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In his dream, the bed was so disheveled that down feathers whooshed up in riotous little eddies each time he moved his limbs. Snow white, soft as petals, landing carelessly this way and that. He could feel the heat from his two lovers on either side of him, although the bed was too expansive to reach for them.
They must have shared a rather rowdy evening together, given the abundance of freewheeling feathers that surrounded him. He couldn’t recall the details now. Curious. His eyelids slipped shut as a tuft floated down to land on his lashes. Another caressed his cheek. He smiled, content.
But then the third arrival was less welcoming, landing just under his nose. He lifted a hand up to knock it aside, only for the feather to be replaced by another. Brows furrowed, he batted it away with a tinge more annoyance. But that one was only replaced once again.
The barrage of feathers was beginning to tickle. He could feel a sneeze itching its way to the front of his nose. As his body instinctively inhaled to let it loose, he woke with a start.
Well, the dream had gotten one thing right, Astarion thought to himself.
There were indeed feathers surrounding him everywhere. It was all he could see as he peered about with bleary eyes. But they weren’t the soft down of a priceless plush pillow or mattress, no.
They were attached to the pelts of his two lovers, you and Halsin, having shifted sometime in the night into your owlbear forms. Sandwiched between you, he felt the feathers rise and fall, sweeping up and down across his body, in time with your deep, drawn out breaths.
“Gods damn you blasted druids,” he griped, shoving against you and the Archdruid in an effort to rouse your overlarge forms. “Wake up and shift back! Lest I succumb to death by feather asphyxiation.”
You’d awoken the moment Astarion had startled beside you, but the trickster in you considered feigning sleep just to see how long he would grouse. He could be so dramatic at times. It was darling.
But Halsin was a kinder soul than you. You sensed him shift immediately in response to Astarion’s huffy command. Heard him murmur a sincere apology.
“I know you’re awake, you beastie” Astarion hissed into the feathers covering your ear hole. “Your breathing’s picked up.”
Blast. There goes any fun.
Blinking open your enlarged eyes, you rolled them in a show of exasperation as you pulled on the tether of your magic to relinquish your wild shape. You quickly downsized to your normal elven form, curled in the same way your owlbear self had been sleeping.
“Don’t be such a gremlin, Astarion,” you yawned, scooting closer to embrace him and Halsin, who had banded an arm across the vampire’s waist and was reaching for you to join them. “I would have thought you’d rather enjoy the warmth of two owlbear companions.”
“Oh yes, being smothered by lichen-and-moss-smelling feathers has always been a fantasy of mine,” he retorted.
“Can vampires actually be smothered? I thought it was just wooden stakes and sunlight that did you in,” you smirked deviously.
“You’re awful,” Astarion pouted, turning his head to rest in the crook of Halsin’s shoulder and neck. “At least Halsin showed an ounce of contrition.”
You heard the archdruid’s gravelly laugh as he kissed the top of Astarion’s head. “I’ve learned it goes a ways farther than verbally sparring with you,” he murmured into his silvery curls.
“Quite right,” Astarion sniffed. “Much farther indeed, darling.”
Laughter bubbled forth from your own lips as you squeezed closer into his side and snaked an arm across his chest.
“But where’s the fun in that?” you whispered. “Our verbal sparring often leads us three into some very interesting circumstances.”
At those words, Halsin reflexively clutched your waist harder. Astarion tensed before pushing back into your chest suggestively. You grinned fiendishly to yourself. Getting these two hot and bothered had become a specialty of yours lately. And you loved it.
“Tsk. You’re incorrigible,” Astarion grumbled, although his words were a bit breathier than they had been.
“Careful, lest you start something again,” Halsin warned. You couldn’t see him past Astarion’s head, but you could tell he was smiling just by his tone. “I’m not opposed to losing rest in order to see how this tête-à-tête ensues.”
You chuckled darkly. “Noted. What say you, Astarion? Care to keep sparring?” The insinuation in your tone was clear.
“Darling, you forget,” he murmured, one hand slipping down, behind him, to tug at the lacings of your breeches. His voice was muffled. You watched hungrily as he began to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses across the column of Halsin throat.
“I’m always ready for a spar with you two.”