Chapter Text
“I love it, I’ll cherish it always.” Imogen insists. She wants to lean forward and press her lips to his. But she can’t. So she just has to sit there, looking at him - hoping he can see in her eyes how much it means to her.
Men give jewellery, her mother told her, for as much decorating their bride as it is for their security. Women can’t hold estate, but they can have jewellery. And jewellery can get you by when you need to.
“You’re far too kind to me,” Imogen says softly, touching the pendant gently like she’s afraid it might break, but she can’t stop herself.
"I'm glad you like it." He says, trying to keep his voice level, despite his emotions threatening to overtake him. "As soon as I saw it, I thought of you." He wants to reach out and touch one of the stones, to touch her cheek, to press his lips to hers, but he can't, so they just sit there...looking at each other. He feels her desire in her gaze, and he hopes he is passing it back in turn. "It's not kindness, my love." He mutters so her mothers won't hear. "It's me showing you how I feel, without flowers this time."
“It is kindness. There is kindness in your every move, whether you see it or not,” Imogen says softly. She's forgotten her mothers are there, it just feels like it’s them alone in the room for all she knows or cares.
She slips off her glove and places a bare hand on his. Her mothers gasp quietly, but no one moves to stop them. She squeezes his fingers, her thumb grazing over his knuckles. “You are a kind, and lovely man. And I’m happy to know you.”
"I'm happy to know you too, my love. But your mothers are going to explode if you continue on like this." He says quietly. He picks up her glove and hands it to her. "How are we to get time alone if you're being like this before dinner has even started?" He smirks at her, hoping she will take the hint. They have to be subtle while prying eyes are on them.
“Apologies,” she blushes and grabs the glove. She slips it back on and clenches her hands in her lap. There’s so much she wants to say and show without words, it sets her teeth on edge - the social rules.
If she had it her way, she’d be alone with him in her room right then and there kissing him until his eyes are crossed. But instead she must suffer through dinner.
He's discussing books and plays and art he’s seen, describing it vividly and she can close her eyes and follow him. One day he'll be able to take her with him, to see the plays and the music.
'Perhaps you’ll find a nice merchant or a politician', her mother had told her when she was younger. But no, she’ll have herself an artist to see the world with, someone to enjoy the decadent parts with.
When the wellington comes out, he stops talking about the things he's seen, and Zoella and Paula regale him with stories from Imogen's youth instead. Worm church he finds particularly funny, laughing almost to tears. "You're precious, my love." He says, squeezing her hand underneath the table. She smiles shyly up at him, her cheeks pink as always. The wellington is delicious, the venison moist and perfectly cooked. He remarks on it and Zoella beams. "I'll make sure to let Anna know you enjoyed it, my lord. Thank you for supplying such delicious meat."
He waves a hand. "Not at all, glad I could do something to help." By the time dessert is served, he and Imogen are both a little antsy to get away from the table, but they downplay their enthusiasm well enough. The glances between them become more frequent, but nothing more obvious than that - or so they think.
“You two may take your leave. The tension at this table is palpable,” Paula says with a heavy sigh, waving them off, “Just stay in the nearest room. And I will be checking on you every so often!”
Imogen looks at Astarion with wide eyes. “We will be absolute angels.” She stands and takes her beloved’s hand before leading him to the music room where the two can be alone. As soon as the door is closed, Imogen stands back against the door looking up, “I could hardly eat for excitement!” She holds up one finger before beckoning him down. “Let me kiss you.”
"You're too much," he says, but he moves towards her anyway, taking her in his arms and lowering his mouth to hers. "I don't think she was lying about joining us." He kisses her, softly. Then his hand moves to take her chin, and his tongue is meeting hers, his other hand bringing her waist closer to his. He bites her lip gently as they pull away. "You're going to ruin me, my love." He whispers against her lips, giving her one last peck before releasing her.
“How would I ever have the power to do that, my dearest?” Imogen giggles, touching her bitten lip. To be in his arms is a joy after so long. “You awaken something in me, I wish you to bite me like that again, in a moment of passion or perhaps when you are merely bored. I quite like the feeling.” Swaying in his arms, she pauses to listen at the door. “It may be a few moments more before she arrives. Hold me a little longer, dearest.”
He does as she asks, and envelops her in his arms once more. He breathes in the smell of her hair. "You know you smell like how I imagine heaven does?" He says, swaying her gently to imaginary music. "Also...I might have lied a little the other day about my musical abilities." She frowns and pulls away just enough to look up at him.
"You did?" She asks.
He laughs. "I play a little piano." He says, taking her hand, and sitting her down on the piano bench next to him. "Every time I've played this recently, I've thought of you." His slender fingers test the keys at first, before launching into a deliciously sensuous melody.
“Why would you ever lie about this?” She asks, leaning her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes and listening to the notes. That is until he begins to sing quietly into her ear, which makes her gasp just a little. Listening to what he’s whisper-singing in her ear makes her pause and blush deeper. “Is that how you truly feel?” She asks quietly, opening her eyes slowly and scanning his face before her eyes rest squarely on his lips just gazing. “Because I feel the same way,” she whispers, “and I fear if I do not have you soon, I might spontaneously combust.”
He laughs. "Of course, my love. It's killing me to do the decent thing and leave your virtue intact, you have no idea." He kisses her gently and moves quickly away before Paula bursts through the door.
"Who- what are you doing?" She asks, confused. She'd heard the unfamiliar melody and wanted to investigate.
"Astarion was being modest before, mother." Imogen says, pretending her entire face isn't pink. "He can play piano."
"Just a little." He admits. "Sorry...I just- when I heard Imogen play, I thought what I can do barely counts in comparison."
