sink fangs in, so insanely soft, both skin and flesh…
He took himself in hand, and gently rubbed up and down…
She reacted, moving a little. There! He realized instantly. This is what we like, he thought with satisfaction. Interesting. Not licking, not kissing, not making out… But this gave her pleasure.
What he wanted this entire time, what he waited for: this magical link, this unexplainable connection that fed something inside of him… Suddenly was there, as if it had been, this whole time.
He felt… how it soothed him. From the inside. The anger, the pain, wrath, frustration… All disappeared. Gentle… gently…Watch her reactions and learn…
He used the tip to make small circles on the clit… Pressed the tip into her a little, as if he tried to enter her in the wrong place… And her skin covered in sweat, goosebumps gone. She swallowed.
Yes, he thought with relish, feeling some pleasure for the first time since this started. Finally.
Finally, his cock was covered in some wetness her body made, and it felt delicious. He wanted them both covered in each other, saliva, blood, seed. He wanted to know he was dripping out of her, after he made her scream in pleasure. Not in pain, not in fear…
He continued rubbing up and down and… there! Her pupils dilated. Finally.
He could feel himself hardening even more, and he gently reached for her hand, unlocking it from the death-grip on the sheets.
He placed her hand on his hardness.
"Look." He whispered. Voice as tender, as open as he could make it. "Feel what you do to me."
Her fingers explored him with utter shyness… It was adorable. His heart sped up.
More, he mind-whispered, asked with lust in his eyes, letting her see what she was doing to him.
Her fingers moved a little… On the head… on the root, on the shaft itself…
Oh, the pleasure… Yes… He fucked a few people since Ascension, and it was frustrating: he only felt hungrier. He only became rougher, more intense, and nothing came of it. He could make them scream, he screamed, and yet after… Sense of hunger remained, even worse. It would've been funny, if it happened to someone else: the hunger he used to suffer in his stomach now just moved, just as unrelenting and unbearable, to his chest. And just as insatiable. Gods, how was he supposed to let her out of his bed during the first decade?
But now… As he felt her shy fingers exploring him, that small warm hand, he could feel the orgasm climbing up his shaft, his balls tightening, not from physical stimulation that forced pleasure, but true bliss. This black maw inside of him suddenly full of glittering periwinkle mist, soothing promise.
Eased. He was truly eased. He exhaled. His shoulders lowered. This. This was what he wanted. He picked right bringing her here. She would learn to love him. This… what she was giving him right now… Despite her fear and terror, which he wanted banished as soon as possible, this was worth any price.
Her fingers finally, blessedly, closed around the shaft. She was so scared and unsure, as if she was doing it for the first time. Made his heart soar.
She wasn't. He remembered, what he saw in snippets and learned about her: if he could work out another deal with Asmodeus… Maybe he could make a short trip to her world, and kill her rapist? Surely that would please her? To be laid his head at her feet?
Her fingers trembled, but tightened around him in a proper grip, and he hissed. A torture he wanted more of. He thrust a little into her hand, couldn't help himself.
He moved a few times, and her grip lessened. He was about to protest, when her fingers slid lower… Oh yes. She was so shy and gentle as she was exploring his balls with her fingertips…So loving and unsure… His heart turned over in his chest. She slowly moved to close her hand around the sac…
… and then she grabbed it with all her strength and twisted.
He hit her instinctively. The pain was so intense, and so out of nowhere, he didn't regulate his strength at all.
He realized after a moment, with no small amount of satisfaction: he snapped her neck.