#but I blame this particular desire to be masc on him

[victory-cookies]

I think reexperiencing pete theplug has made me more transgender. somehow

[leighsartworks216]

Nuptial Bed

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Fem version - Masc version

If I messed up pronouns/genitalia descriptions, please let me know so I can edit it as quickly as possible <333

SMUT BELOW THE CUT

Warnings: swearing, explicit smut, blood, blood drinking

Word Count: 1,496

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

The door is kicked open with a loud slam, but the two souls stumbling inside don’t show an ounce of care. Another kick closes the door just as loudly.

Hands roam feverishly under shirts and into pants, tugging and grabbing at any fabric they can get their hands on to rip it off. All the while, the people stumble back toward the bed in the center of the room, a nuptial bed awaiting them to consummate the vows they made mere hours earlier.

Astarion’s fingers frantically undid buttons and ties with less precision than he normally would. But who could blame him? You didn’t care either way as you tugged his shirt from his pants and tried to clumsily pull it over his head. You laughed into the brutal kiss at the sloppiness; you were like two eager teenagers who had no real sense of what they were doing.

A trail of clothes were abandoned on the floor. Bare to each other, you climbed back onto the bed, tugging him with you by his hair. He groaned into your mouth as he crawled over you, arms caging you in and legs straddling you. The warm scent of his perfume surrounded you - bergamot, rosemary and bourbon, wafting off the sheets and clinging to his skin, mixed with the headier scent of arousal. It was intoxicating.

You pulled away from the searing kiss with a gasp. He didn’t need air, and you kept forgetting that you did. He seemed all too used to this by now, as he wasted no time trailing wet, open-mouthed kisses along your chin and down your neck. The dull flats of his teeth grazed, but never lingered. His fangs only teased your skin when he reached the junction of your shoulder.

“Gods,” you panted, “Star~ Need you, please.”

He chuckled breathlessly. “I don’t even get a moment to savor my spouse?”

You laugh, too, your heart skipping with delight in your chest. Your thumb absent-mindedly caresses the point of his ear. “No, your spouse demands to have you.”

He pulls away from your shoulder to press his forehead to yours. You lean into him immediately, staring at him through half-lidded eyes, pupils blown wide with desire. He grins, wide and genuine, in the orange-purple hues of sunrise filtering through the window. He’s so beautiful like this. “They already do,” he says. You smile and pull him in to kiss him once more.

Astarion hadn’t really thought about marriage. Any thoughts he did have of it told him he didn’t deserve it, as if he’d ever find a partner to spend a fragment of his long life with anyway. You weren’t sold on the idea either, to be honest. Why would you have to have a cleric certify your devotion to one another when you could do that just as well already?

And then Gale got married, and, well, Astarion suddenly saw the appeal.

It was messy trying to plan it all. Trying to plan a date where the weather would be nice and your old companions would be free from their new lives was like trying to squeeze an ogre through a keyhole, but, through sheer luck, you managed.

You spent months, between planning the ceremony and assuring Astarion that you did not need to go through this if he didn’t want to, on the hunt for a particular relic. Private correspondences with Gale finally paid off. And tonight, under the full moon, you bestowed it onto your lover: A ring that kept him from burning in the daylight.

The cold metal of the ring pressed against your cheek as he cupped your face, fingers curling into your hair to pull you impossibly closer. You pull away with a whine, lips continuing to brush together because he cannot bear the thought of moving any further right now. “Husband, please,” you beg. He sighs so adoringly at the title, sucking your lip in between his teeth. “Please, you have me.”

Supporting himself up on his knees, he runs a hand down your body to your sex. You’re already so ready for him. You’d been aroused for half the night, ever since your first dance together, when he pulled you closer by your waist.

You keen as he easily slips two fingers into you, curling once he is as deep as he can reach. He expertly works you open for him.

“Gods, you’re perfect, love.” He kisses you again, pressing his tongue into your mouth in time with a thrust of his fingers. Your hips buck into him automatically in a search for more.

You try to slip your hand between your bodies to grab hold of him, tug at his cock and stroke him as he takes care of you, but his hand falls immediately from your face to grab it. Instead, he interlocks your fingers and presses it down into the bed beside your head.

“Don’t worry, my dear partner. I’ll take care of you.” He slips his fingers from you and rubs his precum along his shaft. He has to stop himself from bucking into his hand just thinking about how it’s you that got him so turned on. He wastes little time lining himself up with your entrance; he knows he’s aligned from the sweet gasp it draws from you, swallowed up by his mouth. He begins an assault on your neck when he starts to slowly press in, eager to hear every sound you provide.

You certainly don’t disappoint. Moans and whimpers fall like prayers from your bruised lips as his cock easily glides deeper and deeper, until Astarion’s hips rest against yours. He moans shakily against your throat. He’s barely there for a few seconds before you roll your hips into his, sending lightning bolts of pleasure throughout his whole body. He draws himself out almost entirely and leisurely thrusts back in. He wishes he had half the mind to keep fucking you so slowly, so languidly. But you clench around him and he’s lost to you completely. He’s only got the sense left to build up the pace so he doesn’t hurt you, but then his hips are crashing against yours over and over again.

Your mouth is right by his ear as he draws beautiful music from your lips. Rasped swears and guttural moans mixed with light keens and whimpers. He provided a harmony against your skin; grunts and pants accentuating sighs and gasps of your name. You’re his spouse. His spouse. The thought makes his head spin.

You wrap your legs around him, ankles locked behind his back and a heel pressing into his ass, pulling him in further with each snap of his hips. You card your fingers through his hair so sweetly, being mindful the gold band on your finger doesn’t catch on any of his curls. Your interlaced hands hold each other so tightly, like you’d drift apart if you eased up even slightly.

You press chaste pecks along his ear, anywhere you can reach. “Bite me, my love. I’m all yours.”

The bite is never gentle - he’s convinced it never will be. But he does his best anyway, sucking and kissing and licking before he sinks his fangs into your neck. Your arousal floods your bloodstream with a cocktail of hormones, making you an even sweeter treat than usual. He can’t focus on the blood his tongue mindlessly laps up, not when he can feel your walls clenching around him. His hips move in desperation, faster and deeper and harder, until you’re orgasming around him and moaning his name into the room. He doesn’t last much longer. In just a couple more thrusts, his hips stutter and he presses as close as he can, burying himself as deep as possible as he cums inside you.

Your heartbeat fills his senses entirely, mixing with your breaths in a hypnotic dance. Lazily, he licks at the wound in your neck. He cleans up the new punctures, drinking the blood that oozes slowly from them until it clots, and then he cleans the surrounding skin. You taste so good. Absolutely delicious.

Once his tongue stops and he presses a light kiss to the bite, your hand in his hair slips to his cheek and pulls him to be face to face with you once more. You’re utterly blissed out. You’re gorgeous. “I love you, my dear husband.”

He kisses you tenderly. You can taste the coppery-iron tang that clings to his lips, but you don’t mind at all, not when he takes his time sharing his adoration. When he pulls away, he presses his forehead to yours and his nose against your cheek. “I love you, too, my darling spouse.”

The sun rises higher over Baldur’s Gate. Its warm rays flood the bedroom, painting you both in warm yellows and oranges. The sun rises over a new union, and he swears to make every second before it sets count, for as long as you live.

---

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