#cazador szarr smut

[inquisitornocturn]

⊱─ 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕦𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 ─⊰

➺ 𝕡𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘: Cazador Szarr x f!reader the vampire bride

➺ 𝕥𝕒𝕘𝕤: no y/n is used, rating - e, smut, consensual somnophilia, anal sex, choking, vaginal fingering, hair-pulling, degradation (mild), spanking, creampies (many of them), blowjob, praise kink, cock worship, begging, facials, cum swallowing, PiV, masturbation, cunnilingus, nipple play, overstimulation, forced orgasm, blood drinking, biting, exhibitionism, throne sex, reverse voyeurism, somehow a loving relationship, vampires being vampires, there's so much porn just accept it

➺ 𝕤𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: Cazador Szarr loves having power over people, especially over you, his wife. and he won't relent until you know well and truly - you are his.

➺ 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕕 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 11,938

𝕒𝕦𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕣 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕖: listen, don't ask me what happened here, just blame the influence of my friends and well, Cazador himself. this is extremely long, messy in the best possible way and very very horny. enjoy <3

You’re unaware and asleep when he wakes with a flinch. Although he’s not really waking but rather snapping out of his meditations that took him to mind-planes he didn’t want. In the darkness of the bedroom Cazador is laying still while his eyes focus on the canopy of the bed. But then you move in your sleep, brushing against his arm and vampire finally snaps out of his thoughts, turning his head to look at your form lying next to him. His bride that he was promised in marriage and one he turned into his vampiric bride on the night of your wedding. He didn’t even try to convince you, he just pinned you down and killed you, then helped you rise again, different but immortally beautiful.

You fought a lot in the beginning. You blamed him for attacking you and he wanted you to just shut up, but as decades began to wear down, you, somehow, unbelievably, learned to love each other. For better or for worse, and maybe because you two were stuck with each other, but your marriage turned from constant shouting matches, destroyed furniture and killing sprees to utter and blinding obsession. He couldn’t even lock you up in a cage and toss you into the dungeons because your very powerful family could show up at the palace any day.

You both hated each other. And now you can barely spend a moment apart.

As he lies in bed, Cazador remembers the lessons of Vellioth the Martinet and his lips pull into a sneer at the spite of his own weakness, but then he sees your naked back turned to him, a blanket only covering your body up to your waist and his spite vanishes like a whisp of perfume from a passing Lady. His hand reaches out and his palm caresses your hip under the cover. You stir at his touch but don’t wake, exhausted from last day. There were preparations for an elaborate meeting that will happen tonight and while Chamberlain usually takes care of that, you yourself insisted on supervising everything this time. So you stayed up way too late, until you had to keep yourself pressed to the wall just to avoid the rising sun seeping through the gaps in heavy curtains while on your way to the bedroom.

Cazador was asleep, slumbering in his vampiric rest when you came in, so he didn’t have a chance to have you all for himself. Addicted to making a mess out of you, he always tries to find time in your busy schedules just for that. And now that you’re in the bed, resting in your own healing sleep, so vulnerable while your body is inviting him to take it, he’s not sure if he should even try resisting the temptation. After all, he’s not going to let more than a day pass without reminding you that he’s your Lord and husband in every way possible.

He narrows his eyes, lustful gaze now traveling down your back and his caresses on your rear become more demanding, more eager and Cazador smirks to himself, knowing that he has ownership of your body even when you’re unaware. After a moment longer he pulls his hand from your skin and gives his already throbbing cock couple strokes, red eyes scanning your sleeping form as if deciding how best to take you, urged by his need to remind you that you belong to him.

With a grin he pushes his body closer to your back, not touching you just yet but positioning himself. He gently rests his already weeping from need cock between the mounds of your rear and moves one hand over you, his long fingers finding your throat and feeling no pulse. He’s meticulous in his preparation, making sure that his arm will prevent you from trying to reach him when you wake. With the other hand Cazador grips the base of his cock and watches himself position the tip of his length against your back entrance, rubbing it with his dick and smearing his precum there to make his invasion smoother. His eyes drift to you for a second and he raises his head, to check if you’re still deep in your slumber and after confirming that you are he grins again, squeezing your neck increasingly harder and beginning to push his dick into your tight hole. You stir for a moment, murmuring in your unconscious and grip the pillow your head rests on tighter, quickly waking now because Cazador is not going slow. It takes him a second to push half his length into your ass and you snap out of your sleep, confused and dazed, with a loud gasp.

“What’s-“ you begin but your husband’s squeeze on your throat cuts you off. You take a moment to look around and moan softly when Cazador buries himself to the root within you. At the same time you feel his arm at the bottom move between you and then knit in your hair, pulling backwards. He looks at you with a cruel smirk.

“Good evening, pet.” Cazador whispers and you part your lips to speak, still feeling confused but then he begins thrusting, slow only for two strokes, and you finally realize what’s going on, letting out a sigh. “Now, now.” he whispers against your ear with a low voice that resembles a growl. “ No need to struggle, you’re mine to play with.”

You smile in response and his grip on your throat relents, allowing you to moan with his pumps and you grip the pillow tighter. You don’t see Cazador’s eyes watching you coldly but intensively, a predatory smile pulling at his lips as he listens to the noises you make. He moves his leg and increases the power of his thrusts, taking you harder, clearly not caring if you’re hurting and making sure you’re aware that he’s in control here.

“That’s it, submit to me.” he grunts against your ear, watching your face as if he’s looking for signs of your disobedience.

In response you arch your back, keeping your hips in place and you grin, your face flushed now and your eyes heavy lidded, obviously enjoying him fuck your ass because you don’t make a single sound of protest, melting into his grip on your throat. You like it when he uses you like this, makes you his, reminds you that there’s nobody else for you except him. He didn’t even bother waking you, this is perfect, and you moan every time he plunges his cock deeply into you. Your cunt is drenched from your desire and you feel pleasant throbbing of lust between your legs increasing with each stroke into your ass.

Cazador’s hips snap against you in fast, powerful rhythm, pushing his cock into you with force that amuses even him but eventually you feel his grip on your throat tighten almost involuntarily as he begins to lose himself in the sensation. You bite your lower lip and throw your leg back, draping it over his to allow your husband even better access to your hole and you grope the sheets, trying to find his other hand, forgetting that it’s tangled in your hair. But Cazador sees what you’re doing and he releases your hair although not your throat, now pushing his arm under your waist and letting you grasp his wrist, letting you lead his fingers to your clit, showing him what exactly you want from him.

“So needy.” Cazador comments with a breathy voice, but he doesn’t pull back his hand.

Instead he begins massaging and teasing your clit, making you moan even louder now while he resumes his thrusts into your ass, his fingers gripping your throat in almost punishing manner but making sure that you can still make your sweet noises for him.

“Fuck… Fuck… Harder!” you cry out, completely awake now and enjoying every second of this. Your fingers grip the sheets but you don’t even hear that your nails rip through them even though Cazador sees it and he grins, satisfied with the power he has over you in this moment.

“Harder?” vampire’s voice is a low, lustful growl as he complies, slowing his pace but increasing the power behind his thrusts, slamming into your ass with force that makes you feel like your back is about to break, but you can sense that your lover is fighting to maintain control over himself while he plunges himself in and almost fully out of your tight ass in controlled pace.

You cry out in response to his forceful pounding, sensing that his fingers stopped circling your clit. You want to protest and beg him to continue but you can’t even form words, let alone speak. But then you feel Cazador’s hand leave your throat and his thrusts stop just before there’s an arm around your waist and he flips you onto your stomach, tangling a hand into your hair once more and pushing your face into the pillow to the point you can barely breathe, not that you need to actually do that but right now you forget even this as you gasp against the fabric.

“Take it, obediently.” Cazador demands, his voice rough from lust and then your face gets pulled out the pillow by your hair, making you let out a sensual sigh.

You open your eyes and try to say something but you don’t get the chance because his hips snap forward once more, slamming into you with force that leaves you dizzy. You moan when he continues pounding into your tight hole and you smile, your face showing pure ecstasy as you do, completely dick-drunk already.

“You feel so good.” you gasp and Cazador pulls your hair back even more, forcing your spine make a bend that’s almost unbearable while you grip onto the pillow again, and yet you buck your hips against him, wanting even more of him. “Deeper…” you whine like a whore while you use fingers of your hand that’s under you to find your clit and begin rubbing it.

Cazador smirks to himself when he hears you begging. He’s satisfied that you’re so willing, but you are always willing for him. In a moment you feel his hand find a better position by your side and his thrusts pick up pace again becoming supernaturally strong. You never experienced sex like this when you were alive and you wouldn’t exchange this for anything.

“You like it rough, don’t you.” he taunts coldly even though his voice is laced with tones of pleasure and you know he’s enjoying this.

“You know it, love.” you gasp out your response with a smile and hear him chuckle breathily behind you while he continues his assault on your body.

“You’re such a compliant slut.” Cazador growls between his harsh breaths and lets go of your hair only to smack your ass in a painful manner. You gasp against the pillow but smile when the sting only makes your pleasure in this moment bigger.

“Is that so?” you reply with a smirk, taking his cock with satisfaction, just like you always do, even when he’s rough with you. Actually, you prefer it this way.

“You’ve always been such a whore for me.” your husband is audibly struggling to speak, his voice is rough and he’s panting heavily now, you only wish you could see his face in this moment. At the end of his words he slaps your ass again, harder this time, another painful sting only elevating your sensations. You’re close to your orgasm and Cazador has fucked you enough times to know this.

Sensing your approaching climax Cazador keeps his controlled attack on your ass, his hips snapping forward with force that leaves no doubt that your enjoyment is only a secondary thing in this situation. The hand that he used to slap your rear is in your hair again and he pushes your head back into the pillow, using your skull as support, letting it bear the weight with no concern if it’s hurting you.

“You’re such a worthless wretch.” vampire growls a snarl and that’s all you need.

With a shout you cum at his words, your body now trembling and shuddering while your hole squeezes his cock so hard it urges Cazador to his own release. And he begins spilling his seed deep into your ass, letting your body milk him of every last drop while he pants loudly, managing only couple more labored thrusts before he stops, out of breath. He takes a moment, bent over you and when you begin to come back to the room you feel sweat drops fall from his face and onto your back. He must be a beautiful sight right now.

You try to catch your breath, resting and enjoying the fullness that he’s providing you with, completely incapable of forming thoughts or words. After all, being filled by Cazador is your favorite thing and in this moment you are completely content.

But then you feel Cazador roughly pull his dick out of your ass and you’re tugged by your hair now, moved from lying like a doll before you can even gather your bearings, and get brough to his kneeling form, scrambling on all fours for him. You lift your eyes and finally see his face, drenched in sweat, his hair messy and a cruel smile on his lips. With another tug he brings your face to his cock, pressing your nose and mouth against it, his cum still covering his shaft and you know immediately what he wants you to do even if you’re still dazed.

You open your mouth and hang out your tongue, letting him move your head and drag your tongue along his length, your eyes never leaving his. When he brings your face back down you take initiative and begin licking his cock, putting your best effort to clean it thoroughly while you still try to collect yourself after the orgasm.

Cazador groans softly while you work your tongue and leans his head back, closing his eyes with a satisfied sigh and a smirk.

“Such a good little slut.” he praises and you feel his cock twitch, getting roused once more at your ministrations and beginning to harden. Vampiric stamina, of course he’s nearly ready to go again but so are you.

With a small grin you use the chance when his grip in your hair loosens just a bit and wrap your mouth around his dick, forcing him to remain kneeling as you begin to suck on his length exactly how he taught you, keeping your eyes on his face, but this time wanting to see pleasure etched in his features. Cazador moves his head and his blazing gaze meets yours while he watches you suck him off.

“You enjoy being used so much.” vampire comments in a low tone and finally releases your hair, stroking your cheek that’s still lightly smeared with his cum. This touch is gentle and possessive at the same time.

In response you hum positively and swirl your tongue against the tip of his cock then go down the length, using your tongue to trail against the veins and then back up, around the head of his dick. Cazador’s breathing increases again as he watches you, his thumb still softly rubbing your cheek, yet his eyes become glazed with satisfaction and you see a glint of genuine affection in his eyes as you worship his cock. And after all, he’s not wrong, you love being used by him, but only by him. You don’t want any other man in a way you want him, with something deeply primal that’s feral. You want to be his forever and you want him to be yours for eternity.

“You’re always so eager to please.” your husband comments almost as if he’s talking to himself, watching you with hooded eyes. “I like that. Never have I thought that I will like fucking you this much.” Cazador says and just as his cock twitches with a promise once more, he pulls you off of him by your hair.

You gasp and sit on your heels, your face upturned to him and deep craving in your eyes. He cannot tell if that hunger is for blood or him, maybe both. He just grins and releases your hair again, now grasping the base of his length and strokes it across your lips, leaving a trail of his seeping cum in its wake. His eyes study your face, seeing the hunger clearly expressed there and the grin he offers carries a degree of sharpness in it.

“Tell me you want it.” he commands and you nod quickly.

“Yes, my love.” you beg and lick your lips, tasting his seed and having to resist your desire to move for his length while he teases you. It’s just your eyes that move from his face to his shaft, being held still by his fingers.

Cazador chuckles and it would sound menacing to everyone else but you. His thumb traces the line of your lips.

“You’re such a pathetic little whore. So hungry for my cock, are you not?” he taunts, there’s no softness in his tone and it sends a pleasant shiver down your spine. It sounds almost like hatred and you know that what he hates is how much he needs you, so you just smile to him.

“Please.” you whisper earnestly and try to lick the weeping tip that’s so close to your mouth but he does not let you. With a cruel grin he stops touching your lips and gives his cock couple strokes.

“Open.” Cazador demands and you part your lips widely, expecting him to thrust his dick deep into your throat and finish there, craving for it even, but instead of that you watch him pump his length couple more times and you only have time to lift your eyes to his burning gaze before he starts spilling himself once more but this time right across your face.

You gasp in surprise and close your eyes, feeling streaks of his cool cum covering your skin and dripping down your face, towards your mouth. You hear his groan and finally open your eyes, Cazador gratefully avoided them while making a mess out of the rest of your face, and you greedily lick your lips then press your tongue against the tip of his cock, gathering last pearly drops that are leaking out. Cazador watches you for a moment with dark and hungry eyes then again he grabs a handful of your hair and jerks your head back, forcing your face upwards so that he can watch his seed slowly drip down your face.

“You’re such a filthy little slut.” he says in another lustful growl and you smile happily at him, licking your lips and tasting more of his seed. He truly taught you how to love his control over you, how to crave it and this alone leaves you dripping with wetness. You’re not satisfied, not yet.

Cazador smirks when he sees devotion in your eyes, then lets go of your hair and steps out of the bed, walking to the side and snatching a napkin from the desk. While you wait for him to return you run your fingertips across your face, painting them with his seed and licking at them eagerly, hungry for everything he has to offer you.

When the vampire returns to the bedside he tosses the napkin in your direction and you swiftly catch it with a smile.

“All done then?” you ask as you begin to wipe your face clean and Cazador remains silent for a moment, thinking, then smirks at you.

“I think you’re ready for another round.” he says arrogantly and when you look in his direction you see that he has his cock in his hand again, stroking it, getting harder by the second. Your cunt aches at the sight and you realize he’s right – you are more than ready for him again. For just a moment you wonder what got him so in the mood but you’re not going to complain. “Lie down, legs open, pup.”

Cazador’s command is clear and you wouldn’t dream of disobeying it. You quickly finish wiping your face and toss the napkin on the floor, then crawl to the center of the bed and lie on your back, spreading your legs and your folds for him. He observes you for a long moment, watching your glistening juices leaking out of your core, beckoning him to take yet another plunge into your body and his smirk widens when he sees your eager expression.

“I never tire of seeing you like this.” he hums more to himself than to you and gets into bed, crawling on top of you while clearly enjoying the sight of you so eager to please him. “Higher, pet.” Cazador demands and you lift your legs and when he leans in closer they end up against his chest, your ankles against his shoulders for a moment before he grins and leans in deeper, bending you nearly in half. “Good.”

You whine under the pressure of his body but smile to him, ready to be claimed once more. You love being his toy, his plaything, his to use, there’s something about your husband that you discovered absolutely loving – his power over people, yourself included.

“Just one more time, dear.” Cazador hums and you feel his shaft press against your soaking cunt, pause and then plunge into you with force, burying himself in you completely.

In response you cry out, watching his eyes study your flushed face and you grip the sheets under your head. The angle is almost painful with how he takes you, but you enjoy the sensation nonetheless.

“I love you.” you gasp when he begins thrusting into you, his skin slapping against yours, your mind feeling clouded from renewed pleasure once more. Cazador’s eyes flash with amusement at your words and he smirks.

“You love the pain.” he responds because he knows you’re becoming sore from getting your body used like this and you blush harder.

He hates saying the words even if you know that he loves you, in his own way. You don’t mind, he shows his care in different ways, such as this, making sure that you’re satisfied even if he’s pushing you to your limit. And you know there’s something on his mind but you don’t dare ask, he’ll tell you if he wants to.

“I love it when you give me pain.” you counter between your mewls with a smile and close your eyes, leaning into sensations washing over your body again.

“Is that so?” Cazador mocks and his thrusts pick up the pace now despite his cold words. His hips snap against you in controlled fervor, relentless and unforgiving, while he moves one hand between you and pinches your nipple, twisting it cruelly, making you hiss at the pain, but you still smile.

“I’ve been your wife for decades, you know exactly what I like.” you reply with a moan, your body stiffens as he releases your nipple and leans into you even more, now truly folding your body in half and you open your eyes just to meet his gaze.

“And yet you still surprise me.” vampire responds and he truly tries to sound collected, in control, but his own pants are now loud and labored and his face is sweaty once more. His lips part for air, showing his fangs and you want to kiss him but can’t reach him, not in this position.

“I’m… I’m so close…” you whine, shivering underneath him because his thrusts now make him hit your clit with his pelvis and Cazador knows it.

“So impatient.” he says with a sneer and increases the power behind his pumps one last time, giving you his all. He’s close too and yet he’s not going to let you claim your climax easily. “Beg for your release.”

You don’t pause, you don’t know if you can hold on for longer than you already have and arch your neck with a whine.

“Please, my love, let me cum! Ah!” you gasp when he delivers an especially punishing thrust. “Cazador! Please!” your nails rip at the sheets again and you open your heavy eyelids, meeting his burning gaze. So many times he has fucked you like this and yet it seems he never gets enough of how you look during it. You’re all his, after all.

“Not yet.” he scolds almost coldly despite his own strain. “I said beg, you whore. Beg for me!”

“Fuck!” you cry out, your muscles tense at your effort to comply with his command, but you’re almost losing the battle. “Please, my love, please! I beg you! I can’t- I can’t!” you only have a moment or two to get his permission and you both know it, that’s why he’s doing this.

Yet it seems Cazador is done tormenting you.

“Very well.” he finally relents and closes his eyes, letting himself go too. “But remember – you are mine.”

You can’t respond, your orgasm washes over you with force and your body tightens and spasms, making you moan so loudly half the palace probably hears you. Your pussy grips his cock like a vice and with a satisfied smirk Cazador lets go of himself, releasing himself into you with a nearly animalistic growl, filling your cunt now and not slowing down until he’s milked from every last drop.

When Cazador finally stops you both remain as you are for a long moment. Utterly out of breath and trembling, you can feel his muscles shaking now and you smile, then look at him, adoring the expression on his face that tells you of satisfaction and content.

“Woke up needy?” you tease him lovingly and his eyes snap open at you in an instant, amused at your tone of voice, then he lets out an exhausted chuckle.

“I’ll never grow tired of you.” your lover says and slowly pulls out of you, leaning back and releasing your body from position he put you in.

“Ow, fuck…” you moan when his cock leaves you and your legs drop to the bed. You look at him, still shaking and feeling sore all over. “Well I hope not, we have forever together.” you smile as you speak and take a moment to play lazily with your overflowing pussy, feeling his seed begin to seep out of your entrance. Cazador truly went out of his way to fill every hole available.

He grins wickedly at you before getting closer and leaning down, then places a tender kiss on your forehead.

“We do have eternity, dear. And I plan on making the most of it with you.” he whispers, surprising you, but it looks like he’s finally satisfied and fulfilled.

“Oh you do love me.” you tease him, knowing he hates the very word ‘love’ but you see that he’s in much better mood now. Why wouldn’t he be.

At the same time his tenderness still leaves you in a playful mood. With him watching, you push two fingers into your overflowing cunt and gasp softly because you’re so sore it’s wonderfully painful. Cazador was right, you do love the pain he leaves you with afterwards.

He pauses for a moment as he observes what you’re doing, then he looks back at you and remembers your words, now rolling his eyes.

“Of course I do.” he says reluctantly, still not mentioning the word itself but then raises an eyebrow. “Now stop talking and let me take care of you.” he mutters and begins to move lower.

With a chuckle you spread your legs wide once more and watch him while pumping your fingers slowly, lazily even. You observe Cazador’s eyes flick to your moving digits and then he positions himself between your thighs, his hands now massaging inside of them and you remove your fingers out of your core, bringing them to your lips and licking them clean.

“You’re always so impatient.” your husband murmurs and runs his tongue along the seam of your pussy, tracing the damp, wet skin and causing shivers up and down your spine. You gasp in response.

“I’m addicted to you.” you smile but moan when you feel his tongue giving your pulsating folds another greedy lick. Your hands fly to your breasts and you begin to play with your nipples while you watch him down there, pleasing you, tasting himself mixed with your arousal, you will never tire of this sight.

