#astarion has no complaints so far *shrugs*
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i always make my tav give astarion a little kiss before i go to bed in game, mwah~
#baldur’s gate#baldurs gate 3#baldurs gate astarion#astarion#my tav#bg3 tav#bg3#baldurs gate tav#my tav is so baby i adore him#also i keep making him do bad things just bc it’s funny#astarion has no complaints so far *shrugs*#ghostpuppetsart#my art#einar oc
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Of Silk, Sun, and Sparks
Chapter 6 - A Dream Come True (Fin)
Chapter Summary: After Gale has gone to sleep, Church and Astarion take some time for themselves. The apartment receives an unexpected visitor, and the couple reflects on their friendship and how far they have all come together.
Pairing: Astarion/Male Tav/Gale (w/established Astarion/Male Tav) Rating: Explicit Length: 20.6K words; Chapter 6/6
Excerpt below:
Church huffs a laugh, casting his eyes briefly over his shoulder as he self-consciously pulls his robe together.
“Well if Gale didn’t get any complaints before… he will now,” he says dryly.
“They’re just jealous,” Astarion murmurs, trailing kisses up from his partner’s thighs all the way to meet his smiling lips. “After all, their view isn’t nearly as breathtaking as mine.”
For a while they linger there together, basking in the glow of a light that is entirely their own. And then —
“Are you two quite done, now?”
Church ducks forth, wrapping his robe around himself so fast that he nearly bowls Astarion over. “Oh no,” he whispers, mortified. “Oh no no no…”
Astarion, meanwhile, sighs and leans shamelessly against the balcony’s railing. “Hello Tara dear, you little voyeur.”
The tressym scoffs, and there’s a beat of wings before she alights upon the railing beside the elf, apparently unbothered by his disheveled, partially-clothed state.
“Forgive my betrothed — sometimes he’s shy,” Astarion shoots the tiefling a teasing look.
“I’m going to jump into the sea,” Church grumbles as he sinks into the balcony’s settee, covering his face.
Tara rolls her eyes in a manner that would have made Lae’zel proud.
“To what do we owe the pleasure?” Astarion inquires, cordial even as he secures his fly.
“Curious,” Tara drawls, her eyes narrowing. “My boy told me that he would be back in a fortnight. Now, imagine my surprise when I find out he has returned a week early, unannounced, only to fly straight to his former nest.”
Her tail swishes irritably. “The nerve of him.”
“What can I say?” Astarion shrugs. “He was quite excited.”
Tara sniffs — and sneezes.
“Bless you,” Church mumbles from behind his hands.
“Thank you,” Tara replies offhandedly. “Tell me, is Mr. Dekarios well?”
Astarion supposes she can do without the details of exactly what the two men subjected her wizard to. At least he knows he isn’t stretching the truth when he says, “He’s very well — and very asleep, at the moment.”
Tara’s expression softens, her tail curling neatly around her feet. “I am glad to hear of it. Mr. Dekarios has… not been sleeping much. Not for years — not for more than a catnap. I have wondered…” she trails off with a sigh. “To see him in the company of friends… mortal friends… it is refreshing.”
“Well, a mortal friend at least,” Astarion points out.
“Yes, but I hear you’re working on that?” Tara replies blandly, licking her paw. “I believe you know what I mean. He may be a grown man, but he is still my boy. I worry for him, even after the Absolute’s defeat. For a time I feared he was going in a direction he could never return from. But he has come home and found himself, thanks to you. As have you, thanks to him,” she chirps over to Church, who smiles back.
“We love him,” the tiefling reassures her simply.
Tara steps daintily over, affectionately bumping her head against the tiefling’s shoulder.
“I know this. All the same, the two of you go where the wind and fate takes you. You have your own quests, and your own responsibilities to each other. But the artificial responsibility of academic coursework and earning his tenure keeps my boy tethered.”
She sighs, tail swishing agitatedly. “I would like to see him take flight with a companion of his own, one day soon.”
“Believe me, nothing would make us happier,” Astarion huffs. “It’s depressing to see him still at Mystra’s beck and call, but with none of the benefits…”
Tara hisses and swats at him, sending Astarion grumbling as he recoils from her.
