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secret-smut-sideblog · 4 months ago

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Gold Satin Dreamer

Gale × F! Tav (named)

18+ rivalry, rough semi-public sex, dirty talk, possessiveness, aurum hot girl antics

Inviting his radiant wife to give a presentation at Blackstaff, Gale notices the longing gaze of his less than friendly colleague...

Masterlist

"Nervous, Dekarios?"

He leveled his gaze at his colleague. Organizing the papers on his desk for a countless time.

"If your 'betrothed' is as brilliant you've been rattling on about, I'd be nervous too." The cutting jest in his voice never tired.

The professor of Evocation had been something close to a rival at Blackstaff. The rest of the faculty waned from distracted to lovely. The head of Divination had actually come to know him as a friend, a calm presence that he sought on hectic days.

She popped her head in now. Eyes alight with excitement.

"She's just arrived, Gale."

Shit. He had planned to meet her at the gates.

"If you'll excuse me, I need to meet my wife." His voice clipped and pointed, straightening his robes.

"Oh, I'm not going to miss this. I've been greatly looking forward to meeting your accomplished spouse." He took up pace behind Gale, steps preening in their jaunt.

Gale hid his smile. Oh, he'd see soon enough.

They swept down the tower, Gale electing the long route over teleportation for his own satisfaction.

"Do you think she'd give a demonstration for my class as well?" Laurna whispered, taking up pace on his other side.

"Possibly." Hesitation bit at his words. "I don't want to push her."

"A wilting flower? I expected more from a hero of Baldurs gate."

"Ignore him. I'm sure she'd love to visit at the least."

He rounded the last stairwell, seeing her shape take form in the lobby.

Already, a small crowd had formed. She was still in her winter robes, head covered in a thick hood. But her radiance was hard smothered, and any new guest at the elusive Blackstaff Academy was regarded with great curiosity.

"Welcome, my love." He greeted her breathless, coming up to instinctually twine his hands around her hips, but remembered his setting at the last moment. Opting to take her hands instead.

"Hello, Professor." She smiled up at him, taking the remainder of his breath. "I'm tracking snow onto your pristine floors."

"Oh, pish posh." He scoffed. "Anything you track in is gracing our presence."

Fenrun snorted behind him, and Aurum's eyes flicked to his. The insufferable man fell quiet.

Immediate, he could see understanding glide across her eyes. Putting together faces to the context of his daily regailing when he would return home to her. Regarding the man with indifference.

"Oh, this must be Laurna." She turned to his ally, her hypnotic voice welcoming. Dropping her hood.

Aurum shed her cloak easily, in a lavender robe that swept behind her. Chest wrapped in a thick black band underneath.

Her golden hair unfolded behind her in a burning curtain. Just cresting above the base of her spine. Her slanted eyes lifted to stare pale otherworldly beauty into them.

He heard Fenrun take in a slow breath behind him, and felt a swelling of malicious pride in his chest.

Uncovered, she had cast the most powerful spell. And she knew it.

"Is there somewhere I could put this?" She offered sweetly, folding her cloak over her arm.

An attendant rushed forward.

"Of course, I'll keep this safe."

She smiled softly at him, handing it off graciously.

"Thank you, you're too kind." Her eyes poured serenity into the boy. He froze, the cloak nearly forgotten in his hands.

Gale smiled at him. Recognizing the same starstruck glitter in his eyes he had on that beach so long ago.

"Shall we?" She sighed, finding his eyes again. Smile twitching up in that mischievous tick that he adored.

"Oh, lets." He laughed.

She took his hand and swept forward.

Laurna chatted with her brightly as they walked. Heads turning and bodies pausing in a wave as she glided along. Her focus on her conversation and the pull of his hand.

Her power of awe never stopped thrilling his heart, but here it felt three times more potent. Swelling his chest. Peacock in his stride.

Fenrun followed behind, tail between his legs. His wounded pride not enough to disengage him from her presence.

He pointed out interesting landmarks as they passed. Speaking low in her ear. She would pause at these sights, tilting her head in interest.

At a statue of a drider, she drew forward. Softly touching along the marble.

He waited, smiling at her. There was something about touch. She always sought to feel that which caught her interest.

"My love, I'm not sure you're allowed to touch that." He teased.

"I'm being gentle." She stepped back and slid her eyes to him. "It's exquisite, and I like to touch exquisite things."

His heart jumped, knees threatening buckle.

Maybe she was too powerful.

"Where to next?" Her voice casual, sweeping back to his side.

"Ahem, if you're looking for exquisite, might I offer my classroom." Fenrun stepped forward, finally jumbling his bravado back into place.

She tilted her head at him.

"And you are...?"

Gale nearly barked out a laugh, having to smother it in a bite of tongue.

"Fenrun Deomat, Professor of Abjucation. A most esteemed welcome to you, our brilliant guest." He gave a suave bow.

She stepped forward, peering up at him. His breath held, bravado washing away again.

"Charmed. Aurum Dekarios, of Orndeir bloodline."

He stepped back, a spike of awed fear in his eyes.

She knew what that name meant. And she didn't reveal it lightly.

"Of course. A Sunlord... If you'll excuse me." His words came out rushed and breathless. Retreating back towards his classroom.

She watched him go, folding her hands behind her back. Glacial eyes cold in their follow, jaw tilted back.

"He reminds me of Lorroakan." She glanced at Gale. Her eyes returning to soft interest.

"Spot on." He tapped his nose.

She crinkled that genuine crooked smile at him, setting his heart fluttering.

"Your class?" She offered, glancing at the great clock on the wall.

"Ah! Yes!" He started, leading her by the lower back in a brisk walk.

"It was lovely meeting you, Laurna. Thank you for being a kind presence for my husband."

Laurna blushed, doing a little dance on her feet.

"It was heavenly, meeting you. You're... just as he described." Her voice soft in reverence.

Aurum waved as they departed, picking up pace with his fast clip. Long legs giving little effort.

He entered first, the usual rabble of noise picking up.

"Alright, I know you all have been very eager." He started, capturing their attention.

"Our guest speaker is here, now-" He held a stern hand in pause to the several hands that had shot in the air. "She has a very special demonstration for you all. I will remind you of your manners and the decorum befitting students of your caliber. Understood?"

A few heads nodded, eyes darting to the doorway in anticipation.

He sighed in rueful exhaustion, giving his students a loving glare. Eyes catching hers just beyond the doorway, beckoning her in a nod.

She stepped in, moving with all of the grace of a lily floating on a pond. Coming up to softly caress his hand in hers.

"Relax." She hushed, seeing the tension under his shoulders. "I agreed to do this. It's okay."

He released a tense breath through his nose, nodding. Wanting to kiss her, but settling for a squeeze of her hand.

She surveyed the gathered students with the same bright interest they studied her in.

"It's so nice to put faces to names, he speaks about you often." She began, stepping down from the podium.

Gale's breath held as she moved down to stand amongst them. Some rising from their seats, staring up at her with unabashed awe.

"Have you told them what I have planned?" Her eyes cast up to his.

"Oh, they insisted it stay a surprise."

She smiled, turning back to her flock.

"Well, this will seem lewd then." She laughed, bright wind chimes. "So bear with me."

She reached behind her, unclasping the band around her chest. Pulling it through the front of her robe. Taking a deep, satisfied breath. The false sun had been significantly cooled but still left a noticeable glow in her chest.

Several gasps rang out, those who weren't already standing rising to feet. Bodies moving forward, hands unconsciously raised to chests.

"This," She began, beckoning them to draw closer. "Is a fragment of an epic spell. How many spellcasters would you guess that takes?"

His favorite student piped up, a bright young man who reminded of a younger him. On tiptoes trying to see over shoulders.

"Hundreds!"

Her eyes caught his, smiling radiantly. She drew forward, the crowd parting for her. Taking his hand and encouraging him to the front.

"Very good. This spell took 194 spellcasters, all speaking at once."

"Now, I'd like to activate it for you."

Gale stepped forward, concern tight in his gut.

She held her palm up to him, tilting her head down in a bid of trust.

"I recovered this morning in preparation, I'll be okay." Her voice soft in assurance.

He relented, jaw still clenched. Nodding for her to continue.

"This is very dangerous magic, condensed in this way. A spell this large was never meant to be seated in a body, especially long-term." She explained, his students' eyes picking up their own concern.

"Miss?" The bright voice picked up in front of her.

"Yes?" She smiled at him. "What's your question?"

"Can I...?" He held his palm out in question.

Her smile widened, cupping her hand over the back of his.

"Of course. Tactile information is very important to me, too."

His palm settled onto her chest, letting out a little gasp.

"It's really warm!"

"It's a shard of sun." She offered, seeing the other students starting to form a line.

"Ohhh... that must hurt..." He hushed.

"It does. But not terribly."

"I'm sorry."

"You've nothing to be sorry for." She rubbed the back of his hand.

She allowed each student to take a turn, Gale's chest full to bursting with pride watching her. She was a natural with them, spellbinding effortlessly.

"Are we all prepared?" Her eyes moved over them, then up to him.

"Can you get the lights, Professor?" She winked at him.

He blushed, despite himself, and dimmed the room. Curtains magically drawn, lights snuffed out. Her bright chest the only reflection in eyes.

"Now, this spell had a very special component in its casting. You will hear more than just my voice, and it will get a little overwhelming, but do not be alarmed."

She paused, seeking understanding in the nods of heads.

"Okay, here we go."

She started in a hum, closing her eyes slowly.

Gale's eyes caught a figure who had slipped in the back, along side heads peeking in from the hall. A spike of shock when he recognized the shape in the dark.

The shard thrummed out of its stasis, pulsing out through her ribs. Her humming picking up into bright song, soaring up through the air. Light spread out through her shoulders, lifting wisps of her hair. Her voice picked up into a high sustained call, smothered light pushing out into the sunburst. A star of light hovering over her body again.

The voices came in, harmonizing into her sustained note. Following her back down through holy song. Dipping and weaving along her notes. The room filled with angelic reprieve. Climbing higher and higher.

When the church bells rang, she started to wind down. Pressing a palm to the burning light. Letting her voice drift down into a soft wail. A question, a request.

Her accompanying choir hushed with her, relenting to her call. Falling lower and lower, the sunburst retreating back under bone in response.

She closed her eyes again, ducking her head down. Moving through one more soft phrase before falling silent. Taking a steadying breath out through pursed lips as the room slowly went quiet.

He let her another moment of dark, knowing it took much more out of her than she let on. Wanting to go to her, to gather her in his arms. Decorum be damned. Then, finally, rose the lights again slowly.

"When an epic spell of this magnitude is cast," She began again, gently wiping her eyes with the edge of her thumb. "It calls on a terribly great power. It is done with intentions to gain, to control. To become something no sane person seeks."

Her eyes narrowed to deadly serious slits.

"It is a terrible thing to wield that power. It will pull the layers of your mind away. If there was any goodness in you to begin with, it will unravel it. It will unravel you to a singular goal. No matter the cost."

She palmed over her chest, speaking in a hush.

"It will feel worth it. The collateral."

The collective breath in the room was still held. Many heads now gathered, spilling in from the hallway.

"Keep mind of yourself, of your ambition. There are many great minds in this room, and that is a terrible thing to squander to the madness of that pursuit. Power like this is an insatiable, hungry thing. I promise you, it can never be fed enough. And the effort to keep it fed will destroy everything you could ever love."

"And if you still decide it's worth it?" Her voice dropped to a low warning.

"The collateral will find you."

She took one final breath out, then rose her eyes. An apologetic smile creased her face.

"Light is a heavy thing to bear. Forgive my dour presentation."

The air refilled the room, small nervous laughs picking up.

"No, the weight is warranted." The Blackstaff chimed in, drawing forward from her place in the back. "A fine lesson you've given today."

"Dismissed." She commanded easily.

The students filed out around them, tittering and waving goodbye to Aurum.

Only when the room emptied did she pick up again.

"I knew your father. I'm very sorry, Aurum."

"He was... he could have been a great man." Aurum hushed, pulling her wrapping around her chest. Gale took up behind her to attend to the hooks.

"You were a well-kept secret, I'm sorry there wasn't help for you in time. Things could have been quite different if we had gotten to you."

"I think about that often. But I'm not sure if I'd be here, as I am, with him..." Her eyes lifted to Gale's, brimming with love. "If it had gone any other way."

His heart ached, cupping her cheek softly. She leaned into his hand for a moment.

"But thank you, regardless."

Aurum smiled gently as the Blackstaff's hand rose to her chest. Pressing a soft palm.

She shuddered, her eyes squeezing for a moment before pulling away. Heavy with knowledge, giving her a sad smile.

"I must depart, but if you need to take another recovery, feel free to do so in my office. You can reach the Astral Plane there easily."

"Be well, Rosa'sune."

"Thank you. Bwaelan dro, uluvathae."

"Uluvathae, xiloscient."

He caught Fenrun's hungry eyes in the doorway, firmly fixated on her back. Giving Gale a spiteful glare, about to enter the room when the Blackstaff drew forward. Her body caging him out into the hall.

She cast Private Sanctum on the room as she left it, nodding at Gale with a knowing smile.

His ears flushed pink, but gave her a grateful smile regardless.

Aurum approached his desk, hopping up onto it. Tossing her leg over her knee.

"That wasn't too much, right? I didn't want to scare your students." Her voice falling vulnerable.

"That was... the best lesson my class has had in this room. I promise you that."

He came up to her folded legs, hand rising up her knee.

"Well, good then. Your colleagues seem lovely... for the most part."

A heat that had been simmering in his pelvis since that man's envious eyes had settled on her reared into a boil. His hand pushed up to her thigh.

"The way you denounced him. So casually..."

"What was there to appraise?" She smiled, her legs parting. Pulling him between with a loop of finger on the tie of his robes.

"A thoroughly unimpressive man. I've seen many of his ilk, and they have very little to offer."

At the word very, she cupped over his teaching robes. His half hard cock greeting her with a throb.