Cazador doesn’t reply, he just chuckles at your words and lifts his head, giving you an arrogant smirk then his head dips lower again and his tongue slides as deep as it can into your soaked folds. One arm comes around your thigh and with two fingers he begins to stimulate your clit, rubbing it in circles. It’s almost painful and you’re near overstimulated but what he does works, you’re somehow close to your orgasm once more, except this time it’s more mixed with pain than before.

You work your breasts, plucking at your nipples and rolling them between your fingers, moaning as you watch him enjoy the taste of you for a little while longer before he switches what he’s doing. Vampire’s fingers leave you only for a moment, then they replace his tongue, sinking deep into your cunt. You cry out because it’s almost too much, too painful, but then his lips find your clit, envelop it, and Cazador begins to suck, flicking his tongue on your sensitive nub, drawing louder and louder moans out of you.

And then your world shatters around you. You cry out and squeeze your breasts with your fingers, your thighs lock Cazador’s head in place and your body convulses with pleasure once again while his fingers and his mouth move in tandem, drawing most out of your orgasm, helping you ride every last bit of it. When he finally feels you starting to lose the aftershocks, he pulls away and sits up, wolfish grin on his lips as he looks down on you.

You collapse, spent and exhausted, breathing heavily and look at him from under your heavy eyelids, your arms drop by your sides now too.

“That’s one way to start our night.” you chuckle breathily and Cazador laughs, then leans closer and brushes his lips against your neck.

“I just needed to remind you that you’re mine, dear. And the night has just begun.” he nips at your pointy ear and you mewl.

“My love, we have business.” you embrace him lovingly, feeling so small under his imposing frame. “Nobles to talk to, remember?” you whisper, finally feeling like you’re back to yourself at last, even though you’re still mildly dazed. Yet you have a suspicion Cazador is not done. You have no idea where he gets his stamina from, maybe he fed really well last night while you were preparing.

“Oh, we’ll get to that, pet.” he promises and you know that he means it, this meeting is important and he wouldn’t risk scorning some important people that he plans to use. And yet his voice is a low rumble against your ear as he lowers his body on top of yours and you feel his once more hard erection press against your stomach. “But first…”

You’re shocked, you don’t remember last time he wanted you, no, needed you this badly and once more you wonder what’s on his mind.

“Again? Cazador, I don’t-“ you begin, now reluctant to be fucked, to be taken when you’re already so sore and spent, not sure if pain is what you want right now, but Cazador only grins against your cheek.

“Always.” he whispers and pushes your leg out of the way, positioning himself once more. “Just need to see you writhe under me one more time.”

When he lifts his head you look him in the eyes, slightly worried but at the same time delighted. You can barely match his stamina and you’re his vampire bride. Yet, who are you to oppose your Lord husband?

“I’m not going to be able to leave the bedroom after you’re done with me.” you joke softly.

“That’s the idea, dear.” Vampire smirks at you and spreads your legs as widely as possible. One hand he slides to the small of your back while he kneels, lining up his cock to your sensitive and swollen core. “I don’t want you to forget that you are mine.” he whispers with seriousness and you smile, gripping the pillow, watching him slide his cock into you.

You whine, it’s more pain than pleasure at this point, but you find your pleasure in pain and observe Cazador savoring the feeling of his cock getting enveloped by your cunt. He begins to move, rocking his hips gently this time, aware that he has done to you more than he usually does and being careful.

“Do I still feel good?” you tease him with a smile and lock your ankles behind his back, enjoying this slow, gentle pace.

“Yes.” Cazador responds, his eyes flashing with amusement at your lighthearted words but at the same time he moves his hands and grips your hips, increasing his pace. Once he feels like you have adjusted to him fucking you again, he begins thrusting harder and somewhat hurriedly. He must be thinking of the grand meeting at the same time, thinking of time.

You don’t respond and just smile, closing your eyes with a moan, even now him fucking you feels like home, so familiar and safe, despite the pain and overstimulation or maybe exactly because of it. No matter how sore you get, how painful it becomes, you will never tell him to stop. Your back arches as you mewl sweetly.

“That’s it.” Cazador now croons and you feel him lean over you, sensing his fangs scrape against your neck while his hips slam against you harder and harder, he’s hurrying to finish this seemingly last lesson that is meant for you.

He nips at your neck with his teeth, not drawing blood but still making a point of getting you pay attention and you moan louder, moving your arms now and holding onto him, enjoying the sensation of his body moving against yours so closely. Simple missionary, sometimes there’s nothing better. But your pleasure builds, even with your physical limits being pushed and you whine.

“Oh fuck, Cazador…” you gasp while he takes your body, as is his right.

“Come for me.” your husband whispers against your neck while his thrusts become increasingly erratic and his hips slam against you with more force. Then, as if he got a new idea, Cazador slides one hand between you two and teases your clit again, making you gasp because it’s still so sensitive.

“I don’t know if I can.” you look at him with a choked whine, becoming more and more overstimulated already to the point tears gather in your eyes which are begging for him to grant you mercy, but you know he won’t. Tonight it’s about him, like most nights are.

“You will.” Cazador says firmly, his eyes now burning with determination and he continues to drive into you, taking you with rough, hard strokes as he watches your expression intently.

And he’s right, after all. He’s always right. With his rough fucking and similarly rough ministrations to your clit you begin feeling your orgasm build again, quicker than before.

“Cazador please…” you mewl again, writhing under him just as he wished, your back arching and bending, your body shaking.

“Cum for me.” Vampire Lord commands, his voice becoming low and threatening. You have to do as he says or else.

You can’t stop it anyway, his fingers rubbing your clit and his cock driving into your painfully sore cunt truly gives you the most satisfaction and you cum. Hard. Cazador grins as he feels you unravel around him but keeps moving, holding his pace as steady while you clench around him and cry out louder because that gives you more pain. Your nails dig into his skin as you moan again and again, all while under the studying gaze of your lover. Then he leans to your ear with a satisfied smirk.

“You’re mine, dear.” he whispers bit his words are choked and when you start coming down from your bliss you realize he’s close once more as well.

“Yours.” you whine from pain and exhaustion because he’s still not stopping and you realize that he wants to fill you one last time before you two start preparing for the meeting. Not the first time he wants to mark you as his in this way before he starts his night and you say nothing, just moan softly while you hold him, letting him fuck you until he reaches his own climax this time.

With a strained grunt Cazador spills himself within you for one more time and wraps his arms around you, nearly crushing you in his embrace. You don’t know when he removed his hand from your clit but it doesn’t matter, you can barely breathe but still hold him tightly, hearing his choked moans against your ear, feeling his body shuddering with another release.

The moment his orgasm is ridden out completely Cazador collapses on top of you, nearly pushing air out of your lungs but you smile and hold him, just first you unlock your ankles and relax into the bed. You gently begin stroking his tangled hair, listening to your lover’s pants as if it’s the most wonderful song in the world. You are too out of breath and you remain still for a long moment before you speak again.

“Happy now?” you whisper and Cazador chuckles while still trying to catch his breath.

“Always.” he whispers back with his face against your neck. “Always.”

“I’ll need to wash up.” you complain with a pout, thinking about the meeting now and sigh softly when you feel your husband pull out of you slowly and carefully, obviously now attempting not to hurt you. His head raises and his expression is serious once again, the moment of tenderness has already passed.

“Take your time. I’ll wash up in one of the bedrooms. And I have something prepared for our guests.” Cazador sits up and eyes your exhausted body, but you already begin feeling yourself recovering. If not for your vampiric powers you’d be a sobbing mess right now instead of just pleasantly spent.

Yet you give him a curious look, remaining on your back, resting while you can.

“You sound like you are going to kill them all. Don’t.”

Cazador grins and you see his fangs glinting in the dim light of the room.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, dear.” he promises and finally gets out of bed, standing tall and proud. “I’m just eager to share… my good fortune with them.” he adds, making you chuckle.

You sit up and feel yourself too full of his seed to move comfortably.

“Send in a servant to prepare a bath for me and change the sheets.” you look at Cazador now, watching as he puts on a robe and ties it around his waist. He gives you a glance over his shoulder, his eyes sweeping down your body and he smirks.

“As you wish.” suddenly he looks amused and walks to the door, opening it then snaps his fingers. Two human servants appear not long after, rushing to serve their Lord and stand at the ready before he speaks again. “Make sure my companion here is prepared for the event.” Cazador says and you know he’s trying to get on your nerves. He succeeds of course.

You frown, half annoyed and half amused.

“Companion?!” you raise your voice so that everyone can hear you clearly. “I am your wife!” you assert but then laugh, you can’t help it. Most would not understand that Cazador is actually joking with you, but you know him well enough and find it in a way endearing that he actually does joke around with you, even if it’s a little dry in delivery.

“Of course, my dear wife.” Vampire says as he glances back at you, his tone mockingly sweet but he turns back to the servants. “Just attend to her.” he commands and leaves the room.

For the next hour you take care to wash yourself while servants keep busy around the bedroom, tidying it up per your instructions. When you return to the chamber you find it clean and prepared once again. On the neatly made bed you see a dress and approach it, eyeing it curiously. Of course Cazador picked the dress for you. Usually he does not care what you wear as long as you are presentable and reflect the values of Szarr family but tonight he truly seems to have been having something on his mind to go through lengths as this.

After you dress up and brush your hair, you head down to the ballroom. You hear chatter and laughter even before you enter the hallway that leads to your destination and gentle music echoes off the walls. Calm and content you enter the room and most people fall silent, making way for you when you head for the throne of the palace where Cazador is seated. Smaller chair is to his right, waiting for you to occupy it. Before he sees you his eyes are scanning the crowd but the moment he notices your arrival he smirks and unashamedly eyes your form, clad in the dress he himself picked, obviously pleased you didn’t choose other garment.

With a smile of your own you approach him and lean closer, giving him a short kiss before you step to his left and place a hand on his shoulder, giving it a soft squeeze. Cazador’s eyes return to scan the room.

“I trust you had a pleasant evening so far, my dear wife?” he asks while his eyes rake over the crowd, taking in every reaction to your arrival but there’s also a playful taunt in his words and tone, making you glance at him with amusement.

“Yes, my Lord.” you respond and give his shoulder a squeeze again, signaling that you’re onto him, onto his near beaming pride from making such a mess out of you just earlier.

Cazador chuckles to himself and looks up at you for a moment.

“I’m pleased to hear this.” his voice is dripping with sarcasm and you raise an eyebrow at him, trying not to laugh now. “But perhaps you could entertain our guests while I tend to some urgent matters first, hm?”

You know what this means. Your husband is ready to feed and he’s going to pick one fine noble in this crowd to satiate his hunger with a premise of discussing business. So you just nod to him, more than familiar with the routine, and you lean to his cheek, giving it a kiss.

“Just don’t take too long.” you whisper while eyeing the crowd and wandering who he will pick tonight.

Cazador’s fingers brush against your cheek almost affectionately and he smirks.

“I won’t.” he promises and stands up, towering over you for a moment, his gaze meeting yours, you see a reflection of emotion, something akin to tenderness as he reaches and caresses your face, then his gaze sweeps away from you and hardens in a bat of an eye.

When Cazador descends the stairs everyone steps aside for him and you watch your beloved Vampire Lord make way, stopping to chat with people and then move to approach a man you can already see he picked as his meal for tonight. He doesn’t need attention right now, so you look around and see one of your own spawn lingering not far. You call her over and instruct her to bring more wine.

With an obedient nod she rushes away and you proceed to draw attention to yourself by talking to guests, directing bards to play just a little louder, the works. At some point you notice your husband gone from the room and you just hope he will return soon. Despite growing up with such soirees being a constant thing, you still don’t like them much because of all the pretending and the bravado from men who don’t seem to be even slightly self-aware.

As the night wears on and Cazador doesn’t return, you have to resist the urge to go looking for him. Left alone with bunch of irritating mortals is something you’ve come to despise early on in your marriage and tonight even more so you feel the lack of energy to pretend that you care about their frivolous affairs. Despite your body already feeling as if Cazador’s ministrations didn’t happen just hours ago, you still feel fatigued and hungry. You wish he returned sooner.

But some more hours pass and when the event seems to be winding down with guests beginning to leave, only then you see your Vampire Lord return. He doesn’t look any different than any other given moment when he’s among people, but he does give you a telling look before he walks back to his throne chair and sits in it. You walk to him, seeing last guests finish their conversations and head out. Now that you two are alone except for servants and spawn bustling around you slip into his lap with ease, tracing a finger across his lips.

“Did you kill your meal tonight?” you coo in his ear, feeling one of Cazador’s arms wrap around your waist while with other he grips your ankle and begins his ascend to your knee, then your thigh. After a moment you feel his lips brush against your neck as he smirks.

“Always so curious.” he hums. “And yes, I did find my sustenance for the night.” Cazador confirms and you shiver when you feel him softly dragging his nails against your skin.

“You took so long, I just wondered why.” you admit before you begin placing kisses on his neck, your intention to him is clear. After all, he only lets you feed from him and at this point your hunger is near palpable.

“You are so needy, dear, aren’t you?” Cazador teases but he still cranes his neck giving you access for a bite.

Your breath hitches in your throat and you drag your tongue across his skin, picking a spot where to sink your fangs in, your eyes becoming heavy-lidded at the promise of blood. You don’t even care to respond to his teasing and after just a moment longer you bite him without gentleness, beginning to gulp down his blood with relief. In response Cazador groans when your fangs pierce his skin, his head falling back against the backrest of the throne. Although he feigns discomfort, you know the truth beneath his act – he’s aroused and pleased by your desperation for him and the power he holds over you.

After few more mouthfuls of blood you feel his fingers under your dress move again, trailing between your legs and when he finds the hem of your underwear his fingers push underneath, brushing against your seam. You moan against his neck but don’t pull back, still needing to feed, preoccupied with his blood so you don’t mind when Cazador’s other hand dips into the neckline of your dress and frees your right breast. You’re aware there’s still servants and spawn in the room but you don’t care, you let him do anything to you. Anything at all.

Suddenly you hear the vampire chuckle and his fingers pluck at your nipple, making it perk up.

“Always so eager to please, hm?” he taunts as if you’re a common street whore yet his fingers work to please you, expertly circling your clit with a lazy pace. He’s in no hurry and you aren’t either, but your body shivers in response. Instinctively you part your legs wider, welcoming his touch while your feeding slows. At this point you are near satisfied and instead you are savoring the taste of his blood.

Cazador sighs in response, smirking, moving his head to allow you even better access to his blood and you clutch at him when you feel a finger press into your cunt, slipping in with ease while his thumb resumes to rub your clit. Your underwear restricts his movements but you still shiver once more. It makes you pull your lips from his neck.

“Another.” you whisper with need laced in your voice and push his head towards your chest, guiding him this time. Without protest his lips find your nipple as he takes your breast into his mouth, moving his tongue against sensitive flesh. After a moment he pulls away, giving your nipple a greedy lick.

“You’re so needy tonight.” he murmurs but to you it sounds like Cazador means himself more than you because he obediently pushes another finger into your wetness, making you gasp.

“Less talking, my love.” you smile to him although you’re already breathing heavier and you make him press his mouth around your wet nipple again.

He smirks against your skin but his tongue begins to flick at your hardened peak while his fingers start to move within you in slow, sensual rhythm as he continues to suckle hungrily, making you close your eyes and moan softly, enjoying the tenderness of the moment after roughness at the beginning of the night. But the gentleness doesn’t last and you cry out when you feel Cazador’s fangs sink into your supple breast. Yet you don’t say anything, just grip his hair in your fingers tighter, keeping his head steady while he laps at the blood he’s drawn, his fingers not stopping for a moment. You begin to feel your pleasure arise within you, building slowly but steadily.

“My Lord, there has been an emergency.” you both hear a voice and Cazador growls with frustration, releasing your breast from his mouth with a wet pop, making the blood trickle down your skin from the puncture wounds.

“You dare to interrupt us?” he snarls at the servant and you open your eyes, trying to collect yourself and calm your breathing for a moment as you look at the young boy, still mortal, but so scared as he stands before you two.

“One of the guests, my Lord, he fell down the stairs.” his voice trembles and he casts down his eyes, not daring to look at his angry Lord or you in his lap, partially exposed and obviously interrupted amidst your pleasure.

“So? Offer him compensation.” you say with annoyance but Cazador looks at you.

“I better go see it myself.” he tells you in a way that leaves no room to argue and you sigh, releasing his hair from your grip and with disappointment feeling his fingers leave your needy cunt. “Stay here.” the vampire commands and lifts you with ease, turning now and setting you onto his throne.

You look up at him, eager and begging with your eyes but he just caresses your cheek briefly while giving your exposed and bloody breast a look, then he turns on his heel and walks out with the boy.

Frustrated and still very much in a mood you pout, wondering what to do. You scan the ballroom with your eyes, noticing only one spawn tidying up the glasses and you decide to ignore them. Cazador left you dripping with desire and you’re not going to let that go to waste.

With ease you slip off your underwear, letting it drop by your feet and you part your legs, draping them over the armrests of the throne while with one hand finding your way to your throbbing pussy and you gasp softly once you begin to tease your clit gently, slowly, drawing your pleasure out. With other hand you cup your breast that still bears the mark of Cazador’s bite, playing with it carefully, smearing bits of his saliva that didn’t dry off yet over your nipple and making yourself moan louder.

You close your eyes and enjoy the slow buildup of pleasure, unaware that your lover has returned and is standing still, observing you with a smirk. He enjoys seeing you so needy and so easily turned on by him and him alone. You couldn’t even wait for him to come back. With one glance he sends the spawn away and slowly approaches you, finally making you aware of his presence and you open your clouded from pleasure eyes.

He doesn’t speak, neither do you. You just lift the skirts of your dress for him and watch him work his pants until he pulls out his fully hard cock. With a grin he leans over you, becoming your whole world and you see a mix of desire and ownership reflected in his gaze that’s cast upon you. Without further hesitation he positions himself at your entrance, one hand gripping the backrest and the other - left armrest, before slamming into you with one swift thrust, making you moan at the sensation of being filled again. Yet you smile, he does love to fuck you on his throne and does it often, all you have to do is grip the backrest with both hands and let him take you, which you do with pride.

Cazador grits his teeth as he begins to pound into you, watching himself take you with each pump, his hair slipping from behind his ears as he’s hunched over you, taking what’s rightfully his.

“What-“ you begin among your gasps. “What happened?” you finally manage as you too watch his cock plunge into you repeatedly. Cazador looks up at you, enjoying the visage of pleasure on your face for a moment before responding.

“Some idiot fell. Broke a leg.” your husband pants while he grinds against you, speaking between his labored panting. “Doesn’t matter.”

His words make you smile as you gasp for air loudly with each snap of his hips and your heart swells with feeling as you watch his face above you.

“I love you.” you tell him but this time Cazador smirks at you, satisfied with your words. He decides to grant you this one treat tonight, you performed well so far.

“And I love you, my dear, loyal pet.” he says, making your eyes widen from surprise at hearing something you so rarely hear, if ever.

But then he increases the pace of his thrusts and you shudder, reminded of your pleasure and distracted from what he just said. You moan louder and your legs tremble.

“I’m so close…” you gasp with each pump with your eyes locked on his.

“Cum for me, my pretty little whore.” Cazador grunts, enjoying watching you come undone and he does know exactly what to say.

It takes only a thrust or two and you unravel, gripping the backrest of the throne and moaning loudly, shouting his name as you shiver and clench all around his cock. With a restrained moan of his own, Vampire Lord follows you in pleasure, his strokes become erratic as he begins to spill his seed into your pussy with the help of your muscles spasming so deliciously. It might be seconds or minutes before you begin to feel any semblance of self and you open your eyes, seeing Cazador trying to catch his breath while completely still now, with his eyelids heavy from lust and his face sweaty just as yours.

But then you notice another servant to your right who’s obviously standing there for a while, waiting for you two to finish and you roll your eyes.

“Fuck’s sake, what now?” you manage through your gasps for air and Cazador glances into the direction of the servant, finally made aware of them.

“What is it now?!” he snaps with a voice that’s cold and dangerous, making the servant flinch and shrink. Cazador doesn’t even bother to pull out of your quivering body just yet, maybe he’s hoping it’s nothing urgent this time.

“One of the scouts you sent out returned, Master.” they explain briefly while you move your hands and begin to play with Cazador’s hair, caressing the side of his face with a smile. You love it when he gets angry with others and in return you give his softening cock a squeeze with your cunt, making his expression soften a little bit at your touch and a reminder of your presence. However, he still shoots servant a glare.

“This can wait until tomorrow.” he orders and finally pulls out of you with a wet sound, making you gasp and then chuckle. You glance at the servant and raise an eyebrow, surprised they are still lingering here.

“You heard your master, shoo.” you laugh and sit up in the throne, pushing the skirts of your dress down but not passing the chance to lean forward and capture your husband’s softening cock in your mouth to catch last drops of his seed while you hear the servant scurry away in a rush.

Cazador smirks down on you but grips at your hair with gentle firmness, pulling your mouth off his dick.

“Not yet.”

You look up at him and smile, licking your lips while tucking him back into his pants with care.

“I just don’t like wasting even a drop of you.” you tease gently, making Cazador smile almost softly at you as he pulls you to your feet and embraces you, holding you, cradling your head with his palm and he nuzzles his face in your hair.

“Don’t test me, pup. You know I cannot resist you for long.” he confesses while you embrace him in return and close your eyes, just enjoying the moment.

“Good. I can’t risk you picking another consort.” you tease again with a smile and that makes Cazador chuckle with a low rumbling sound.