“I think he knows where he wants to go next,” Church muses to himself. “He’s mentioned taking a sabbatical a few times — jokingly, at first. But I know he truly wishes to join us on our quest.”
“But before then we’re going to drop him off at Baldur’s Gate,” Astarion adds firmly. “There’s a lovely, intimidating swordswoman there who he sends textbooks to platonically. And that must be remedied at once.”
“How… curious,” Tara drawls. “It sounds like a perilous quest for him indeed.”
“Perilous for his waistline, maybe,” Astarion chortles.
“She’s a baker, too,” Church explains hastily to the tressym.
“I see,” Tara hums. “I would like to quiz Mr. Dekarios about this… baker-swordswoman. But I suppose it’s better than no prospects at all.”
Church’s stomach then takes that inopportune moment to growl.
“Speaking of baking, perhaps I could make use of the night to procure some food,” Astarion raises an amused eyebrow at him. “In case our dear Gale wakes up ravenous for something other than…”
“What? Did you—? Did you not feed him dinner?” Tara hisses indignantly, fluffing up and swatting at the elf. “How could you?”
“In my – ah! — defense, I thought he would stay awake long enough for us to share a meal afterwards!” Astarion waffles, shielding himself against the tressym’s buffeting wings.
“Ridiculous boys!” Tara scolds them, leaping to the railing and preparing to take flight. “I’ll return soon with provisions in tow. After a hard day’s journey I will not stand to see Mr. Dekarios go unfed!”
With a last harrumph, she takes off into the night sky.
Church exchanges a sheepish look with Astarion. “There’s a chance her ‘provisions’ might be Gale’s mother herself with some baked goods of her own,” he chuckles weakly.
“I suppose I should start cleaning up,” Astarion grimaces, eyeing the inside of the apartment littered with discarded clothes. “Or at least procure a fresh bottle of wine.”
Church smiles up at him, eyes soft. “How was the wine?”
Astarion hums, bracing himself against the settee. “I’ve had a hankering for a much finer vintage…”
He leans down, lips brushing against Church’s pulse.
“You have discerning taste,” Church laughs, tilting his head to the side. “Go on. You’ve more than earned it.”
Astarion teases his skin with a kiss before biting into his partner’s neck, moaning softly and appreciatively as he caresses through Church’s hair and back into his robe…
He only takes a sampling. He savors it like a fine wine, picking out the notes and committing them to memory.
Shining at the top is a bright, euphoric note from their post-coital bliss. It dances and lingers upon his tongue, effervescent as it intermingles with his own high from his recent climax.
Beneath that heady note is a familiar medley of magic that makes Church’s blood fundamentally his. At its base is the heat of his infernal heritage that manifested spontaneously in his birth mother’s womb — something that a pair of fools once cursed as they discarded that precious, newborn tiefling in some forgotten ruins. Mingled with this infernal spirit is his draconic bloodline, perhaps the one useful thing his birth parents did provide their child, even if unconsciously. It is spicy, for lack of a better word — shaky and untamed due to years of that inherent sorcery being suppressed by the archfey who acted as both adoptive mother and patron.
That resulting, intriguing blend of her fey and shadow magic on top of the tiefling's infernal and draconic heritage is exquisite. It's something Astarion has decided must be uniquely Church’s when it comes to flavor.
Astarion recalls that fateful night in camp when he got his first taste of it. Honestly, how lucky was it that he chose Church as his ‘first?' And how lucky was it that he was caught? Otherwise he might never have established that early bond with the warlock, nor would he have been able to feel so safe openly being a vampire spawn among their motley crew.
Astarion supposes any living, thinking being’s blood would have tasted like freedom that night. But Church’s? With his naive generosity and fierce desire to protect him, of all people?
Gods damn it, it tasted like hope.
“You know, I’ll miss this in a way,” Astarion remarks, licking up a trickle of that precious lifeblood. “When we find that cure.”
Church smiles sadly at him, and Astarion pushes on hastily. “The benefits will far outweigh the downsides, by far. But there’s just something about sharing this with you that transcends the practicality of feeding.”