His hand slammed down on the wood next to her, breathing hard into her exhales.

"Keep talking." He urged. Pulling her robe down over her back. Unhooking the band once again.

"Oh, I'd love to." She purred, lifting her legs to curl around his hips.

"You know, I bet he's thinking about us in this room right now. About your hands on me."

He pulled her robe up over her hips desperately, groaning out when he saw she hadn't worn underclothes.

"Wanting to touch me like this, to see me strewn across your desk. Just outside that spell. Furious with envy."

She draped back, her breasts bouncing with the movement.

Precum pooled dangerously soon in his trousers, biting back in choppy breaths. Not even out of his clothes yet.

"Do you think he's imagining what I taste like? How wet my cunt is?"

She led him by the wrist to the heat between her legs.

He drew his fingers through her slick, leaning forward in a slump of shoulders at its power. Slowly pushing two fingers inside her.

She shuddered, arching back on his desk. Ribs rising into a curl as he pumped into her. Her voice coming out in needy moans.

"He could never be this good. No one could fuck me as good as you."

His eyes squeezed shut, focusing through the overwhelming drive in his pelvis. Nearly cumming in his pants. Realizing with haste that he couldn't bear much longer. Pulling quickly out of his trousers.

He slipped his fingers out and filled her with his cock in a fast thrust. Rocking her back on the desk.

She moaned out, legs curling.

"Please, harder. I want it to hurt. I want him to see me limp out of this room."

He nearly crumpled, his voice coming out in a desperate sound of affirmation. Flipping her onto her belly. Her full ass curling up high into his hands.

He slammed into her, bracing a flat hand on her lower back. Holding her down. The desk rattling hard under her. His body delirious with feral pleasure. The drive of his hips uncontrolled.

She gripped onto the lip of the desk above her, hips still pushing ever harder back into him. A sweet chorus of whimpers leaving her with every drive forward. Cunt starting to clench around him, a tight velvet fist constricting in a blinding suck of his cock.

"Please, please, it's so good." She moaned. "Fill me full of your cum, Professor."

He braced desperately down on her back. Needing her to cum immediately, he pulled her long hair up in a tight fist. Slapping her ass in a crack of his palm. Snapping down again and again until she came, her skin blooming red.

She arched back into him, rising on forearms. Shuddering out a cry of his name, cumming in hard tremors. Pleading cries of pleasure rushing through her throat. Cunt fluttering in rapid fire demands on his cock. Her cum pushing out in waves onto her backside with every thrust. Coating his cock as it drove into her.

She went limp under him as he lost himself. Driving into her in vicious pulses, gripping her hips in white knuckles.

"You're mine. You can only cum on my cock." He growled. Her hips squirming from the overstimulation, nodding under him.

"Yes!" She gasped out.

He fell forward onto forearms, driving as deep as he could go. Possesive wrath taking over his body, his mind.

"Mine." He growled, pushing her shoulders down into the desk. Fully holding her down, his weight and vicious drives of hips commanding her body in place.

"All for you." She gasped, going limp to his force. "To do with as you please."

"That's right." He growled, biting into her shoulders. Marking her so there was no mistake. The print of his teeth bruising into her fruit.

"You are not going to clean up when I finish. You are going to leave this building my cum running down your thighs."

"Yes! Please finish inside me!" She begged.

He gave two more long, indulgent thrusts, then lost himself. Hips driving in bursts as his cum filled her. The wrenching ecstacy driving out of him in waves. The total abandonment of control, his body gone. Her cunt clenching pulling in vicious sucking pulses.

He collapsed against her back, after shocks of shudders pushing through him. Cock throbbing inside her emptied.

"Please tell me you can come home soon." She gasped, boneless against his desk.

He laughed, kissing the bruises forming on her shoulders. "Soon. I have to run through some papers, but I'll be home to you as quickly as my magic can take me."

She let out a little dissatisfied whine, twisting under him to pout up at him.

"Don't you give me that look." He huffed. His resolve suddenly hanging on by a thread. Weak to her wide eyes and plush pursed lips.

"But I missed you all day." She sighed.

His heart spilled out of his chest. Falling over her in a soft puddle.

"No. No!" He held up his finger in a point. "Bad!"

She curled a mischievous smile inside of her pout. Eyes twinkling with salacious glee.

"You're too good at pulling my strings, you menace." He laughed and kissed her tenderly, cupping her face.

"Now go on, before I lose my nerve."

"Hmm, okay!" She chirped, hopping off of his desk. Pulling her robe back over her shoulders.

"Oh, wait!" She turned as if remembering something.

Reaching between her legs under the drape of her robe, she gathered a trail of his cum from above her knee. Popping it into her mouth jovially.

"See you at home!" She lilted, giving a little wave as she turned into the hallway.

He shuddered, leaning on his desk for support. By the Weave, she will be the death of him.

#see i can write them happy. also i Know gale would get off on his peers ogling his hot spouse #and. naturally.... i must feed the domgale enjoyers #gale x tav #gale smut #bg3 smut #lyrics from: lethal woman - dove cameron #screenshot by @foxtatodreams

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pursuitseternal · 9 months ago

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Spend “A Night with the Ascendant:” the Dark Lord Astarion and his concubine spawn

Ascended Astarion x His Spawn (Lumina) | 🪦Dead Dove | 7k of harem/concubine smut

Summary: The Vampire Ascendant of the Crimson Palace takes an interest in his newest spawn and prize. She is a radiant young woman who defies his expectations of servitude among the throng of beautiful concubines, all the rest who await his attention in their gilded cage.

CW: Dub!Con, Harem dynamics, consorts/concubines, public sex, degradation, humiliation, dom/sub dynamics, Oral sex male recieving, somnophilia if you squint, shared love of books, a hint of a softer side to the exalted master, and an Ascended Vampire Lord who finds himself far too comfortable around his obedient spawn.

A/n: assumes no “in game romance” No Tav… no one.

Ao3 link | Astarion fic Masterlist

🔥⚜️🔥⚜️🔥⚜️🔥⚜️🔥⚜️🔥⚜️🔥⚜️🔥⚜️🔥

“The little girl, from the little shop, with the name that means “light…”

Some silken voice woke her. The ghost of his laughter swirled in her ear through her sleep. Her dreams were harsh and restless. Her body was sore, as if knit back together after being torn asunder.

Head spinning, body wracked in the ebb of pain, but she stirred. Alive.

Lumina woke on a little bed, the scent of perfume cloyed in her throat. Her very parched, very thirsty throat. Her belly gnawed, unspeakably hungry. Her eyes flew open to the strong environs— a small freshly made bed beneath her, a chest in the corner, wash basin and a vast array of bottles beside it. Each was brightly colored and brimming with oils and soaps and fragrances.

Her nose could smell them through the glass. Her eyes could read the labels, even at this distance. Her head swam with all the input, all of her senses sharp and overloaded as she struggled from her bed.

Three of her walls were a smooth, white stone, but the fourth…. Bars, inlaid with gold and etched with filigree and filament.

A gilded cage.

Rising quickly, she took the pitcher in her washstand, trying to slake that thirst at last. But after even a single drop of water hit her tongue, she knew for certain it wasn’t water for which we thirsted.

Blood.

She had read enough books, sold enough copies of The Curse of the Vampyr to know full well what she was. She vaguely remembered being hooded and whisked away from her Keeper’s back room. His gruff voice happy to have her gone and his debts paid all at once.

He would burn in the hells for this and everything he had done. His little shop of spells and scrolls and books wouldn’t keep him from the recompense coming to him. She had been one of a long list of indentures who suffered from his greed.

Thirst, hunger, pain… it was no different now. At least her cage was gilded and her bed was stuffed with feathers.

But there was the bloodlust. The agony. The need to feed.

Even as her hand started to claw at her throat, she heard the sounds of movement from the hall.

She heard whimpering, pleading. Some musical feminine voice just near her cell spouted out such pretty words. “Please my lord… I’ll do anything my lord… take me, fuck me, drink me near to dry… I’ll be good this time…”

“Shut up!” A voice sliced through her hissing and whining. And instantly she was silenced.

Lumina heard the swing of metal on hinges, the click of the lock once it closed. “Now,” that same voice purred. And instantly, Lumina’s gut twisted. She had heard it. In her head. In the darkness. In her fitful dreams. “As my first consort has left me so…” he huffed, “…unsatisfied, I guess I’ll just have to select another for tonight.”

Footsteps echoed on the floor. That velvet voice slunk closer with each word. Until he stood before her.

His head cocked as he looked her up and down, bright scarlet eyes that glowed just a touch, a combed and coiffed tousle of silver hair. Manicured to look mussy. He stared at her, unmoving.

And Lumina stared back. He was tall, lithe and strong, his jacket embroidered to perfection, a mix of golds and silvers and beads that wound around his shoulders and chest. His breeches…

Fuck.

They gaped at the waistband, the smooth pink head of a cock peeking from the dark material. She could watch it twitch as her eyes undoubtedly widened to see it staring back.

Unbothered that she should see it, he grinned at her reaction. He wanted her… everyone to see him. Unsatisfied, requiring more.

“You’re awake at last, my newest little spawn,” he smirked as he closed in on her barred cell. “How do you feel?”

She froze. Keeping her mouth silent as she often had before. Handsy shop goers, clients in the back rooms. She would stare them off; it worked before. Most of the time. And then if not she had other recourses and tricks.

But even as her mind began to spin ideas of how to reply, she could feel him in there. A pressure, a poke. A command to reply. So she shut her lips tighter.

His presence swelled, that poke became a chokehold, throttling her mind as her lips opened. “I feel new… pained… different, my Lord Astarion.”

“Good girl,” he replied, a bit of praise that accompanied a bit of a smile.

And it made something in her gut warm all over to receive it.

“I would be remiss if I didn’t take the time to make you… acquainted… with your new lodgings here at the Crimson Palace.” His lips sneered back, voracious and delighted. “And we can tend to educating you in your duties as well. Two birds, one stone sort of thing, darling.”

Lumina still held still, her body growing hot at his plans. “You mean sex, my lord…” It wasn’t a question.

“Well… you’re my lowest, newest concubine, but a concubine nonetheless.” He gave her a dramatic sigh. “Hopefully you fare better than the most experienced one here did tonight.” He turned, looking over his shoulder to shake his head and tut his tongue. “So disappointing.”

Lumina stepped to the side to catch a glance at the consort in question. She was tall, elegant and regal in bearing. Tiefling. Unfamiliar. And her dark eyes that matched her dark skin settled back on her with vitriol and loathing.

Minutes awake, newly vampiric, and she already had an enemy. Lumina’s eyes scanned back to the Master as he returned that assessing gaze on her once more. His pleasure… his approval would be weathervane at best, it seemed. She could already tell from the way his deep set eyes narrowed, how his legs spread with the stance of confidence and power. But it was what she needed— what she would seek to survive.

“What would you have me do, my lord?” she kept her voice soft, submissive, tilting her head down to look at him through her lashes. A trick she had learned in her twenty-some years of indentured servitude.

“A promising beginning.” His lips twisted to one side, that left brow arching rakishly. Suddenly the gate released, and he beckoned her out, crooking a single, long-nailed finger in her direction. “Perhaps you can show your betters what to do for me, hmm?” She obeyed, treading on her bare feet across the bright marble floor until she stood before him. She had always been shorter, but there was something about his bearing, his demeanor and power that made her curl in, feel small.

“Well, I didn’t even have to compel you, curious…” he cast his condescending gaze back at the towering and fuming Tiefling consort behind her bars.

Lumina glanced carefully down the hall—rows of similar cells stretched on… a dozen eyes, all glowing red, locked on her.

His chosen for the night.

She could feel his breath before his touch. His fingers gripped firmly around her jaw, turning her head, angling her up so she had nowhere to look but those piercing, enticing red eyes. “You are one of many, little spawn, but you are untested, and that makes you… interesting. Shall we taste but a sample of what you have to offer?”

His lips consumed her before she could suck down air, that hand at her jaw spun her, shoved her back against the bars. His taste was of fire and wine, burning and sweet. And entirely intoxicating.

A tug at the skirt of her flimsy little shift, and she knew what was coming. Unavoidable. Not unwanted either now that his taste was on her tongue, and not when his tongue was thrust so tantalizing between her lips. Her hands pulled the fabric faster, making his lips smirk as he worked them against her mouth.

Three fingers swept quickly between her legs, his thumb pushing past the soft curls on her mound. And he sneered a bit. “I’ll forgive you this once,” he growled, disapprovingly. “I keep my concubines clean shaven. A pity for you human ones, but you’ll just have to obey me, my pet.”

“Yes, my lord.” The words flew from her mouth before they even passed her brain.

“Given how wet you are already, however, I’m sure you’ll more than make it up to me. So new and willing and obedient…” his voice failed, those fingers drawing deeper inside her, back and forth. His fingers crooked hard and fast, making the wettest, most obscene noises he could from between her legs.

“Doesn’t she just sound eager and ripe?” He lifted his head from hers, cocking his chin at the closest one watching.

The first consort hovered behind her, her breath was cold against Lumina’s neck. It was her cage he had pressed her against, her punishment enacted where Lumina was but a weapon to use.

“Want to see if I’ll fit?” hegrowled, again over her shoulder. “Shall we test it… and see?”

“Whatever pleases you, my lord…” the Tiefling hissed, her deep and sultry voice was so close behind Lumina’s head that it tickled her ear.

“Hmm,” he hummed delightedly and darkly, one hand moving between their bellies. “Seems you’ve remembered your place, at least a little…” Then his head returned to glare down at her. “But this one is adorably short. Assist her, Morana.”

His command tingled in the air pulling at both their bodies, she could tell. The Tiefling panted and hissed as her clawed hands slid under Lumina’s armpits to hoist her higher up the bars. She held on for but a moment, until she dropped quickly.