“You think I could ever let another possess my body the way you do?”

His reply makes you actually, truly happy and you hug him tighter, smiling widely.

“You’re mine.” you whisper against his shirt.

“And you belong to me.” he responds before pulling back slightly to look down at you with a softer look in his eyes for now, one that speaks of gentle feelings and possession. His expression alone urges you to reach up, cup his face and bring it closer so that you can kiss him.

It’s a simple kiss at first and then it deepens when you push your tongue past his lips and into his mouth, tasting him just as he tastes you. You feel his grip on your lower back and the back of your skull tighten, holding you firmly before he pulls from the kiss and his lips trail down your face onto your neck.

“Is everything done for tonight?” you ask, hearing how breathy your voice sounds. Cazador’s teeth nip at your neck without breaking the skin before he replies.

“For tonight, yes.” he confirms, muttering against your skin. “We can retire to our chambers once again.” the implication is heavy in his voice and you realize it’s time to address his unusual possessiveness and need.

“You’re insatiable.” you comment with a chuckle but then lean back and look into his eyes more seriously now. “I’m lucky I’m an immortal but even I have a hard time keeping up with you tonight. Usually you don’t spend your time relentlessly bedding me.” you pause, waiting for him to reply but when Cazador doesn’t, you cup his face and kiss his cheek. “Did you have a bad dream before you woke me with your cock, hm?” you ask softly and carefully.

The question makes him stiffen and he straightens his back, looking down on you with anger and contempt.

“I do not need to explain myself to you!” Vampire’s tone is icy when he snaps at you. “You are mine and I will take what I want, when I want it.”

“So it was a bad dream.” you smile, unimpressed by the sudden change of his mood and you pull his face close to you again, without much struggle from Cazador. “Not to worry, I’m here and I am indeed yours.” you whisper softly as you look into his eyes.

Despite his anger Vampire Lord can’t help but somewhat soften at your words and touch.

“You are one annoying pet, my dear.” he complains but you see possessive desire once more stir behind his eyes and you smile.

“Was the dream that bad?” you ask as you tuck his hair behind his ears but you know that for Cazador to be this needy, well needy in his own peculiar way, it must’ve been something really upsetting.

He pauses as he thinks of how to respond to you.

“The dream was… intriguing.” he finally admits with reluctance and then hesitates again before continuing. “In it, I saw you pleasuring another man… behaving as you were not satisfied by me.”

You sigh slightly, you already suspected it was something like this. A vampire’s jealousy is truly a force of nature when invoked but with Cazador it stems from fear of losing you, because he has nobody else except you and even then it took you two years to start tolerating each other before it grew into something deeper. Vulnerability that neither of you want to speak of in words. So you press yourself against his chest firmly in response.

“I will never need anyone else but you.” you promise softly, not seeing how his eyes widen in surprise at your words and he once more buries his face in your hair, taking a deep breath as if to calm himself.

“You are truly mine. Only mine.” he pauses, hesitating, then adds. “And I’m yours.”

You don’t respond, just hold him and let yourself be held in a moment of genuine affection, a bond shared. But at least you now know why he’s so restless tonight. One of his own ways to control you is through sex and he surely made an effort to show you that you are his to possess and keep. And most likely, although he would rather kill you than admit it, Cazador felt an unfamiliar fear of not satisfying you enough. But you think you have one more round in you tonight.

“How about we go back to our chambers and spend rest of the night in bed? Just you, me and the bedsheets.” you tilt your head to look at him and Cazador gives you a satisfied smirk.

“And you call me insatiable, pet?” he teases and you want to respond but he quickly swoops you off your feet and begins carrying you outside the ballroom.

As he carries you, you cling to his neck and remain silent for a moment, thinking. You are curious to know more about his dream.

“Was the man I pleasured in your dream someone we know?”

Cazador remains silent, either not wanting to reply right away or trying to remember the dream.

“No, it was not.” he finally responds. “In fact, dear, I don’t remember what he looked like at all. It’s just that I couldn’t stop thinking about you with someone else.”

“Ah it matters not.” you smile and begin to nibble on his pointy ear, using your tongue to gently prod at the tip of it. “Still, fear not, I’m yours.”

“Good, you know your place.” Cazador hums, pleased by your response and once you both arrive at the bedroom he nudges the door closed and settles you on the floor, hunger once more in his eyes.

“No, you’re not ripping my dress again.” you laugh and push at him, surprising your husband but then he grins at you with mischief.

“Very well, strip then.” he commands and you walk past him towards the chair and begin to undress, pretending to ignore his look sweeping over you again and again.

“Undress too.” you tell him and Cazador pauses, then sighs with annoyance, giving you a glare that you ignore too and then comes closer, also beginning to disrobe and tossing his clothes with yours on the chair.

“You’ll have to beg for your release.” vampire says with irritation that you’re making him do this and you glance at him at last.

“Promise you’ll be rough?” you tease and Cazador lifts an eyebrow at you as he sheds last bits of his own attire.

“Absolutely, dear.” his grin shows his fangs and you think you just have fallen in love with him a little bit more. “You always taste sweetest when I take you roughly.”

You chuckle at his words, getting aroused already and the moment he’s nude, he steps to you, gripping your throat and pushing you backwards with intense look on his face. You recognize the telltale sign of him having one more idea for you tonight.

You let him lead you and then he turns you around, pressing you chest-first to the window, the glass feeling like an icy embrace. Cazador pushes your face by your throat against the window so firmly it almost cracks. You smile and sigh dreamily, letting yourself be adjusted for his preference when he tugs at your hips, putting your body at an angle.

“What’s taking you so long. Should I find someone else to fuck me faster?” you tease quite dangerously and feel Cazador’s grip on your throat tighten with an angry huff before his hand leaves you entirely only for both of them to grip your hips.

“Don’t move.” he commands and plunges into you swiftly, making you moan in response.

Cazador doesn’t give you a moment to adjust or even to speak before he begins snapping his hips against you in a powerful rhythm meant to make you sore before you even cum and you chuckle breathlessly already. Your eyes finally focus and you realize that bellow the window there’s some people already gathered, watching you getting fucked, and you grin. It takes only a moment for Cazador to notice this too and he scoffs, amused but smirking.

“I always knew you’d put on quite a show, dear.”

“You just enjoy letting them know that it’s you who fucks me, and only you.” you respond, trying to stifle your moans albeit unsuccessfully. You’re quickly getting lost in the feeling of being fitted on his cock once more, your wetness dripping down your thighs and running over his balls too. In this moment you feel truly loved.

“They may watch but they will never even get close to you.” Cazador says in a firm but barely controlled tone as he too loses himself in pleasure that your body provides him with.

And then he increases the force behind his thrusts even more, making you grab onto the wall at both sides of the window in fear that it might break with your breasts and face being pushed so relentlessly against it. The display of intense fucking that you two are putting on in this moment is drawing even more people now, despite the late hour. Mostly it’s drunks and partying peasants but you don’t care, you know that the word about this will spread far and wide and it makes you grin.

Cazador watches you get drunk with pleasure and his own eyes get clouded from satisfaction at your response to him. He pulls out of you only to thrust back in harder, pushing you harder against the window and only your grip on the walls prevents it from shattering. You feel his body tense, you hear his breathing becoming labored but before you can submit yourself to the pleasure completely, you feel your husband’s hand on your throat again, pulling your head to his chest and bending your spine in a painful angle, yet you don’t care, you’re enjoying this and enjoy watching the crowd beneath the window.

“You like being watched, you slut?” Cazador growls against your ear, his voice thick with lust and his grip on your throat tightens possessively, letting you know how much control he has over your body while he keeps driving himself deep into your cunt repeatedly.

You manage a simple nod before you remember how to speak.

“And you like to be watched when you fuck me.” you respond among your moans and Cazador sneers against your ear, you know he’s watching the crowd too, just as you are.

“Such a degenerate.” Cazador huffs but his hips snap against you in reckless abandon, both of you are close to your bliss now, somehow being watched only makes you both more aroused, that is very much clear.

You choke your mewls out, listening to your lover’s groans against your ear.

“Fuck!” Cazador swears and his head dips to your shoulder before he sinks his fangs into your flesh with no care for your pain, making you whine at the sensation, but you don’t mind, you just smile.

“Fill me, love, claim me for everyone to see.” your words barely sound any different from your moans but Cazador understands.

With one more thrust he begins to spill himself into you, his moan muffled by your skin and that alone is enough to send you over the edge with him. You orgasm, shuddering and gripping the walls tightly with your fingers as your Lord uses your spasming body to empty himself completely, just like he always does. You forget that you are watched, you forget everything. As you relish the experience of your orgasm you don’t hear how loudly you are crying out or what words, if any, you are saying. You just feel Cazador stop after few more lazy thrusts and release your shoulder from his teeth, panting heavily.

After final wave of your pleasure washes over you and retreats, you open your eyes, completely out of breath and see the people below, grinning at the sight.

“Mmm… that was exquisite.” Cazador hums against your ear and you smile, bucking your hips at him, signaling him to release you.

When his grasp on your throat is gone you swallow dryly yet still with a smile.

“I think they’ve had enough of a show.” you chuckle and Cazador pauses, but pulls out of you, letting you step back from the window and pull the curtain closed.

When you turn to him you notice his calm, satiated and content look examining your nude body. You let him, saying nothing for a moment, before he reaches out to you, wanting you to take his hand. When you do, he pulls you against his chest and leans to your face.

“You will never leave me.” he says it as more of a fact than a promise but you smile, knowing what he means even if he’s not saying it, his intense tone and words not phasing you one bit.

“No, I won’t. You won’t get rid of me this easily.” you tease, seeing surprise on his face, then you kiss him, not wanting to hear his reply.

Cazador stiffens when your lips meet his but soon he relaxes and holds you firmly.

Words are not needed, you know exactly what he feels, because you feel the same. And maybe in a hundred years or so you won’t need to play word games with him just to hear him say that he needs you even if you already know that he does. Of course he does. And you need him. That will never change. Ever.

[thechaoticdruid]

Not my horny GOT loving ass thinking about an AU where (Fem) Tav is one of Cazador's mortal relatives, a niece if you will, and is sent to live with him after her family ends up dying in a fire. Cazador ends up planning on marrying Tav off for political gain, wanting to use her to manipulate her future husband (who in this instance I assume would be someone powerful amongst the nobility). The only issue is Tav is innocent and inexperienced, shy and meek. Not someone skilled in the art of seduction.

So Cazador assigns Astarion to be her 'teacher' and well through some events Tav ends up falling in love with Astarion and vice versa which very much complicates the fact that Tav has to marry someone else!

Can't help but also think about innocent sweet Tav melting his heart by always being concerned about Astarion during their 'lessons'.

She can tell something isn't right sometimes when he touches her and insists they don't have to do anything! That she would just deal with her uncle.

But of course Astarion is too afraid of what Cazador would do to either of them to let her do that.

Oh well I thought this was going to be a horny fic idea but then it turned into angst. Eh that's good too. The idea is up for grabs if anyone wants to take it, but @ me so I can read if you write it plz.

[the-case-book-of-fanfiction]

Love Bites

Love Bites, Chapter 6 // Love Bites {Masterlist}

Ship: Astarion Ancunin x fem!vampire spawn!elf!Tav/reader

Summary: Astarion remembers you, but it's already too late. He's bedded you and remembered the love and life you had together, two hundred years ago, and now he has to make a choice. Does he sacrifice himself, or does he sacrifice you?

Word Count: 9,455

Warnings: 18+, last night alive vibes, Astarion's memory gaps, being gentle with each other, Astarion anticipates being used but is not, vampire bite, mentions of Astarion's sexual abuse (non-con oral), therapeutic talking, reader is protective of Astarion, Astarion's bad at vocalizing his emotions, love confessions, anxiety, putting each other in danger

18+ Warnings: consensual sex, explicit smut, touching, easing into intimacy, oral (m & f receiving), masturbation (m), vaginal sex, consent & check-ins, loving sex, clit stimulation, multiple orgasms, creampie, cum eating, aftercare

Note: Astarion does talk at length about the sexual abuse he's been through (not a lot of it is detailed), so please take care of yourselves as usual and don't read if you're not comfortable!

☟ Continue below the fold ☟

Astarion clung to your arm the entire walk back to your house. You leaned into him, at first surprised by the lack of body heat but seeming to enjoy his grip on you nonetheless. Instinctively, you put your arm through his and rested your head against his shoulder. He hesitantly placed a soft kiss on the top of your head and you hummed happily. 

“I’ve missed you,” you whispered to him. 

Astarion hesitated, wanting to return the sentiment but unsure if he should; he had spent the past two hundred years—or most of them, at least—not remembering you. But when you looked up at him with a soft smile, the words tumbled out, an absolute necessity to say, “I missed you, too. Even if I didn’t know it, I…I did.”

You smiled at him, soft and gentle, like you knew exactly what he was referring to, like you knew he had felt a hollow absence for all these years he hadn’t realized was there until you filled it again. 

There was a glint in your eye that Astarion was pleased to recognize. He bent just enough to let you kiss his cheek. The two of you both smiled the minute your lips touched his skin. 

You gave directions as the two of you walked, telling him when to turn and which way, until you came to a stop at a door. It was illuminated by a golden lamp, spilling over its lovely emerald green paint. The color was like a burst of life against Astarion’s eyes, vibrant against the blacks and greys of his Darkvision. 

The door did not hold the same familiarity as you did. He glanced at you as you unlooped your arms and slid a key into the lock. “Is this…where we lived?”

“No,” you said, glancing back at him. “Your parents still live in that house. Our bedroom’s untouched, though. The bed still unmade, curtains still closed… It’s as it was when you left for work that morning.”

Pain split through his heart. “My parents are still alive?” You stopped, almost shocked, and turned to him with your mouth slightly open. Before you could speak, he barreled on, “They still live in the same house?”

You glanced up at the sky, likely trying to gauge how much time you had left. You pushed the door open and gently guided him inside as you answered, “Yes. They found it too painful to leave. Your… Your mother said leaving it would feel like selling all that was left of you to a stranger.” You were quiet for a moment. You began lighting the wicks of candles, revealing a kitchen. “I still go back sometimes. To sit in our room. Every so often I sit on the roof like we used to. And, uh…your parents don’t know this, but I’ve been slowly sneaking away pieces of your clothes. It’s…comforting to have them near me, even if I’m terrified that by wearing them too long I’ll lose your scent.”

Astarion felt like he’d been struck by lightning. His family was alive. His family was alive, had been these past two hundred years, and they still loved him. “My mother…” he whispered, tears gathering in his eyes.

You paused in your lighting. “Asty? Are you alright?”

His lower lip trembled. “I… I don’t know. I didn’t know they were still… Do they miss me?”

You came over to him and wrapped your arms around him. “They miss you very much, darling. There hasn’t been a day when your mother has not spoken of you, or a day that your father has not stared at your painting.” You looked up at him. “There has not been a day where any of us do not wish to change what happened that day. To prevent you from going to work. To get you home faster. To convince you to take a different route home. Anything to keep you alive and with us.”

I’m still loved. They love me.

He bit his lower lip. “I wish I could see them again.”

“Perhaps one day you will,” you said. “Perhaps we’ll find a way out.”

Astarion smiled bitterly. “Cazador will take that optimism from you.”

You studied him for a moment, clearly wanting to argue. But instead you just gave him your hand and whispered to him, “Come with me, love.”

A nervousness filled his chest. “I don’t want to do this to you… I don’t want to lose you.”

You cupped his cheeks and pressed your forehead together. Your thumbs smoothing over his cheeks comforted him in a way he never remembered feeling before—but surely you must have done this a thousand times, with the practiced way you touched him. “You aren’t losing me. And you aren’t the one hurting me, darling. It’s your master who has done this to us both.”

Astarion shuddered. “Don’t speak of him. Not here. Not when we’re about to…” He bit his lip. “Not when I can have you again.”

You nodded and kissed his forehead. He leaned into it, some of the tension in his shoulders draining away. “I won’t.” You began walking him out of the kitchen, leading him up a set of stairs. “This way, love.”

Nervous in a way he didn’t ever remember being, Astarion followed you up the stairs. He glanced around the humble dwelling you had made your home—covered in paintings and tapestries and knickknacks that made it homey and welcoming—safe. It felt lived in, contrary to many of the homes of nobility he had found himself in time and time again. It wasn’t something he would have ever designed himself, at least not as he was now, but he liked it anyway. 

The door to your bedroom was open. It was a cozy, open room that felt familiar enough for him to pause at the threshold.

You noticed. “I may have designed it to be similar to our old bedroom. It was comforting.”

Astarion’s eyes scanned the room: a large bed in the middle, covered in soft blankets and piled with pillows, a circular rug underneath it, a mirror on the wall next to your wardrobe. Your desk was covered with paints and powders and pieces of jewelry similar to what you wore now. 

“I like it,” he said quietly. “I… We lived in a place like this?”

You nodded, sitting in the chair at your desk. He watched you take off your jewelry and take your hair down. “Our bedroom had a different color scheme and it was a little bit bigger. We had a washroom connected to it and two wardrobes—yours was bigger than mine. And we had a balcony we used to sit on late at night. But we shared a desk and I wore your clothes more often than I wore mine.” You smiled at him. “You used to tease me that if you couldn’t find one of your shirts, it was either in my wardrobe or on my body.”

You stood and closed the curtains of the two windows that let moonlight stream into the room. Darkness fell for a moment and Astarion watched your dim figure move to one side of the bed. You struck a match and an oil lamp flared to life. 

“Simpler than magic,” you explained. Then the two of you stared at each other. 

Astarion didn’t know where to start. He knew how to manipulate his victims into bed with him nearly every night. He knew what to say, how to move, when to smile, when to make the approach. But with you in front of him, suddenly all his best tricks seemed useless. 

You cocked your head to the side, noticing his hesitation. “Astarion?”

“I don’t know where to start,” he whispered. 

“Then let me?” you suggested. He nodded. 

You removed your apron and draped it over the back of the chair. You reached around behind you and loosened the strings of your corset, slipping it off after a moment. It wasn’t exactly graceful, but the movement still made Astarion’s throat tighten. Somehow, your movements—unpracticed for two hundred years—were more alluring than the nobles Cazador made him bed or the unfortunate virgins tripping over themselves to have him. 

It’s because it’s you, he knew. You weren’t just alluring—you were comforting. His body was strangely present, strangely here, as you undressed for him. 

You pulled off your skirt and left yourself in a poet shirt similar to the one Astarion himself had worn until it fell apart and then sewn back together time and time again. You glanced up at him for a moment, your breath catching in your throat. Astarion nodded eagerly, taking a step closer to you. So you pulled the shirt up over your head and stood before him.

Your undergarments were made of delicate lace. Automatically, Astarion reached out to touch them—touch you—then hesitated, looking into your eyes, suddenly afraid his instinct had been wrong.

But you only stepped forward and guided his hand to the fabric covering your chest. His touch seemed to arrest you for a moment before you stuttered out, “You gave them to me. The set was an anniversary gift. Somehow I knew when I dressed this morning I wanted this piece of you close to me.”

Warmth bloomed in the pit of his stomach—arousal, actual arousal, not the response he had forced himself to have when his victims got naked. He felt himself stir in his leathers.

Astarion let his fingers trail over the edge of the lace. Your eyes fluttered closed, your breaths coming in heaves. “Well, I…had good taste.”

You touched his chest, fingers trailing over the gold embroidery of his doublet. “You still do, darling.” You let out a heavy, pleased sigh. “Oh, gods, Astarion, please. Can I kiss you?”

“Yes,” he breathed desperately, leaning into you. “Yes.”

You stood on your tiptoes; he bent down. As your lips touched, his arms looped around your waist and settled there, holding you against him. Your lips were soft, gentle, welcoming. You let him take the next step instead of forcing it. It was a kindness he wasn’t sure you knew was a kindness. 

He sucked your lower lip between his. You whined softly and then tried to pull away, clearly embarrassed by your need for him, but it brought a smile to his face. He chased your lips and brought one hand to rest between your shoulder blades, guiding you back to him. He kissed you again, softly at first, then licked your lip, asking for more. You obliged him with a slight smile of your own. 

Your tongues slid together, both of you careful of his fangs. After all these years, Astarion had gotten good at hiding them, even during a kiss—but he didn’t feel the need to hide them from you, only keep your tongue away from them.

One of your hands slid into his hair. He tensed momentarily, bracing for an unrelenting tug, but you only scratched his scalp with your nails. He relaxed against you, falling deeper into the kiss. 

When you parted, it was slow, both of you reluctant to part from each other. Your chest was heaving, your breasts straining pleasantly against the delicate lace. Astarion’s eyes dropped to the sight, mesmerized for several moments. Then he looked back up at you with a smile on your face. 

“I missed you,” you breathed. “I’ve missed that.” You toyed with his collar absentmindedly. But your eyes were fixed on his, clear and resolute, some concern clouding your blown pupils. “Are you alright?”

He nodded. “More than alright. You… You’re so gentle with me.”

“Is that what you want?” 

Quickly, he nodded again, almost desperate this time. He didn’t really want to explain the sudden tears that rushed to his eyes, but judging from the heartbreak he saw in yours, you had guessed his reasoning. 

“Then gentle we will be,” you promised. “Soft. Sweet. Slow. Like our old mornings.” Your fingers found the clasps of his doublet. “May I…?”

“You may,” he said, unbearably happy that you had asked. The feeling grew stronger as you carefully undid each clasp, rather than ripping them apart so fast and so hard that he had to fix them when the night was over. He reached up to help you undress him. 

