#THERE IS SPICY CONTENT AND I DON'T WANT TO WRITE SPECIFICS LEST TUMBLR BTFO's ME

[slusheeduck]

For Want Of A Wish

[I]

II. Last Night

“So you two are really venturing off into the Feywild?” Gale asked the next morning—well, afternoon, really—over coffee and leftover tart. “That’s a death wish to most, you know.” 

“Most people aren’t fey-favored,” Falerin said with a little smile, scratching Zel’s ears as she hopped up into his lap. “But my patron won’t come over here, which means I need to go over there.” He shrugged. 

“But I’ve been there before, remember. And we’re going to the Summer Court, with the Seelie; not nearly as dangerous as dealing with the Unseelie.” 

“I thought there was no such thing,” Astarion said, stitching as he listened. “I mean, Seelie and Unseelie. I thought that was something we made up.” 

Falerin tilted his head back and forth. “I mean, it’s not actually good versus evil. But the Unseelie are…less patient, and more easily offended. And it’s already easy to offend the fey.” He made a face. “I learned that the hard way a few times.” 

Gale leaned forward. “So how does one get there? I’ve only heard of people making contact with the fey that have come here, and those who found themselves spirited away one way or another.” 

“Oh, just a fey crossroad. That’s how I did it before.” 

Gale’s eyebrows shot up. “Those are real? I thought it was just stories.” His eyes lit up as he leaned in closer. “How do they work?” 

Falerin looked over the table for a moment, then grabbed the paper with the design Astarion was working on. “Can I use this, love?” When Astarion nodded, he held it out to Gale. “It makes a lot more sense than the astral prism we were carrying around, for one. But imagine this end of the paper is our world, and this end is the Feywild. There are points where they…” He brought the two edges of the paper together. “…touch, like this, and that’s where the crossroad is.” 

“Are they stable?” 

“I wouldn’t use the word stable, but they stay in one spot for quite a while. The one I went through should still be there.” He gave Gale a smile. “You could join us, if you wanted.” 

Gale squinted at Falerin for a long moment, clearly weighing it. Finally, he shook his head. “Much as I would love the chance to see the Feywild myself, I don’t think now’s the right time for me. After all, there’s the issue of time and…” He trailed off, then looked to Falerin. “Time moves differently there, you’ve said.” 

Falerin grimaced. “It…does, yes.” 

Astarion looked up from his stitching, face serious. “How long were you away again?” he asked quietly.  

“I…I had guessed about ten years,” Falerin said slowly. “But it was a century here in Faerûn.” He shrugged. “But one year to a decade isn’t a hard and fast rule. It could be less time.” 

“Or more,” Astarion said. 

Falerin rubbed his face. “Or more, yes. But there’s…there’s no way to know. Sometimes it ends up like me. Others are there for centuries and it’s only been half an hour out here.” 

“And they crumble into dust the moment they cross the threshold back,” Gale said quietly. “I’ve heard those stories, too.” 

An uneasy silence grew around the table, only broken by Zel’s purring.  

“Well,” Astarion finally said, setting his cloth down. “I’d best get the current orders done quickly, shouldn’t I?” 

“We could find another option,” Falerin said quietly. “You’ve already lost so much time.” 

“Yes, well, so have you,” the vampire replied, sitting back in his seat. “But what’s the other option? Spending the next decade hoping that this is the lead that pays off?” He let out a long breath, head falling back. “I know you hate acknowledging it…” 

“Astarion, we have company,” Falerin said through his teeth. 

“It’s Gale. But we have a limited timeframe to work with. I don’t want to spend our time together just…hoping for a solution.” Astarion looked to Gale. “You’re doing the majority of research. What are our chances of finding a cure in the next ten years?” 

Gale’s eyes flicked between the two of them. “It’s…not good,” he finally said with a sigh. “Not unless one of you suddenly becomes one of Elminster’s rivals in terms of magical prowess.” 

“And do you think you can manage that, Falerin? I sure as shit cannot.” As Falerin shut his eyes with a long sigh, Astarion leaned forward, hand wrapping around his wrist. “It’s up to you, whether we go or not. But I don’t want to miss a chance for us to have a full life together. Not when we have it. I’d give up a hundred years in Faerûn for this, gladly, if it meant being at your side for however long I can.” 