His cock waiting to catch her, his thigh braced her fall. He roared in her ear, hands gripped into her hips so he could fuck. Split apart, so full, her body cried out in blissful agony. It had been awhile since she had a lover… and none was like this. His shaft pumped hard and fast, his breath tingling and hot in the crook of her neck.

“Why…” he panted, loud enough for the others to hear. “You’re perfect, wet and tight as if never taken, you sweet little spawn.”

That silken voice, those honeyed praises, they settled right in her belly, pooling just where the head of his cock had rammed her already senseless.

“But I would hate to debase you completely before your peers. Hate to spoil in public… what I will have in the comforts of my chambers.”

With a groan, he pulled out. His cock, pale and veined, twitched to be denied. Her feet slammed on the floor, her body thrown forward until she almost crashed into him. But she caught one hand on a golden jail bar behind her. Just in time.

“They’ve seen enough, little Lumina,” he purred again, his fingers smelled of her slick as he clutched at her chin again. “And I, why, I have just begun to have my fill of you.”

Lumina shuddered under the intensity of his gaze, his sharp face twisted in that sensual smirk, his hand still pulling at her jaw. Bringing her in for one more biting kiss. One more that made her head spin and her legs shake.

Voices called from down the hall, a mixed chorus of male and female.

“Be sure to bite him…”

“He loves it when you swallow, dear…”

“Use just a little teeth, he will thank you for it…”

“Hush, the lot of you,” he hissed, a snarl on his lips, those pointed fangs now in her sight as she trembled. “Stop toying with the precious, little thing,” he turned down to kiss her once more. Almost a chaste little peck. “That is my right as your maker, dear.” He let her go, her flesh suddenly ice cold without his burning touch. “Come, Lumina.”

There it was again, that push in her mind, like tendrils of him woven into her nerves, making her feet follow him from the dungeons.

Halls stretched before them, stair after stair, winding up higher into the palace. All was gilded with creams and scarlets and sable. All was decadent. Magnificent and mouthwatering.

Not unlike its Master.

He was quiet, turning an infrequent smile down on her from time to time. Certainly every time her thighs squelched with wetness.

Of course, as they reached the topmost landing he turned, flashing some wicked smile as he caught her hand from her side. His cock still poked from the top of his waistband, barely contained and leaking as he brought her hand to his lips. “Tonight I bring you to my rooms myself, make you acquainted with your new living situation, but from now on, you’ll come when I summon you…” He paused sweeping her hand from his lips face to press it hard against that raging erection.

She gasped and swallowed the sound quickly.

“…if I summon you that is… much depends upon how you please me this evening.” He laughed, backing her into the open door behind him. She couldn’t take in the surroundings, not yet. Not when she lost herself in the scarlet glow of his eyes and perfect flash of his fangs. He was all sensuality and luxury set in ivory skin, his voice dripped in arousal, no matter what degrading things he purred down at her. “It is quite the coveted role, spending the night with the Ascendant. I’m sure you could feel all their jealousy, could cut their envy with a knife…”

He let out a giggle, pulling her hand from his cock to tug her flush against his body again. The room was dark. Soft little candles gave off flickering lights, lights that caught in his silver hair and refracted in his gaze. “But you’ll do your best to please me, I’m sure of it, little spawn,” he rasped right in her ear, allowing his lips to brush over the smooth, rounded edges letting his warm breath flow down her neck. “It is only your first day as my creation…”

He sat himself on the edge of his bed, a grand thing, four postered and canopied in scarlet silks and velvets. Hands pressed into the covers behind him, a little groan in his throat as he leaned back.

Letting his cock ease from his dark breeches a bit more, giving it a few strokes as he did so.

“My little spawn, come here,” he ordered, clear and concise. Direct enough to send a shudder down her spine at its snapping tone. “Kneel.”

Her body paused, eyes wide as she took in the sight of… him… his cock… his rooms. All of it.

And then those tendrils tugged at her thoughts again, ordering her body lower and lower. She had always been slightly smaller, but now, crouching on her knees, brought to kneel at his feet, she never felt so small. So insignificant. So lucky to have been chosen despite it.

“Lumina,” he breathed and slid his legs further from bed, until they crowded her in from either side. “A curious little name. I’m sure you were quite the brilliant light in your past life, like your name suggests.”

No, I wasn’t.

“Yes, my Lord Astarion,” the automatic reply sounded from her lips. And he hadn’t even compelled them. They just seemed safer.

He preened, a slight buck of his hips at the way her voice rolled out his name. She noticed. A gaping, fang-showing smile and he cocked his head. “You know why I chose you? Well… other than to pay off your master’s debts, of course….”

Lord Astarion grinned— something wicked and feral beneath that smile. “How could I pass up damning the little girl, from the little shop, with the name that means light to an eternity of darkness in my bed?” He sighed, deep and long and loud, from where he still perched at the edge. From where he held court before her at his bedside. His legs were so long, almost brushing her, where she knelt at his feet. The bed creaked as he arched back on his hands. Aroused. Pleased. “It’s too delicious an irony to pass up, wouldn’t you agree?”

The pressure in Lumina’s mind reinserted itself. His power, his presence made a smile come to her pressed lips as she heard her own voice give a sweet noise of assent. “Yes, my lord…”

“Such a good little girl,” he purred, leaning forward to pull her by her collar. “Now, open.”

She batted her eyes shut, slowly letting her mouth hang open, her pink tongue to just barely cover her lower lip. The second that salty, bitter tang on his cock brushed the tip, she lapped greedily, letting him slide deeper into her mouth.

And she earned herself a rumbling groan from above. “Gods,” he crooned, “you’ve done this before, haven’t you, little spawn?”

She just smiled, flicking a glance up, a bat of her lashes as she took him deeper, sucking on and off, up and down. He leaned further back into the bed, legs splayed out, long and lazy.

“And here I thought you some virginal thing, needing instruction and guidance. A pleasant surprise….” One had reached to brush back her bright golden locks, planting a firm grip at the back of her neck. Not pushing her rhythm, rather he rode it, savored it, as she worked with tongue and lips and cheeks.

It was warped praise, but it was enough to ignite a little boldness. Her cold fingers slipped past the base of his cock into the warmth of his trousers, reaching to cradle softly around his balls.

So smooth and taught. Almost ready to blow. She gave that smooth, soft pad of skin a gentle rub, a subtle tug. And all the while she kept her mouth busy, wet enough and loud enough to fix his gaze on her.

On where she knelt at his feet. Submitting. Sucking every little bit of that velvet skin, relishing the pulse that thrummed through its length. Swallowing every little eking drop of his seed as it leaked onto her tongue. Every little trick she had learned before, every move that made her handful of encounters and lovers pleasured, she used every one. It was easy with him, the way he began to groan out sweet little nothings. “Faster…. Deeper… yes.” His voice sent shivers right to her cunt, soaking down her thighs more the faster she bobbed back and forth.

Until he gripped into her hair and yanked her off. Holding her steady over his thighs, he rubbed himself in his tight fist all the faster. The wet beat increased in speed until he came, streams of cum dripping down her cheeks, her chin. His voice barely more than a groan as he sighed at the sight. Lumina’s little tongue lapped it from her lips, using one hand to gather it from her face, licking her fingers clean.

“Hells below,” he grinned, ever so rakish, ever so pleased. “You’re quite the slut aren’t you? Like the way I taste on your tongue, the way I dry on your skin, hmm?”

“Yes, my lord,” she simpered, sitting back on her heels.

“Incredible, little spawn. You’ve more than earned a reward, darling,” he stood, once again unbothered to clean his leaking cock or return it decently away. No, instead, he stood, keeping his gaze fixed on hers. Smirking all the wider as her dark eyes followed him across the room, darting between his face and the away his hardened cock bobbed up and down as he swayed.

A little cabinet opened in the wall across the room, and only then did Lumina take in the grandeur of his chambers. The far wall was entirely lined with books, big bright beautiful spines glowed in the light of the massive fireplace adjacent.

It stole her breath away, having spent years working in servitude to sell them… those and whatever other shit her old keeper had to peddle.

Seeing such a massive collection of books, so cared for and well-tended, she could almost catch a glimmer of who her new master was beneath that embroidered veneer of power and sex.

But it faded the second he grabbed a bottle from one shelf, a golden cup in the other, a red beverage pouring loudly. Lumina smelled it before she saw it. Blood. At last.

He seated himself in the large, plush wing-backed chair by the fire, crimson gaze burning her skin as he gave himself a long, slurping sip.

A small, scarlet line slipped from the corner of his lip as he offered the cup to her. “Drink, my pet. You earned it. Sate that bloodlust for the first time, little spawn.”

She fairly scrambled on all fours, stumbling and catching herself as she raced for that little cup. She knocked it back in one swig, her breathing ragged as it filled her stomach just a bit, just enough to take the sharpest pains away. But as she lowered the cup, her stomach sank, Astarion only smiled at her. Bemused. The glass bottle still sat on the shelf. “Something you wish to ask of me?” he crooned.

“Please, my lord,” her hand shook, holding out the golden offering. “I’m so… so thirsty.

“I know my pet,” he cajoled, a little shake of his head, brows furrowed and mouth frowning in pity. “But you’ll have to earn more.”

“Tell me anything,” the words raced off her tongue, her body sinking back to her knees. She begged, tears in her eyes as she caressed up his thighs. Those dark pants were so soft under her touch. But there was too heavy a scent in the air for her to appreciate anything more. She wanted to lick that dribble still on his chin, wanted to drink her fill straight from the neck of the bottle…

Wanted to drink right from the pulsing artery in his own neck.

But the second that thought crossed her mind, those dark tendrils were there to seize it. “Ah, ah,” he chided. “None of that. You don’t get to taste any more of me than what has already covered your tongue, my spawn.”

“Then what will you have me do, my lord?” she forced the words through her thick throat, trying to swallow to chase the parched feeling away.

“Disrobe,” he snipped, reaching for that bottle of blood, taking a swig right from the opening just as she wanted too. “You’re not clothed in much, but I appreciate a demonstration of beauty.” Another swallow, louder this time, loud enough to make her lick her dry and swollen lips. “And aren’t you beautiful, Lumina.”

She could feel her sallow, cold-fleshed cheeks blush at his words. One hand pulled the little shift from over her head, a single fluid motion as she tossed it into his lap.

Oh, the way that smirk widened enough to show his teeth… it made her stomach knot all funny, made her body hotter than she thought possible for the undead.

He reached for the cup from her hand, filling it a bit more. Another little reward for her display. “Good girl, Lumina, my little light I think I’ll keep close to me.”

She swallowed the fresh offering down, setting it down on the floor beside his chair. Those drinks in her belly made her all the bolder, all the more alive.

“What will you do to earn even more, I wonder?” he purred, wagging the bottle slowly, eyes skimming down her pale, little body, tongue tip licking his fang as he smirked.

“Suggestions to entertain you, my lord?” she smiled so sweetly, decided to follow his gaze with a featherlight touch down her own body. She started on her neck, where his cum still dampened her skin, trailing it down her collarbone, grazing between her full and swaying breasts.

That made his tongue dart and lap at his lip, a predator licking his chops. “Very good…” he growled, leaning back and sliding his ass lower in the chair. “Now, take my cum on your fingers and touch yourself, darling…”

Another loud swallow in his throat as she obeyed. Not even a tendril of compelling required. Lumina did as she was told, lowering her eyes to watch her own hands, gathering one more streak of his seed from her shoulder before she slid it inside her folds.

Her eyes fluttered shut to finally feel an iota of release. She burned, wanting more since he fucked her quickly against those bars. Like lighting, pleasure flashed down her nerves, her fingers working so quickly to chase that swell of satisfaction that flared inside her.

“Enough,” he growled.

But she... couldn’t. She needed something. Needed to either satisfy the gnaw of her stomach or the inferno between her thighs.

Not compelling in her brain this time, Astarion gripped her by the waist, dragging her between his legs before he ripped her hand from her fold. “Bad girl,” he tutted, bringing her sopping fingers into his mouth to suck them clean.

And then he bit. Fangs tore into the heel of her palm. She cried in pain, a deep, wicked laugh was her answer from him as he drank from her. It was brief, but painful. And now she was left all the hungrier for it. “Learn your place, little spawn. You do as I say… nothing more, nothing less.” His voice was sharp, wild. With all the arrogance of one who has been obeyed for a century, perhaps longer.

“Sorry, my lord,” Lumina quickly stammered. Give him what he wants, she reminded herself. “I will obey you.” Added for good measure.

That softened the razor lines of his cheeks, his jaw unclenching to hear such sweet submission. “I’ll allow you another chance, little light,” he purred once more, all honey and silk in his tone. “Undress me.”

Amused glint in his crimson eyes, conceited smirk on his lips, he reclined against his chair. A single hand gestured lavishly over the clasps and buttons of his luxurious jacket. Lumina did not hesitate, careful to keep her wounded hand from offending his clothing, already clotting as she healed quickly.

A reminder she was now Vampiric, as if she could forget her new form with that hunger in her belly. She eyed the bottle in his hand still, watching the blood dance and slosh inside its green clear walls.

“Look at me, little spawn,” he hissed, her hands almost done with the heavy meal clasps before beginning the inner buttons. She acquiesced, quickly lost in the way his eyes hungered. They brimmed with power, but that dulled light of boredom was gone— its crimson now bright with curiosity, fascination. And for a moment, she let herself feel a hint of pride that she was giving him that.

Once his perfect, ivory chest was in sight, she let her fingers just brush down that deep groove between his muscles. She pushed the heavy clothing apart, mouth salivating the more she saw. And she doubted it was just the bond of him as her creator that caused such a visceral reaction to the sight of him…

Of his body.

A rolling, rumbling chuckle in his chest shook under fingers. That cool glass bottle was thrust against her belly. She caught it, smiling as he ordered her to drink. But even as she downed swallow after swallow, she watched his every elegant movement. So sleek as he pulled himself free from his clothing, he tossed it in a rumpled mess on the floor. He even slid his breeches from under his ass, hand gripped around that pale, achingly hard cock.