You took the time to ask him before you removed any clothes. You took the time to admire him as skin was revealed. You took the time to kiss him when he hesitantly asked for it. You took the time to wait when you saw his uncertainty, holding him and stroking his hair. 

Is this what it feels like to be loved? 

When Astarion was left standing in only his boxers, you gently led him to the bed. You hooked your fingers into his waistband and met his eyes. Before you could even ask, he whispered, “Pull them off.”

You smiled at him and did so, your touch still light. You spared his half-hard cock only a glance as you stood back up and met his gaze. Astarion could still see the want in your eyes. But instead of doing what you wanted with him, you turned and said over your shoulder, “Would you like to take mine off?”

“Yes,” he whispered, lifting his hands to undo the clasps of your bra. He slipped the straps off your shoulders after you turned back around to him. He let himself admire your breasts as they were exposed before he dropped his hands to your hips and removed your panties in one graceful move that seemed to surprise you. 

“You were always good, but you’re better at this than I remembered,” you said by way of explanation, your cheeks turning pink. “You were always so shy when you undressed me, no matter how many times you had been inside me.”

For some reason, he felt guilty. “I’m sorry I changed.”

You shook your head, cupping his cheek. “Don’t apologize. Not for that. We’ve all changed. We would have changed whether you had died or not.” Your gaze drifted back down his body appreciatively, then to his cock. 

Skin crawling with self-consciousness, familiar from times having to improvise to explain away the struggle to get hard (especially without being able to explain how little blood he actually had in his body), but stronger now that it was you looking at the weakness that took away from the one thing he was good for, Astarion explained, truthfully for the first time, “I can’t get hard right away, not without blood and…and he starves us. Once we actually start, I can do more, but—”

You put your finger to his lips and lay on the bed. “Will it hurt?”

Astarion blinked at you. “What?”

“Your bite. Will it hurt?”

For a moment, it didn’t process what you meant. Then— “You want me to feed from you?”

You nodded. “I’m more than willing to work you up myself if you’d prefer, but…I’ll admit I’m curious. Besides…you finally have someone who knows what you are and loves you anyway. Bite me. Feed the only time you can.”

Astarion stepped closer to the bed, his hunger rearing its head. “Are you sure you want me to?”

You nodded and gestured him closer to you and, after a single moment’s deliberation that ended with the sole thought of, Fuck it!, Astarion crawled over you. You smiled up at him with a fond amazement. He grinned. “You’ve seen this view before, haven’t you?”

“Often,” you said. “I dreamt of this nearly every night. It’s almost hard to believe you’re right here… I half-suspect I’ll wake up in the morning and none of this will have happened.”

Astarion bent and began peppering your neck with soft kisses. Your blood smelled sweet, pumping through your veins with strength. “Believe me, darling, this is very, very real…”

You craned your neck, exposing the column of your throat to him. Astarion pressed his nose to your pulse point and breathed in deeply. He moaned, his whole body shuddering. You put your hand back in his hair, scratching softly. “Please…” you whispered, and all of Astarion’s restraint snapped.

He drew back enough to bare his fangs and sink them into your throat. You gasped sharply. He would have asked if you were alright if your blood did not suddenly fill his mouth, sweet and tangy and heavy all at once. He swallowed and instantly felt the difference. Bugs and rats were enough to keep him functional, surviving—this was enough to let him live. 

The next few pulls of blood had you whimpering pleasantly and warmth filling his body. Strength returned to his muscles with every mouthful and his chest began to move with the illusion of breathing. He became aware of the throbbing need in his cock and began grinding on your thigh. Your responding gasp quickly became a moan and your arms tightened around him.

Somehow, Astarion knew the exact moment that you had become equals again; he had taken half your blood and any more would kill you. In fact, any more and he would be too drunk on it to stop himself from killing you. 

Drain her. Drink her dry and go back to Cazador with enough strength to escape him.

The thought terrified him. He pulled away from you quickly, your blood dripping down his chin and onto your chest. He licked the open wounds of your neck clean of blood before he sat back and stared down at you.

You were paler than you had been when he started, but your eyes fluttered open and you reached up weakly to wipe the thin trail of blood away from the corner of his mouth. You offered him your thumb and he sucked it into his mouth without thinking, licking the blood from your skin. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, brushing a hand through your hair.

You nodded. “A little woozy, but I’ll live.”

Astarion decided not to tell you how close you had come to not living. “What did it feel like?”

You paused, thinking. Eventually, you said, “Like nothing I’ve ever felt before. It was…intimate. Magical. It was ecstasy in a form I’ve never felt before. Pain that turned into pleasure. I felt…connected with you more wholly than ever before. We always said we were one when we had sex, but that…that was being one.” You met his gaze again and breathed out one word: “Wonderful.”

Astarion couldn’t help it; he kissed you needily, pressing his entire body to yours. You responded willingly, even when the kiss turned into a tight hug that allowed him to hide his face in your shoulder so you wouldn’t see his tears. 

Eventually, you tapped his shoulder. “Sit on the edge of the bed, darling.”

A tingle of anticipation raced up Astarion’s spine—clearly his body remembered what you were going to do, even if he did not. You slid to your knees and spread his legs apart far enough to get between them. He tried to hide his shock; you wanted to pleasure him? Time and time he had been forced onto his knees and made to take a cock in his mouth, but he couldn’t remember the last time someone had done it for him… In fact, you were probably the last person to have done it, years and years ago.

“Darling, you don’t have to—”

You looked up at him. “Do you want me to?”

His chest tightened. “Yes,” he whispered.

You smiled slightly. “Then let me pleasure you, Asty.”

“Okay,” he breathed, his chest heaving with phantom breaths as he watched you lean in. You kissed the base of his cock and a quiet whine escaped him. You dragged your tongue up his length and kissed his tip before you took him into your mouth. He threw his head back, groaning. His eyes fluttered as you sucked gently, licking the underside of his cock every so often. Occasionally you popped off of him to kiss up and down his length and the sensitive area around it.

“Look at me,” you breathed. He did as you asked and you went back down on him, holding eye contact with him. He whimpered and bit his lower lip, muffling the sound. You made a face. “Let me hear you, Astarion.”

His answer was a whine as you licked a stripe along the underside of him. He brought his hand to your head and held you as you licked and kissed him. It didn’t take long for him to give into the pleasure; he began to mumble in Elvish to you until the words couldn’t roll off his tongue anymore and began coming out as moans, both low- and high-pitched. Some part of Astarion was deeply embarrassed by his sounds—but he knew now if he tried to hide them, you’d stop, and, gods above, that was the last thing he wanted. But you didn’t let up again and before he could stop himself or even warn you, he was cumming down your throat. 

And you let him. You pulled off of him only when you were sure he was spent. He flopped onto his back, panting heavily. A thrill went up his spine as he watched you swallow his spend, crawling up on his body to join him on the bed.

“That was… Hells, that was good,” he groaned as you laid next to him, getting perfectly cozy against his blood-warmed body. “How did you…?”

“You taught me,” you reminded him with a laugh. “How else did you think I knew exactly what you liked?”

“You could just have really good instincts,” he said, rolling onto his side to kiss you. He cradled you in his arms, holding you as tightly against his body as he could. You melted into his hug readily.

You pulled away for a moment and just stared at him, your eyes peering into his like you could see his soul. A little nervous, Astarion just watched you, taking in the way your eyes roamed over his face and how your lips easily came up into a happy, satisfied smile.

“What?” he whispered when the love on your face was almost too much to bear.

“Nothing,” you said. Then you shook your head. “Well, it’s not nothing. I…never thought I’d see your face again. Not really, not outside of my dreams. So I’m just… I’m glad to have you back.” You reached up and trailed your fingers across his cheekbone. He leaned into your touch. 

Slowly, Astarion began to return the favor, running his fingers across your body. He watched the way you shuddered beneath his touch, paid attention to when you giggled, noticed when your eyes fluttered shut and your body relaxed. He felt like he was learning how you ticked, but there was something about every movement you made that was almost painfully familiar. He had done this to you before, likely thousands of times, and had enjoyed squeezing your hips in his hands and groping your breasts and kissing every available inch of your skin.

“How many times?” he breathed against your sternum, pausing as he kissed down your body. You hummed and he clarified: “How many times did we do this?”

Your eyes were closed, your face the picture of contentment. “You mean the sex or the touching?”

“Touching.”

“Every night,” you answered. “Every night before we went to bed, whether we were naked or not, whether we had sex or not, we would do this. We’d cuddle and kiss and caress each other until one of us fell into trance or sleep, whatever we decided to do that night.”

“Gods,” he whispered. “I… I didn’t realize it, but I missed it. I think.”

You hesitated for a moment. Then you whispered, “I thought you did this every night.”

“Almost every night,” he corrected. “And…never like this. Never soft. Never gentle. Never…loving. It’s always rough and demanding, brutal.” He glanced at you, expecting criticism, but your face was open. There wasn’t a hint of jealousy that he slept with other people, nor anger that he was complaining about getting laid nightly when you had spent the years alone. So he continued. “I wake up sore and sometimes bleeding in places I didn’t know I could bleed from.”

You curled your arms around him protectively. “Oh, Asty… Love, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” he said quickly.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t feel bad for you,” you insisted. 

Disagreement coiled in Astarion’s belly, but he didn’t voice it, instead laying his head against your chest. He sighed happily when you began to scratch your fingers through his scalp. He remained like that for a few minutes before the words began to tumble out of him, slowly at first, then gaining momentum and—to his surprise—anger.

“It’s not always…random people from taverns. Sometimes he’ll…assign me victims. I’ll be sent to them. Nobles, mostly, who he wants for his thralls. Sometimes he sends them back out into the world to do his bidding, not keeping them the way he keeps me or my siblings, or draining them into dry, mummified corpses like most of the people I bring back for him. But if I don’t bring them back in the single night he gives me— Well. I’d be scarred horribly if vampires didn’t heal quickly, and even then, I don’t heal as quickly as I should so sometimes I go out the next night still wrapped in dirty cloth for bandages, bleeding through them, expected to bring home yet another meal.” 

Astarion paused long enough for you to have a quick interjection. “You have siblings?” 

“Of a sort. There are six others. Six spawn he made to do his bidding.”

“And are you all expected to…fetch your victims the same way?”

Astarion shook his head. “No. Yousen’s a gnome, for gods’ sake, who’s going to sleep with a gnome and not a handsome creature such as myself?”

You rolled your eyes. “There are plenty of people who find gnomes attractive, even if you don’t,” you chastised. 

He sighed. “But you get my point. He made his spawn from people with…different talents, so to speak, to bring in his meals. But if we fail, we all get treated the same way. Beaten. Bitten. Used. He…he does it to me more than the others. I’m his favorite to torture.”

“You mentioned that,” you murmured, touching his ear gently. His cock twitched with pleasure and he gasped. You froze. “Do you want me to stop?”

Hesitantly, he nodded. “Just— Just for a moment…please.”

Immediately, before he had even finished speaking, you removed your hand from his ear. “Alright.”

Surprise flooded his body. No one had ever listened to him before. No one had ever taken his ‘no’ to be a no. They always kept doing what hurt him, what he hated, what made his skin crawl with disgust and hate and fear. 

But you…listened. You more than listened, you stopped.

“Thank you,” he breathed. “It’s just— I…I’m not quite ready to do anything else yet. There’s so much I want to say because I’ve never been able to before and I don’t… I don’t want to ruin the moment, but…”

“But trying to push through will ruin it anyway for you,” you said, understanding him immediately. “That’s alright. Just keep talking, my love, and I will listen to everything.”

Oh, gods above, you understood him. Astarion felt the strong urge to cry until he had no tears left, all out of relief. Instead, he kept talking.

“He hosts grand, lavish parties from time to time. On those nights, we spawn are forced to pose as his…servants. It’s almost a relief to have a break, but then…then there’s the afterparties. And I’m his entertainment at the afterparties. They’re more…orgies than parties by then and I’m at the center of it all, dressed however he wants me for the night, which is sometimes nothing. He lets the partygoers use me however they wish. He orders them to, in fact. It hurts and hurts and hurts until it suddenly doesn’t because I can’t feel anything anymore.” His tears dripped onto your skin. You cooed softly, trying to comfort him, but you said nothing to stop him, so he kept going. “It’s not just the parties, either. It’s… Well, it’s like this. I’m his favorite to torture, and I’m his favorite to…to use.” 

You made a sound of both sympathy and rage. “Asty…”

Your whisper was lost in his continued tirade. “Whenever he wants, I’m there and I’m meant to do whatever he wants me to do and let him do everything he can to me. The others all know. They know I’m Cazador’s plaything and they think I get…special treatment for it. They don’t see how much it hurts, they don’t see that I suffer every night, because I don’t suffer like they do. No, no, I get to have sex! I get one of life’s simple pleasures while he beats them! So how is it fair that I complain?” Astarion looked up at you, his eyes shining with tears. “How is it fair that I complain?”

“It’s not your fault,” you said firmly. “It’s not. Darling, none of this is on you. Your master is…a leech. Yes, he’s a leech, taking what does not belong to him, forcing misery upon you. Astarion, please listen to me, honey. I mean it. This is not your fault. He is sowing dissent amongst all of you on purpose because it is the only way he can control you. If you all were to band together—”

“We’re his thralls, he can control us anyway,” Astarion snapped. “Anything he wants us to do, we do. It’s why I haven’t been able to stop him from—” He fell silent and buried his face in your chest, an unreasonable shame burrowing in his chest. He knew it was unreasonable; he knew you were at least somewhat right. He had no control over his life, and yet… The shame was there anyway. “Poetry. That’s what he said he carved into me. That’s the scar on my back.”

Automatically, your hand drifted from his hair to his shoulder. Before touching the scar you asked, “Does it hurt?”

“Sometimes. It hurt then, when he had to correct his mistakes because I couldn’t keep still enough.”

“Can I touch it?”

He nodded slowly and braced himself. But your touch was gentle and soothing. Your fingers ghosted across the raised marks and you peeked over his shoulder at it.

“It’s written in Infernal,” you murmured. “Last I checked, that’s not exactly the language of poets.”

Astarion raised his head. “Really? I…I didn’t know. What does it say?”

You shrugged. “I can recognize it, but I can’t read it.”

Astarion sighed and fell back against your chest. 

“What do you want to do?” you whispered to him.

“Hold me,” he breathed.

So you wrapped your arms around him and held him tightly to your body, his head against your chest, his own arms coming around your waist. You held each other in silence for quite a while. Your hand began to scratch his scalp and a gentle sound that was close to a purr escaped him. After a few moments, your hand went back to his ear. When he didn’t protest, you began rubbing his ear lightly.

A soft moan escaped Astarion’s lips. He looked up at you, his hips already beginning to grind into the mattress. 

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” you reminded him. “You are more than just sex.”

“I want to,” he whispered, the statement true for the first time in nearly two centuries. “It’s… It’s you, of course I want to.”

You whimpered quietly at the words and pressed a tiny kiss to his forehead. “Only if you’re sure, honey.”

“I’m sure,” he promised. 

It didn’t take long for the heat in his body to rebuild. You caressed every sensitive spot on his body with care and intimate knowledge of who he was: his ears, the nape of his neck, his Adonis belt, his nipples. You touched him with a reverence that felt almost like worship and made his entire body tremble with need. You suckled on his nipples until he moaned loudly and ripped himself away from you to do the same to you. 

Very quickly you learned to give him control. He hovered above you, sucking hickies into your neck and chest, happily leaving little bites on your tits as he went.

“You can draw blood,” you whispered to him in the middle of a bite and he moaned delightedly, letting his fangs scratch your skin until you bled and licking up the crimson droplets. He met your gaze as he let his tongue linger on a deeper cut and found you looking down at him fondly, toying with one of his curls between your fingers. 

Astarion adjusted to slip a hand between your bodies. He cupped your exposed cunt and grinned at the sight of your head going back, exposing the column of your throat to him.

“I’ve barely touched you, darling,” he teased. 

“And I’ve waited two hundred years for this,” you reminded him. “Any touch is enough, but, hells, please put your fingers inside of me.”

“Needy,” he joked, but did as you asked, spreading your pussy to drag his fingers up your slit. He placed his slick fingers on your clit and began to rub gentle circles. You gasped, your body arching up into his. He chuckled and moved up to kiss you sweetly. His tongue against yours was a balm to the both of you; you calmed down enough to wrap your arms around his shoulders and he felt any lingering doubts slip away. 

You were his. You had always been his. You were not just another victim, you were the woman he loved, the woman he had been so devoted to that he was going to marry you. You were not using him like the others.

You seemed to read his thoughts and filled in the last possibility, murmuring against his soft lips, “I love you, Astarion.”

He moaned into your mouth. A single tear slipped past his closed eyelid and fell on your cheek. 

“I love you,” you whispered again. “You don’t have to say it back. I just want you to know.”

Astarion slipped two fingers into you, curling them deep inside you. You arched into him again, moaning obscenely. He giggled again; if just two fingers could make you this happy, what would you do when you felt his cock inside you again?

He pumped his fingers slowly until your hips bucked into his hand, wordlessly asking for more. He picked up the pace until you began panting. He watched you grow closer and closer to the edge, your body writhing, your eyebrows pinching together, your mouth falling open to let out delicious moans. He was almost tempted to just let you finish on his fingers, but… 

Gods, he wanted to taste you.

He pulled his fingers out of you. You whined his name, pitifully, already begging, already asking, “Why did you stop?”

Astarion’s answer was not verbal. Grinning, he dropped to his knees quickly and shuffled closer to the edge of the bed. He yanked you to the edge, letting your legs dangle over his shoulders, and leaned in. You held eye contact as he pressed a kiss to your clit. Then a second. Then a third. By the time he got to the fourth kiss and latched his lips around your sensitive nub, your eyes were rolling into the back of your head.

“Astarion,” you moaned, your hand twisting into his hair but not pulling.

He began to suck gently, letting the pressure drive you wild. He licked your clit slowly, lavishing attention on it with his tongue, feeling you grow very, very wet against his chin. He dropped a little lower to tongue at your entrance, the taste of your arousal pulling a moan from deep in his chest. You gasped at the vibration, your hips rutting against his face. He chuckled into you and slid his tongue inside you, lapping at your cunt. You were delicious in ways he hadn’t thought possible. He knew that his heightened senses meant that he could smell every bit of your arousal, every emotion inside of you, every liquid in your body—but he had not expected your lust to be infused with your love for him. 

It was a new feeling, a new taste. He liked it. 

Astarion reached up and coated his hand in your dripping arousal. Then he wrapped his hand around his cock and began stroking slowly, allowing himself to enjoy it, feeling the heady rush of blood to completely harden his cock. His hips rocked gently, the pace increasing when he glanced up at you and found you smiling as you panted, your breasts heaving. 

He released himself to bring his hand back up to your cunt. He sunk his fingers into your wet entrance and returned to sucking on your clit. You cried out, your hips bucking, and he grinned against your slick skin. 

“Cum for me,” he whispered against you, loud enough for you to hear his command. “Let me taste you. Cum on my face, darling.”

You clenched around his fingers, moaning the loudest you had all night. There was a fresh rush of wetness and the lewd sounds of his fingers pumping in and out of you grew louder. Astarion slipped his fingers out of you and his tongue back into your cunt to taste you as your orgasm ripped through you. He put his thumb on your clit and started rubbing.

Astarion’s eyes fluttered shut as he tasted your cum. You were sweet, absolutely divine, your ecstasy meant entirely for him. He groaned into your pussy and your legs wrapped around his head, helping to bury him in your slick entrance. He giggled, more than happy to stay there longer and keep licking your cum out of you.

He tapped your thigh when he was done and you put your shaking legs back to the floor. He got to his feet and crawled over you, capturing your mouth in a bruising kiss. You moaned into his mouth, then made a sound of surprise.

“Do you taste yourself on my tongue?” he whispered, looking at you with hooded eyes.

“Yes,” you breathed.

“Good.” He kissed you again, grinding on your thigh to ease the throbbing in his cock. You groaned at the feeling, your arms tightening around his neck. You broke away from his mouth to pepper his face in tiny, loving kisses.

An overwhelming fondness filled him and he pulled away from you enough to meet your gaze. You trailed your fingertips over his cheekbone and then to his ear, rubbing gently again. He hummed happily and opened his eyes to see your face as he whispered, “I love you, too.”

You stopped, your eyes widening, your lips parting. Gods, you were beautiful. “Do you really mean—?”

“Yes,” he breathed quickly and bent down to kiss you again. You hummed into his mouth, pulling his body down onto yours. He paused in his grinding, wanting to be against you more than he wanted the friction.

“I love you,” both of you said at the same time, then burst into little giggles. You nuzzled into each other, Astarion’s cheeks hurting from the smile he couldn’t seem to drop. Then you kissed him and pulled his lower lip between your teeth. You tugged slightly.

Astarion pulled back and then glanced down your body to where his cock rested on your stomach. “Are you ready for me, darling?”

You nodded. “Yes.”

He grinned. “Spread your legs a little wider for me, sweet girl.”

You did as he asked without a second thought and he settled between your legs. He guided himself against your entrance, notching the head of his cock there. He looked up at you again and you nodded. He smiled softly, kissed you once, and then looked back down to watch himself sink into you.

Astarion moved slowly, careful not to hurt you, well aware that you hadn’t been fucked in two hundred years. You sucked in a deep breath, keeping your eyes on him as he pushed into you. Astarion let out a low groan as you squeezed around him, already a tight fit, your warmth and wetness enveloping him. When he bottomed out, you released your breath, your head falling back against the pillows. 