Falerin stayed still, eyes still shut. Slowly, his free hand went to scratch Zel’s ears. 

“Gale, would you be able to watch Zel for us?” he asked quietly, opening his eyes. “However…however long we’re gone?” 

A pained sort of smile crossed Gale’s face. “Of course. Rest assured, she’ll be suitably spoiled in your absence.” He hesitated, then leaned forward. “And, when you do go, I’d love to be able to witness it. Not every day you get to see a fey crossroad in person, after all, and I don’t think I’ve had quite enough once-in-a-lifetime opportunities just yet.” He looked between the two of them and added, much more quietly, “And I’d like to see you both off.” 

Falerin gave him a small smile, then let out a long sigh. “This time, I want to prepare before we go. I went in blind last time, and we have the time to plan.” He looked to Astarion. “And I’m not letting you out of my sight.” 

 “Do you ever?” Astarion teased, picking up his work again. “Look at us, off on another big adventure.” 

~

The luxury of being able to plan a harrowing adventure at their leisure was really rather remarkable. No threats of ceremorphosis hanging over their heads meant they could actively set up how they wanted to go about this—and prepare for the chance that it may be a very long time before they returned.

Over the course of two weeks, their home was packed up, with instructions given to a neighbor to move their things out and sell it if they weren’t back in a year. Astarion blazed through orders, making sure to mention his poor sick aunt back in Baldur’s Gate when passing off the finished product. (Yes, yes, terribly sad—he’s her favorite nephew, so of course he’s going to be the one to take care of her. Oh, who knows how long he’ll be gone—it could be six weeks, it could be six years. But luckily, he knows an excellent tailor in the area who could take over while he’s gone, provided they come back to him when he’s back in town.) All that was left was for Gale to come pick up Zel, and it was off into the Feywild.

Falerin sighed as he dug out his armor from a purposefully forgotten trunk, making a face.

“Do you think we’ll need that?” Astarion asked, hand grazing his lower back as he passed to fetch a few stand-by potions for their journey.

“Better safe than sorry,” Falerin said, setting his armor aside to dig for Astarion’s. “I don’t know what we’re going to encounter while we’re out there. Have you still got your blade?”

“Naturally.” Astarion took his armor—drow-made, with dark, feather-like engravings on the chestpiece—and looked it over. “Good thing we didn’t sell these like you wanted to, darling.”

Fal let out a groan, gripping the scarlet leather jack in his hands. “I hate armor. And I hate that we’re going out into danger again. We just got comfortable.”

“You really shouldn’t lie, darling. You’re awful at it.” Astarion shot a knowing smile to Falerin. “I saw that brightness in your eyes when you were talking about the Feywild with Gale. You’re excited to go back.”

Falerin made a face, tossing the jack aside. “Excited isn’t the right word. It’s more like…” He looked up, thinking for a moment. “It’s beautiful there. It’s…painfully beautiful. And I’m glad to be back home, but…nothing compares to it, love. But even so, it’s…going back to somewhere familiar. I haven’t had that in a long time.” He looked over to Astarion. “Best I can describe it is that it’s like…” He puffed out a little laugh. “…it’s like bringing you back home for a visit. I get to show you where I spent…well, most of my life.” He set the jack aside before going to drop down on the bed. “It probably won’t even be that different, after only being gone for three years.”

 Astarion went to go sit beside him. “Bit like meeting the family, isn’t it?” he asked with a small smile. “Certainly can’t be worse than meeting mine was.”

“Well, I’m assuming my patron isn’t going to be trying to kill me to get unimaginable power,” Fal said dryly. He laid back on the bed, letting out a sigh as he looked up at the ceiling. “Are you ready for tomorrow?”

“As much as I can be. I do feel a lot better going with you, even beyond the fact that you know what we’re getting into.” Astarion laid down beside him, also staring at the ceiling. “I hope we’re not gone too long, though. I’ve gotten fond of our little home, and I’m not keen to lose it.” He rolled onto his side, looking over Falerin. “You know, this may very well be the last night we have in this bed.”

“Don’t say that. I like our bed.”

“I do, too. We should make the most of it.”

“We won’t be able to sleep in. Gale’s going to be here just before twilight.”

