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“Look at you, all tied up!” Astarion laughs, admiring his work. “Lovely, if I say so myself.”
You blush. Exposed.
Running a hand from your arms to your torso to your leg, he hums with pleasure. You shiver. “Don’t tickle me,” you giggle.
Stopping at the foot of the bed, Astarion raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”
“Oh, no. Are you going to get the sexy feather duster?”
“No, I have something far more devious in mind.” In an instant, he changes into his bat form. He hasn’t used it very much, but one time in the past he did and his hiding inside your clothes had been exceptionally ticklish. With a few awkward flaps–he really should practice this shape more–he lands on your leg and clambors up towards your chest. When he passes your waist, you especially squirm. With a dramatic gesture, he flops on your chest on his back, wings spread wide. Then, he wiggles, his fluffy body absolutely torturing you as the fine hairs go across your skin.
Astarion stops and is chittering. He arches his head so he can look up at you.
“Are you laughing at me?” You laugh.
Excitedly, he nods.
With a soft thump, he rolls over on your chest. Fangs bared.
“No, don’t you dare,” you struggle against your bounds but he tied you quite well.
Then, staring at you, he gives you a quick bite.
“Ouch!” you yelp.
“Ouch isn’t a safeword,” you could imagine him sighing.
The warm weight of his bat form on your chest as he drinks soothes you. The soft fur of his body contrasts as his talons and little clawed feet struggle to find purchase as he shifts around. You’ve always enjoyed letting him feed from you, letting him take from you what you so willingly are able to give. This isn’t the first time he’s fed from you tied down, of course, but something about the delicateness of his bat body cracks open something inside you.
“That is less ticklish,” you gasp, “and weirdly endearing.”
There’s a soft, low pur as he nuzzles against you. He stops feeding and seems to be back to seducing you, except still in that bat form. Little mouthy licks make the hairs on your skin raise pleasantly.
“Are you trying to prove something, or…?” You gasp, surprised at how skilled he is even like this. “Showing… Showing off?”
Lifting his head, he looks between your face and back down at himself. Then, he stares into the distance pensively. There’s an awkward silent pause and then he’s making a lot of noise. Astarion is shaking his head, looking down at himself, looking back at you, back at himself, and a lot of fast weird sounds are coming out of him.
In what can only be described as a haughty fluster, Astarion stands, flops over because he stood too quickly, and rolls backwards down your body in a heap of batty limbs and onto the bed.
“Astarion?” You strain to look where he landed beside your hip.
More sounds. They sound like moaning. Frustration.
“Astarion, what’s wrong? Mugwort.” Your safeword. “This isn’t funny.”
Bracing against your body, he props himself up. Now, you can tell he’s in distress. His wings seem to be gesturing from his head to his toes.
“Turn back! Enough!”
Astarion releases a long screech that shocks your ears. Finishing his scream, he flops backwards again, flat on the bed, little bat legs kicking into the air.
Finally, he stills.
“Are you stuck?”
A single chirp.
“Oh, no, Astarion.” You switch from frustration to concern. “Here, get… Can you get me out of this?”
Slowly and glumly, he shuffles towards where your hands are tied to the bed. Clamoring up the pillows, he stands too vertically and ends up stumbling, resulting in a series of sounds that would probably otherwise be curses. There’s an awful lot of grumpy bat noises as he fights with the ties but eventually gets your first wrist free, which makes it possible for you to free your other hand, and then ankles.
Once you have your ankles freed, you turn back to look at the top of the bed but don’t see him.
“Astarion?”
A single grunt.
You still don’t see him.
“Where did you…go?”
You lift a pillow and find him there, curled up and appearing defeated. His face is buried in his wings. The only movement seems to be his little toes rubbing against one another in a feeble attempt at consoling himself.
“Oh, no, no, Astarion,” you stroke his back softly. “It’ll wear off on its own, you know.” Part of you wants to laugh at the absurdity but you know that he won’t appreciate that in the moment; you can laugh about it together tomorrow when he’s not in the middle of a crisis. A cute, silly crisis, but a crisis all the same.
A dramatic sigh. Slowly, he lowers his wings and shows his face. Astarion’s ears droop down at the sides of his head. His little red bat eyes are huge and pitiful when they look up at you.
“Can I pick you up?” you lay a hand beside him on the bed.
He worms his way onto your palm, refusing apparently to even stand. Carefully, you scoop him up and bring him onto your chest. Tugging the blankets, you cover both of you. “We can sleep it off.”
Astarion makes a pitiful few noises. He holds his face, scrunched up, and then let’s it go, shaking his head. Clearly, he wanted to make one last attempt to turn back before giving it up.
With Astarion on your chest, you stroke his back gently. As he calms down, you hum softly, and he snuggles in more comfortably. Eyes drifting shut, you arch your neck and press a soft kiss on his little bat nose.
“See you in the morning, silly little spawn.”
At some point in the night, you wake up to a more crushing weight and see Astarion in his normal shape again. Shifting just enough to give your lungs a fighting chance, you still let him sleep half on-top of you before you drift back, hands trailing gently along his body.