“Are you alright?” he whispered. 

“Yes,” you breathed. “Yes, I’m alright. Gods… You feel…right. It’s…it’s almost as if it were yesterday you made love to me for the last time.”

He bent down enough to kiss your forehead. “Is that what you want? Do you want me to make love to you?”

“Please,” you whispered. 

Astarion began to move. He started with shallow thrusts, trying to allow you time to adjust and get used to the feeling, watching the pleasure on your face as he did. He held himself up with one hand and let the other slide up and down your side comfortingly.

Eventually, you turned your head to kiss his wrist. “More,” you said quietly. When he raised his eyebrow, prompting you, your already flushed cheeks turned scarlet and you amended, “Deeper.”

“Good girl,” he said and let his next thrust bring his pelvis to yours. Both of you moaned into each other. Your breaths came faster as he began to hit that spot deep inside of you over and over again, sure to never go too hard. Then you whispered, “Harder, Asty,” and all restraint left his limbs. 

Astarion lifted your leg to get a better angle and began pounding into you relentlessly, grunting with every thrust. Your moans became punctuated and he slowed down briefly to let you get some air.

Your response was to throw both legs around his hips, tug him down to you, and breathe into his ear, “Don’t stop. Don’t stop doing what you’re doing, darling.”

Astarion moaned happily and hurried back into his fast pace. You pulled him into a bruising kiss and wrapped your arms around his shoulders.

“Can I touch your back?” you whispered and he nodded quickly. 

“Scratch at me all you want, sweetness,” he replied and your blush darkened.

You settled your hands on his upper back, your nails digging in just slightly as you held onto him. You crossed your ankles at the small of his back and let him drill into you.

Lips, teeth, and tongues clashed into each other as you made out messily, the sound of your spit-slicked kisses drowned out by the rhythmic smacking of your hips into each other. You felt a soreness begin to build, pleasant and familiar and distinctly Astarion.

For his part, Astarion was pleasantly surprised at how present he was. He found himself electing to keep his eyes open to see the ecstasy wash over your face when he wasn’t kissing you and he smiled at every moan, every “Oh gods” you let out, every cry of his name that left your lips. His whole body buzzed with pleasure and his cock throbbed inside of you. He nuzzled into your neck, kissing softly and nipping gently, not taking blood from you this time. He tongued over the bite he left earlier, licking the dried residue of your blood, but the wound had since closed. 

“I love you,” he murmured against your skin. “And I am so sorry that I have been gone.”

You kissed his cheek briefly. “I love you, too.”

Astarion groaned into your neck, then pushed himself back up, fucking into your pussy wildly. “You feel so godsdamn good,” he panted, grinning down at you. “I haven’t felt this way in…a very long time.”

You gently squeezed his hips with your legs and reached up to cup his face. “I’ve missed how perfect you feel,” you said. “How you always hit the right spots.” You moaned as he did exactly that, your entire body tensing, preparing for your orgasm.

“Are you close?” he asked.

“Very,” you breathed. 

He brushed your hair from your face. “Cum whenever you’re ready, darling. I want to feel you spasm around me.”

You whimpered. “Oh, Asty,” you moaned. You relaxed into the mattress. “Go a little harder and I’ll be there.”

He did as you asked, pounding into you fast and hard and just a little bit rough. He reached down to put his fingers on your clit and you let out a shriek, clenching tightly around him. He gasped, his cock twitching at the stimulation. You threw your head back, nearly screaming as you came around him, his name lost somewhere in your shrieks of pleasure. The fresh slickness of your cum surrounded him and he glanced down to find a ring of white on his cock, getting thicker and brighter by the second.

The grunts that fell from Astarion’s mouth were rougher, louder. He squeezed his eyes shut and then forced them open again.

“Darling—” he gasped, his entire body trembling with exertion as he tried to stave off his impending orgasm. “I’m— I’m gonna cum, oh gods, where do you— Where do you want it?”

There was a soft look on your face as you whispered, “Inside. Inside like the last time you ever fucked me.”

Astarion groaned, the reveal bringing tears to his eyes. He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling the tear drop from his lashes. Your thumb came up to his face and wiped gently at his eye. He whimpered, leaning into your touch.

“Cum for me, honey,” you whispered, softly cupping his cheek.

Astarion whined and kissed your palm, burying himself to the hilt. He moaned loudly, tilting his head back, and it quickly became a series of high-pitched whimpers as ecstasy washed through his body. He trembled, holding himself up until he was spent. Then he collapsed on top of you, panting harshly.

You held him close, soothing him with quiet hushes and soft whispers of how wonderful he had done for you. You kissed the top of his head, running your hand through his curls, murmuring your love to him with a smile on your face. 

Eventually, Astarion pulled out of you. You whimpered and he whispered a soft apology. He sat back to watch his seed drip out of you. Fascinated, he gently swiped his fingers through your mixed releases. You shuddered. He held his fingers up to your mouth. You quirked an eyebrow at him at first, then opened your mouth and let him slide his fingers between your lips. Dutifully, you licked them clean.

“I guess we’ve never done that before, huh?” he joked, laying back down on you. He kissed you sweetly, enjoying the taste of you and him together on his tongue. 

You shook your head. “Nope. You only came inside me for one night.” He raised an eyebrow and you explained carefully, “I’d been tracking my cycle so I knew you could cum inside me without us getting pregnant too early. We wanted to wait until after our wedding to start trying for a baby.”

Astarion’s heart nearly broke. “We…we wanted a family.”

You nodded, smiling in a way that made Astarion feel like you knew the pain twisting in his chest at the moment. “We’d told your parents we wanted one the night before you died. They were…ecstatic. You know, I’m almost surprised they didn’t push us to move the wedding up so we could start faster.”

He laughed, more a huff than anything with how exhausted he was. “I take it they didn’t know about us taking the risk of finishing inside you?”

You grinned. “Well… We didn’t tell them, exactly, but I’m guessing they figured it out with how loud you made me scream that night.”

Astarion smirked. “Was it louder than you just were?”

“Oh, much louder,” you said, somehow teasing and serious at the same time. “I thought the entire neighborhood could hear you making me scream.”

“So I’ve always been good at sex, then?”

You shrugged. “Not…exactly. The first few times were a little…subpar in comparison to what our sex life became, the sex we just had. But because it was you, because it was so new…we still enjoyed it.”

The two of you shuffled to lay on your sides, facing each other. You snuggled against his chest and Astarion held you tightly, pressing soft, lingering kisses to every inch of your face. 

“I love you,” he murmured. “And I see why I loved you then. You are…perfect. Considerate. Gentle. You don’t…push for things I don’t want to do. You just know what I like, even after all this time… I had thought I had changed, but…”

“You did change,” you said. “But not so much that I don’t recognize the man underneath all your disguises, all your layers. You are, deep down, still my Astarion.”

He curled more tightly around you. “I like being yours.”

You kissed his nose. “I like it, too.”

The pair of you lapsed into comfortable silence. Astarion listened to your breathing and your steady heartbeat, watching your chest rise and fall against his, moving as if he was also breathing. 

You were so comfortable with him… So vulnerable. You trusted him with your exposed neck, with your bare body, with your love. Hells, how he wished he could remember what he had done to earn that trust. How he wished he could keep your trust.

Some time later, you mumbled into his skin, “It’s two hours until dawn, my love.”

Fear crept back into Astarion’s mind. “I know.”

“We should get going soon.”

He held you just a little tighter. “Not— Not quite yet, darling. Let me hold you for a few minutes more.”

You smiled knowingly against his chest and Astarion wondered how many mornings he had refused to get up, electing instead for a few more minutes in bed with you, your limbs tangled and the sheets just barely covering your lower halves. “Alright.”

Astarion pressed a grateful kiss to the top of your head. His mind began to spin with the beginnings of half-baked plans. The two of you could run, leave now and get as far away as possible. He could simply not go back, he could hide here with you until night fell again and then the two of you could leave. He could bring you back to Cazador with a plan, with a way to kill him or escape him or both in mind.

Every plan fell short. Nothing would work. Cazador had too many eyes in the city to disappear this quickly. 

We’d never escape alive. And while Astarion was certain that death—true death—would be a relief in comparison to the past two hundred years, he wasn’t willing to force that on you.

He glanced at you, still tucked into his arm, a peaceful look on your face. He tried to capture the image in his mind for a few moments, then stirred and gently slipped out from underneath you. He stood and slowly put his clothes back on.

You watched him do so, sitting up on your arms to grin at him. “Now that’s a sight that never gets old.”

Astarion frowned. “Me putting clothes back on?”

You nodded, reaching for your dress. Astarion helped you get it over your head. “It reminds me of our early mornings when you’d get ready for work and I’d watch you primp and preen until you were perfect.” You adjusted your dress, then looked up at him. “Here—let me fix your hair, I messed it up when I put my hands in it.”

Astarion watched your face, your expression twisted into concentration, your tongue poking out just slightly, as you carded your fingers through his curls and arranged them. When you were satisfied, you stepped back.

“There, good as new,” you said and he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

You wrapped your arms around him and gave him a reassuring squeeze. “Are you ready?”

Astarion clenched his jaw. “Are you? Are you sure you want to do this? I…I really shouldn’t do this, darling, I should just take the punishment—”

“No,” you said firmly. “I will never forgive myself if I know you’re out there, getting hurt, because I wouldn’t go with you.”

“Darling—”

“Take me to him,” you insisted. “Don’t get yourself hurt for me.”

Still, Astarion bit his lip so hard he tasted his blood. “But isn’t that what we should do? I’d be protecting you—”

“I would be putting you in danger, Asty,” you insisted, cupping his cheek. “Please. Please do this and we will find a way out of this, alright? Even if it’s a last-ditch, desperate attempt to run—we’ll do something. I promise you, love.”

It won’t be enough. It will never be enough. But Astarion didn’t want to dash your hopes; naive as it was, it was relieving to see hope after two hundred years without it. It almost convinced him that you would be the lucky soul to escape Cazador’s bite, his eternal punishment. 

Astarion offered you his hand. “Are you ready, darling?”

You nodded, slipping your hand into his. “Ready.”

Before you left, you extinguished the lamps like normal and locked your door behind you like it was any other outing. You slipped the key into a hidden pocket in your dress Astarion hadn’t realized was even there. He admired the stitchwork as you walked hand-in-hand down the street. Despite the anxiety wriggling away in his stomach, Astarion let himself enjoy the feeling of walking with you, touching you, enjoying the last few moments of the night air with you. 

The Szarr residence loomed ahead far too quickly, the palace towers casting a horrible shadow across the road leading up to it. Astarion glanced at you as the pair of you passed into the shadows.

“Last chance to back out, darling,” he said quietly. “I can always circle back to an alleyway and drag some poor soul out—”

“No, Asty,” you said gently. “If that was a real option, you would have already done it.”

He sighed and nodded. “Alright. But—darling?”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry for what might happen in there, what he’ll do to you.”

You smiled at him. “You don’t have to be sorry, honey, it’s not your fault. Nothing he does to me is your fault.”

“I brought you here,” he insisted. “I brought you here knowing what you’ll have to go through. I could just take the beating, but… I don’t want to, so I’m letting you suffer like I should.”

For the first time, Astarion saw a glimmer of doubt in your eyes. Your steps faltered and he felt the shudder that passed through your body. You licked your dry lips.

“What’s he going to do?”

A painful first bite. Drink you dry. Bury you. Make you dig your way out of your coffin. Trap you in chains the minute you’re free of the dirt. Whip you until you bleed and then lick your wounds. Astarion’s experience flashed through his head. But the fear on your face… He couldn’t tell you any of that, could he?

“Terrible things,” Astarion said gravely. It came out far darker than he intended and he knew what a terrifying sight he was: weak light in his hair, his red eyes glowing in the shadows, his fangs flashing in the dark with every word. You shrank away from him, stopping in your tracks, and inched out of the shadows. 

“Astarion, I—”

Fear gripped his undead heart, tainted his vision, thrummed in his veins. Astarion hissed and lunged, grabbing your arm with a vice-like grip. “Come on,” he insisted, just slightly aware of the growl in his voice. You resisted for just a moment, but Astarion was stronger than you were; it only took a tug to pull you back into the shadow of the tower. 

Servants of Cazador’s opened the doors for Astarion when they recognized him. They couldn’t hide their shock that he was dragging a victim in, his facade of the perfect lover dropped, and something clicked inside him.

It’s not Cazador who scares her; it’s me.

Astarion nearly let go of you. Then he felt the eyes of his siblings boring into him, all six waiting in a clustered group, and he knew Cazador was near. There was no escape for you now.

Astarion tightened his grip on you and dragged you into the palace’s shadows. He watched your feet cross the threshold, damning you eternally. The door slammed shut.

☞ ❊ ☜

[Image Caption: I do not give permission to repost, translate, or publish my work on any other site or app by anyone except myself. I do not give permission for my work to be fed into AI (for audio, art, or writing).]

Baldur's Gate 3 // Astarion Ancunin

Taglist: {comment and let me know if you'd like to be added to the Astarion taglist!} @wayward-hel @cheeslyy @ofmyth-andmagicart @neetheslayer @whispering-depths @freesidexjunkie @lightsinmycity @the0ldmann @gobbodoggo @oooof-ifellforyou @beeblisss @fangboner @aquaarietes @fiercest-eigengrau-skies @niqhtfell @call-me-nyxx @lueji-m @ceres-xiv @tricksy-trinity @graynstairs @rosa-rubus @ynisthatyou @thegoodwitchs-blog @catching-fire-in-the-wind @kiyastrf94 @vincemachina @silverfangmarks @ravenswritingroom @hinata7346 @hellethil @caramel-hufflepuff @beemiilk @mypainischronicbutmyassisiconic @starwatch77 @julianmarie @sadexistentialism @supernaturallover15 @writinghound

[dark-and-kawaii]

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ The Vampire Lord

─ Content: NSFW - Riding The Vampire - Creampie - Chained - Use Of Bunny Petname - Blood - Biting - Sucking Blood - Kissing - Cervix Pounding

─ Notes: Happy Halloween ♡!!! The perfect day to post about fucking and being fucked by a vampire named Cazador ♡ ♡ ♡ Thanks to a dear friend, @halsinningiswinning for being a monster fucker with me and fueling me to continue writing for these baddies!

He likes to act so bad, like a big bad wolf, but behind closed doors, no one would ever guess the vampire lord could be such a pillow princess.

Cazador looked so pretty like this, his arms bound to his bed by the shiniest of silver chains, his wrists slightly aflame and above his head, his body bare and covered in sweat… His pale skin -your finger traces a heart shape across where his heart should beat- flushed the cutest of pinks as you bounce on his cock like the good little bunny you are.

Your slick drooling down his shaft, coating his smooth balls and the insides of his thighs. The vampire softly moans, his eyes shut tight, lips parted, a blush darkening his cheeks. You love it when you duck after he feeds ~ it gives him such a cute hue. His long, dark lashes flutter with every delightful bounce. He almost looks like a porcelain doll.

“S-o so handsome l-ah~ like this~♡, my pretty little master~ ♡. Le-letting nngh~ me use your cock all I- I want~” you whine, hands gripping onto his stomach, “you really are a good little lord~ ♡.”

The vampire shudders, his back arching, his chest rising, all of it causing his wrists to painfully pull against the chains.

The burning sensation that comes with them doesn't help either. It's like being lit on fire, like his wrists were being pressed to hot coals. The heat was so much, and his sensitive skin felt like it was going to melt right off. Cazador groans into the gag that were your laced panties. His teeth biting down harshly, his fangs tearing at the material as a bead of sweat rolls down the side of his face.

Licking your lips, you collapse forward, a hand pressing down on the silver chain that binds his wrist, the other tangling itself in the vampire's damp, silky black locks, and your lips dangerously close to those pearly white fangs.

“It's a- a real shame you can’t s’touch me, baby~ ♡,” you whisper- your cunt greedily devouring his cock, squeezing around him with a vice like grip, “fu~ You know, I was going to ride your pretty face-“ Your hips grind against his own, his tip prodding against that sensitive squishy spot that makes you see stars, “mnggh~~ let yo-you eat me out~ n’suck at ma~my clit until I came on- on- your tongue-“

He growls, his brows furrowing as he desperately bucks his hips up, his body jolting as you grind against his sensitivecock. His fangs dig deeper into the panties, a little tear in the lace as his growl vibrates in his throat…

You whimper, pulling away from him and sitting up straight. Biting your lower lip, you let your eyes trail down to where your bodies connect. Your cute cunt stretched around his girthy cock. Every time you lift up, your lips cling to his cock, sucking him back in once more, milking him, begging for his sweet, thick, seed.

You moan his name, his shaft twitching and throbbing inside you, making you moan his name again, and again. You can feel him, his length pulsing as his tip kisses your cervix, his precum mixing with your juices.

Cazador watches with heavy eyes as you ride him. His gaze follows the curve of your body, the sway of your breasts, and the way your pretty pussy takes his cock like it was meant to… His little bunny was the cutest.

He could watch you all day…

The way you moved was hypnotizing. Cazador loved to watch your body work him. How your thighs tremble, the muscles in your stomach contract, and the way your cunt quivers, desperately clinging to him, wanting more.

But then his gaze is drawn to your face, how you stare down at him like he was the most precious thing you've ever seen. Your plump lips spread into a wide smile, your eyes crinkle, and he could swear he saw pink hearts in those round orbs of yours.

Cazador groans, his chest rumbling, the sound vibrating deep within his throat.

The vampire lord wanted nothing more than to run his fingers through your soft locks, caress your cheek, and pull you in for a kiss. He wanted to feel your soft skin under his fingertips. Cazador wished he could touch you…

But then you're pulling the cloth from his mouth and crashing your lips against his.

His lips were cold. Like ice. But yours… yours were so warm, so soft.

Cazador didn’t waste a second, his tongue darts out, sliding between your lips, tasting every inch of you, desperate to taste your sweetness, to have a taste of something other than blood.

And you let him, until you’re pulling back for air- his sharp fangs scraping along your bottom lip, drawing a single drop of blood-

“Remove the chains.” He demands. His voice cold, sharp, and rough, like the edge of a dagger.

“As my lord wishes-~♡!” you say, giggling as you unchain him, the silver no longer burning his skin, though the wounds do still remain.

His arms immediately wrap around you, his fingers digging into the supple flesh of your hips, leaving bruises in their wake.

With one swift, brutal thrust, he's got your tongue lolling out like a bitch in heat.

The vampire lord wastes no time in setting a rough, brutal pace, fucking you as if his life depended on it. Your slick mixed with his precum spills out of your abused cunt with every thrust, soiling the sheets below.

You cry out, his name a chant, a prayer, and the nails of your right hand dig into his shoulder while the left claws at his chest, “C-Caz! Ah- Caz~ I-I'm gonna cum- ah~ I'm gonna-“

His hold on your hips tightens as he pounds into you, your slick squelching obscenely before one of his hands finds your soft breasts, kneading the flesh and twisting a pert nipple between his fingers.

You scream, his name, over and over, the knot in your belly tightening until it's too much.

And when you cum, Cazador sinks his teeth into the crook of your neck- his cock bottoming out as his hot cum spurts against the entrance to your womb. The lords hips stutter, his breath catching in his throat while his tongue laps up the sweet ambrosia. Your blood was hot, almost searing as it slid down his throat- moaning the sweetest of moans against your skin.

Your vision blurs, your limbs turning to jelly. You're not sure if it's from the orgasm or the blood loss.

Either way, you feel like putty in his hands…

[noisycroissant]

"It's you..."

Astarion x Reader

She was one of those marks that broke his chipped heart. The trusting ones, the doe-eyed ones who looked at him like he hung the stars in the sky. It hurt every minute he spent with her knowing that he was simply leading her to a fate worse than death.

He remembered the look in her eyes when they took her away with the others at the party where they lured all their marks to once a month. He dreamed of that look for years only to wake up to find himself shaking, face wet with tears. He didn't want to keep doing this, but another year of being confined and tortured and starved with no hopes of escape, freedom or otherwise...no, he couldn't survive that. Not again.

But then, he saw her again. He was sure it was his fragile mind playing tricks on him. Constant torture can do that you, y'know. But then he saw her again. The same hair. Skin paler though. And then he heard her voice.

"Astarion?"

When he heard his name in that voice again, his heart dropped to the pits of his stomach. He'd do anything, beg at her feet, grovel for forgiveness, anything to not hear that tone in her voice.

"I am angry for what you did to me. To my life. But I also understand why... I've had to do it myself."

I've had to do it myself.

If he ever had thoughts of murdering Cazador in the darkest ways possible, those thoughts just became a million times darker.

"Where you here all these years? I never saw you. I thought I knew every turned spawn in the palace."

"I was locked up for "lack of respect" and "till I learnt what was good for me "."

He knew what that meant. Lashes, pliers, blood, pain, hunger, tears.

Desperate prayers falling on deaf ears.

"I'm.. I don't deserve to say sorry. You'd have been... anywhere but here..if it weren't for me."

"I know. But you did what you did to survive. I don't begrudge you for that. I had enough time in that cell to know that choice does not live in these walls."

*******

And that's how it began. That was how hope came back into two people's lives. How it grew and bloomed with each passing look, each time fingers brushed while walking across hallways, each time a secret letter was found under a pillow.

After 150 years, Astarion dared to dream.

He would always curse himself when he remembered that night. It had taken them almost a year to plan, another year to talk courage into themselves to go through with it.

He remembered how soft her hands were when he held them as they ran through shadows.

Freedom. It was so close. Just a breath away.