Astarion rolled his eyes, then pushed himself up to straddle Falerin’s hips. “I’m propositioning you, you idiot.”

Falerin’s two-toned eyes went wide, and his lips parted in surprise even as his hands went to rest on Astarion’s thighs. “Oh.”

The vampire laughed, shaking his head as he started unlacing his shirt, only for Falerin to bat his hands away to take care of it himself. “You always look so shocked, darling.”

“Well, how can I not be?” Fal pushed himself up to sit as he pushed Astarion’s shirt off his shoulders, pressing soft, adoring kisses over the newly exposed skin. “I always feel so…unfairly lucky, getting to call you mine.” His lips dove down to Astarion’s throat, pressing hard against the hollow of it before working his way up. Teeth found his earlobe, and Astarion melted before turning his head to pull Falerin in for a deep kiss.

“Well,” he said, voice practically a purr as he drew back, “let’s hope that luck holds through our trip. And…” He plucked at Falerin’s shirt. “Let’s be free of this, hm, darling?”

Falerin grinned, pulling Astarion in for another kiss as the elf’s clever hands made quick work of his laces. His own hands traveled over Astarion’s back, tracing ever so gently over the scars etched in his skin–one of too many reminders of their lives before. His fingertips traveled further, tracing over the ridges of his spine before teasing beneath the waistband of his trousers.

“Cheeky as ever,” Astarion murmured, lips dragging down to Falerin’s jaw.

“That’s why you love me. Budge up so I can get these off.” He pushed Astarion’s trousers down, then set to wriggling out of his own. “Gods, remember doing this in the forest?”

“Are you trying to tell me you miss our romantic bed of sticks, leaves, and who knows what manner of insects?” Astarion snuck a kiss to Falerin’s temple, then leaned over to dig in the side table beside them. “If you want that again, go visit your druid. I enjoy creature comforts of a much less literal nature” He returned with a small vial of oil, pouring a bit into his palm before reaching for Falerin’s hand. His eyes flicked up, meeting Falerin’s gaze from under his eyelashes as he slicked up the half-drow’s fingers. “Help me?”

Fal let out a shuddering breath. “Always.” His eyes were riveted to Astarion’s face as he reached around him. His fingertips grazed over his skin as they found their mark, and he slowly pushed one into him. His breath caught as Astarion shuddered, lashes fluttering against his cheekbones.

“Fuck,” Astarion breathed. “Keep going.” He pushed forward, hungrily meeting Falerin’s mouth as the other man slowly pumped in and out, gently adding a second finger before starting to stretch him. Blunt teeth caught Fal’s lower lip, carefully tugging at it as he swallowed down a moan. Astarion nodded as he released him, tossing his curls back out of his face. “Yes, perfect. Perfect.”

Falerin’s mouth twitched, opting to slip in one more finger before pulling out. Astarion’s eyes widened, and a sharp groan was just barely muffled by clenched teeth. He panted, lips turning up. “You’re a bastard,” he said. “Gods, I love you.”

Falerin let out a breathy laugh, finally pulling out. His free hand went to Astarion’s cheek, eyes flicking over his face for a moment. “Bite me,” he said, voice low and rough. “Right as you’re about to come.”

Astarion’s brows drew together, and Falerin could see the struggle in his face before he shook his head. “You’re…you’re not…”

“I’m fine, and I want it. I miss it, Astarion. Please.”

Astarion swallowed, an argument starting to bubble up on his lips. But then Falerin’s hand snuck down to his cock before he could say a word, nearly making him yelp as he gave him a firm stroke. 

“Fuck, fine! Fine.” He pushed Falerin’s hand away. “Quit that or I’ll finish before I can.” He pushed himself up on his knees, reaching behind him for Falerin’s cock. His gaze ticked down as he managed to stroke it without so much as glancing back, lips curving smugly as Falerin’s head fell back. Unlike Astarion, he didn’t so much as try to hold back his moan, hands going to grip Astarion’s hips for dear life.

“You always make the most beautiful noises, you know that?” Astarion purred. “I’ve always liked that about you.” Slowly, teasingly, he sank down onto Falerin, tossing his head back with a luxurious groan as he took him. He took a few breaths as he pushed himself down flush against Fal’s hips, then reached forward to grip his shoulders as he rolled his hips. He dove down to meet Falerin’s lips as he began to ride in earnest, a full-body shudder coursing through him as Fal’s hand circled his cock, lazily moving in time with his hips. 