As he stroked himself, he watched her drink, watching the drips slink down her chin as she couldn’t help but drain that bottle dry. “Feel better?” he cooed, still absentmindedly stroking himself as he watched her clean her mouth on the back of her little hand.

Lumina sighed, the bottle dropping to the floor from her hand as it shook. She was finally fuller, finally more sated and happier and warmer. “Yes, my Lord Astarion,” she moaned in response. “Thank you.”

“So very polite you are. Oh, I like you. That genuine little sound in your voice as your small, curved body shakes to be near me. Yes,” he reached a hand towards her. Leaning forward, he clutched her in his own long fingers, “you’ll do very nicely, for quite awhile, I hope.”

“You flatter me, my lord,” she hummed, a little swivel to her hips, a slight stroke of her free hand over the crest of her mound. “Anything else I might do for you, Lord Astarion?”

He cocked his chin, face twisting and tweaking in flirtatious amusement. “I believe I can think of a thing or two… best send you back down to your quarters with enough cum to drip down your legs for days. That way they all know just how very much you’ve pleased me…”

She shivered, his words making her stomach drop to her toes, making her cunt twitch and ache to be filled. Her eyes grew wide watching him buck a little on the seat of his chair. “Finish your task, little spawn. Undress me completely.”

She knelt so quickly, hands pulling off the supple leather of his boots, unsheathing his legs one by one. His skin was so smooth, muscles bunched and taught under the little accidental brushes she made against his calves. Tossing it all to the side with his discarded jacket, she glanced up at him, the paragon of beauty, the image of power and sex she had fallen madly obsessed with.

It only took one night with him, one touch of his fingers, one taste of him on her tongue. She knelt happily and would obey.

His legs spread wide, a single slap of his hand on the top of his thigh. “Sit,” he commanded, and she flew to him, hovering over his cock just long enough for his sly hand to line that head just so. And sit, she did. His forehead pressed against her breasts, his breath hot as he sighed to fill her. Her body took command, hips riding that length that pushed and thrashed against the end of her channel. She looked at him, watching the soft curls of his silver hair tousling as she fucked him.

And then, she felt it. A warm sweep of his tongue on her full and rounded breast. He drew it into the heat of his mouth, sucking hard until he made her cry. Her hands braced carefully on his shoulders, the perfect height for her to grind up and down. Little buck after buck of his hips beneath her met every slap of her cunt on his thighs. But even that natural ride of her body on his grew harder with the way he swirled his tongue on her nipple. Hands wandered up and down her back, one finally stopped to cradle her other swinging breast.

A single brush of his razor-fangs on that perfect pink nipple, and she shattered. Writhing, twitching, there was no sensation in her body that wasn’t the pleasure he drew from her. It was blistering hot and all-consuming, her body going nearly limp to allow him to grab her by the waist and fuck up into her with abandon.

It was his turn. Those long nails scored into her back, drawing blood under his touch. Scraping lower, he clawed their sharp edges into the rippling flesh of her ass, making her moan so, so deliciously loudly. She was clay in his hands, knowing just how to respond to his touch, how to reply to his words.

More intoxicating than immortal life had been for decades.

Clenching, she shattered on his cock once more so soon. Lumina panted, starved of breath, unable to let her muscles relax and slow in post-coital bliss. He just gave her more, gave it to her harder. Until at last, he groaned. Practically lifting her with his strength to slam her back down with every thrust into her, until he finally let it all go. His voice hissed, growling and groaning as he came, filling up into her with spurts that stole even his undead breath.

Finally, she was allowed to soften in his arms. Cautious not to sprawl into him, to cuddle or savor the press of his body that had just given and taken so much. A few breaths, and he pressed his head against her shoulder for a moment.

As if he forgot for that moment he was the most powerful being in Faerûn.

“Get up,” he hissed, voice steeled over and sharp. Remembering himself.

Lumina did as she was told. Shaking and trembling, she reached for the bookcases to steady herself. Fingertips brushed the soft leather bindings, and it made her smile. Sweet little moments of comfort, the only ones she had all her life.

He was beside her in an instant. Gaze following where hers had been, his lips smiled faintly. “See one you like, little spawn?”

Lumina’s brow quirked in confusion. A delightful picture, he decided. A portrait of well-fucked surprise. “So many of them, my lord. I could hardly choose a single interesting star in the sky.”

“Choose one star for this evening, another for the next,” he turned away, a low throated chuckle as he left her. “One each time until I tire of you.”

“Thank you, my lord,” she replied, his twisted gift making her smile as she pulled a simple, blue leather-bound book from its shelf.

The bed creaked. And as she turned her stomach fluttered again to see, to feel those eyes piercing into her. Even as her slick and his cum slipped down her thigh, she burned for more. He held out two more cups, a fresh bottle on the nightstand to replenish them both. “Come, Lumina,” he bid her, loudly and formally. But the way his smile widened as she clutched the little blue bloom against her breasts, slinking closer as if she were shy, she knew something may have shifted.

If only slightly.

Cautiously, she slid into the scarlet sheets on the opposite side. That book still pressed into her body. He didn’t look away, proffering her that cup of replenishment as she leaned against the pillows. One arm wrapped around her shoulders. “Closer, my little spawn.” He flashed his fangs, raising his own cup to those conceited, smirking lips. “I would say I don’t bite, but…” his voice trailed off as he drank deeply.

Lumina slid closer, sipping slowly this time, thumbing the vellum pages’ edge, lost in her thoughts.

Something warm and heavy pressing into her lap threw her right back into her surroundings. The rooms of the Ascendant. His face rested on her lap. His head turned toward her, his breath was warm on her belly, where her skin reached up above the covers. “Not going to read while I allow you some respite, Lumina?”

“I…” she trailed off.

“Don’t you worry, little light. I’ll let you know when I am ready and eager for more of your submission, darling.” His voice sounded softer to her ears than the silks and downs of his bed. “And after all, from here…” that voice turned hungry, edged with velvet seduction again, “I’ll be more than ready to eat you right up.”

Shuddering from his words, she obeyed his suggestion. One hand held her cup, the cool, sanguine drink filling her up and chasing away that pain inside her. The other hand carefully opened the book to the side of her lap, turning the delicate pages with reverence. After a while, words began to swim, her immortal human body growing tired after all. But even the comfort of a book in her hands and the fresh stories between its covers didn’t soothe her more than the weight of his head on her lap…

The slowing breath from his nose on her belly…

The growing heaviness of sleep that filled her frame from his.

He nestled there on her thighs, eyes shut in trance, breath steady and peaceful as he rested.

Carefully, she set the empty cup down on the end table. Laying back, she soon drifted as well, and as she dozed off, her fingers unknowingly wrapped in the unruly tendrils of his silver locks.

Her sleep swept her away, body aching, lips swollen… It was finally a rest that was hunger free and soft. Sleeping with the Vampire Ascendant, unheard of in all the realms. She dozed, she knew not how long…

Until the sheets were ripped from her body, heaviness crushing her as he rasped in her ear, “Wake up, little spawn. Surely you don’t think I would let you merely sleep the night away.”

Astarion knelt between her thighs, hands raising them, forcing her knees to bend. Her sleepy eyes forced themselves open, watching that self-conceited smirk leer down at her, his erection bobbing so rigid and pink as he lined himself up.

“Come, Lumina,” he groaned as he sheathed himself in. “Rouse yourself, make yourself useful for once.” She arched her back, and sleep did quickly leave her limb, blinking the haze from her eyes. Those long fingers dug into her knees, his hips slapping hard and rough and wild. She could feel her blood drip from where he clawed into her skin, that essence swallowed by the scarlet sheets.

Every thrust drew sweet little pants, whimpering cries from her tired mouth. She couldn’t help it, not as he had his way with her, still half asleep but also half eager for more. And totally, completely drenched for his cock again. This time, it was all for him, his eyes glued to the way her breasts swayed with every ride of her body, her lips bitten by her own newborn fangs as she took his fucking so well.

Not one complaint, not one iota of resistance. No, she lounged, arms sprawled into the pillow, thighs opened wide for his use. Music drawn from her throat that resounded in his rooms, he loved it.

Loved it so much, he wanted to feel that sweet little cunt milk him, clench around his cock to take his spend so deep inside her, it would take days to drip its way out. A little sweep of his thumb into the peak of her folds, and he circled that hardened clit. So swollen, she instantly writhed and grinded back at the new source of pleasure. Panting, keening, she shuddered into the bed, the sharp edge of his fingernail digging slightly into her flesh, scoring around her clit’s thickened hood. Pain sliced through her pleasure. And as her hands gripped into the downy pillow, she thrashed in her climax. Ribbons of her arousal poured out around him, fire scalding hot down her limbs and pouring through her as she shuddered.

Every clench of her walls sucked him in harder, making it nearly impossible to drag himself in and out. A beautiful little burning light, burning hot just for him.

And they all would see it. Every last one of his spawn he kept for pleasure… they would know beyond a shadow of a doubt that she pleased him. The vision of her, walking back down the halls of his harem, smelling like him, trails of her slick and his cum running down her heel to puddle on the floor. That book in her hand, a treasured gift to his new favorite…

“Fuck,” he groaned, her voice matching his in volume as she mewled all the louder. He split her open, slamming against that end of her. Untethered, uncontrolled as he spilled hard and fast inside her. His breath was heavy and damp, almost as much as his body as he laid on top of her, cock still buried deep inside her folds. He crushed her, covered her. Lumina needed to crane her head just to fit in the space of his neck to breathe.

Did she even need to breathe anymore? But even such thoughts melted, as he rested there. Again. So warm and blanketing her in all of him.

The air was thick with their scents, wet with their sweat. But she didn’t care. She would let him sleep until dawn like this if he willed it. Beyond smitten, addicted as she was instantly for more of him. Her Master.

One more deep inhale, and he pulled from her body. A brush of his hand down her cheek, he whispered to her. “Go, Lumina.”

She paused for a moment, aching to have to leave. Her gut twisted at the thought of returning to them all… in that place. But she swallowed that feeling back down. “If it pleases you…”

He gave a breathy laugh, reaching for the small blue book before he tossed it into the bed beside her. “Here, take this too. You can return it when I summon you again tonight.”

She knew she must have looked like a foolish girl, face beaming for a second in hope. Knowing she would be back… knowing he would have her again.

“Thank you, my Lord Astarion,” she tried not to sound too giddy.

He just gave a deep, breathless chuckle, rolling that perfect body, hewn from ivory by the gods themselves, back under his covers. “Clean yourself up this time, my little light. I won’t have anything less than perfection from you.”

“Yes, of course, my Lord Astarion,” she preened. Preened from the edge of his bed as she shuffled her little shift back on. As she grabbed for that small leather book to hug against her beautiful breasts. He rolled his back to her, not caring to watch her journey back.

Resting his head in the pillow, he could smell her still. For the briefest flash of a moment, he wished it had been her yielding thighs again beneath his head… No, that was a transgression he had been sure to rectify. He fucked all sentimentality on his part out of her. That book was a boon, a sign of favor that would claim her as his… his favorite. For now.

But as he laid in those damp, silken sheets, he thought of her hair in his fist, her dark eyes at knee-level. And his hand stroked his length again.

Night couldn’t come soon enough once more.

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kiss-collector · 11 months ago

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the vampire gave her puppydog eyes ONE TIME and she fell for it

#baldur's gate 3 #astarion #bg3 tav #bg3 dove #shadowheart #my art #i'd call her a sucker but that's more astarion *ba dum tss*

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brain-rot-central · 4 months ago

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Sonnet of the Lone Cardinal, Ch. 8

A/N: *Dead Dove: Do Not Eat* I probably should have added that tag a while ago. I apologize for not having done so up until this point. Major tw: depictions/references of alcoholism, trauma, abuse, PTSD, panic attacks. This chapter is a mess. I'm so sorry. It's like I bet myself how much darker can I get with each chapter, lmao. Proceed with caution.

Rating: Explicit (due to the themes, really. No smut this chapter.) Word count: 6k Pairing: Ascended Astarion x Female Tav (DU, named) Warnings: 18+, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, implied alcohol abuse, trauma, past abuse, PTSD, depictions of physical abuse, unhealthy relationship Summary: Astarion readies himself for the ball, then heads to retrieve Tav. A tumultuous heart-to-heart ensues.

♥ Previous Chapter ♥ Next Chapter ♥ Link to Ao3 ♥ Playlist

‘She’s voicing doubts, my lord. How shall I proceed?’

He impatiently taps his nails against the wood of the dresser. With his other hand, Astarion brings a glass of wine to his lips. He’s chosen a mellow red for this evening; smooth going down with just the slightest bite at the back of the tongue.

‘Push forward and ignore them,’ he responds through the telepathic bond. ‘Continue getting her ready.’

There’s a brief pause before Magdalena’s response comes through.

‘As you wish, Lord Ancunín.’

Astarion severs the connection abruptly.

Taking a quick sip of wine, he places the glass on top of the dresser and sighs. Warmth blooms within his chest as crimson liquid travels down his esophagus. It's almost reminiscent of blood he's supped upon:

Her blood. The sweetest substance to have ever graced his poisoned tongue.

Astarion lifts the sleeves of his shirt and picks up a bottle of cologne on the dresser, uncorking its stopper. He tilts the bottle and dabs it gently on his left wrist. Placing the bottle back down on the bureau, Astarion rubs his wrists one over the other, spreading the scent evenly. It's his signature blend for over two centuries, the recipe little changed. He taps the mouth of the bottle lightly with the pads of his fingers, then brings them to the delicate skin behind his ears.

There's one thing that’s undeniable, even to him. He's nervous. Terribly, terribly nervous. He hasn't felt this out of control in months. Tav’s proximity is impacting him in ways he hadn't anticipated. It's intoxicating, suffocating. She's all he can think about.

How to keep her happy, wanting. To stay within her good graces.