“Well, it’s intimacy,” Church nods. “It’s been trust, ever since the beginning. I can’t blame you.”
He closes his eyes as Astarion brushes a finger with the smallest shimmer of healing magic upon his bite. He then slumps back into a seat upon the settee beside Church, scanning the horizon of Waterdeep’s harbor.
“Do you think we might be able to spend a couple days more here?” Church asks Astarion hopefully after a long moment.
Astarion raises his eyebrow. “So now that you’ve gotten a taste of our Gale, you’re just raring to…”
“It’s not that,” Church chuckles. “Yes, I’m glad he’s back and yes, that was amazing being with both of you at once… but it’s not just that I want a couple more days spent with Gale. I…” he blushes, for some reason. “…I want to steal more time with you,” he confesses.
Astarion scoffs. “You’re always with me. We’ve been traveling together for months now, and—”
“How do I say this better?” Church laughs to himself. “It’s just… this is the closest place we have to home so far. We’re safe here. You even take your daggers off at the door,” he says pointedly. “It’s like time stands still here. We can relax, see our friends…”
He holds Astarion’s hand. “I see you smiling, love,” he whispers. “Even when you don’t think I’m looking. You say you’re bored out of your mind, but you lounge just like Tara does in the sunlight. And when I see you relaxed like that, everything feels worth it.”
He hesitates, his voice broken as he continues. “Thank the gods we have nowhere to be, because there’s nowhere else I’d rather be in this world than by your side. There has never been a sweeter victory than being able to wake up beside you, bathed in the sun…”
Astarion stares at him, eyes shining and lip quivering for a moment before he crowds Church back down against the balcony’s settee, straddling the tiefling's lap as he embraces him.
#completed fic#churchstarion#astarion#bg3 fanfiction#bg3 oc#baldur’s gate fanfiction#oc x astarion#bg3#tav x astarion#tavstarion#astarion x male tav#Churchverse#bg3 tiefling#bg3 warlock#bg3 male tav#gale#gale dekarios#gale of waterdeep#astarion/gale/male tav#fluff and smut#of silk sun and sparks#bg3 fic#bg3 fanfic#bg3 smut
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Shelter the Light
Note: tagging @lunargrapejuice in all of these because I promised her specifically even tho she didn't ask
Part 1 and Part 3
Preposterous.
Completely ridiculous.
How could she refuse him?! Someone like her should be grateful that he's giving her his time. Yet the orc girl acts as if the mere thought of spending the night with him amused her.
Astarion has been traveling with this peculiar band of wretches for a week now. In which he had time to get himself tangled in a mess between tieflings, druids, and goblins. A mess Xenthia dragged them into. Unfortunately, this group has chosen a complete idiot as their leader. Stopping by every whining moron pleading for her help, Xenthia like an insufferable do-gooder, complied. Devoted to pleads of her oath.
When Xenthia told Astarion she was a paladin he straight up laughed in her face. Orc? A paladin?! How did this happen?? Did some poor clergyman get mauled by an orc woman? Or perhaps an angel descended from the sky, convincing the girl to exchange murder and pillaging for some higher purpose?
To his eternal chagrin, she accepted his mockery and complaints in silence, sometimes with a sheepish smile. As if you were saying 'I know...' Ugh, pathetic. She even depraved him of witnessing famed orcish fury and brutality, instead, Xenthia always tried to resolve things peacefully.
But then something occurred to him. This kindness and naivety...it would be too easy for him to imprint himself on her. Twist her thoughts and feelings in the way that suited him. She'll protect him, and supply him with blood, and while she'll seemingly stand as the leader, he'll be in the shadows pulling the strings. The girl believed him in everything he said, not a perceptive one, is she? It's gonna be like stealing candy from a child.
So far, she refuted his every advance and effort at flirting with her. Saying all his favorite lines to her did not turn out as he hoped for either. While you flustered easily at many of his compliments, she always seemed to jump away like a deer in front of a wolf, and while that gave Astarion a little power rush, having such an imposing creature skitter away from him, he soon found out that's as far as she'll let him.