 There’s no lasting like this, that much was clear. Their kisses were all teeth and tongue, Astarion just barely able to keep his fangs from digging into Falerin’s skin too early. His hips quickened, and Falerin’s hand tightened, and they weren’t so much kissing anymore as they were sharing breaths, gasping in the other’s sighs.

As they reached a fever pitch, a familiar ache settled in Astarion’s jaw. It’d been so long since he’d tasted Falerin, and he’d never truly been able to get rid of that need, that desire to sink his teeth into his throat. For a flitting moment, he thought about being the bigger person and refusing. But he had permission, and gods, his mouth was already watering.

Falerin’s breath hitched–that was his tell. His hand tightened on Astarion’s cock, and there went the last of the vampire’s self control. A growl escaped him, deep in his throat, and his head dove to Falerin’s neck, teeth burying deep into his flesh.

Oh, this was heaven.

Again, he never had fully gotten rid of his craving for Fal’s blood, even as he’d exercised restraint. But now, as it flooded hot and thick over his tongue, it was all he could do to keep from draining him dry. 

The taste alone was enough to send white-hot pleasure through him, and he couldn’t even take a pull before falling over the edge, finish painting Falerin’s stomach as he groaned against his neck. Fal followed in short order, shuddering almost violently beneath him as he tumbled, but Astarion didn’t dare loosen his bite. Not yet. 

As they both came down, breathing hard, he finally took a drink. Just two swallows, mostly from muscle memory. But even so, gods. What a difference it made. He carefully dislodged his fangs, tongue dragging over the wound to catch every drop of blood. His head felt the clearest it had in ages, and like so many times before, he was happy. 

Well, happier. Wasn’t that nice?

Carefully, Astarion lifted his hips to gently let Falerin slide out of him, then he rolled off of him to  collapse onto the mattress, one arm splayed over the half-drow’s chest. After a few moments of catching his breath, Falerin rolled to pull Astarion flush against him, curling around his body and resting his lips against his hair.

“I love you,” he mumbled. 

“Surely not just because I let you come inside me?”

“Don’t you dare suggest that.”

Astarion let out a breathy laugh, then turned around to face Falerin, legs tangled and eyes bright as he cupped his face and leaned in for a kiss. He tasted of iron and salt, but Falerin didn’t complain in the least as he returned it. 

Sated in every which way, Astarion tucked himself up against Falerin, letting out a sigh as he started to slip into trance. Just as he was edging close, though, Falerin shifted.

“You can play the flute, can’t you, love?” he mumbled. It took Astarion a long moment to untangle that as not gibberish.

“Is that an innuendo?”

“No, I’m genuinely asking.”

Astarion made a face, shifting a bit. “I…can, yes.”

“Any reason you learned?”

Astarion blinked, and he shifted back to look at Falerin. “Is this the time to ask about my musical experience?”

Fal gave him a sleepy smile in reply, and he leaned in to kiss his nose. “It’s for tomorrow. I’ll explain later.”

Astarion let out a sigh, eyes rolling upward. “I…wanted to be a bard,” he muttered, almost too quickly to be heard. But Fal caught it, and his smile widened.

“Oh, that’s adorable.”

“Shut up. It was a ridiculous daydream from when I was very young. Now, why are you prying?”

Falerin shut his eyes. “We’ll have to get past the crossroad guardian, and the best way to do that is with music. I mean, or riddles if you have any.” He peeked his dark eye open, and Astarion shook his head. “Yeah, music’s the safer bet. But when we go, I want you to remember how you felt when you first decided to be a bard.”

“Why?”

“Because skill’s one thing, but heart’s more valuable to them.” Falerin leaned in to kiss him with that. “And I know you have more than enough of that to cross over, even if you don’t want anyone else to know.”

Astarion looked over him for a moment, then gave a sigh. “Then I’ll be sure to warm up before we go,” he said, then tucked himself up against Falerin again. “But in a bit. I want to enjoy our little death before we go off to what could be our big one.”

Falerin smiled, pulling the vampire into his arms. “And you won’t get a single argument from me.”

[Next Chapter]