She’s seen too much far too soon. Perhaps Astarion would have revealed everything to her in time, but certainly not at this point. Not when everything is still so fresh between them. And now that she's voicing doubts, he wants nothing more than to perform as much damage control as possible.

Her departure is simply not an option. Unless it's on agreeable terms.

Astarion is a horrid planner. It's a miracle he's stuck to this current one, though having to adjust his plan so early is distressing. It feels as though he's grasping at straws. Barely keeping his head above water. That isn't a place he enjoys being.

Tav will speak with Wyll tonight, and he's nervous. So terribly nervous of how Wyll will try souring his name. Slip a slow, creeping venom into Tav's mind, poisoning her thoughts. Astarion is nervous that all he's put into repairing the frayed bond he and Tav share will be undone by this single conversation.

He pulls down his sleeves and shrugs his shoulders, giving himself a look in the mirror. He's chosen a loose maroon dress shirt for the evening, a few buttons undone at the top and the hem tucked in. A pair of black dress slacks held fast by a black belt with a silver buckle, and brown leather shoes complete his ensemble. He draws a deep breath in, exhaling with a slight shake of his head.

It dawns on him that he isn't exactly sure what his end goal is. To charm Tav back into his arms, yes. But what else? Does he wish for more, or to keep this casual?

No.

The nonchalance of this affair stopped after the third night.

When she held his face to hers–their foreheads pressed together as they shared the same air–Astarion knew. The shopkeeper below Tav's loft banged viciously on the ceiling, shouting muffled expletives through the floor. But Astarion was beyond caring. He sang as loud as Tav did, greedily drinking her moans as though the centuries-long hunger still consumed him.

This is very much a thing. A very real thing.

Feelings he'd hoped to have lost are involved, left over from before the ascension. He’s not happy to admit it, but it would be foolish to deny their existence.

The remnants of him.

The sad, pitiful spawn. Groveling in the dirt, forced onto his back by the whim of another. How truly misguided his trust had been at the hour of his death. Astarion shakes his head free of the thought before it can warp further.

Yet, a sinking reality sets in.

That's who she wants, though… isn't it?

The man he was? There's little chance Tav feels for him now. She may never again, not after all she's seen.

This provokes another thought to come forward.

Did she ever want him beyond what his body could offer? He's almost sure of it, but most importantly…

Why does he care now?

There are times when he looks into her eyes that Astarion almost sees it. The classic look she gives only to him. The one that makes his knees falter and his heart race. The longing laced within her gaze. It makes him wish he could sequester her back to his chamber and have her sing his name, his praises, until the sun comes up.

Astarion would willingly be her protector. The fulfiller of all her wishes. He would make it abundantly clear how none of what he has could have been possible without her. How he wishes to share all of this with her. He will do anything, everything, to prove that to her.

Everything, aside from admitting one small thing. And as he gazes into the mirror, Astarion rolls his eyes and scoffs.

Love.

What a foolish concept.

He picks up a silver chain necklace from the bureau and fastens it around his neck. Rubies adorn the solid silver pendant of the necklace and Astarion adjusts it to hang between the open lapels of his shirt, against his bare chest. The metal is cool as it lays against his skin. It's only then that he realizes how flushed he is.

How his heart jumps in his throat.

Astarion reaches for the glass of wine once more, stealing another sip. The sting on the back of his tongue soothes the ache. For now.

His dagger, Rhapsody, is the last item to prepare. Originally owned by a corrupt master, but taken as a spoil of war. It's dull now and essentially for show, but he cares not. Astarion stows a separate sharpened blade on his outer ankle at all times, hidden by the length of his trousers; a habit left over from his past life. He secures the dagger's holster around his left thigh, attaching it to his belt, then slips the blade within.

Tav will be on his right arm when they make their entrance. That's at least what he has planned.

Brushing a few stray hairs into place, Astarion gives himself a final look in the mirror. Satisfied, he chokes back the remainder of the wine he's been nursing all evening, slamming the glass down hard onto the dresser.

A glimmer of light jumps in his periphery as his fist connects with the wood and Astarion looks. A golden ring with a turquoise gemstone sits within a clear case, nestled within a bed of velvet.

True Love’s Caress.

The ring Tav gave to him, so long ago.

Astarion quickly opens the case, slipping the ring onto the fourth finger of his left hand, and heads out into the hall. As he walks down the long corridor toward Tav’s room, he nods absently at those he sees along the way.

His chest begins to burn, his mind growing clouded.

Why does he care if she stays? Does he really need her? Ultimately, no. But…

Astarion has unlimited wealth and resources. A plethora of lords and ladies would all but collapse at his feet for an opportunity to become his betrothed. Throw in the chance of eternal life, and that list is bound to grow exponentially.

He doesn't notice the speed in which he's barreling down the hall until he almost walks face first into a silver tray holding freshly cut fruit, carried by an unsuspecting servant. “M-my apologies, my lord!” the young woman gasps, clamoring for control over the tray as it sways in her hands.

Astarion doesn't recall ever seeing this one before. Magdalena is responsible for the staffing of the palace. Regardless, he raises a hand and gives the young woman a short bow in apology, continuing on his way.

His vision sways as the wine finally takes hold.

No, he doesn't necessarily need Tavaria. He’d go about his time just fine without her. But… would he enjoy it? Would he be satisfied?

Astarion stops dead in his tracks, clenching his fists hard enough for his nails to bite into the skin of his palms.

…Does he want for this?

No, he couldn't possibly. He's the vampire ascendant! The most powerful vampire lord to have ever lived. The waking dream of all his kind. He wants for nothing. Has no need of groveling in the dirt. The world is his playground, and he will take whatever it is he desires. It's what he's owed after two hundred years of shit.

Pure shit.

The gods turned their backs on him during his most desperate hour of need. They'll have little choice but to acknowledge him now.

No, Tav should be thanking him for being so generous as to give her a second chance. Another opportunity of having every decadence life has to offer handed to her. Wealth, power, pleasure. So much pleasure that she needn’t ask for it ever again. Astarion would see to that personally.

If she chooses wisely.

He straightens his posture and gives his head a quick shake, strengthening his resolve.

She will. One way or another, she will fall back into his arms.

Astarion knows she's afflicted with the same sickness he has. Tav’s heart gallops when he draws near. Her blood sings, her breath halts. He can almost hear the way her skin calls for the icy pierce of his fangs. Smell the desire that burns deep within her to be well and truly his.

She will succumb to his song.

She will be his consort.

They will spend eternity in each other's arms.

Though his resolve fades quickly as his feet finally bring him before Tav’s door. Nervous energy surges through him again. It fights for dominance against the sedating alcohol coursing through his body. And for a passing moment, he feels faint.

Astarion clears his throat and rolls his shoulders, giving a quick surveillance of his surroundings.

No one else is within this end of the manor. It’s only them.

With some trepidation, Astarion lifts a hand, placing three soft raps against the wooden door with the back of his knuckle, the ring around his finger catching his eye.

And he waits.

His elven ears then pick up the faint sound of shuffling from behind the door. “Is that you, Magdalena?” comes Tav’s muffled voice.

“No, it's only me, darling,” Astarion replies with as much composure as he can muster. When he hears rustling within the bedroom, he quickly adds, “Take your time. There's no rush.”

As he awaits for her to open the door, thoughts from earlier begin to resurface.

Should she refuse his offer still, despite all he's done… What, then? What more is there to do? Not much, he feels.

And at that point, when all other options have been exhausted…

Well… she’d be forcing his hand, then.

Wouldn't she?

The door suddenly opens, and the sight of her makes his breath grow cold within his chest. Tav is wearing the emerald dress he'd commissioned for her and the pair of golden shoes he'd sent. Her long, auburn hair cascades down her sun-freckled shoulders in loose, wavy ringlets. But what makes Astarion’s breath cease lay across her forehead.

Her soft, sweeping bangs have transported him back to the crash site of the Nautiloid, to when they first met. And every night thereafter, when she'd inevitably slink her way over to his tent to steal a word. Or several.

How she'd style them differently day after day. Play with them if they were to broach an uncomfortable subject. The way she'd dip her head to hide behind them in an effort to play coy.

Astarion remembers how they'd cling to her sweat-soaked brow as she called his name over and over again from below him, rendering him completely and utterly helpless to resist her. How he'd brush them to the side to rest his head directly against hers. Placed gentle kisses to the top of her brow after they finished.

“Rather bold to cut your hair the night of an event, eh?” he remarks with a chuckle.

Tav shrugs in response. “Just felt like something I needed to do.” Her expression is flat as she steps out of the doorway, ushering him in.

As he steps into the bedroom, Astarion gives her a small smile, nervous energy peaking once more. He notices the tennis necklace he sent her clutched in her hand, and he winces. “Have you found everything to your liking?” he asks, curiously.

Tav shuts the bedroom door behind them, then walks to the vanity. Her back is to him as she says, “Oh, yes, everything is absolutely beautiful.” There's a small crack in her voice.

Something is troubling her.

Astarion sighs, anticipating the turn the conversation is taking. “I get the feeling there's a ‘but’ coming, here,” he states exasperatedly.

Tav shakes her head, now turning toward him. “No, it's not that.” She looks at her hands, running the necklace between her fingers. “I… I wanted to talk candidly about what happened in the crypts.”

“I don't understand what more of a discussion could be had,” Astarion spits, defensively. He did what she asked. What more is there to say?

Her bottom lip trembles as she pulls it between her teeth. Tav places the bracelet down on the counter and draws in a deep breath. She then lifts her head to face him.

Astarion does not like where this is going.

“When I encouraged you to show those men mercy…” her voice trails off. She's seemingly lost in thought for moment before she continues, “...you killed them.” Tav shakes her head in disbelief, eyes blinking rapidly. “You killed them, Astarion.”

He furrows his brow in question. “Were you hoping for a different outcome?”

“No,” Tav says with another shake of her head. “No, I knew that's what you'd do.” Tav meets his eyes again with an intense gaze. “But I didn't quite understand why until after.”

…Oh.

She caught that, did she?

He shouldn't be so surprised. Tav always pieces together everything he doesn't wish to say. It's maddening, how he can never hide from her. Though, in a way… It's comforting. To have someone see him.

The real him.

“Do you…” her voice fades again, but she takes a deep breath and pushes forward. “Do you still feel that way?” Tav asks, voice small. “About yourself?”

Astarion draws a large breath through his nose and crosses his arms over his chest. For a moment, he doesn't speak. His mind scrambles for the appropriate words, alongside a fitting delivery.

Once he finds it, Astarion says, “Not anymore, no. That feeling died when Cazador did.” The name feels like a shard of ice through his chest as it tumbles forward, but it's a momentary pain that fades as quickly as it comes.

An awkward silence hangs like thick fog about the air. They're still looking at one another, and Astarion notices a glossy sheen to Tav’s eyes.

“...What replaced it?” Tav asks in a voice still barely above a whisper.

He knows what replaced that feeling, but it's not something she needs to know right now.

Bitterness.

Bitterness is what replaced the feeling of hopelessness Astarion carried for two centuries. All of his anger. Spite. Unrest, for the poor card life had given him for so many years. How he screamed, and screamed, and screamed for someone, anyone to hear him. To pull him from his waking nightmare.

No one ever did.

Until her.

Tavaria was the only one who extended a hand to him. The only one who found him worth saving. Who listened to him. Gave even a sliver of a shit to see him.

And it dawns on him then that she truly did care for him. Found more worth to him beyond what his body could give her.

But it terrifies him to know that she sees everything. Astarion will never be able to hide for long, if they're together. She knows him too well–understands things about him that he doesn't quite get himself. He will never have full control of their dynamic. She will always be a step ahead of him, and he'll be dashing behind her to catch up.

It will be a nightmare for him.

But, gods… How his heart still aches for her. Longs for her to hold him within her embrace.

“I'm not quite sure, my dear,” is Astarion's crafted reply. He speaks with ease, shifting his weight to the opposite hip. “I tend not to dwell on it much, these days.”

It's a lie, but one small enough to hopefully get her off his back. And it seems to work, at least for now. Tav grows quiet, dropping her eyes to the floor. Her hands work quickly again, fingers rubbing over one another.

Gesturing to the necklace on the vanity with a wave of his hand, Astarion says, “May I help you with that?” He outstretches a hand in her direction–an invitation for her to place the tennis necklace within his palm.

Tav blinks up at him. With a nod, she picks up the necklace and hands it to Astarion. She turns around to face the mirror, clasping her hands together over her abdomen.

He unhooks the necklace and steps behind her swiftly. Astarion gently sweeps her hair free off her shoulder, Tav reaching up to hold it out of the way for him. As her hair lifts, the smell of lavender and pine wafts about the air: two of the scents he had crafted just for her. Reminiscent of their first night together in the clearing within the forest.

Astarion's arms come up above her head, falling feather-light to lay the jewelry across her chest. He steals a glance of them both in the mirror. Light from a candle reflects off the diamond studded earrings he's given her.

And then, it suddenly hits him.

He does want this. Yearns for more. There's a twist deep within his chest as he fastens the jewelry around the column of her throat, reaching up to move her hair back in place. The backs of his hands glide smoothly against her shoulders as he drops his hands. Astarion moves his face to the softness of her hair and plants a kiss, sucking in a sharp breath through his nose. The scent of her overwhelms his senses. His head spins as he closes his eyes, finding solace in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

“...Astarion...”

He opens his eyes and finds Tav’s face again within the mirror, full with worry. With one hand she plays with the necklace, twisting it between her fingertips. “...Did you ever love me?” she asks, voice quivering.

The sound of her heart pounds in his ears. The rush of her blood is a quartet cascading toward a triumphant crescendo. It's so quick it can almost be mistaken for two distinct heartbeats as he beats against his eardrums. Astarion's heart then pounds in tandem with hers, head growing light. Heat creeps under his skin and his vision narrows.

Love.

He positively loathes the word. The feeling. The sentiment.

It makes his skin crawl. Hands claw at his neck. A knife carving deep into his back. The room grows silent and then he's slipping, far back into the recesses of his mind.

