Hi hi! I absolutely adore your astarion smut and I saw you were looking for ideas sooooo, how about reader being distracted watching him work with his hands?? Like he could be sat fixing his shirt with a sewing needle, flicking book pages or lockpicking- whatever- but it has an effect, his nimble, veiny hands being just soo good at things that he can’t help but notice just how zoned out and squirmy they get.. some teasing and loving jokes about it ensue until maybe one thing leads to another and he’s sat behind his pretty tav fingering them, bringing them to the edge over and over, whispering and nipping, carefully mocking them about somthing as simple as his hands getting them going.. just making them melt.. idkkkk man it gets me just thinking about it pahahah
Hi, anon! This was a WONDERFUL prompt to get me out of my smut rut. Hope you enjoy! xoxoxo
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Rating: Mature
Pairing: Astarion x fem!Reader
Word Count: 2.5K
Warnings/Tags: Hand kink, praise kink, semi-public sex, mild exhibitionism, teasing, vaginal fingering, smut with a little plot
Summary: Astarion notices you watching him pick some locks. He offers to give you a lesson you won't soon forget.
*****
It was unfair, really. No one should have hands as lovely and dexterous as he did.
You were practically salivating, watching Astarion’s nimble fingers pick lock after lock in the underground bank vault that you and the party had happened to stumble upon. While the others were far too distracted by crates of silks and gold troves, you had eyes only for Astarion. Or, more specifically, Astarion’s hands.
The others were slowly pilfering their way around the cavernous room, pocketing what they could without encumbering themselves. But not you.
No, you were too entranced by the movements of the rogue before you, as he worked to release the heavily rusted lock on one of the many jewel-encrusted chests scattered about the vault. You bit your lip, studying the way the tendons in his hands flexed and relaxed with every twist and fidget of the wrench and pick he held. His long, slender fingers balanced the tools with a graceful sort of ease that you knew could only come from years of practice. And the way he curled his wrist while manipulating those tools, it was almost too much to bear.
You blushed as you realized you had subconsciously clamped your thighs together, your body desperate to relieve some of the growing tension within you.
Gods above, you hoped that if anyone – especially Astarion – noticed your intense gaze, it could be chalked up to your excitement over another chest opened. Surely that made sense given the circumstances. Right? It was embarrassing enough to catch yourself squirming over just his hands doing some mundane task, let alone having someone else realize it.
Within seconds, Astarion had the lock released. Tossing it carelessly to the side, he heaved open the lid of the old chest to reveal the contents within. Another heaping mound of gold and jewels, same as the rest. Clearly unimpressed, he rose from his crouch and slunk over to the next locked chest, beginning the process again.
Gods, you needed some air. Needed to be anywhere else but watching him pick another lock open. With a tight cough and shake of the head, you mumbled a “nice job” as you skirted by him, desperate to put some distance between yourself and those mesmerizing hands of his.
*****
He had known why you were watching him so intently earlier in the day. Of course he had known. Even without his heightened sense of smell alerting him to your arousal (thank you elven heritage and vampiric consolation prizes), your expression in his peripheral vision told him everything he needed to know.
You were coveting. But not for the gold in the old chest he had popped open in record time.
No, your eyes had been focused singularly on him. On his hands. And sure, knowing this, perhaps he had embellished his movements a bit more than necessary. Perhaps he’d slid his fingers across his tools with a more lascivious flourish than lockpicking ever required. And perhaps he’d curled his wrist suggestively as he released the tension from those over-wound lock pins. But, oh, the way you had squirmed and clenched your thighs together as he did so was worth every second of that exaggerated performance.
So enamored with his hands, you’d neglected to see the smirk ripple across his features as the lock opened with a muted snick.
All the better for him, though.
Your starving expression had produced so many entertaining ideas in his mind while he worked.
And what made those ideas all the more enticing? You had no idea of the plans he had in store for tonight.
*****
It was late. Everyone else had retired to their tents for the evening, but you had volunteered to take the first watch. Like most nights, it was fairly quiet, nothing but the sound of crickets chirping and owls hooting in the distance.
You were stoking the fire with fresh tinder as you caught sight of Astarion reentering the camp. He was whistling some bawdy tune you recalled from the pubs of Baldur’s Gate while he sauntered toward you, tossing and catching some metallic thing that flashed in the firelight.
“What’s that you’ve got?” you whispered as he drew closer, mindful of your sleeping compatriots.
“Practice lock,” Astarion replied, tossing you the object. You turned it over in your hands, noticing its striking resemblance to one of the locks he’d picked earlier in the day.