She clearly hasn't received many compliments on her appearance, imagine that, which is why his words always suprised the orc. He almost feels sorry for her. Poor thing, sleeping with her would be a charity. An act of generosity. And while he's never been one for good deeds, he can make an exception. She is useful to him, after all.
Which is why he found himself chucking up to her at the tiefling party. Cooing into her ear, purring words of temptation like she'd never known before. Xenthia made him beg for it, telling him to say please if he wanted to spend the night with her. Cheeky little thing...feeling cocky, hm? Fine, he'll indulge her. When she finally agreed to meet him in the woods, Astarion felt a smug grin growing on his face. Hook and sinker.
He's already half undressed when she approaches him. Buttering her up with more sweet and heady words, while mentally suppressing a shudder at the thought of bedding an orc. Gods, how mighty he fell, but beggars can't be choosers.
She stood there smiling all prettily, as one with two disgusting tusks protruding from their mouth can, and refused him. Astarion had to double-take that answer.
"What." Shock and nervousness leaked into his voice. The mask cracking.
The orc woman only gave him an infuriating shrug. "I don't really feel like tumbling in the dirt for a quick fix. Especially with someone who barely tolerates my presence."
It took Astarion a minute to respond. He wasn't sure what suprised him more. The fact that his seduction techniques are failing on the simplest of targets, or that the said target may not be as naive as he thought.
"Then what the hell are you doing here?!" He barked out, the moment he realized he failed and that there won't be any carnal pleasure tonight, Astarion gave up on wasting his charm on her.
"We can always talk, get to know each other a little bit. I don't know much about you other than you're a vampire and you come from Baldur's Gate. And that you're talented with thread and needle. This last bit interests me the most."
The girl gave him a genuine friendly smile, sitting on the nearby bark and patting the spot next to her.
"Are you fucking serious?!?"
Her expression turned into a mockery of seriousness.
"Dead serious."
Astarion just wanted to smack her over the head. All this time she was playing with him, making a fool of him, just like...just like he was fooling her. He swallowed the bile rising in his throat.
Seduction was all he knew, how was he supposed to interact with someone who wasn't an enemy or bedmate? He suddenly felt bare, exposed, vulnerable. Stripped of everything he knew. So he opted for the only thing he had left, rudeness.
"Do you honestly expect me to just sit there and talk about embroidery?!" He spat the words at her like venom. "I was generous enough to offer you a night with me, a night of pleasure," he put an emphasis on the last word, to make sure where their plans divided, "and you have the nerve to give me false hope only to act like some elderly matron??"
You opened your mouth to speak but Astarion didn't give a damn about what she got to say.
"An ugly thing like you should be grateful for anyone who's pitiful enough to spread their legs for them!"
Astarion regretted these words the moment they left his mouth, but the damage was done and he was so fed up with the results of this evening that he turned on his heel and left, just so he doesn't have to look at the pain in her eyes.
"Half-Orc."
"What?" Was the only thing he could muster.
Xenthia got up and walked up to him. Walking up to him with a slow, measured stride at her full height made Astarion step back.
"I'm a half-orc, actually. Though, I can't blame you of all people not being able to tell the difference. You don't care whether it's boar or gnome you're biting on."
He heard the mockery in that snarky tone of hers and didn't like dit one bit. He's the only one allowed to be snotty and condescending.
"You're not the first one to remind me of my place, but most have decency to leave it at that."
She leaned closer to him and Astarion had to put his best disgusted face he could muster.
"You had to prove something to yourself, eh?"
There was no anger in her voice anymore just dissapointment, and Astarion felt his gut twisting into a tight knot as he watched her leave. It took him several minutes to recollect himself. He was stranger to any shame, yet her accusatory words and visible saddness in her eyes haunted him for the rest of the night.
Following morning you didn't spare him a glance. However to his suprise, she hasn't spoken to anyone about last night, neither she kicked him out of her party first thing in the morning.
Astarion was more confused than ever before.
On their journey to Shadow-Cursed lands, he asked himself many times why didn't he ditch the group at the first stop. Not only did they not find the cure for the worm, but they were dragged to the Underdark and even further. On the other hand, Astarion became much more appreciative of Xenthia's company. Specifically, the respite her divine magic presented in the realm of endless shadows. The moment they made it underground, he missed the sun already. So he clung to Xenthia like she was an overgrown moon lantern. To Astarion's chagrin, he wasn't the only one.