‘I write this poem of love for you, my son. For all my children.’

A high pitched scream rings loudly against the stone walls of the kennels. Godey stands watch, bones rattling as he comes forward to reinforce the shackles around Astarion's arms and legs.

Rhapsody drags across his back, slicing into delicate porcelain skin. Astarion feels rivulets of cool liquid running down his back, and when the scent of iron reaches his nose, he realizes it's his blood pouring onto the mattress below.

Cazador raises the blood-soaked blade to his face, swiping his tongue against the flat edge. He groans in satisfaction as the crimson essence fills his mouth, then sets the dagger to work once more.

Astarion screams as his flesh parts again, a new rune being carved.

‘With this, we will forever be connected,’ Cazador explains. ‘You will always be mine.’

Astarion steps back, dragging a hand across his face. He feels the ever-present demon that sleeps within threatening to surface. An overwhelming sense of dread grips him tight. “...You know how I feel about that word,” he insists, hoping desperately that she'll drop this conversation before it's too late.

Tav meets his gaze through the mirror. Astarion watches the movement of her throat as she swallows. “But did you?” She then turns her whole body to meet him directly. “Did he?”

He. Him. The man he used to be. Not the man who stands before her, now.

Astarion's lips curl into a dangerous smile, a snicker rumbling through his chest. “There it is,” he remarks with sarcasm. He raises a hand and points a single finger into the air, wagging it back and forth. “I was wondering how long it would take for you to bring him up again.” He's beginning to feel more like himself again; further from tipping over the edge.

Tav’s expression sours and she shrugs her shoulders. “Can you blame me, Astarion? At least I knew where I stood with him.” She shakes her head in disbelief. “You feel akin to a stranger, now.”

Pain grips him as her words split wide through his chest, plunging him back down the path of what seems to be an inevitable crash. “I certainly am not, my dear, ” Astarion says. His voice is even despite the storm raging within. “I haven't been for quite some time.”

Then, he sees them: the tears welling up at the corners of her eyes.

Shit, he curses to himself. This is not what he wants–not what he needs. Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry, please don't cry–

“Then why do you seem so different?” Tav squeaks, trying to stave off her sobs. “Why can I no longer feel the warmth of your heart?”

Then, they fall. Hard. And the walls he's fought so hard to keep up collapse inward.

…Fuck.

Astarion can hardly stomach the thought of having hurt her, let alone see physical proof. Her makeup is ruined. Mascara runs down her cheeks. Tears cut streaks through her foundation. Tav covers her face with her hands and briskly turns away, choosing to stand near the door leading out onto the balcony.

Each choked sob from Tav sends a jolt of electric shooting across his chest. “Tavaria…” Astarion whispers. He approaches gently from behind, maintaining distance. “Come now, darling; you know that's not true. I’m right here, as I've always been.”

Control. He must regain control of this situation.

She plants her palms flat against the glass door and she sucks in a gasp. Her head hangs down between her shoulders. “You're not,” Tav argues. “This is not the man I know.” Astarion observes as she shakes her head. Turning to him, she dabs her eyes with the back of her hand. “This is not the man I fell in love with. Who loved me.”

“Tav–”

“This is a man who fears love. Operates off of obsession. Who is jealous,” she remarks angrily, voice rising. “You give me the illusion of freedom, Astarion, but this is hardly freedom.” Tav raises a hand and sweeps it across the room. “You've given me nothing but a gilded cage to fly about in!”

The sharp edge of her tongue cuts deep once more. But this time, a sudden flare of rage rises within and he rushes forward. “Do you think I would do this for anyone else?” Astarion stands face to face with her, nostrils flaring with heavy breath. “Share all of this with a common fool off the street?!”

“Then say it!” Tav roars back, entire body shaking. Tears still fall from her eyes, but Astarion can tell they're more from frustration than pain. “Fucking hells, Astarion. Just fucking say it already!”

Drawing in a breath, Astarion blinks, stepping back slightly. He's suddenly warm. Very, very warm. But a chil thenl shoots up his spine.

He… does love her. Loves this.

Wants to hold her forever in this room, suspended in this moment for the rest of eternity. She's beautiful–so godsdamned beautiful–as she stares at him, bewildered.

But he can't touch her. Not more than he already has. Anything more is sacrilege, tainted. He'll ruin it. Ruin her. Ruin everything.

Though… this is what she's asking of him…

Right?

And truth be told, Astarion wants to delve deeper. He longs to dig through her chest and curl alongside her heart, forever. Tav made her home so long ago within his.

He wants her to come home–come back to him.

Astarion swallows thickly as he asks, “...What do you think we are?” He's doing his best to keep his voice even, despite feeling like his heart is in his mouth. If this is his chance to win her back, he'll take it. He'll finally show her his heart.

“Gods, Astarion; I don't know,” Tav answers, flustered. She throws her hands up. “Lovers, perhaps?”

A sharp pain grips his chest accompanied by a head rush. Astarion becomes acutely aware of just how fast his heart is beating. “And what do you want us to be?” he asks in a hushed tone.

Tav holds his gaze for a moment, then drops her focus to the floor. “Astarion…” She rests a hand over the emerald fabric of the dress, rubbing circular patterns into her stomach. “I… Gods, this is pointless,” Tav states abruptly, dashing toward the washroom door.

But as Tav passes, Astarion reaches swiftly to clasp a hand around her upper arm. The grip isn't tight enough to leave an impression, though it prevents her from continuing forward.

“What do you want us to be, Tavaria?” Astarion reiterates, sternly. “I'm not letting go without an answer.”

The adrenaline is setting in and his vision begins to narrow. Sound slowly fades from his ears, replaced by thunderous clashes of his heart against his ribcage. Tav lifts her face to address him. Astarion meets her gaze and his breath runs cold.

“...I want him,” Tav confesses. Her green eyes are glossy with tears threatening to spill over again, and there's a flush to her entire face. “Gods, I miss us, Astarion.”

Finally, the dam gives way again, alongside the last shreds of his resolve.

Astarion laughs haughtily, throwing his head back with a howl. She sheds tears for the sniveling coward he once was, and none for the man who stands beside her.

How silly of him to think he could bare anything to her.

“Tch,” Astarion scoffs, releasing his hold on her arm, “Of course you'd prefer the version of me that had no choice but to lay on his back should his master command it.”

Tav narrows her gaze and takes a few steps away from Astarion, wiping her tears once more with the back of a hand. “I don’t want to control you, Astarion,” she sniffles. “What have I done that proves I mean you harm?”

He then laughs again.

Enraged, Astarion surges forward. “Oh, my dear, you're guilty of the ultimate betrayal!” he chides. “You left me,” The words are gruff as they fall from his mouth, spoken through clenched teeth. He watches as Tav recoils further from him.

“You wanted to kill me,” argues Tav with a tilt of her head. “We’ve already had his discussion, Astarion.”

Astarion scowls. “No, darling. I told you I only wished to deliver you unto undeath.” The storm begins to quell and he reaches out, holding her hands within his own. “And as I've stated before, I was only trying to give you what you wanted,” he says, voice dropping an octave.

‘Isn’t that what you want?’ Astarion recalls telling her. ‘To be mine? Forever?’

Turning her is the only way he can guarantee that they’ll be together forever. Make good on his promise to protect her. That he’ll never have to suffer the crushing loss of her.

Astarion's breath comes in quick, short pants as they exchange heated glances between the silence stretched before them.

Tav shakes her head, pulling her hands free from his grasp. “He would have never asked me to do that,” she infers.

A heavy weight sits on Astarion’s chest and he sighs in disappointment. “You're wrong.”

He would have.

Then, and now still, he would. The moment he realized his skin smelled of her soaps more often than not is when this hunger took root. But he was too weak. Too fearful of what his attachment meant for her.

She became all Astarion thought about: how his proximity to her made her a target, should Cazador come for him. How useless he would be without the tadpole if attacked in broad daylight. Her smile, her hair, the feeling of her pulse thrumming under his tongue while seated in his lap. He remembers how his chest ached when considering a path without her, as if his heart still beat.

Keeping her close to him, forever, is all he's ever longed for…

“He just lacked the ability to do so,” Astarion explains. “Lucky for us, he's no longer here.”

“He loved me,” Tav blurts out. “And that's more than I can say of you now.”

…but she still doesn't see it.

“Are you even capable of that now?” she asks in a contemptuous tone. “Or is this all I’ll ever get?”

“You are worth so much,” sneers Astarion. His face hovers above hers as he searches her eyes. “You’ve no idea.”

“Then tell me, Astarion.” Tav moves forward; Astarion instinctively backs away. “Tell me how much I mean to you.” His back hits the bedroom door and she pauses, leaving barely an inch of space between them. “Tell me how much you love me, Astarion. Please,” she pleads, voice breaking.

Astarion's chest heaves, and the demon creeps forward. The word is tainted, so heavily defiled. It's a strong poison that Astarion will never be able to suck out. It will leech into every part of what they have and slowly, surely, kill everything.

“I… I–” he stammers. Astarion wants to say it. It's right on the tip of his tongue, but it catches in his throat. His mind is loud, thoughts racing so quickly he can barely keep up with what they're saying. She's staring at him expectantly, and he has nothing to deliver.

He feels lost, as though his body is no longer his own. The scars on his back sting like they're freshly carved. There are shackles around his ankles and a hand around his neck.

He's back in the kennels, oh gods he's back in the kennels, Godey maniacal laughter rings in his ears, he's trapped, he's trapped, he's trapped–

‘I do this out of love…’

Astarion can't breathe.

He's being flayed, he's being impaled. He feels his control slipping as his thoughts become louder, shouting at him full-forced. The demon creeps forward and he can see its face. Astarion feels himself beginning to slip away.

He can't say it. She can never know. But he has to fix this. He can fix this. How can he fix this?

…Oh.

Then suddenly, it comes to him: the urge to fuck it into her instead.

Pick her up and whisk her onto the bed, because that's the language he knows. A language he trusts. He can thrust, and thrust and thrust until she cries his name, his praises into the night.

Yes, everything would be better if he did just that.

He can show her how he feels. He won't have to say it. He can still stay safe, she'll never have to know. She doesn't need to know. He could just fuck her, over and over, as long as she wants. Forever, and ever, and ever–

But not right now.

Later.

Later he'll give himself to her, after he's had more to drink. That always makes this easier.

“The party is about to begin,” he manages to say. Astarion reaches behind himself to find the handle of the door. He clears his throat, then says, “We really should get going.”

Tav blinks, her expression falling flat. “Alright,” she says, soberly. She gazes a moment too long at him before eventually moving away to the mirror, taking a quick glance at herself. She wipes a finger under each eye, ridding herself of the smeared mascara. “Give me a few moments and I'll be right out.”

There's a soft tremor in her voice and Astarion knows she's unhappy with him, but at this moment, all he cares about is avoiding this topic. They will eventually have this discussion again–he knows it’s inevitable. Yet for now, he can breathe again.

Astarion nods, giving a quick dip of his head in acknowledgement toward Tav. He twists the handle of the bedroom door just as she enters the washroom and steps outside, the door closing behind him with a soft ‘click.��

A muffled sob can then be heard from the opposite end of the door, and a pang of guilt grips his chest.

Tavaria is crying. Again. All because he couldn't say three bloody words to her.

Astarion raises a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. He's said them before in jest–way before she meant anything significant to him. It isn't like he's incapable… nor would he be lying, should he say them again.

His head throbs behind his eyes–the drink from before beginning to fade–and he digs his fingers harder into his skin.

Even if he is upset over it, Astarion knows why she left him. He doesn't even truly disagree with it, because had he been told the reality of what being a vampire spawn was like, he may have just chosen actual death itself. But he would never subject her to even a fraction of what he endured. He would make the experience so pleasant for her, so very enjoyable.

And she's here now, isn't she? She hasn't run yet, despite all she's seen. Has invited him into her bed countless times over these last few months. She's never told him to leave.

Right now, Astarion hates himself. Hates the chokehold just thinking about love has over him. She deserves to be told how he feels. To hear him say it. She isn't Cazador. No, she's quite the opposite of him, actually.

The opening of the bedroom door pulls Astarion from his thoughts, and he steps away from the doorway. Tav appears as the door swings fully open, her makeup redone and her eyes somewhat puffy, but she puts on her best smile and she steps through the threshold.

Astarion's chest aches as he looks at her face. It's all for show, and he knows it. Returning her smile, Astarion then holds a folded arm out toward Tav. She graciously accepts his offering by slipping her arm within his, and they head toward the ballroom.

They look every bit like the perfect couple as they walk through the hall, but his chest feels hollow. They reach the top of the stairs and Astarion steps down first, offering his hand to Tav. He sees the trepidation in her eyes, but eventually she smiles and accepts his offer.

And when her hand slots perfectly into his, light gleaming off the turquoise gemstone of True Love’s Caress, the knife twists so deeply within his chest that it knocks the air clean from his lungs.

He truly is a godsdamned fool.

#ascended astarion #dead dove do not eat #sotlc #bg3 fanfiction #tavstarion #astarion x female tav #astarion x female oc #goodnight i'm so sorry for this #AA isn't ok guys lmao

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jawlipops · 8 months ago

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durgeeeeeee

#durge #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #the dark urge #my art #no name yet just calling her #dove

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dark-and-kawaii · 8 months ago

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The Pet Names

╰› Raphael carries himself with a supreme level of self esteem, and should you be the one who captures his attention, be prepared for endearments as rich as his most exquisite wines. You are not merely his "little mouse" anymore, no you’ve become something much more significant now.

Little Mouse <- Still his favorite

My Dearest

Love

Eternal Bloom Of My Soul <- When he’s in his poetic mood

My Queen

My Duchess

As Raphael leads you onto his grand floor, the lost soul in the corner playing the violin ever so diligently. With a graceful step, your devil draws you close moving in rhythm to the music, his voice a tender whisper, his breath warm against your ear. He murmurs one of these cherished names he’s given you, and oh how it makes the rest of the world fade away in your mind, leaving nothing but the two of you, swaying in a moment meant only for you.