And in the blink of an eye, it was gone.

Of course. What had he been thinking? They'd never be free. Not as long as that monster had a leash on them.

"Don't let them see each other, Godey. But make sure they hear."

Astarion remembers the day his heart finally crumbled to ash.

*******

Decades later, when he was finally let out again, the very first night he goes to the highest roof he could find in Baldur's Gate. And he sat there. Waiting for the sun. The only way he could be free of this hellish life. The only way he could forget the sins.

His skin prickled and he cried as the sky turned pink.

The next thing he remembers is waking up on a beach with a unholy squirming in his eye. A crashed ship, fire and smoke bellowing. Intellect devourers running amok. But he was out in the sun and it didn't burn. It didn't hurt.

The confusion was enough to drive him mad. 200 years of rage and pain, and he finally had a chance to end it. But even that was taken from him.

He heard footsteps and chatter. Hand goes to his dagger naturally. But then he hears a voice.

Her voice.

This must be the tenth circle of hell, he tells himself. This is where depraved sinners like him go to. Where they're tortured for eternity with the things they'll never see again.

Like the sun.

Or her.

But hope survives in the darkest of hells.

And it had found him again.

"Astarion?"

[lucozadehulahoop]

A Question of Time (Astarion x f!reader/tav) part 2/?

Chapter Summary: Astarion gets caught by Cazador in his daughter's room. Tav attempts to get him out of the situation.

Read part 1 here! part 3 part 4

tags and TW: pre-bg3! Astarion, slave!Astarion, mentions of torture and abuse, demi-goddess!tav, Cazador being all sorts of creepy, eventual NSFW (minors stay away kindly, thank you darlings)

tag list for those who asked for part 2 (if you want to be added to the tag list, just let me know!): @d0nutkaky0in @i-just-want-to-sleep-97 @omggiannarosa @dead-giirl-walking @warbwarts @mrsfullbuster500 @uwomina @iyaesakura @cheeslyy @dragon-kazansky @bambamwolf87 @chibi-chi @orsomethingelseentirely @davenswitcher @adequate-superstar

Astarion dropped to his knees and bowed his head the second Cazador stepped into the room. He couldn't even look at his Master, choosing to stare at the ground, fixating on the space between the Vampire Lord's heavy boots to anticipate the blows that were no doubt coming to him.

It was over. Whatever hell awaited Astarion next, it was going to make the past two centuries seem like a dream in comparison. That much he was certain of.

He could feel Cazador's ice-cold stare on him, yet it was his daughter he spoke to. "Step aside, my dear. I have made the terrible mistake of being too gracious with this... servant. I will personally make sure he never strays again..."

Astarion began to shake violently. For all he knew, Cazador was already making a promise to break his legs.

What he did not expect was what happened next. The young woman stepped in front of him, putting herself between him and Cazador. "Father, there has been a misunderstanding... I sneaked out and met... Astarion in a local tavern." She faked an attempt at trying to remember his name correctly. "I believe he was deeply charmed by me and offered we spend the evening together. When he brought me back here, I had to confess who I truly was and immediately realized his mistake. He acted like a true gentleman and returned me to my chambers."

Astarion didn't move a muscle. He could not have come up with a better lie himself, considering that little story painted him as a dutiful spawn who'd merely been out seeking prey for his Master. But he doubted Cazador cared. A line had been crossed, and Cazador rarely needed an excuse to torture anyone, least of all Astarion.

"Is that so, dearest?" Cazador's tone turned sickly sweet, yet he was not fooled by the shared. He'd taken a good look at the dagger on the floor and the open window. He'd already come to his own conclusions. "In that case, such a valiant display of chivalry deserves a reward, wouldn't you say? Come along, Astarion, I wish to give you the recognition you deserve..."

Astarion had lost all feeling in his limbs, but he knew it wouldn't matter because Cazador's words would have been enough to make him stand and walk like his own personal puppet. Except... they weren't.

Cazador had given him a direct order yet he hadn't budged.

The Vampire Lord seemed to notice this too, his eyes widening at the realization his influence seemed to have no hold on Astarion's mind at that moment. Astarion looked back at his Master and it was all Cazador needed to make a stride toward them, no doubt intent on dragging his slave out of the room by force when his luck struck out for a second time.

"No!" His valiant protector protested in the face of Cazador's increasingly obvious rage. Her little outburst was followed by a loud crash as a heavy bookcase fell in the middle of the room, nearly missing Cazador by an inch.

And that was when Astarion realized why Cazador kept this girl pampered and at a considerable distance from him. He was afraid of her. Of his own daughter. Terror was all that was left on his Master's face now, and Astarion had never witnessed something so satisfying ever since he'd crawled out of his own grave on that faithful night.

"I mean..." She backtracked, looking quite abashed at the mess she'd just made, more so than the thought of having nearly buried her father underneath a small library. "I would like to request Astarion stay in this wing of the castle from now on. I... have no servants, and I never see anyone all day. I believe Astarion has proven himself to be an honorable man, and I trust him. That way... I won't be tempted to run away again, and you can trust him to keep an eye on me and...report back to you in case I get into trouble again." She reasoned in a sweet voice, almost as if she were asking Cazador for a new pony.

"The reasonings you make are quite sound, my dear. But-"

"Oh, wonderful!" She cheered and looked back at Astarion. "Only if that would be an agreeable arrangement for you, Astarion. It's your choice, of course..."

Astarion stared up at her blankly. His... choice?

The spawn hadn't made a decision for himself in two hundred years. Obviously going back to Cazador meant there was a world of pain to pay for the innumerable transgressions that he'd perpetrated that night. But what about this girl? She was clearly a force to be reckoned with, and he was more than familiar with the old saying: better the devil you know...

"Tav, dearest." Cazador attempted to interject. "It is unbecoming for a noble lady such as yourself to have such a bleeding heart for the lower class. Astarion knows his place, he does not need to be asked for permission..."

Tav. Astarion knew that word well from the scriptures he'd studied for so many nights on his path to becoming a magistrate all those centuries ago. The name meant 'sign' or 'omen', the symbol of truth, perfection, and completion.

Maybe he could let himself hope one last time.

"My lady, I accept your gracious request..." And put myself in your debt.

Cazador gave him an amused look, almost as if he knew whatever freedom Astarion thought he'd just obtained was going to be extremely short-lived. After all, Tav, as far as either of them was concerned, did not know about the true nature of any of the inhabitants of the castle. Her father had more means than necessary to hide his appetites and odd schedules, but Astarion? He'd soon have to make the choice between staying up in the tower and starving or crawling back to Cazador to beg for a measly rat to feed on.

Tav smiled at Astarion's decision and helped him up to his feet.

"Well, my dear. It seems as if I can't do anything but warn you... this one barely does anything during the day and I personally wouldn't let him near any one of your dear pets... When you tire of his incompetence, be sure to return him back to me."

...💫...

Astarion was shown to a private guest room and he had an inkling of what was to come next, now that Tav had finally got him alone. If there was one thing he'd learned in all of those years was that the only thing about him that was worth anything was his body.

Now that he could think things through with a clear head, there was no doubt in his mind that Tav had 'saved' him solely because she, like many others, had come to be infatuated with him. And as much as it pained him to acknowledge he'd merely swapped an old owner for a new one, he wasn't going to look this gift horse in the mouth. He needed her protection and the fact she was already harboring affection for him would only work in his favor in the future. Maybe, just maybe, he could convince her to let him escape someday, once he was sure the bond between him and Cazador had truly been severed. he had no way of knowing if it had been Tav's presence in the room that had counteracted Cazador's powers, nor could he be sure how long that blessing was going to last.

The first step for now would be seducing her, and at least that part he was an expert in. Another blessing he could count on was that she was gorgeous, and if he truly had met her in some tavern, she'd been right in thinking she would have been one of his marks.

"I'll be leaving you now..." Tav announced, snapping Astarion out of his reverie. He looked back at her as she returned his dagger and his climbing tools to him. The weight of the gear seemed heavier than, before and he heard the distinct sound of a heavy pouch of coins in the mix. "There is a small boat that leaves the harbor in a few hours. By dawn, you should be well away from the Sword Coast... although where you'll end up I don't know."

Being out at sea at the break of day was not a realistic option for Astarion unless he wanted to burn alive with nowhere to hide. But that certainly wasn't what he took away from her words. Tav was giving him a way out, just like that. Her plan could not work for him, but she couldn't have known.

"What is your angle?" Astarion snapped, baffled beyond reason. He could not wrap his head around what she was or what she wanted with him and it was driving him insane.

"My.. my angle? Forgive me, I don't-" Tav wrought her hands together nervously, fearing she'd somehow misunderstood. All this time, she'd been certain Astarion had been crying out for help, for someone to rescue him.

"You can cut the crap now, sweetheart. I'm not as easily spooked by a falling armoire as your dear old dad is..." Astarion grinned, a slight glint in his eyes as he spoke. "That little naive act of yours though... that's the real thing about you that's terrifying. And let me the first to say, it was quite something watching you put on that show. I'm not that easily impressed."

Tav looked completely lost at his words, and Astarion admired how good she was at keeping up the act. But he was tired of it now.

"So, what does it feel like to have me all to yourself now, hmm?" Astarion inquired, his voice turning sultry as he carelessly chucked the objects she'd handed him on the bed and took a step towards her. "Is it everything you dreamed of, precious? All couped up in here by yourself, day after day..." He stroked Tav's cheek with the back of his hand gently, and Astarion would have been lying to himself if he didn't recognize the warmth ghosting over his fingers from that brief touch.

"You-you misunderstand, I don't have you. I... I heard you calling-" Tav tried to explain, but it was difficult. Would Astarion have believed her if she told him who she truly was? All that mattered now was that he could leave, so why didn't he? She must have done something wrong. It was hard putting the right words together when Astarion was so close. Her mind was completely scrambled and her face felt like it was burning up.

Astarion smirked. Finally, he was getting somewhere with trying to understand what Tav wanted with him, and he'd been right. Watching her blood rise to her cheeks, however, almost made his mind go blank for a few seconds.

What on earth was he doing? Standing there trying to figure out the impossible woman in front of him, when he should have been getting out of dodge and putting as much ground between himself and Cazador as possible?

A faint voice inside him wondered what the consequences on Tav would be if he ended up going missing, and he hated himself right after for even having such a thought.

The way out was right in front of him, and he could still count on a few more hours of darkness to make his way underground.

All he had to do was turn and run.

---

AN: aaah thank you so much for the love! Comments are appreciated and keep me writing. I'm planning on adding more chapters soon!

[seriiousgiirl]

𝕭𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖉 𝕴𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖂𝖎𝖓𝖊.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ݁𝓛𝓸𝓻𝓭!𝓐𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓻𝓲𝓸𝓷 𝔁 𝓯𝓮𝓶!𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻 — 𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝐼𝓥⊹ ₊ ݁.

❛ You lied to me! I did. You poisoned me! I did. You said you loved me! I do. ❜

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ݁𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔫𝔱. ⊹ ₊ ݁. regency!au, strangers to lovers, slow burn, tension, mutual pining, angst, smut will happen later, lewd themes, corruption, age difference, forced marriage, gothic setting, dark themes.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

➜ ┊ a/n: I'd like to thank everyone who has supported this story so far, I never thought anyone would be interested. It means a lot. ♡

The doorbell rang, its sound resonating through the quiet halls of your home. You paused, setting aside the book you had been reading, your heart fluttering with a mix of anticipation and curiosity. Moments later, your maid appeared at the door of your sitting room, cradling a magnificent bouquet of red roses in her arms. 

"These just arrived for you, miss," she said, her smile warm and knowing.

You reached for the bouquet, your fingers brushing against the delicate petals as you searched for the inevitable note nestled within. Unfolding the small piece of parchment, your heart skipped a beat as you recognized the elegant, flowing script. It was from Astarion.

My dearest Y/N,

Would you like to meet at the park later today?

Since the ball, your days have been filled with such enchanting surprises. Every morning, without fail, brought a new delight—a fresh bouquet of flowers, a beautifully bound book of poetry, or a heartfelt letter penned in Astarion's distinctive hand. Each gift is a demonstration of his thoughtfulness and growing affection.

Your mother, however, was less enthusiastic about this burgeoning romance. 

She watched with a critical eye, her disapproval evident in the tight lines of her mouth and the occasional sharp comment. Yet, despite her reservations, you found yourself eagerly anticipating each new message from Astarion, each new opportunity to see him.

You turned to your maid, who was watching you with an expression of gentle amusement. "Would you help me get ready for an outing to the park?"

She nodded, her eyes twinkling with a mixture of approval and fondness. "Of course, miss. Let's make sure you're ready to meet your charming gentleman."

As she helped you dress, you couldn't help but reflect on the past few days. In his company, you found a rare sense of freedom and joy. Your conversations ranged from the profound to the trivial, from dreams and aspirations to the simple pleasures of life. With Astarion, every moment felt infused with a sense of possibility.

You could still recall the way his eyes would light up when he saw you, the way his voice would soften as he spoke of his thoughts and feelings. Each encounter deepened your connection, making you yearn for the next—making you yearn for him.

As you smoothed the last wrinkle from your gown, your maid stepped back to admire her handiwork. 

She tilted her head slightly, a playful glint in her eye. "Do you think Lord Ancunin will match the colour of your dress today as well, miss?" she asked, a hint of amusement in her voice.

You couldn't help but smile at the thought. Astarion had an uncanny knack for matching his attire to yours, as if he knew exactly what you would be wearing each day. The lilac dress from the ball, the pale blue for your last meeting, and perhaps, the soft rose you had chosen for today. It had become a delightful, unspoken game between you. 

"I’m hopeful," you replied, a note of excitement creeping into your voice. "He hasn't missed a single time yet."

The maid chuckled softly. "It seems he's quite taken with you, miss. Such attention to detail is not common."

Your heart warmed at the thought. Each meticulously chosen outfit, every thoughtful gift, spoke of a man who was deeply invested in your happiness. Astarion's gestures, grand and small, had woven themselves into the fabric of your daily life, making each day brighter and more exciting than the last.

"He's certainly different," you admitted, feeling a flutter of anticipation as you thought of the afternoon ahead. "And I think that's what makes this all so... wonderful."

The maid nodded, her eyes kind and understanding. "Well, let's not keep him waiting, then. You look absolutely perfect."

With one last glance in the mirror, you took a deep breath, feeling a sense of calm wash over you. Today promised to be another chapter in the beautiful story that was unfolding between you and Astarion. 

As you descended the stairs, the bouquet of flowers still fresh in your mind, you couldn't help but wonder at how much your life had changed since you arrived in Baldur's Gate. The city, once so intimidating and foreign, had become a place of discovery and unexpected romance, and all thanks to Astarion.

You stepped out into the crisp air, the sun casting a warm glow over the bustling streets. The carriage was ready, and with a sense of excitement, you climbed in, eager to see what the day would bring.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

As your carriage rolled to a stop at the park's entrance, you could already see Astarion waiting for you. Even from a distance, his elegance was unmistakable. He wore a perfectly tailored black tuxedo, the fabric catching the sunlight in a way that accentuated his every movement. But it was the pale pink handkerchief tucked into his breast pocket that drew your eye—a detail that matched your dress flawlessly. 

Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him. The round sunglasses he wore were nearly opaque, casting an air of mystery over his crimson eyes, which you longed to see.

The coachman opened the door, and Astarion was at your side in an instant. He extended a gloved hand to help you down, his touch as gentle as always. "Good afternoon, my lady," he greeted, his voice smooth and rich with a hint of amusement. "Did you enjoy the roses this morning?"

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you at his thoughtful gesture. "They were beautiful, Astarion. Thank you. Each bloom was perfect."

He inclined his head, a pleased smile playing at his lips. "I'm delighted you liked them. They reminded me of you—elegant and captivating."

Your cheeks flushed at his compliment, and you were grateful for the momentary distraction of straightening your skirts. The park around you was serene, with pathways lined by tall, leafy trees and flower beds bursting with colour. It was a perfect setting for your rendezvous.

Astarion offered his arm, and you took it gladly, feeling the now-familiar thrill of being close to him and his muscles tensing beneath your palm. As you walked together, the hem of your dress brushing softly against the grass, you marvelled at how each of your meetings felt more special than the last.

"You seem to have a talent for always knowing what colour I will wear," you remarked, glancing at his handkerchief. "How do you manage it?"

He chuckled softly, the sound like a low, intimate melody. "Ah, a gentleman must have his secrets, my dear. But let us just say that I take great pleasure in paying attention to every detail about you."

As you continued your leisurely stroll, Astarion regaled you with stories of his recent exploits and observations of the city. His wit and charm were as captivating as ever, and you found yourself laughing and smiling more than you had in days.

"Your mother was quite displeased with me at the ball," he said after a pause, his tone shifting to something more serious. "I hope she has not made things difficult for you?"

You shook your head, squeezing his arm reassuringly. "She has her concerns, but nothing I cannot manage. Besides, she did say that I should most likely marry the one who will own our lands."

Astarion raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a sly smile. "Is that so? I need to win the lands, to win your hand? Well, I shall have to make a very compelling case then, shan't I?"

His words sent a thrill through you, the implications clear and yet wrapped in the playful banter that was so characteristic of him. The thought of Astarion owning your family's lands, of being tied to him in such a significant way, was both exciting and daunting.

As you reached a secluded bench nestled under a canopy of trees and flowers, Astarion guided you to sit beside him. The world around you seemed to fade and the serene atmosphere and his charming presence created a sense of ease and openness. However, the questions that had been gnawing at the back of your mind, particularly those raised by your mother, refused to stay silent.

"Astarion," you began tentatively, "can I ask you something personal?"

He turned to you, his smile reassuring and charming as ever. "Of course, my dear. You can ask me anything."

You hesitated for a moment, gathering your thoughts. "It's just... My mother has certain concerns about you. She thinks that if a man of your age and status isn't married yet, there must be a reason for it. She believes that no one wants you."

Astarion chuckled softly, the sound laced with a hint of sadness. "Ah, mothers and their concerns. I suppose I should have expected as much."

You felt a pang of guilt, regretting that you had to voice such a harsh sentiment. "I didn't mean to offend you. It's just... she's worried."

He turned to face you fully, his expression thoughtful. "Y/n, there's no need to apologise. It's a valid question, and one I should address." Astarion took a deep breath, his gaze drifting to the blooming flowers around you. "The truth is, my circumstances are... complicated. I have been focused on other pursuits, ones that have not left much room for marriage or family."

You watched him closely, sensing the weight behind his words. "What kind of pursuits?"

He smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Business, mostly. And certain obligations that have demanded my attention."

You reached out, placing a hand on his arm. "Obligations to Duke Szarr?"

His eyes flickered with something unreadable before he nodded. "Yes. My association with Duke Szarr has shaped much of my life. It has been both a blessing and a curse."

You wanted to press further, to understand the full extent of his relationship with the Duke, but you sensed that now was not the time. Instead, you focused on the man before you, feeling a deep sense of compassion.

"And what about now?" you asked softly. "Do you still feel those obligations are more important than finding happiness for yourself?"

Astarion's gaze softened as he looked at you, his crimson eyes no longer hidden by his sunglasses. "Meeting you, Y/n, has made me reconsider many things. I find myself wanting something more, something genuine."

Your heart swelled at his words, and you couldn't help but smile. "I feel the same way."

He reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. "Then let us take this one step at a time. Ignore the gossip and the doubts of others. We can create our own path, just you and me."

You nodded, feeling a sense of relief and hope. "Yes, let's do that."

But, subtlety Astarion's usually confident demeanour faltered, replaced by a palpable sense of unease. His gaze, normally sharp and captivating, now held a hint of vulnerability as he spoke. "Y/n, there's something important I need to tell you," he began, his voice soft yet tinged with regret. "If... if you were to marry me, we would have to live at the Castle of Duke Szarr. He's been like family to me, and he insists that we all reside there together."

You felt a mix of emotions at his revelation. The idea of living at the Duke's castle alongside Astarion filled you with excitement, but the thought of being under the watchful eye of the Duke added a layer of complexity to the situation. Nevertheless, your affection for Astarion outweighed any concerns.

"It's alright, Astarion," you said softly, reaching out to gently squeeze his hand. "I understand. Living at the castle with you sounds wonderful, regardless of the circumstances."

Astarion's eyes softened at your words, a flicker of relief passing over his features. "Thank you, Y/n," he murmured, his voice filled with gratitude. "Your acceptance means more to me than you know."

As Astarion spoke, you could sense a palpable relief washing over him, as if a heavy burden had been lifted from his shoulders. It puzzled you how he seemed to view the Duke as an obstacle— if he was family, when it was perfectly natural for him to reside in his own castle if they were to be married. 

Yet, you could guess there was a complexity to their relationship that you couldn't quite grasp.

Intrigued, you probed gently for more information. "Astarion, can you tell me more about your relationship with the Duke?" you asked, your voice soft with curiosity.

He hesitated for a moment, as if debating whether to share such personal details. Eventually, he sighed, his gaze distant as he spoke. "The Duke... he saved me when I was at my lowest," he admitted, his voice tinged with emotion. "I was lost, alone, and broken. But he took me in, offered me sanctuary, and gave me purpose. I owe him a debt of gratitude that I can never repay."

Astarion turned towards you, his eyes softening as he reached out to gently tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. The intimate gesture sent a shiver down your spine, his touch both comforting and electrifying. "You have no idea how much you mean to me," he said softly, his voice filled with sincerity. "You've changed my life in ways I never thought possible. For the first time in so long, I feel... free."