Paula looks between them, attempting to find the scandal. Imogen frowns, looking down at her hands, lips twisting in frustration. So badly she would like to be treated like a woman who is allowed to have desires and needs. So far, the only one who’s recognised and respected this in her is Astarion, and she can’t be alone with him.
“You two shouldn’t sit so close,” Paula notes, and Imogen sighs dramatically, picking herself off the bench to go sit a few feet away on the settee. Astarion can clearly see she’s becoming defeated and depressed by this whole thing. Her eyes focus on the floor and she plays with her fingers. When he starts to play again she closes her eyes and tries to smile, but the fact that they’re not alone anymore has really taken a hit to her mood.
He plays something else now. A more jaunty tune, hoping to cheer Imogen a little. When it doesn't work, he pretends to fluff a few notes and sighs too. "Sorry, I did say I could only play a little." Paula nods sympathetically, like she would if he were a child simply learning. "Oh! Imogen, I have something for you in my carriage, if you'll accompany me?" He hopes Paula won't insist on coming with them, because he absolutely does not have anything in the carriage for her. To his delight, Paula encourages Imogen to go with him alone. He helps her up into the carriage and considers their options. "We can ask them to take us for a ride." He says quickly and quietly, climbing in behind her. "And just pretend they thought it was me returning for the evening?"
Imogen smiles so warmly, her eyes dancing with mischief. “Thank you,” she whispers, settling in, “just a little ride. Nothing too long or they’ll grow suspicious.”
As soon as the horses take off, Imogen sighs and rests her head on Astarion's shoulder. “It’s not that I don’t love them, I do. And I’ll always need them. But I can tell they will always see me as a little girl.” She turns her chin on his shoulder and leans up to kiss his cheek. “You don’t see me like that.”
"No, I don't." He says, giving the instructions to the driver. He draws the curtains quickly, takes her face in his hand and kisses her. In the relative privacy of the carriage, he allows himself to pull her to him as he deepens the kiss. She's sat across his lap now, but he doesn't want to take it too far. His hands do grasp at her hips though, and she gasps into his mouth at the unfamiliar contact. "Too far?" He asks, pulling back for a second.
Imogen looks wild, her eyes large, her hair slightly a mess. She settles into his lap and shakes her head, “Not far enough,” she whispers, grabbing the lapels of his jacket and kissing him as hard as she can, with all the passion she had bottled up in the past few days.
"Hmm," He groans against her lips. "You are testing the limits of my self control, Imogen." She can feel his hardness against the side of her thigh, and she reaches for it, completely brainless in the moment. He catches her wrist before she can touch him, and places it between her own legs. "Hitch your skirts up, my love." Her eyebrows furrow in confusion. "Touch yourself. Right now."
Imogen's eyes are the size of dinner plates, her stomach doing flips. Their eyes are glued to one another’s as she does exactly what he says. She moves to the other side of the carriage and hoists up her skirts so he can see her soft white thighs. One shaking hand covers the small thatch of public hair and her fingers begin to move just for him.
"You're so good for me, love." He says, eyes flicking between her eyes and her fingers. He sits up a little more, his lower lip caught in his teeth as he watches, entranced. "Show me how you do this while you're thinking of me."
She starts slowly, trying not to hurt herself from all the times she’s touched herself before. “Keep talking to me,” she whispers, swirling her fingers around the little bundle of nerves between her lips. “Hearing you will help me, I swear,” she hisses and he can see her thighs shake.
"f*ck..." he mutters, his dick jumping as little as it can inside his tight trousers. "I can't wait until it's my hand there instead. I want to hear you moan for me, love. So much." His blazing eyes meet hers again. "I want to hear you cum. And I can't wait to feel you do it while I'm inside of you."
Imogen lets out a little cry of a moan, she closes her eyes and bites her lip, “Every moan is yours whether I bring it forth by my own hand or not.” He can see her toes curl in her slippers, her breasts heaving against her corset, “I’m sure it will feel so much better with yo-” her legs begin to shiver and her thighs move to close around her hand. She folds in on herself, trembling, her forehead meeting her knees as she tries to recover.
He gets to his knees in front of her and brings her face to him for a kiss. "Thank you, darling. That was...incredible. Now, we'll be back at your house soon." He takes the hand she used to touch herself and brings it to his nose, then his lips. He sucks the juices from her fingers and savours her scent, ignoring her wide, shocked eyes. "I'll remember this." He says, getting back into the seat opposite her. "For later." He smirks as the carriage slows again. "Now… we just have to pretend nothing happened."
Imogen looks incredibly stunned, “W-what about you? Can I do something for you?” She whispers, looking absolutely distressed that the carriage is slowing again, “Oh this isn’t fair…quick, stolen moments when I feel both in control of myself for once - whilst also completely lost - and then I’m back to where I was before.” Before the driver can get off the riding seat, she comes closer and kisses him once more before attempting to straighten herself up again and look presentable.
"Not tonight, my love." He says, getting up to help her out of the carriage. Zoella and Paula are standing anxiously at the door.
"My apologies, my ladies. We meant to just get the package I'd left, but the carriage took off with us quite unexpectedly, assuming I was on my way home. When we realised what was happening, we redirected back here at once." He glances up at the carriage driver, whose lips are pursed. He pays him well to absorb his lies, but apparently not enough for him to ignore what he hears inside the carriage. "It turns out I had left it at home all along," he says, sighing with fake sadness. "I can be forgetful at times."
“It is alright my darling, maybe next time,” Imogen says softly. She feels a bit distraught at the whole thing, but does her best to smile, “perhaps you can bring it to the party tomorrow night?” She asks, tilting her head, giving him a gentle reminder that he'll see her once again at the Wyll and Karlach’s engagement party.