╰› Haarlep is a demon, an incubus, hence it's unrealistic to anticipate endearing pet names at every moment. Nevertheless, it's evident how much Haarlep has developed an attachment to you, and that shows when they slip with something sincere.

Little Dove

Delectable Delight/Treat

Pet

Darling <- Always says it with a smirk and a chime to it.

Play Thing

Brat <- Haarlep loves when you call them a brat as well

Pretty Little Fuck Toy

Bitch In Heat

Bunny <- Haarlep finds it cute because they could devour you whole if they pleased. You’re the perfect little prey for them.

Regardless of the array of belittling names bestowed upon you daily/nightly, you consistently find Haarlep at your side, some form of him always touching you as if to show others you are indeed theirs- a silent declaration of possession. And when Haarlep can’t be around you they wait impatiently on your bed, their tail flickering about restlessly. And once you show yourself, the incubus always strides over towards you seductively, their tail snaking around your thigh to bring you into his chest so that his wings can envelop you.

“Oh, come now, my little dove, must you always wander away for so long?” They lament with a playful pout, “You know every second you’re gone, I’m here wasting away in a sea of sheets without my favorite delectable treat.” They draw you closer, their embrace tightening ever so slightly. “Consider a poor incubus’s heart, won't you? It’s quite cold without you here warming me, afterall.” Haarlep coaxes, their plea wrapped in a cheeky yet sincere veneer of need as he nuzzles against your cheek tenderly.

╰› Zevlor is a grown man, not a mere boy. He holds you in the highest regard, adores you, treasures you, and is prepared to go to any lengths for your sake. His nicknames for you may seem straightforward and unadorned, yet they are laden with affection and are so endearing that they leave you wanting more.

Darling

Sweetheart

My Dear

Beloved

Beautiful

Each night, just before you drift off to sleep, Zevlor tenderly cradles your face and gently presses his forehead to yours, whispering one of these cherished names. As he draws back, he reassures you with a reminder not to fret over him while he's out safeguarding the city. He promises that, regardless of what happens, he will return to you, ready to envelop you in his embrace as the day concludes.

╰› Rolan is new to pet names, so he’s not necessarily used to this. You’re his first serious relationship/first person he’s ever taken real interest in. But believe me when I say, it doesn’t take long for Rolan to get used to calling you special names. With a voice dripping in self assuredness, Rolan would call you:

Dear

Sweetheart

Pest <- It’s never malicious though

Angel <- always says it with a smirk

Fiesty Little Flirt

Cheeky Brat

Troublemaker/ Trouble

As you entered his dimly lit study, you could smell the scent of old books and melting candles within the room. Rolan feels a shiver of delight as you wrap your arms around him from behind. You could feel how his tail encircles around your waist, pulling you firmly against his back, anchoring you to the warmth of his body. Before you could rest against him he spun within your embrace to cradle your face, “Has my troublemaker come here to lure me away from my duties?” Your cheeks flushed deeply as you simply nod. "How greedy of you," he whispers just as he claims your mouth with his.

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #raphael bg3 #haarlep #Raphael #bg3 raphael #tav #zevlor #zevlor bg3 #rolan #rolan bg3 #haarlep bg3 #rolan x tav #zevlor x tav #haarlep x tav #raphael x tav #little dove

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alpydk · 2 months ago

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Enablers gunna enable. @lanafofana & @tellmeallaboutit

A short fic of - What if, and hear me out, Gale's necrotic energy was actually radioactive?

The first time Gale died was an accident. The transmutation spell on the orb had backfired and almost instantly, darkness had fallen upon him. It was a day later that his soul had been dragged back to his body, an annoyed Tara lecturing him on the potential outcome of such experimentation alone. The dead gull on the balcony was nothing new, merely a result of the feline’s hunts.

The second time Gale died was on purpose. How long could he sleep in blissful ignorance before the necrotic energy that seeped from his corpse became a problem for the outside world? One day, two days? The third was where Tara placed the limit, too anxious at the spreading decay, the orb glowing angrier with each passing moment. They dared not test further.

The third time Gale died was a mistake. Tav had misjudged the sunbeam’s path, leading it through the enemies, but also through the weakened wizard. He’d hoped that the difficulty of getting the true resurrection spell from his pouch would have meant Tav was a little more careful with his life, but as always, he’d been expendable. They’d brought him back, for which he was thankful, and all had continued on their way.

It started as a cough, harmless and insignificant. Tav explained it was probably from too many nights in a cold tent and not to worry. The one chilly night turned into a grey clouded day at camp, Tav secluded to the safety of their bedroll. Something they’d eaten was the overall consensus. Gale observed at a distance, Tav’s pallor reminding him of the grey feathers of the fallen gull.

Shadowheart’s spells broke through the worst of the sickness, allowing Tav to continue travelling with them, but Gale was still weary. As Tav spat blood on to the road, it was justified as a recent bout of combat and a mistimed blow to the face. As Tav bruised like an aged piece of fruit, it was down to the battles and not the underlying sickness. As Tav stopped eating, it was blamed on the stress of their current situation, not the burning sores in their mouth and throat.

They went from strong and confident to a languishing shadow, a ghost of the hero he’d fallen in love with. Sunlit hair became as grey as the rain touched stones they trod upon and conversations of which healing spells to use soon became whispers of which rites would be the most appropriate.

Gale’s mind drifted like that of the Chionthar as the gulls flew overhead, their feathers light on the breeze carrying them to new heights. He wondered if they would reach Waterdeep, would fly over the head of his mother as she crocheted in her small garden. He wondered if Tav would visit with him when they were well enough. He knew this thought was an impossible dream, as Shadowheart called out to him.

Tav lay in his arms in the confines of their room at the Elfsong, the drapes over the bed blocking out the intrusive light. Fever had descended over their body, beads of sweat the only moisture they could tolerate. Once pink flushed lips were now cracked and bloodied, the colour that of the red roses he had longed to give them once they were back home. Vibrant skin now wept as he did, salted tears hidden behind a mask of tenderness, wounds hidden behind the mask of treatment. He told them he loved them.

….

…

The first time Tav died was an accident.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 gale #bg3 fanfiction #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #gale bg3 #galemance #dead dove or should it be dead gull?

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lynnlovesthestars · 10 months ago

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"Let me show you how this will benefit you".

For @ask-althaearoserun ❤

Pairing: Gortash x fem!OC (Althaea).

Genre: smut.

Warnings: dub-con (kinda since there's coercion), unprotected sex, fingering, oral fem! recieving, possessive Enver, improper use of throne and throne room, edging, orgasm denial, improper use of golden gauntlet, creampie, slight dumb-fucking, rough sex overrall.. if i missed anything let me know. author regrets nothing. Kind of semi-public sex. Slight power-play, implied ownership. spoiler for act 3.

Synopsis: He's got a proposal she can't refuse.

WC: 4.7k

AN: hello, it took me a while to get through this piece for Skull but a month later i finallydelivered it. With her consent I'm posting it- since her OC is out protag tonight-. Nevertheless let me know what you think, lots of love, lynn.

Wyrm's Rock was obnoxiously calm as they reached the bridge that allowed them into the fortress.

"Lord Gortash is expecting you, please make your way to the audience chamber." The steel watch repeated and repeated until they had stepped past the doors of the audience hall. They were surprised that they’d let them in so easily, yet they obliged seen their insistence without questioning too much the new rules of the fortress.

The audience hall was packed with royalty and steel watchers as Gortash was idly eyeing the door, awaiting for the last invited guests.

Them.

Enver had insisted on having them attend, not only to let them know who they were going against and the power he held, but also because he had heard so much about Althaea. He couldn’t pass up the opportunity to meet the infamous slayer that took down Ketheric, though his first glance at her left him genuinely confused: he knew he could have her wrapped around his gauntlet before even getting to speak with her and her companions.

She was small, clearly a nuisance, compared to him and his grandiose presence in the room; in a normal setting, she would have passed unnoticed, but in the middle of royalty, she stood out.

Nevertheless, his focus was on the ceremony- though Karlach and her troupe didn't agree. The tiefling was furiously throttling towards him, seething and burning. He knew that the steel watch would not have been enough against her, and that it would have sent the wrong message to the masses present at the ceremony,

“A moment please, my friends- an old acquaintance has come to pay her respects." He mused as he took a step forward, descending the stairs. "Please, Karlach, come say a proper hello.” He said with a smile painted full of faux friendliness. His voice was clearly sweetened for the audience they had as he stepped towards her himself.

“My respects? You are lucky I’ve agreed to not shove my boot up your-” Karlach roared before he interrupted her with distaste.

“Ah how I missed your colorful turn of phrase.” He twirled his hand dismissively. “We must catch up as soon as I’ve had words with your little friend.” He uncaringly ignored the tiefling and glanced towards Althaea with dark eyes, clearly hiding something behind them.

“As for you, I shall congratulate.” He gave her a small bow of his head. “Thorn’s defeat has not passed unnoticed; shall I say thanks to that Netherstone you carry and for your astonishing fighting abilities”. He said with his honeyed voice. “Pleasure to meet you” He gave her a small bow with her head, politeness first, persuasion later.

He had wondered how she’d rudely introduce herself, telling him to fuck off or hells knows what, yet the moment she opened her pretty mouth, she sounded anything like the gruesome descriptions of her persona he had heard.

“The pleasure’s all mine, Lord Gortash.” She put up her best smile, concealing her mild disgust at the closeness with him. She could feel the bile forming in the back of her mouth already.

“I believe we have something rather important to discuss.” He pressed his hands together and cracked his fingers, readying for the extenuating and boring conversation they were going to have. “Indeed” She nodded, looking at his movements in case he’d rush a movement.

The conversation went on between Gortash trying to gauge how much they had known and Althaea respectfully grunting and nodding as he went on and on.

It felt for her as if he was trying to stroke her mind as he spoke, keeping her in the loop of the conversation yet leaving behind chunks of information he didn't want to reveal yet.

It was only at the end that he finally seemed to take a step closer to his objective, finally poking at their only protection against the absolute.

“That prism of yours won’t last indefinitely.” He said sternly while he crossed his arms apprehensively. “Next there's the grand design. Though I suppose that if we come to an agreement, this fate can be avoided.” He concluded in a smirk.

“What do you suggest?” She quickly ignored the emperor in her head as she replied with a shake of her head yet standing tall and confident in front of him, not allowing him to believe he had the upper hand against them. Enver seemed entertained by her stance, so insignificant yet so annoying in the bigger picture of his plan. He had two choices: either squish the fly or get the fly on his side, and he was a mastermind at the end of the day.

“Well, the brain won’t respond to new commands as soon as it is done with its current ones. Then it will be free to do as it wishes, and that would be rather unpleasant.” He pointed arch and clever. “And once it’s freed I doubt we’ll ever be able to bring it under control again.” He smacked his lips together as he threw a glance at Althaea- that was now at the center of everyone's attention.

“I still don’t see where you are going” She lied, seeing behind his mask of politeness. He wanted something. He had that look in his eyes that reminded her of how her father would look at her before he'd try to make a move to overpower her, and she wanted to throw up right there and then. Yet she knew she had to do this: for the sake of her friends, for the sake of the city, and possibly for the sake of the whole coast.

It was almost as if his words were calculated, trying to catch her in like a spiderweb set up for the next victim, and his sweet- almost sincere words, where the honey he bet would get her to agree. As if admitting having made a poor alliance would have somewhat fixed all that there was wrong with the situation.

“They say a brittle alliance can never be mended; it is bound to break.” He intoned as if he had rehearsed those words countless times. “Orin is unreliable, and with Ketheric gone, she will want the stone for herself” He simply explained axiomatic. “She only cares for blood, and mine and yours are positively delectable right now.” There was the threat.

Orin.

He would betray her if he needed- and he hoped the merry troupe would agree. He was the better way anyway. Giving Orin all that power would have created devastation and unleashing the brain would waste all this gracious power he was about to grasp at.

No one was fitter to sit ahead of Baldur's Gate like the adept of Bane.

Nevertheless, Althaea didn't budge. If he wanted something he had to say it out loud, in front of everyone in the room. “I suppose you are right, but I still don’t see what you are trying to say” She huffed.

“I can’t let that happen, I don’t want to destroy this city, I want to steer it to its glory." He trailed off with another of his sly smiles. “I have a proposition for you” He finally advanced, looking at Althaea first before addressing the rest of the party.

“A divine oath, sworn and unbreakable. I shall do no harm to you, nor you to me." He propositioned. "You'll slay Oring and with all three of the Netherstones we’ll rule Faerun as kings.” He spelled each of his last words as if they were the best promise he had for them, a vision of success and glory that everyone would run for. “No more than kings- gods. We'll rule as the absolute.” He hyped himself with his own words, as the taste of power already floated in his reach for him to snatch.

“The only absolute here is my no.” She said firmly trying to ignore the same feeling he had, the need for power.

His eyes muted, as if he had a new challenge to accomplish, he had set his mind on. “Oh dear, I didn’t know I had to convince you.” He lowered his voice, while his eyes stared daring. “I shall do so once we are done with the ceremony then.” He dismissed them just as quickly as he had with Ketheric before he left him to his demise.

The ceremony was painfully boring as all the honors had to be made, introducing the most relevant figures in the room and witnessing the tadpoled Duke proclaim Gortash archduke. Althaea could swear even her tadpole was squirming in boredom as the time went on, but there was something about Gortash as he politely entertained the crowd that made her cheeks grow warmer. He'd occasionally made sure to take glances her way, not even attempting to conceal them as the event formally came to an end and their debate resumed.

It had been a long and extenuating conversation up to that moment, the more Althaea and Enver would bicker, the more the room would feel warm, and with Karlach's occasional comments, the tension was over the top.

The two were figuratively at each other’s throat. It was a battle of wit, and whether Althaea would end up accepting it or not was up to Enver’s skills.