Slowly but surely, the girl gained trust and hearts of everyone in the party. It seemed like she genuienly cared about all of them, picture that. She thought that Gale was the smartest man under the sun (ugh). Lae'zel was by her words "just delight" smarmy attittude and everything. He'd rather not think about how disgustingly cute Xenthia and Karlach were together. She and Wyll were two peas in a pond, a pair of harebrained dreamers who still believed in fairytales. And if it was just how well she got along with everybody...
You certainly didn't hold back whenever someone was in danger. That moss-covered claymore of hers certainly wasn't just for show. He saw with his own two eyes as she cleaved in half three giant spiders in one swing.
Her strengh, relentlessness, and furious glare was forces to be reckoned with. Astarion knew, because he found himself at the end of it once or twice... Apparently she had no appreciacion for his cutting wit on occasion.
Xenthia never spoke of that night. Treating him with courtesy he was still getting used to, but not the friendly banter or innocent touches she treated others to. You even wrapped arm around Lae'zel once! The was a gaping hole between the two of you and he was the culprit.
Shit, why does he even care?
Because of protection of course...he has to secure his place in camp...and right now he's at the bottom and that won't do.
It certainly has nothing to do with the way her courageous spirit and tendency to never step back inspired everyone in the party, or her laughter, far cry from pretty giggle but a full booming roar he would recognize anywhere, the way she just expressed every emotion to the the fullest, anger, saddness, joy...of course it made him wonder if the half-orc girl is this passionate in other areas of life.
The problem was that other people in the party has noticed as well. Astarion knew how close she became to Gale, but who really worried him was the druid. Halsin never held back in expressing how much appreciates her...the way she filled out her armor. And his innecesant chatting brought Astarions gaze to the wrong places many times.
He remembers mocking Xenthia's appearance and even going as far as insulting you for your mixed blood. Now, he feels like a total cuck. How could he be so blind? He clearly needs to broaden his palate. It was perhaps due to her human half that the hard and sharp edges were rounded by soft curves and lush sweetness. Her arms, legs, and chest... all of it looked like it would serve nicely to rest one's head on. Not to mention the impressive cleavage and behind his eyes so often swayed.
Xenthia laughed at whatever Halsin said, you two tree-huggers exchanging whatever anecdotes you had on traversing the wilderness. He's standing too close, his side basically flushed to hers. Asterion almost hissed. And there is Wyll walking to them with a bounce in his step, no doubt charming her with those overdone princely lines. Astarion felt he was behind in a competition, and he hated losing. She hasn't bedded anyone as far as he knows. Curious that.
It's time to get back on his horse again. These two can't pester her forever, and once she's all alone, he'll come to her.
The opportunity came that evening when she was preparing for bed. As he walked up to her, he took one appreciative glance at her full figure in a simple nightgown. Xenthia let her long hair from its braids, fingers running through them as her chestnut mane cascaded down her back. She was looking in the firelight, deep in thought, its light glowing on her forest green skin.
Gods, she is beautiful.
"Well, hello there." he purred seductively as he sat next to her.
She looked up at him with trepidation but swapped it quickly for a small smile.
"You look...troubled." Astarion tilted his way just the right way, eyes round, eyebrows pinched in pity.
Xenthia shrugged, the motion making one of the straps on her nightdress slip down her round shoulder, Astarion's eyes drifted there just for a second, a practiced facade revealing hunger.
"Just a lot on my mind."
There was a beat of silence. Shit, how come he never knew the right thing to say around her?
"I know what I look like, y'know?"
Astarion looked up at the paladin in surprise. For once, she was looking at him with vulnerability, and he suppressed a lump in his throat.
Xenthia turned her head back into the fire. "I can't change the way I look, but a nasty attitude can be fixed" She looked pointedly at him and Astarion felt his hackles rise, but he deflated the moment he remembered that moment in the forest. He's a bastard but he should have his standards.
He felt truly awful. Of course, he knew that what he said was out of line, but he hoped you forgot about it so he didn't have to feel guilty about it.