“Why are you giving me this?” you questioned, eying him warily.
“I caught you watching me today, darling. I assumed you were too shy to ask for… lessons,” he supplied.
He had an innocent-enough tone, but still, it had you gulping audibly. Did he intend a double meaning to his words, or were you just desperately lusting after him? You couldn’t be sure. It certainly meant he had noticed your staring earlier, but far be it from you to correct the narrative he had formed in his mind. You would rather be buried alive than admit the truth to him right now.
No Astarion, I couldn’t give a damn about lockpicking. I just can’t stop watching your hands and thinking about all the ways I’d wish you’d use them on me. Even the idea of that confession caused a blush to bloom across your neck and cheeks.
You cleared your throat and nodded. “Right. You’re right. Thank you for offering.”
His smile widened. “Of course. I was thinking,” he began, as he circled around you, graceful as always. Like a feline cornering their dinner.
“We could have our first lesson tonight. Right now,” he continued.
You shivered, unable to see him any longer, but feeling him close behind you.
“Isn’t it a little late for that?” you asked weakly.
You both felt and heard his chuckle by your ear, his breath blowing tendrils of your loose hair into your periphery. He’d gotten so close without you even realizing. His preternatural stillness was always catching you off guard.
“Oh no, darling. It’s the perfect time for it, I think,” Astarion murmured. You shivered again as his nose traced a path up the column of your neck. “Let me show you.”
“All right,” you whispered, desire choking your voice into some muted, demure thing.
You clenched your jaw, commanding yourself to remain calm, as you felt him settle around you. Felt his body press snugly against you. You watched as his long legs stretched to bar you in while he circled his arms around you, resting his forearms on bended knees. His chest was flush against your back, his chin resting on your shoulder. You knew if you turned your head, your lips would be close enough to touch.
You were effectively caged within his embrace. Even fully clothed, it felt electric, everywhere his body touched yours. It took everything within you just to maintain your breathing.
Your eyes tracked his every move, as one hand moved to pluck the lock still clutched in your fingers, while the other hand revealed a simple lockpick – a long metal stem with a tiny curved hook at the end.
“It’s simple, really,” he murmured. “Do it once, and you’ll never forget.”
“Is that so?” you replied.
“Mm, quite so,” he crooned. You could hear the grin in his voice.
“Watch me,” he continued, as he held the lock in one hand and inserted the pick with the other.
You obeyed, taking in every minute movement of his fingers as he twisted the pick this way and that. This close, you could truly appreciate his beautiful porcelain skin. The way the blue-gray veins underneath snaked around each knuckle of his hand, a delicate webbing that came alive with each fidget of his fingers. The dance they performed against the tendons in his hand, as they rose and fell while he continued to work.
A quiet snick, and the lock handle popped open in his palm.
You blinked, impressed by how quickly he’d managed to free the pins within.
“See? Simple. Now you try,” he whispered.
You felt your stomach drop.
Fuck. You were utterly, completely fucked.
You hadn’t been watching the actual pick at all. You hadn’t the slightest clue how he’d maneuvered the tool. Once again, you’d been far too distracted by his hands.
You remained still, hesitating to accept the lock and pick he now offered.
“Is there a problem, darling?” he crooned after a moment’s pause. You could hear it again, that grin in his voice.
You turned your head slightly to take in his expression. There was mischief in his eyes, that much was unmistakable. Whatever game he was playing with you, you could tell he was enjoying it immensely.
“I, um… I think I may need to see you do it again. I’m not sure I’m ready,” you confessed in a hoarse voice.
“Oh, but you were watching my hands so intently! I doubt you missed a thing,” he chuckled, his eyes alight with amusement.
Gods damn it all, you thought to yourself, eyes roving across his face. Taking in the telltale signs in his expression.
He knew. He’s probably known this whole time.
You sighed, surrendering to the heat of the blush that was now coloring your entire face and neck.
“You know I haven’t been watching the pick, Astarion,” you murmured.
“Whatever do you mean, darling?” he gasped in mock surprise. “What could you have been watching then?”
You rolled your eyes, turning away from him to face the campfire once more. “You know already, you ass,” you grumbled.
“Tsk, tsk. Evading my questions and now name calling? Honestly, darling, I thought we had something special,” he pouted.
You groaned, smacking one hand against your forehead. His teasing would be the death of you.
“I was watching your hands,” you groused.
“My hands? Whatever for?”
“Gods damn you, Astarion. You’re really going to make me say it?” you snapped, whipping your head around again to glare at him.
“Oh, I really am,” he chuckled. His shit-eating grin did little to lessen your embarrassment.