The sincerity in his words was like a confession, a man shedding his armour to reveal his most vulnerable self. You felt the full weight of his emotions, as if they were your own, your heart racing in sync with his unspoken desires.

As Astarion leaned closer, the air between you thickened, charged with a magnetic pull. You could feel the heat emanating from his body, a warmth that seemed to seep through you and pool in your core. Your eyes fluttered shut, and you leaned forward to meet him, the world around you fading to nothing but the sensation of his breath upon your lips.

Just as your lips parted and his were about to brush against yours, the sweet anticipation of your first kiss shattered. The sound of footsteps and a cheerful voice echoed through the park, and you both pulled back. Reality crashed down, the spell broken. Your eyes snapped open, meeting Astarion's, where you saw the echo of longing, rapidly masked by polite interest.

"Ah, there you are, Lady Y/N! And Lord Ancunin, what a pleasant surprise!"

You both pulled back abruptly, the spell broken. Your eyes snapped open to see an acquaintance approaching with a wide smile. The disruption was jarring, pulling you back into reality with a harsh jolt.

Astarion's expression quickly shifted back to brief anger and then one of polite interest, though you could see the disappointment flicker in his eyes behind his sunglasses. He took a deep breath, composing himself. 

"Indeed," he replied smoothly, though his hand lingered on your cheeks, his thumb gently stroking the soft curve, for a moment longer before he let go. "We were just enjoying a lovely… conversation."

The acquaintance, oblivious to the tension they had interrupted, continued to chatter cheerfully. "It's wonderful to see you both here. Such a beautiful day, isn't it?"

You forced a smile, your heart still racing from the near kiss. "Yes, it is," you replied, your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside you. You exchanged polite greetings with the acquaintance, though your mind was still lingering on Astarion's words and the kiss that had almost been.

As the conversation continued, Astarion subtly shifted closer to you, the tension between you was palpable, a charged undercurrent that neither of you could ignore.

Finally, the acquaintance took their leave, offering a polite nod before disappearing down the path. The silence that followed was heavy with unspoken words. Astarion turned back to you, his eyes searching yours. "I'm sorry about that," he murmured, his voice low. "I didn't mean to..."

You shook your head, a small smile playing on your lips. "It's okay," you whispered, your heart swelling with affection. "We were bound to be interrupted, eventually."

Astarion's gaze softened, his hand finding yours once more. "Still, I want you to know how much I care about you, Y/N," he said, his voice filled with emotion. "You've brought light into my life, and I can't imagine going back to the way things were before."

Your heart ached with the depth of his words, and you squeezed his hand gently. "I feel the same way, Astarion," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "You've changed my life too."

He smiled, a genuine, heartfelt smile that lit up his face. "Then let's make the most of the time we have," he said softly, his eyes shining with determination.

You nodded, your heart full as you leaned into him, ready to face whatever came next together.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Days had passed since your last meeting with Astarion at the park, but the memory of that near kiss lingered in your mind, making your heart flutter every time you thought about it. Today, you found yourself at an art exposition, admiring the beautiful paintings and sculptures displayed throughout the grand hall. The soft murmur of conversations and the clinking of glasses created a sophisticated ambiance, perfect for such an event.

Beside you stood Wyll Ravengard, a charming and dependable friend you had met shortly after arriving in the city. His father was an old friend of your family, and your mother had made it abundantly clear that she viewed Wyll as the ideal future husband for you. 

Despite your mother’s wishes, your heart was elsewhere, tangled up in thoughts of Astarion.

You turned to Wyll, a smile playing on your lips as you recounted the events at the park. "You won't believe what happened the other day, Wyll," you began, your voice filled with excitement. "I was at the park with Lord Ancunin, and... he almost… kissed me."

Wyll's eyes widened with surprise, and he leaned in closer, his curiosity piqued. "Really? Tell me more," he urged, his tone a mix of intrigue and genuine interest.

You sighed, your cheeks flushing slightly as you recalled the moment. "We were talking, and he was being so sweet and sincere. Then, out of nowhere, he reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. It felt so... intimate. He told me how much I meant to him and how I had changed his life. And then, just as he was about to kiss me, we got interrupted."

Wyll chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Seems like you two can't catch a break. But it sounds like he really cares about you, Y/N."

Your heart swelled at Wyll's words, and you nodded. "He does. Every time I'm with him, it's like the world fades away, and it's just the two of us. My heart was beating so quickly, I thought it might burst."

Wyll’s expression turned more serious, his gaze softening as he looked at you. "I can see how much he means to you," he said quietly. "But you know your mother has other plans."

You sighed, glancing around the room filled with elegantly dressed patrons admiring the artwork. "I know. She wants me to marry someone like you, Wyll. But my heart... It belongs to Astarion. I can't help how I feel."

Wyll placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder, offering you a kind smile. "Follow your heart, Y/N. It's your life, and you deserve to be with someone who makes you truly happy."

His words provided a comforting sense of validation, and you squeezed his hand in gratitude. "Thank you, Wyll. I appreciate your support more than you know."

As you and Wyll continued to stroll through the art exposition, admiring the intricate brushstrokes and masterful sculptures, Wyll couldn't resist teasing you about your burgeoning relationship with Astarion.

"Speaking of plans, Y/n," Wyll began, a playful glint in his eye, "do you think Lord Ancunin might be planning to ask for your hand in marriage soon?"

You felt your cheeks flush with warmth, a mixture of embarrassment and excitement. "Wyll, don't be ridiculous," you replied, trying to sound nonchalant, but the smile tugging at your lips betrayed your true feelings.

Wyll chuckled, clearly enjoying your reaction. "Oh, come on. It's obvious how smitten he is with you. The flowers, the letters, the poetry books... not to mention that almost-kiss in the park. I'd say he's head over heels."

You laughed softly, shaking your head. "Maybe, but marriage? It's only been a few weeks since we met."

Wyll raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "And yet, in those few weeks, he's made more effort to win your heart than anyone else ever has, since you arrived. Besides, from what you've told me, he doesn't strike me as the kind of man who would waste time if he knew what he wanted."

You bit your lip, considering Wyll's words. "I suppose you're right. He does have a way of making me feel like the only person in the world when we're together."

Wyll nodded, his expression turning more serious. "Exactly. And if he makes you happy, that's what matters. Just don't be surprised if he gets down on one knee sooner rather than later."

The thought sent a thrill through you, and you couldn't help but smile at the possibility. "I suppose we'll see," you said, your voice soft with hope.

Wyll smiled, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Just promise me you'll invite me to the wedding. I'd hate to miss it."

You laughed, feeling a sense of lightness at Wyll's teasing. "Of course, Wyll. I wouldn't dream of getting married without my friend there."

As you and Wyll continued your leisurely stroll through the art exposition, your eyes were drawn to a striking painting hanging on the far wall. The artwork depicted a dark, gothic scene of a vampire feeding on a woman. The vampire's features were both mesmerising and terrifying, his eyes glowing with an unnatural light as he sank his fangs into the woman's delicate neck. The woman, in turn, seemed to be caught in a trance, a mix of fear and surrender in her eyes.

You stopped in front of the painting, studying the intricate details. "This is awfully realistic," you murmured, unable to tear your gaze away from the chilling scene.

Wyll nodded, his expression turning more serious. "It is. Vampires have always been a subject of fascination and fear. But this... it's almost like the artist has seen it firsthand."

A shiver ran down your spine. "Do you think it's possible? That someone could have actually witnessed this?"

Wyll sighed, folding his arms as he continued to gaze at the painting. "It's hard to say. Ever since vampires found a way to stand under the sunlight – despite the pain it causes them – it's become nearly impossible to catch them. They blend in, move among us, and strike when we least expect it."

You turned to Wyll, concern etched on your face. "How is that even possible? I thought sunlight was their greatest weakness."

He nodded, his expression grim. "It still is, to an extent. But there's a ritual – a blood ritual – that some vampires have used to build a tolerance to sunlight. It's dangerous and incredibly painful for them, but it gives them a significant advantage. The problem is, this ritual has fallen into the wrong hands."

You furrowed your brow, the weight of his words sinking in. "What do you mean?"

Wyll glanced around, lowering his voice. "There are groups out there, dark factions, that have been using the ritual to create more powerful vampires. Our security forces are struggling to keep up. Every time they think they have a lead, it slips through their fingers. The city is on edge, and people are scared."

The thought of vampires lurking in the shadows, almost indistinguishable from ordinary people, sent a chill down your spine. "That's terrifying. How do we protect ourselves?"

Wyll gave you a reassuring smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Stay vigilant, avoid dark alleys, and trust the people around you. And if you ever see anything suspicious, report it immediately. The authorities are doing their best, but they need our help too."

You nodded, feeling a mix of fear and determination. "I'll keep that in mind. Thank you, Wyll."

He patted your shoulder gently. "Anytime, Y/n. Just be careful, alright? The world is a dangerous place, and we need to look out for each other." As you and Wyll continued your conversation about the unsettling topic of vampires, a familiar voice broke through your thoughts. 

"What are you two discussing so intently?" Astarion's smooth voice asked, a hint of curiosity lacing his words.

You turned to see him standing behind Wyll, looking... different. His usually impeccable appearance seemed a bit off. For the first time since you met him, his handkerchief did not match your outfit. The mint green fabric stood in stark contrast to your crimson red dress. More than that, he looked tired, almost weary, as if something was weighing heavily on him.

Wyll turned, smiling at Astarion. "We were just talking about the painting," he said, gesturing towards the eerie artwork depicting the vampire feeding on a woman. "And the recent concerns about vampires in the city."

Astarion's gaze flicked to the painting, and for a brief moment, an unreadable expression crossed his face. He nodded slowly, then turned his attention back to you. "Vampires, huh?" he said, attempting a lighthearted tone. "Always a fascinating, albeit morbid, topic."

You couldn't help but notice the dark circles under his eyes, the slight slump in his usually perfect posture. "Are you alright, Astarion? You seem... different today."

He offered a faint smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Just a bit tired, my dear. It's been a long few days."

Wyll, always perceptive, raised an eyebrow. "Is everything alright, Lord Ancunin? You don't look like your usual self."

Astarion waved a hand dismissively. "Nothing to worry about. Just some business matters that needed attending to. But tell me more about these rumours. Have there been any actual sightings?"

You exchanged a worried glance with Wyll before replying. "Not that we've heard, but the authorities are struggling. It's the talk of the city apparently."

Astarion nodded thoughtfully. "Indeed. It's a troubling situation. But let's not let it ruin our evening. We came here to enjoy the art, after all."

Despite his attempt to change the subject, you couldn't shake the feeling that something was deeply troubling Astarion. As you continued to explore the exhibition together, his usual charm seemed dimmed, his laughter more subdued. You found yourself glancing at him more often than usual, searching for any sign that he might open up about what was bothering him. 

After a moment, Astarion's voice broke the contemplative silence between the three of you. "Lord Ravengard, if you don't mind, I'd like to steal Y/N for a moment."

Wyll glanced at you and then back at Astarion, a teasing smile playing on his lips. "Of course, Lord Ancunin. I'll be fine on my own. Besides, I've got a few more paintings to admire."

As Wyll wandered off, Astarion extended his arm, and you linked yours with his. The two of you walked through the gallery, the hum of other visitors' conversations creating a low murmur around you. Once you were alone in a quieter section, Astarion turned to face you, his expression more serious than usual.

He turned to face you, his expression serious. "There's something I need to tell you," he began, his voice low. "The Duke Szarr will be coming to the city."

Your heart skipped a beat. "Why?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

Astarion's jaw tightened slightly, and you felt the muscles under your palm tense as he continued. "It's mostly because of our relationship. The Duke wants to meet you."

His tone was neutral, but you could sense the underlying tension. "Is that... a good thing?" you asked cautiously.

Astarion's gaze flickered, a mix of frustration and protectiveness crossing his features. "He wants to see if you're... suitable. The Duke is very particular about those within his circle. Your presence in my life has attracted his attention, and he wishes to evaluate you personally."

The idea of being evaluated by the Duke was unsettling, and you couldn't ignore the way Astarion's usually composed demeanour was unravelling. "How do you feel about this?" you asked, your hand gently squeezing his arm in reassurance.

He exhaled slowly, his eyes softening as he looked at you. "In all honesty, I don't like it," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "But it's something we must face. The Duke has been a significant part of my life, and his approval carries a great deal of weight. I just... I worry about how this will affect us."

You reached up, cupping his pale cheek with your free hand. "We'll face it together," you said firmly. "Whatever happens, we'll deal with it."

Astarion's eyes held yours, a flicker of relief breaking through his tension. "Thank you," he murmured, leaning into your touch. "Having you by my side means more than you can imagine."

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words, but you couldn't ignore the unease that lingered. "What should I expect when meeting him?"

"He can be... intimidating," Astarion admitted. "He has a commanding presence and is used to getting his way."

The sincerity in his voice reassured you, but the thought of meeting the man who held such power over Astarion was daunting. "When is he arriving?"

"In a few days," Astarion replied. "I'll be there to introduce you. Just be yourself, and everything will be fine."

You nodded, though your mind was already racing with questions and concerns. "Astarion, is there anything else I should know about him?"

At your question, Astarion seemed to hesitate, his lips parting, but his voice got caught as he shook his head and offered you a small smile. "There's nothing important you should know about the Duke," he said, though the tension in his eyes suggested otherwise. 

"But the Duke is... very particular about loyalty. He values those who are unwaveringly loyal to him, and he expects the same in return. It's important to show him that you are... committed."

"Committed to what?" you asked, a frown creasing your brow.

"Committed to our relationship, of course darling," Astarion clarified, his voice softening. "To the future we are trying to build together. He needs to see that you are serious about us, about being a part of this life."

The weight of his words settled over you, and you realised just how significant this meeting with the Duke was. "I understand," you said quietly, squeezing his hand. "I'll do my best."

Astarion's expression softened, his eyes filling with gratitude. "I know you will, my darling."

As you and Astarion strolled through the gallery, your steps eventually led you to a secluded corner where a rather lewd painting hung on the wall. The artwork depicted a passionate embrace, the lovers entwined in an intimate moment that left little to the imagination. You felt a blush creeping up your neck, your cheeks warming as you took in the explicit details.

Astarion, however, seemed quite intrigued by the painting. He studied it with a keen interest, his head tilted slightly as he examined the brushstrokes and the expression on the subjects' faces.

"A fascinating piece, isn't it?" he remarked, a hint of amusement in his voice. "The artist has captured such raw emotion and desire."

You swallowed, trying to maintain your composure despite the heat rising in your cheeks. "Yes, it's... quite bold," you managed to say, your voice slightly breathless.

Astarion turned his gaze towards you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Bold, indeed," he said, his tone playful. "It makes one wonder about the inspiration behind such a work. Do you think the artist was merely observing, or perhaps... participating?" He asked, clearly enjoying himself. 

The suggestion in his words made your blush deepen, and you glanced away, your heart racing. "I... I wouldn't know," you stammered, feeling flustered under his intense gaze.

Astarion chuckled softly, clearly enjoying your reaction. He took a step closer, his hand gently brushing against yours. "Art has a way of stirring the imagination, doesn't it?" he said, his voice low and velvety. "It can evoke such vivid feelings and thoughts."

You nodded, still avoiding his gaze, but the warmth of his hand against yours was both comforting and electrifying. "Yes, it does," you agreed quietly.

Astarion's fingers intertwined with yours, and he gently lifted your chin, urging you to meet his crimson eyes. "There's no need to be embarrassed, Y/N," he said softly. "Desire is a natural part of life, just as much as love and beauty. It's something to be embraced, not shied away from."

His words, combined with the sincerity in his gaze, helped to ease some of your embarrassment. You took a deep breath, feeling a bit more grounded. "I suppose you're right," you said, managing a small, shy, smile.

Astarion's hand left yours, only to gracefully trail up your back, hovering for a moment before settling firmly on your waist. With a gentle but insistent tug, he drew you closer, the warmth of his body brushing against yours in an intimate embrace. His other hand, bold and persistent, crept up to your neck, his fingers caressing the sensitive skin with feather-light strokes. 

The intimate contact left you breathless, your heart thudding against your chest.

His voice, low and sultry, tickled your ear as he whispered, "You know so little about the true pleasures of the world, Y/N. It’s endearing." His breath fanned over your ear, sending chills down your spine, while his hand on your neck continued its teasing exploration. Astarion's words, combined with his touch, created an inferno of desire within you, leaving you physically and emotionally vulnerable— just like the last time at the ball.

His hand on your waist tightened, pulling you flush against his chest as he whispered, "Let me show you, guide you through the uncharted territories, the realms you've yet to explore."

You could feel the heat from his body, the intoxicating nectar of his words coaxing you into a world you had never entered, promising to experience the realm of sensuality. The air between you thick with possibility, the world around you fading like a mirage, as you found yourself entwined in Astarion's spell, the alluring sensations overwhelming and intoxicating.

Astarion's hand on your waist squeezed, urging you to lean into him, a world of sensations and experiences waiting to be discovered, the true pleasure of the world laid out before you, guiding you through the carnal landscape you'd only dreamed of. His touch coupled with his words, stoked the fires of your curiosity, the veil of innocence slipping away, revealing the raw desire, the primal cravings that were waiting to be unleashed.

Your face flushed, the weight of his words and intimate proximity overwhelming. You managed to stammer a response, "B-But... but we shouldn't... not in public, Astarion." Your voice was thick with embarrassment and, despite your reservations, the thrill of being in such a situation with the Duke's right-hand man.

As if to punctuate his intentions, Astarion's mouth found its way to your neck, his lips brushing against the tender skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. You felt the whisper of sharp teeth, like fangs that teased your flesh, sending shivers down your spine.

Astarion chuckled, the sound vibrating against your neck, the sensation both thrilling and nerve-wracking. "I'll admit, I find immense pleasure in watching you quiver under my touch, Y/N," he confessed, his voice sultry and seductive. As you and Astarion continued to stand before the provocative painting, he tilted his head, his eyes narrowing in contemplation. 

“Y/N, I have a question for you,” he said, his voice thoughtful. “What do you think is the difference between the woman's expression in this painting and the one we saw earlier, the one with the vampire?”

You glanced back at the lewd painting, then thought of the earlier, darker piece. “Well,” you began hesitantly, "The woman in the first painting... She is submitting to pure pleasure, her desire all-consuming. In the second, she is in pain, fear, and torment," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Astarion nodded, but his eyes remained fixed on you, just like his lips, a curious intensity in them. “Pleasure and pain,” he repeated softly. “Do you really believe that’s true? That these emotions are so distinct and separate?”

The question made you pause. 

You turned to look at him, your brows knitting together in confusion. “What do you mean?” you asked.

Astarion's lips curled into a wicked smile, the intensity in his eyes piercing your soul. "Y/n," he murmured, leaning in, his voice a seductive growl, “Pain and pleasure can be intertwined, can’t they? Sometimes, what causes us pain can also be what we desire. And what we desire can be painful. Don’t you think?”

You thought about his words, the strange, dark truth in them. “I suppose... in certain situations, they can be connected,” you admitted, feeling a shiver run down your spine. “But they still feel very different, don’t they?”

Astarion’s eyes seemed to soften, yet there was a lingering intensity in them. He chuckled softly, the sound sending shivers down your spine, “For some,” he said quietly, “the line between them is very thin. Pain can heighten pleasure, and pleasure can make pain more bearable. It’s a delicate balance.”

You nodded slowly, understanding the nuance he was describing but still feeling a bit unsettled. “I guess I hadn’t thought of it that way before,” you said.

Astarion smiled faintly, his hand reaching up to gently tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “You have an open mind, Y/N,” he said. “That’s one of the many things I admire about you and make me weak for you.”

His touch was warm, and you felt your heart skip a beat. “Thank you,” you murmured, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks again.

As he let his hand fall back to his side after leaving a final kiss on your neck, he stepped back, giving you space. “Shall we move on?” he suggested, his voice returning to its usual lightness. “There are still many more pieces to see.”

You nodded, grateful for the shift in the conversation. “Yes, let’s,” you agreed, and together you continued your exploration of the gallery, the earlier conversation lingering in your mind like a whisper of something deeper and more profound.

As the evening drew to a close, you and Astarion made your way through the final rooms of the art exposition. The lingering warmth of his presence and the intensity of your earlier conversation hung in the air. Eventually, you found yourselves back at the entrance of the gallery, where Wyll was waiting by your carriage, ready to escort you home.

Astarion spotted him first and raised a hand in greeting. "Lord ravengard," he called out smoothly, his usual charm in full effect once again. "I hope you didn't wait too long."

Wyll smiled and shook his head. "Not at all, Lord Ancunin. I trust you both enjoyed the exhibition?"

You nodded, but your mind was already drifting to the inevitable parting that awaited. "It was wonderful," you said, your voice tinged with melancholy.

Astarion’s gaze met yours with a softness that made your heart ache even more. “I’ll contact you soon, Y/n,” he said, his voice low and reassuring. “We’ll arrange a time for you to meet the Duke.”

You nodded, trying to mask the sadness that welled up inside you at the thought of parting ways. “I look forward to it,” you replied, forcing a small smile. “Thank you for tonight, Astarion. It was... enlightening.”

He chuckled softly, a hint of mischief in his eyes. “The pleasure was all mine, I assure you.” His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he turned to Wyll. “Take good care of her, Lord Ravengard. She’s quite precious.”

Wyll nodded, his expression friendly yet protective. “Always do, Lord Ancunin.”

With a final, lingering glance, Astarion bowed slightly, taking your hand to place a lingering kiss at the back. 

“Until next time, my lady,” he murmured, his voice like velvet.