"I...I want to apologize."
"That's a good start."
Astarion, emboldened by your statement, continued, "As far as I can remember, my first instinct was to seduce and charm my way through life. For years, I lured people...for him." His tone darkened.
Xenthia knew exactly who 'he' was from the many conversations about Astarion's past that she managed to wrangle out of him. The servitude, or rather, slavery, the torture, the abuse, the hoping, the hopelessness. The more time she spent with him, the more she understood his actions and his behavior, and the little slips in which she could see the raw unfiltered Astarion, were a sight to behold.
"When you showed me kindness I associated that with attraction and then..."
"Nothing could be easier right?" She finished the sentence for him with a snicker. He felt himself wince as the damned woman worded his exact thoughts from weeks ago. She continued, "You must've been truly desperate if you wanted to lay with a half-orc. Has everyone in the camp refused you?"
Her only answer was silence. Xenthia cackled in his face and Astarion felt the urge to get up and leave, but the arm around his shoulders held him in place and he could feel her warmth, smell her scent, a far too pleasant for orc descendant.
"Hey, hey, I'm just messin' with ya."
"I guess I deserved it," Astarion says in mild annoyance.
The silence that settled this time was void of the previous tension.
"Say," she turned to him, a mischievous gleam in her eyes, "You must be master in seduction, right?"
"Considering that every time you laughed at me or brushed off my flirtations, I'd say I'm losing my touch." Astarion shrugged, then looked at you with suspicion, "Why?"
"What's your tricks? What are your go-to lines? Perhaps you can give me some tips." Xenthia leaned towards him, giving Astarion a perfect view of her full breasts. As far as he's concerned, she doesn't need any tips from him. But then something dawned on him.
"Has someone in the camp caught your eye?" He tried to sound nonchalant, with a pretty smile on top, but inside he was boiling.
Her eyes widened and a dark green hue spread over her cheeks. She's like an open book. With a nervous look aside she grumbled, "Maybe."
To hell with it all, he didn't want to give her hints on how to fool with someone else, when he was right there, but she was so eager, looking at him with big brown eyes like an excited puppy she is. So he conceded.
He put a finger on his chin and looked her up and down, slowly, deliberately.
"Let's see..." He stopped perusing her body and looked into her eyes, "Every part of your perfect body whispers temptation." His eyes never left hers and he noticed her blush deepen, he put his hand on his chest as if clutching his long-dead heart. "It's as if gods themselves made you, just to ruin me."
The girl nervously laughed, breaking away from his gaze. "That might work, but isn't it-"
"I have another one," his previous bitterness was replaced with eagerness at her bashful responses. Astarion realized this was the perfect opportunity to sweep her off your feet. By the time he's done with her, she won't even remember the bastard's name.
"When I'm with you I feel practically alive!" He raised his hands dramatically, "yet I crave only to die again with you."
He saw her lips twitch in amusement, nice lips indeed, "That was truly stage winning performance."
"Thank you." He nodded, a Cheshire grin on his lips.
With a flick of his wrist he continues, "You can always with a classic, of course. Everyone loves these words."
He slides even closer to her, practically laying on top of her as he leans dangerously close, and Xenthia, in turn, leans away with wide eyes. He sneaks his hand towards her face, her chin caught between his thumb and forefinger as he angles her head towards his face. This way, she cannot look away, and he can whisper these words right against her lips.
"I love you."
He sits back, satisfaction clear on his face as he watches the famed hero of the Emerald Grove turn into a stuttering, flustered mess.
Still got it.