“Fine. Fine!,” you spouted, exasperated. “I like watching you work with your hands. It… gets me… excited. And then, I start thinking about all of the other things I’d like you to do with your hands…” you paused.
“And?” he prompted. His teasing expression was gone, replaced with something more akin to what you had been feeling for him all day.
“And… and I think about how I’d like you to use your hands on me,” you finished in a whisper, mouth watering at the look of anticipation on his face.
“All you had to do was ask, darling,” he whispered, leaning in to kiss you as his hands slipped down to the front of your breeches. With deft hands, he loosened the knot there and pulled the strings free from their bindings, jerking the leathers down past your hip bones.
You gasped and keened back against his chest as you felt his fingers slip beneath the fabric, skimming past the tuft of curls to brush against your swollen clit, slick with arousal.
Astarion groaned. “Fuck, you’re absolutely drenched. Is this all for me?” he asked, as his fingers drew slow, languid circles against you.
You mewled a pathetic “yes” as your hips subconsciously rutted up, pressing yourself harder against his fingers.
“Just from watching my hands, darling? Just from watching me pick a rusted lock?” he teased.
You huffed and nodded your assent.
“Naughty thing, you,” Astarion chuckled, trailing the fingers of his other hand against your entrance, barely entering you with one finger before removing it entirely.
You whined your disapproval, inching yourself forward in an effort to communicate how much you needed those fingers inside you.
“Shh, shh,” he admonished, kissing your temple. “We don’t want to wake the others, now do we?”
“No,” you breathed, burrowing your face into his neck to muffle your noises. “I’ll be quiet.”
“That’s my good girl,” he cooed, slipping two fingers inside you. The sudden fullness caused you to groan desperately against his skin, becoming a long, drawn-out noise as he began pumping them with sure, deft strokes.
“No, we can’t have them see you getting finger fucked by the rogue in the firelight,” he whispered, working you now with both hands. “Although, I think the wicked part of you likes the idea of getting caught like this, hmm? Part of you wants them to see how I’m taking you, so easily, right under their noses? In the middle of camp? You want them to see how well I fuck you into oblivion with only my hands. You want them to hear and see how I make you moan.”
With his fingers on your clit and three knuckles deep in your cunt, you were far too gone to form an articulate response. His voice, so alluring it was sinful, only stoked the growing inferno within your lower body.
“Yes, yes, yes,” you cried against the column of his neck, both an admission and a plea. “Yes, Astarion, yes.”
“I know, I know. You naughty, precious thing. My sweet girl. My wicked one,” he cooed, planting kisses along your cheek and temple. “You’re doing so well. Making this so easy for me, love.”
You whined at his words, relishing the sound of his voice as it uttered the sweetest and most deplorable things. You nearly saw stars as he slipped a third finger inside you, thrusting into you harder as his fingers drew tighter and tighter circles around your clit.
“You can’t last much longer now, can you, darling?” he whispered. “Not when I’m fucking you like this, hmm? Tell me. Tell me how much you want to come.”
“Please, gods, please, Astarion. Let me come,” you pleaded, covering your mouth with your hands now to try to quiet your noises. It was becoming almost impossible to keep quiet. You could feel your release barreling through your body, desperate to spring free.
“I want you to. I want you to, my sweet one,” he responded between kisses. “I want to feel you clamp around me, knowing it was my hands that turned you into this pliant, mewling little thing.”
“Yes,” you moaned in agreement. “Yes, please.”
“Take your hands off your mouth, darling,” he whispered hoarsely against your jaw as his fingers ratcheted up their pace. “If you’re going to scream for me, I want everyone to hear it.”
It was the last push you needed before freefalling into ecstasy. Your climax rocketed through your body as his name burst from your lips, your hands freed from your mouth to clutch his thighs in a vice-like grip.
You were so lost to the sensation, you couldn’t tell how loud you had cried Astarion’s name. You simply melted back into his embrace, absorbing the aftershocks of your release while he held you snugly against him.
“Good girl. So good for me. So very good,” he whispered praises while his hands trailed errant patterns across the goosefleshed skin of your arms.
“Did anyone hear us?” you whispered after a while, blinking open your eyes to take in his expression.
He laughed, causing you to bounce lightly against his chest. “Oh, I’m sure they did. You sang like a songbird for me, darling.”
You huffed in annoyance, too relaxed to drum up much more irritation.
“If anyone complains, I’m going to tell them it was your fault,” you grumbled.
“I suppose that’s fair. I’ll apologize to them on behalf of my hands, since that’s what started it all,” he smirked.