She couldn’t deny the allure of the man, and she knew it was better to stay on his good side rather than his bad side.

“This won’t end well, mark my words” Karlach remarked with a scoff while Enver had to fight the urge to roll his eyes.

“I understand your concerns, my old friend, but allow me to demonstrate why you made the right choice.” He purred again, as if he had not tried to reason with them already. He couldn't help but notice Althaea's reaction, her frame shivering when he lowered his voice at last. “You should focus on finding the impostor in your camp” He dismissed Karlach with the useless information of the vanished druid as his eyes fell on Althaea again, already undressing her with his eyes.

"Let me show you how you'll benefit from this deal" He stepped closer to Althaea, making sure his words were low enough to caress her skin only.

She could even smell his thoughts as they floated in the room, between them, just like the polite dislike she felt towards him, inviting her brain to stir towards the thought of being bent over the throne, her legs spread for Gortash as he rolled his hips.

If his point was to get her aroused, he was doing way too good for her wellbeing.

“Let them out” Enver leaned forward and ordered with a whisper that was so rough she could have mistaken him for a rabid animal. A long shiver ran down her spine as she obliged.

It took her a moment to convince them it was safe, that she was going to be okay, and he was not going to hurt her, his mind had said so, his body had said so, and she knew he had better intentions than murdering her right there, or so she hoped.

“Where were we?” He asked, smiling as soon as everyone stepped out and the doors closed behind her.

“The benefits from the deal.” She raises an inquisitive eyebrow at him, wondering where he was going with his words and his behavior. She could tell he had other plans that didn't involve much talking and she hated that she wanted to find out what those plans were.

“Ah yes” He circled around her as if she was his prey and he was about to devour her, the tip of his gauntlet traced her jawline, gently tilting her head as if he wanted her to follow his gaze. “The benefits” He hummed as he was again in his original place. “Follow me, dear.” He offered his hand like a gentleman for her to take. “Let’s take a seat.”

She was dizzy by his words as she accepted his hand and followed him promptly, still trying to keep her composure as they had to come to some sort of compromise. She had to keep up the polite mask, ask for the right things and leave.

When they came close to the red lined throne, she was quick to catch up eased when Enver roughly gripped her hips and sat her in his lap, as if she was his pretty toy for everyone to see as he sat there regal.

She tried to keep her composure even though she could feel her wetness starting to seep through her now soaked panties, not too far from Enver’s thigh. “So, the benefits?” She smiled expectantly as she tried to ignore the redness of her cheeks.

“Well, let's start with a special seat for you, dear.” He purred as he hooked his arm under her legs to properly seat her in his lap, her legs dangling off one side of the golden throne, where she knew she could admire the hall in its whole beauty. She hummed as she didn't dare to look around yet.

“Don’t you like the view?” He teased as he guided her head towards the entrance to the room, from where she could see every corner of the hall. He made a particular effort in being delicate as she manhandled her, making sure she couldn't miss a chair even if she tried to look away again.

Earlier she didn't notice the tapestries hung on the high walls, setting the scene for the countless events that were held there.

“It’s pretty, but it’s not enough” She shrugged faking disinterest.

“Isn’t it?” He asked curiously as rested his gauntleted hand on her thigh deliberately. The cold gold almost stung against her warm skin as it inched way too close to her pussy. She had to focus on the deal and get out of there, she thought, she had to sort this out and leave.

“How about this?” He purred as his index finger made its way towards her soaked underwear, running a finger over her clothed heat. He let out a rough hum as his fingertips drenched just as quickly as she refused again.

“Not enough, sorry” She pushed her legs closed and tight, as the blush on her cheeks made her even more appealing at Enver's eyes.

He didn't retreat as he brushed the tips of the gauntlet on her tight, still reminding her where she was sitting and how sensitive she was to his touch. “You don’t have to be afraid of me.” He whispered as he made sure his lips brushed against her ear.

It didn't take much for her to smell the pungent scent of cheap cologne and sweat, quickly taking over all her senses.

One arm of his quickly wrapped around her middle, supporting her back as his slender fingers quickly spread her legs and moved her underwear to the side before diving ring-deep into her folds.

He let out a low, dark groan as her pussy clenched around his index finger the second it slid in. She was so wet for him, and he was so eager to see her crumble in his arms. The shallow whine she indulged in sounded like poetry to the man.

His thumb took its time to find her clit, gently teasing her sensitive nub. His skilled movements were leaving her breathless as she had to keep herself from moaning his name out loud whenever the pad of his finger would bring her so close.

“I suppose this is a good reason then?” He vexed her teasingly as he stopped on his tracks, waiting for her reply eagerly.

She was leaning against him just enough so she wouldn't lose balance as she gasped. Her body was still taught as if on the verge of a cliff awaiting to be pushed off, yet she was kept there, tense.

She shook her head no, the smallest hint of sanity left in her had pushed, reminding her that she couldn't give it all up for an orgasm, right?

“Ah, pity” He huffed as he quickly slid out his fingers, uncaring if it would stimulate her too much, leaving her gasping and empty, though still in his lap. She almost begged him to not retreat, the newfound need was already enough in her eyes for him to grasp at as he tsked.

"Need further reasons?" He asked wickedly as he undressed her with his eyes. He could already imagine how her shirt would tie nicely around her wrists as he pinned her down and he made sure she could feel his thought deep down her bones.

His eyes wouldn’t leave hers for a second, whenever she tried to look away, he’d gently grasp at her chin and bring her attention to him again. She could feel her body heating ever more under his skillful touch as he couldn't help himself but to feel her again, basking in the moment he allowed another finger to enter her, and he stole a soft mewl from her lips.

This time he was quick, hurried, abrupt as his fingers plunged and grasped at her breath, and just as quick he took his fingers away from her cunt, leaving her just at the cusp of her orgasm again.

“Please-” She let out as she begged to come, she could feel her orgasm so close, yet so far, just a few pumps away, although those ended up being denied to her.

“I apologize, I suppose that’s part of the deal, if you’ll accept of course” He whispered before he languidly brought his fingers in his mouth. He was so undeniably sexy, looking at her from under his dark lashes as he sucked her juices off his pads, the wet sound of his lips swallowing her was sending Althaea over the edge. “Ah how I wished you had agreed.” He sighed as he made sure he'd lick each finger clean. “I would have been delighted to taste this lovely juice directly from the source.”

She swore her eyes rolled at the back of her head just at the thought of his tongue taking a fat lick down her pussy, drenching his stubble with her wetness, and the way he had been swirling it along his fingers looked like a promise she might have been desperate enough to accept.

“Unless you need more, of course.” He noted sultry as he made no effort hiding what he was alluding to.

She hesitated. She wanted to reason, to ask what the accord would have stipulated, yet all she could focus on was the ache between her thighs and the need to be filled before she’d miss the chance.

She nodded as she gripped the edge of her skirt with a blush she couldn’t hide. He hummed satisfied as he quickly secured his arms around her, holstering her frail body and setting her down on the flush throne.

Quickly and uncaring he tore her panties away from her skin, and spread her pretty legs, revealing her sopping pussy to him.

He fell to his knees brazenly, bringing his face close to her heat, humming at the sight of her wetness dripping onto the chair.

His hot breath hitting her naked and dripping core right before his plump lips met with her cunt in a lazy lick, collecting her arousal on his tongue. A filthy growl escaped his lips as he dived between her legs, dedicating his attention to her needy clit, having her whole body shake under his tongue as pleasure overtook her senses completely.

No one ever remotely made her squirm with their tongue the way Enver was doing just about now as he traced figures eight on her swollen bud, her legs shaking as he guided them around his neck, resting them on his back and being totally engulfed face first in her pussy.

His finger soon joined, swiftly plunging into her core with ease. It was like she was losing control of her own body as he pumped his digit in her, hitting right where she needed it as his tongue eagerly swirled and licked her like a hungry and desperate man sitting in front of his last meal, devouring and dipping in her folds like a madman.

Althaea could barely keep her mouth shut as she wailed his name like a forbidden grace as a second finger slid in, his low moans reverberated through her as she sucked him in, clenching around his digits hungry for more, hungry for him.

He licked her, kissed her, savored her, every centimeter of her throbbing warm pussy getting him high off her, the most euphoric he’s ever been.

He pumped his fingers in her cunt insatiably as she could feel it build up, the familiar knot as her muscles tensed up, feeling the heat rise and her legs shake. Then when she finally could taste her orgasm on the tip of her tongue, he stopped again.

He looked at her almost feigning innocence as he cleaned his drenched stubble with his fingertips. He popped each one his mouth again, before sitting up and leaning forward in front of her.

She looked and felt so small under him as he towered menacingly above her, and even more when she noticed his erection aggressively pressing against his trousers.

He couldn’t help but laugh at her wide eyes, stealing a scoff from her. She turned away, her cheeks already bright crimson from the heat coming from her own body, the embarrassment just doubled up on her.

“ ‘suppose you like what you see?” He tantalized as he grasped at her chin, and harshly turned her head towards him.

She nodded a bit dazed from the fast movement as she was still slouched on the throne, legs wide open for him; before they could both line more words, he was on her again.

His lips trailed down her neck, peppering her skin with sloppy open-mouthed kisses as he mumbled praises against the hot flesh he was ready to devour. His body pressed heatedly against hers, his fingers hungrily digging in her skin as he earned a guttural moan from her.

“Accept and all of this will be yours” He rasped as he pressed his clothed hard cock against her cunt, grinding just enough to tease her and ease a bit his erection.

She knew what she was about to bargain with, yet her senses were taken over by her thirst, desperate for release. “Make me come and I’ll accept.” She purred as she bit her lip, almost drawing blood as eager as she was.

He tilted his head, still holding tight to her chin as he considered her offer. “Don’t know” He shook his head, not breaking eye contact with her. Though she was completely disheveled- half naked and slouching, she still didn’t lose her confidence. He liked it, she was breathtaking.

She was bold in her movements as he pushed away his hand from her chin and grabbed the collar of his button up. “Shut up and kiss me already.” She pulled him down as she sat up, making him space on the throne again and making sure she was straddling him comfortably.

Her legs perfectly draped over his lap as she pressed her warmth against his cock. She relentlessly held to his collar as their lips collided in a rough kiss.

His coarse lips felt scorching against her sweetness, taking over her senses with the aggressive and pungent taste of cheap wine and sweat. The second she tasted it, she knew she was not going to be able to give it up for anything.

He didn't get undressed, nor did he undress her more than her panties that were already missing, he simply quickly untied his pants and freed his cock. He was strong and the way he was holding her and guiding her on top of his cock was proof of it- just making Althaea more eager to be filled.

The cold of the golden gauntlet was just the tip of the iceberg as her body was so eager and close already. He had tortured enough, yet the way he pulled her up to have better access to her pussy, made her even hornier than before.

He was quick in sinking into her cunt, loudly and rough as he manhandled her effortlessly. “So tight, doll” He grunted as he dug his fingers in her soft flesh, stealing a strangled moan from Althaea’s loose lips.

She was lucky the chatter from outside was loud enough cause, if that was what he could coax out of her with one blunt thrust, she didn’t dare to imagine how she’d keep her lewd sounds unheard.

She stretched so nicely around him as he filled her to the brim, he didn’t wait for her to adjust before he’d start moving.

He did a good job hiding it until then, but he was dying to fuck her senseless. Looking at her tossing her head back and moaning his name sent a rush of adrenaline down his body to his cock as he mercilessly slammed into her.

One hand quickly snuck under her shirt, sloppily grabbing her breast and teasing her nipple as he could feel her already inching closer to her first orgasm.

The way she rode him drove him insane, unable to form sentences from time to time while the only thing he could do was use his hands to guide her, gripping her ass and helping her to keep some speed as she choked on her words.

All that could be heard was the sound of ragged breath and skin slapping as she tried to meet his speed. He had her wrapped around his cock so consumed as his movements did nothing but make her mewl and sub for him.

She didn’t have the power to question how he did it, but his hips met with her in such an electrifying way as he rolled deep in her.

With one deep thrust he had her eyes rolled back as he rammed her and fucked her till exhaustion.

“You’re mine” He rasped as the words mindlessly fell over his lips with a possessiveness neither expected. “You understand?” He demanded as he suddenly slowed down, his thrusts hitting deeper, till that sweet spot that made her toes curl and her stomach flutter.

Y-Yes” She mewled as his nails once more found her hips, pulled her down and closer to him

“Say it” He ordered as he deliberately let go of her hips, allowing gravity to harshly let her collide with him. “Who do you belong to?” He grabbed at her chin and guided her face towards his.

Her eyes were dilated, her mouth slack as she fucked herself on his cock desperately. “Yours” She wailed as her hips twitched frantically.

“Say my name, doll” He rasped as he could feel her cunt ready to milk him as he waited for her reply.

“I-I” She moaned as she could feel her orgasm pull over her. “B-belong” His hands gripped at her hips again, helping her come as he met her movements. “E-enver” She croaked and sobbed as she could barely hold on to herself anymore, the pleasure rippled under her skin uncontrollably, like a tidal wave pulling her in and out as she gushed over his cock.

His lips hungrily met with hers again as she sobbed a moan against them, his movements were sloppy just like his kiss as he let his own intense, reckless, arrogant orgasm was over him.

He carelessly came into her cunt, enjoying the view of his cum filling her to the brim and spilling on her legs. His words were a faint buzzing as she could barely feel her spine and leaned against him, yet she didn’t care anymore.

She had already fucked up when she accepted and there was no way back.

No way back from being fucked silly on a throne.

Just an handful of minutes later she was standing next to her companions, the closest she could get to presentable as his cum dribbled down her thighs as she sealed her deal with Enver, that smirked at her.

“I, lord Enver Gortash, in the name of Bane, swear I shall do you no harm, and we will rise together over Toril as a roaring sun” He smiled boldly at her, as he offered her his hand, waiting just for her to take it.

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