#astarion bg3#baldurs gate astarion#bg3 astarion#astarion#baldur’s gate 3#baldurs gate 3#baldurs gate#baldur's gate 3#baldur's gate iii#baldurs gate tav#astarion x tav#astarion x mc#half orc#half orc oc#paladin oath of the ancients
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a reluctant smile tugs at his lips when wyll makes a slight jab at rolan's attempts at magic, always pleased when the blade proves his sharpness. he may have at first considered him a foolish self-sacrificing do-gooder, but astarion has gotten to know better. one look at wyll's scarred face and sending stone eye should be testament enough to his strength, although that's never really been the thing astarion has questioned. it's how after he's been exiled, pacted with a wretch of a cambion, dealt consecutive bad hand after hand and remain kind. trusting and optimistic, despite it all. such unfaltering altruism is dangerous to travel with, but more so because it makes astarion want to sink his teeth into wyll's neck rather than them attracting more unwanted attention. astarion wants to taste him, wants to confirm that he is true and good. he's salivating, but the shine from his last sip of wine coats his lips enough to appear inconspicuous.
truly, nothing is lost on wyll, because he points at astarion's fangs and an unseemly blush colors his face, feeling caught out. he clears his throat, languishly shrugging his shoulders. "it is tempting, if only because while i've bedded many, i've never tumbled with a githyanki. i do hear their prowess is ... quite something," astarion alludes, a silver brow raising along with a seductive smile. he's sure not even wyll is immune to her forthright seduction, given one of the conversations he overheard a few days ago. his pointy ears hear far. astarion chuckles, pointed canines now protruding with a full-force grin. "oh, come off it, wyll -- if you're attempting to dissuade me, you're doing a poor job of it. my back is so stiff from trancing at camp that perhaps having it snapped would do me some good." shadowheart was beginning to get quite tired of his complaints, and her attentions were normally split between the frailer members of the party. gale in particular, when he wasn't inhaling valuable artifacts. "besides, i'm quite nimble, you know. being folded in half is hardly something i'd be opposed to." he gives wyll a knowing look sidled along with a bat of his lashes that's intended to fluster and disarm. oh, how he longs to see the blade of frontiers without his composure. even if nothing were to come of it, he does enjoy riling the other man up. they always seem provoke each other just enough to get the proverbial blood flowing.
"to live another day is to be fortunate. delaying the arguable inevitability of one's death is all we can do — our efforts are being celebrated after all," and wyll smiles wider here, the recollection and reminder of their tiresome work a balm to a busy mind. "do otherwise and we'd be without ales tonight. nor — rather plain works of magic. nor partially tuned strings." astarion's picky judgment is an endearing to wyll as are the grove's amateur performances. both arriving unexpected but highly welcome. he's made further surprised when audacious rumours are raised — the base of it silly and objectively unimportant. he should laugh really, tilt his cheek to the side and splay himself relaxed, passively bemused. still, they are relatively similar. lae'zel and astarion both — a pair often matching in opinion, often disinterested in the details, often certain of a stranger's demise. her blunt and brash nature deems astarion's comment believable, and yet — wyll idles, briefly wide-eyed. he makes a joke of it because he must, a swallow to whet the dryness in his throat. "and are you tempted in turn? — lae'zel has proven herself to be physically capable of much, though i half suspect her to snap you into threes." a crooked half-grin, an unavoidable and syrupy drip of jealousy near the dip of his reddened stomach. there is nothing to bar them all from engaging in intimacy; in fact, wyll would normally encourage the seeking of comfort. he does still — thinks them all deserving of companionship, however temporary, however permanent, however surfacing or in-depth. yet he teases, picks at it with forceful humour. "or if you're to drink from her at any point, fours. i would tread carefully, impulsive as your fangs are." and his good eye dips to the sharp canines in question.
#faerus#🩸 ⠀ ⠀ * ⠀ ⠀𝑷𝑨𝑳𝑬 𝑬𝑳𝑭. ⠀ / ⠀ verse 01.#🩸 ⠀ ⠀ * ⠀ ⠀𝑹𝑬𝑷𝑳𝑰𝑬𝑺.⠀ / ⠀ i've been dead in the ground for long enough. it's time to try living again.#🩸 ⠀ ⠀ * ⠀ ⠀𝑩𝑶𝑵𝑫𝑺.⠀ / ⠀ astarion x wyll#🩸 ⠀ ⠀ * ⠀ ⠀𝑩𝑳𝑶𝑶𝑫𝑷𝑨𝑪𝑻. ⠀ / ⠀ wyll's the prince sort i would have once dreamed of marrying. when i was about thirteen.#/ astarion cool ur blood ... ur being a bit much rn ..
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