You watched him walk away, the elegant lines of his black tuxedo as he seemed to blend into the shadows of the evening, disappearing from view.

Wyll offered his arm, and you took it, feeling the weight of your longing settle heavily in your chest. “He certainly has a way with words,” Wyll commented as he helped you into the carriage.

“Yes, he does,” you replied, your thoughts still on Astarion. “But there’s more to him than just words.”

Wyll looked at you with a knowing smile. “I can see that. Just be careful, Y/N. Men like him are often surrounded by mystery and... complications.”

You sighed, knowing Wyll was right but unwilling to let go of the connection you felt with Astarion. “I will,” you promised, settling into your seat. Leaving Astarion always felt like leaving a part of yourself behind, but you had no other choice. 

For now, you had to be patient and wait for the next time you could see him, hoping it wouldn’t be too long.

❛ masterlist ⋅ ao3 ❜

➜ ┊tags : @kiimiikii ⋅ @fizzypeachhh ⋅ if you want to be tag, or removed, please notify me!

[paganwitchisis]

The Price of Freedom

Rated: E for Explicit

Pairing: AFAB Female Tav X Astarion

-Multichapter series-

Tags: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT! Abuse, torture, smut, oral sex, rape, healing, beatings, dismemberment, breeding kink, act 3 spoilers, canon divergence, blood, violence, graphic depictions (It is Cazador after all)

Summary: While on a separate quest, it is discovered that Tav is pregnant with Astarion’s child. Problem is, Cazador finds out as well. Things get pretty dark as Cazador abducts her along with Astarion, intent on nefarious purposes. Will the couple be able to heal from his onslaught and what of the child? Read and find out! (Heed the tags! This plays out differently than other Cazador dark fics)

Note: The use of the word “mate” is more of a shortened version of soul mate, not the alpha stories on werewolves for this fanfiction (obviously we are dealing with Vampires so yeah, no werewolves at all)

RATED 18 PLUS!!!!!

Chapter one - You are here (AO3 link here) Word count is 4.2k words

Chapter 2 - Here (2.3k words)

Chapter 3 - here

Chapter One - A Hot Tip

Tav was going to shoot an arrow into his scaly face if the dragonborn was lying.

The dragonborn kept swearing over and over again that the information was legitimate and that a powerful enemy blocked the path. It was rather cryptic as far as tips went but Tav shrugged her shoulders at it. Most tips seemed to be cryptic now anyways. Tav considered his proposal. Five thousand gold on an untested and most likely fake tip for something she was already beginning to look for behind her lover’s back.

“How do I know this isn’t a fake tip?” Tav asked as she spoke to him at the bar. It was early morning still, and the crew were still sleeping away upstairs. Hells, Tav only got away because she snuck out of Astarion’s arms, and when he awoke, she told him the truth. She told him she wanted to get something to eat and that he should get some rest. She would be back soon, but if she didn’t conclude her business with this dragonborn, this man named Jorath, Astarion would grow suspicious and come downstairs and ruin her surprise.

“You don’t, but this is a once in a lifetime opportunity. I swear on Tyr, this isn’t a ruse!” Jorath pleaded.

“If this is so real, then why sell it to me? Why not get it yourself or sell it for a lot more?” Tav asked, pressing the scaled friend.

“I found the location and information by accident in a chest sealed by magic while fishing in the Chiontar, but it claims a very powerful protector guards the treasure. I’m not stupid. I won’t die trying to get that damn thing, and I wont have someone track me down for revenge cause their brother’s cousin’s nephew was killed looking either. I’d rather sell it for a moderate price and not die, than try to get rich and not live to spend it either.“ Jorath explained between sipping his coffee.

Tav kept picking around her food but refused to eat most of it. Maybe it was the late night she had but she wasn’t feeling that great that morning. Tav sighed and shook her head when she heard the door to the companion room open upstairs, and she knew she had to quickly make a decision.

“Fuck…Fine! Here is the gold. Write down everything. I mean it, all the information, and you better not have sold this to anyone before us or I will hunt you down after we get back. Got it?” Tav threatened, and grabbed the paper the dragonborn held out to her before shoving it in her armor as she scooted off the chair and retreated up the stairs. Tav didn’t make it far before having to find the privy to dry heave her empty stomach.

After a bit of time, Tav resigned that after they get the artifact she was searching for, she would ask Halsin or Shadowheart to look at her because she was afraid she was getting an illness. In the meantime, Tav stood up and sat on the toilet fully clothed to read the paper Jorath had passed her. It stated that it was not far from them, located in Rivington, but it didn’t say what the threat was that protected the item was. It just said the protector was powerful. That at least meant that there was a good chance the item was still there.

There was a light knock on the door that startled the woman from her thoughts.

“Darling, you okay in there? You’ve been gone from bed for a while.” Tav smiled softly, she almost forgot the bathrooms were public and so hearing her lover’s voice almost made her jump in her skin when he came looking for her.  Tav shoved the note back in the armor and walked out of the stall to greet the man. Astarion wanted to kiss her, but she stopped him.

“I may not have thrown up, but I feel like it, Star.” Tav used the nickname only she can use with him.

 “The food here sucks. I’ll pick something up when we’re on the way out today.” Tav quickly made up an excuse. In reality, she wasn’t sure what was causing the feeling, but she pushed it aside. Right now, she had more pressing concerns.

She wanted to help Astarion permanently stay in the sun’s gentle light rather than run from the harsh rays that would burn him, should they not figure out how to help him before concluding the tadpole business. Astarion, of course, still would comment about the ascension and sacrificing his siblings to gain power and the ability to walk in the sun, but Tav still hoped it wouldn’t come to this. She knew he was better than that. She knew he didn’t need to kill others to get his wishes, and sought to look for answers in advance to prove just that. Tav hoped that if she found this legendary Sunwalker’s Ring, that she could spare her lover from having to make a choice he may regret…

“You sure you’re okay? This happened yesterday too.” Astarion asked while concerned. Tav began walking back to their rooms with Astarion close by.

“I believe so. I haven’t been taking care of myself, to be honest. If it helps, I’ll have Halsin or Shadowheart look me over when we get back.” Tav reached for the handle, but before she could turn it, a cool hand overlayed hers.

“Why wait, darling? What is so important about today’s mission?” Astarion asked curiously. Tav smiled and kissed Astarion’s cheek. “It’s a secret. But after this, we go after Cazador…Promise.” Tav said against his skin as she backed up against the door and opened it to the group room they shared with the others.

“To be honest, we would have gone after him right away if it wasn’t for Orin infiltrating the camp and kidnapping Lae’zel. Now that Orin is gone…” Tav said.

“...And I have her wonderful daggers…” Astarion smirked.

“We just have one stop and then we can go after that fucker. Trust me…Please?” Tav asked as she clasped her hand around his and threaded her fingers through his. Astarion quirked the corner of his mouth up in a small smile.

“My dear, you know I trust you.” Astarion whispered his response as they made their way inside since Astarion did not want to air his feelings. Only one woman would know his heart and how he felt and it wasn’t a show. Tav smiled at him and let go of his hand.

“Good. Make sure you're ready to go in twenty. I’ll be right back.”

“So I’m on the team, hmm?” Astarion teased before she had a chance to scamper away.

“Of course! When are you not on the team?” Tav giggled and Astarion couldn’t help himself from taking her lips. Her laughter died as Astarion pressed his lush and supple lips to hers. As much as he wished to deepen the kiss, he was keenly aware of their surroundings, especially when Karlach yelled out in support of the couple. Astarion pulled back slowly as he didn’t wish for Tav to think he regretted any form of intimacy they took and shook his head while Tav nervously rubbed the back of her neck.

“I’ll, uh…Be back.” Tav stammered and went off to Karlach. Astarion chuckled at how easily he could fluster her when he noticed Tav showing a piece of paper to Karlach, although from their distance, he couldn’t make out what it said or the significance. Astarion shrugged and figured it must have been the map or something of that nature. If it was important, Astarion figured she would have shared it with him.

In the end, Astarion waited an hour while Tav made her rounds and selected Shadowheart and Karlach to accompany them to wherever they were going. Of course, Astarion wasn’t surprised that Karlach was chosen considering Karlach was Tav’s best friend, more or less, but Astarion was surprised by Shadowheart. The woman misses most targets on a good day, so the only reason to bring her would be for healing, which meant that Tav expected they would get hurt, which meant wherever they were going, it was not going to be easy.

As the four of them made their way to Rivington, Astarion had to ask.

“Alright, darling, you’ve proven your point on being mysterious. Now, why are we over here? At the very least, you have to tell us something about all this….” Astarion asked as he was at Tav’s side, Shadowheart and Karlach behind him.

Tav stopped walking and shuffled off to the side so she wouldn’t be in anyone’s way. Tav looked at Karlach and gave a knowing look, a look that Astarion caught and noticed immediately.

‘She told Karlach where we are going….maybe even what this secret is.’ Astarion thought to himself and couldn’t help feeling a little dejected. She felt comfortable speaking to Karlach, but not him? Astarion tried not to read too much into it. Maybe there was a reason. Astarion waited and listened as Tav turned and spoke to the group.

“I’m here to get something, and it isn’t far. It will help us, but I can’t tell you what yet. All I know is there is supposed to be some kind of protector, but I am hoping we can get around that somehow. Unfortunately, I don’t know what this protector is, otherwise, I’d have a better plan on the ‘getting around’ part.” Tav purposely didn’t look at Astarion right away, but when she did, he had a rather unhappy expression. To be fair, both him and Shadowheart did.

“Let me see if I understand this. You want us to go somewhere to get something that you won’t tell us about yet. This will be protected by most likely some powerful enemy, because let’s face it…And no offense…”Astarion turned to Shadowheart at this point. “You wouldn’t be here if there wasn’t a plan for us to need healing. Not that you aren’t capable of offense, but we all know you are chosen for healing…” Astarion then looked Tav dead in the eye. “so we are going into a scenario were we will all get screwed, and for what, my dear? Hmm?”

“Gods below, I’m agreeing with the vampire…” Shadowheart muttered while pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Also, love, don’t think I’m not privy to the looks between you and Karlach. She knows everything, I assume, yet she still is with us, so either whatever it is will help us or is incredibly romantic.“ Astarion said sarcastically at the end.

Karlach laughed at this and replied loudly.

“Considering it’s for you, you think…”

“Shut up!” Tav hissed, and Karlach closed her mouth immediately. This was not what Astarion expected, but from the sigh behind him, Shadowheart must have had an idea it was something along these lines.

“Can we go?” Tav asked and walked off at a brisk pace into the woods. Astarion followed but his mind was elsewhere. Part of him wanted to smirk and give a witty retort like he usually did after being handed such information. Another part of him knew this was a potentially dangerous mission, especially after Tav showed him she wasn’t feeling the best the past couple days, yet she pushed herself for some item. Even if he tried to shut this down, refuse to go or stop her in some way. He knew he couldn’t. She would be stubborn and just go on anyways.

Astarion growled before replying. “I don’t like it. I just want that clear. I’d much rather we all be safe and back at the Elfsong instead of walking to a potentially painful way to die…”

Tav gave him a sad smile. “It will make sense later. I’m not afraid something will happen. Not with you watching my back.”

Astarion cursed himself and wished he could stay angry at her, but he knew he couldn’t. He cared deeply for her and he could be upset but never truly angry at her. Astarion reached his hand out but didn’t look towards her. He didn’t have to of course when he felt her hand wrap around his tightly and saw her shoulders relax in his peripheral vision. He could practically feel Karlach bursting at the seams in retaliation to the public display of affection, but it really didn’t bother him as much as he made them think it did. Soon, Astarion’s thoughts were interrupted as he tumbled down an embankment thanks to Tav yanking him down with her. Apparently she went down first, and thanks to them holding each other’s hands, Astarion’s perception meant nothing.

Astarion put his arms out and wrapped himself around his lover to break her fall. Thankfully, after rolling down the wet grassy terrain, Astarion felt his backside collide with the cement ground where they seemed to have stumbled onto the entrance of whatever they were looking for. Astarion let go of Tav and stood up, rubbing his sore left butt cheek as he held out his hand to help his lover to their feet.

“Are you okay?” Astarion glanced at what he could see of her body, and everything seemed okay. Tav nodded, but before she could speak, Karlach called from above.  

“We’ll be down in a moment. There are stairs on the other side. May take a few more minutes but I’m liable to break something if I follow you two down there. Hang tight, lovebirds!”

Tav scoffed and shook her head as she waited for the footsteps to recede before she spoke to Astarion.

“We don’t have much time, considering I am the reason you got hurt.” Tav stepped forward and placed a hand over Astarion’s as it rested on his backside, now forgotten. “I…Well…” Tav looked away with blush overtaking her features.

“Now love, you’ve never been coy before, and you’re right, we don’t have much time before we have a peanut gallery. What is it you want to say?” Astarion said with a smirk. He was entertained by this and was curious where Tav was leading her earlier comment. Tav took a stabilizing breath and hooked her thumbs in his belt. She dared not touch his hips or skin after the confession at Moonrise. This earned a questioningly raised eyebrow.

“I want to see your injury. If you’ll let me…You don’t have to, of course. I’m just worried, and you hit the ground hard when you held me to shield me from getting hurt.”

Astarion chuckled “You want to see my bruised ass? I mean, I won’t say no, but I didn’t suspect that’s how you get your rocks off…” Astarion cupped her cheek and kissed her lightly before using his dexterity to loosen his trousers.

“You know what I mean. I worry about you.” Tav admitted and felt relieved when Astarion gave her a toothy grin which showed off his fangs.

“I know, my dear. I think it’s cute. A bit embarrassing, I suppose, but cute.” Astarion dropped part of the back of his trousers so she could see the blossoming bruise. It was a mix of purples and yellows. Astarion pulled his trousers up and made himself presentable while he spoke. “So, darling, now that you found an excuse to look at my ass, how bad is the damage?“ Astarion was laughing to himself as he turned around and slipped his arms around her waist.

“Looks painful, to be honest.” Tav whispered as Astarion began kissing her jaw line and the tip of her nose.

“I guess tonight, when we have a moment alone, maybe we can see where the night takes us. Maybe we can find a way to heal it.” Astarion muttered jokingly when he finally took her lips.

“Don’t push yourself, Star. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. We don’t have to do anything.” Tav whispered, her hand on Astarion’s cheek.

Astarion reached around, Tav’s ass cheeks in hand, and ground his hard-on into her soft belly. “Does it feel like I don’t want you, my love? We just…you know. Doesn’t mean all intimacy is off the table. We’ve been going slowly as it is. Even if all we end up doing tonight is cuddling and kissing, I’ll be happy.” Astarion leaned down, and this time he slipped his tongue in while Tav was surprised. Tav pressed into this kiss and moaned low and deep. Thankfully, Astarion was once again aware of his surroundings as he kissed her again and pulled away. Confused, Tav watched as Astarion adjusted his hard cock in his pants before he gave some space between them, just as Karlach burst through the door with a panting Shadowheart close on her tail.

“Are…you both okay?” Tav asked, giggling.

“This woman is insane! She thought she had to go up the stairs to go down the stairs! Next time, I’m rolling down the grass with you both.” Shadowheart exasperatedly exclaimed while Astarion barked out in laughter.

“In my defense, no one hands barbarians maps for a reason!” Karlach tried to explain, and although she seemed to be pouting, she wore a smile on her face the entire time.

“Okay, okay, guys. Let’s go. The faster we find this, the faster we get back to the Elfsong and I can get a nice long bath.” Tav had no sooner let the words leave her mouth did she have Astarion’s tadpole in her head speaking to her wordlessly, a private conversation still playing out between the couple.

“We can rent the room next door to ours for our use. There is a private bath in there, my dear. We both could use a nice soak. Maybe together? We haven't been bare to each other completely since the Last Light Inn. What do you think?”

Tav was going to respond when a hand flew out and yanked her back. Tav was going to say something as she was upset she was jostled around so easily, but then she realized whose arms held her against their body so tightly. Astarion held her in a death grip as where her foot would have landed was a trap tied to a spring loaded arrow. She would have gotten hurt, if not worse, were it not for the elf…

“Are you okay?” Astarion asked as he finally put her down gently on her feet. Tav just nodded, not trusting her voice. Thinking she should still speak to him, she opened up to speak to him via the tadpole.

“Thank you for saving me, and about what you suggested earlier? I’d love to get a private room with you. Then we can cuddle every night.” Tav watched as Astarion smiled, and although no words technically passed their physical lips, enough was said to know. Astarion kissed her forehead before disarming the trap and taking point. He wasn’t sure what this item was but it was obvious that whatever it was, others were after it too if there was a need to set up traps.  

The group made it from room to room before they found a large room that seemed mostly empty except for a throne far on the other side of the chamber. The ground was mostly cement and carpet with a couple chests and treasure-like items behind the throne. Tav had a bad feeling about this room…

“Wait.” Tav said to the rest. “before we go on, you guys should know why we are here.” Tav looked to the side and looked at her lover when she spoke next. “As I was eating, I was given a tip…well…haggled one, from a very loud bard. This tip was found in a sealed chest in the Chionthar so no one knew of it yet, but long story short, Karlach was right and we are here for you, honey. The Sunwalker’s ring is supposedly here, but I was warned it is being protected. However, I don’t know by what. I figured, since this tip was just rediscovered, I should act on it as soon as possible. I didn’t want it to be found by someone else in case we need it. In case we resolve this tadpole business and you’re stuck in the shadows. I know you and me have spoken about…an alternative, and we have conflicting opinions on it, but I love you too much to see this ring fall through our fingers.” Tav had barely finished her explanation when she felt soft lips press against her own. Tav wanted to close her eyes and just enjoy her lover, but everything in her body was telling her they were in danger. Astarion must have known it too as he pulled away.

“We’re getting this ring, and then I’m ravishing you as soon as we get back and we get some fucking privacy.” Astarion told Tav via the tadpole, licking his lips for added effect, and to make Tav squirm with the thought of just what he meant, exactly. Sex had been off the table for some time, in fact, they haven't slept with each other since about ten weeks ago. Since then, they have had intimacy, just not the expected kind. It started out with them sharing a tent and taking time to ask little questions about each other (favorite food, color, animal, etc.) with a bottle of wine, or just laying in their tent and reading while lounging on each other. Every night in the privacy of their tent, they would cuddle and hold or touch each other. When she had needs, Tav found she would try to sneak off until the shadow curse made things more difficult and dangerous. That was when she found out that Astarion knew she was sneaking away to handle her desires and would rather they explore them together. At first, he would kiss and eventually fondle her chest as she masturbated. Then he would start to ever so slowly become included more until they reached the point they are now. The rules were pretty simple now between them, she couldn’t interact or touch anything below the belt, but otherwise the rest was fine. Now, Astarion’s new favorite had been tasting her. Tav still would ask and offer to reciprocate and she would remind him that she would love doing that as well, but so far, he had yet to give her the honor. Of course, she was also more equally adamant that they didn’t have to do anything at all. He didn’t have to push himself to do anything. Astarion was starting to find his way with his body and be present during these acts, however, as long as it was her, he was having a lot of fun enjoying himself in the discovery. When they found the Elfsong, it was wonderful. They had beds and warm baths for the first time in a long time, however they lost the privacy and no longer could they sleep in the same place together. As a result, Astarion’s nightmares and terrors returned. Once in a while, Tav would slip into Astarion’s bed in the middle of the night when he had a rough night. When nightmares refused to leave him. Tav would never let Astarion deal with the nightmares alone, regardless of sleeping arrangements. The beds were just too small to comfortably sleep together every night. None of the friends said anything, they all understood, but Astarion hated it. He hated the pity and the looks. Hells, once in a while he would wake to find Clive, Karlach’s stuffed bear in his arms as he suspected the barbarian placed him there to help him. Whether or not that was because of his lover, he couldn’t say. The need for privacy was a two-found one. He had a desperate need for his lover and the feeling of having her close by again provided him with a sense of comfort and safety he no longer took for granted. Astarion said nothing to Tav but he longed to make love to her. He cursed that he still could not, but he also knew that he was the only one trying to rush things and that she loved him. She would wait for however long that would take. Astarion just wished he didn’t feel so touch starved in the mean time. He knew she felt the same way, but it wasn’t until recently the private room opened up.

“Ah…it’s about time we had guests.”

Note - This will be updated every week and is sweet for a bit before the Cazador content shows up.

[aladaylessecondblog]

the life you knew before (good tav/gortash pt. 4)

Previous chapter here

Banter, and sex (obviously). Enjoy :)

---------------------------------------

Tav stood, mind off like a shot. Cazador she had seen several times in the eight months she had been Duchess Gortash, and somehow it had entirely slipped her mind to talk to him about...the situation.

How, how could I forget about CAZADOR?

The same way you forgot about ME, my dear, returned Astarion's voice in her head.

"Lord Szarr," Tav gave a slight curtsy, "A pleasure to see you. I almost didn't recognize you, so rarely do I see you outside your palace."

"And so rarely do any see you outside the city."

"True enough," she replied, "I've had so much to do...but I have had rather a...taxing day. I found time in nature and with...old friends...a better prospect than remaining behind stone walls."

Cazador did not respond to that, but took a step forward and looked down on the gravestone.

"Were you--"

"Who is this Halsin?" he interrupted and gestured at the carving atop the headstone. "Don't tell me Astarion went and wed himself to a bear."

"A druid...he did love to stay in his wildshape much of the time. Were you...familiar with Astarion?"

She hated to pretend it, but she also knew it was a good idea to act as though she did not know what he was. For now.

"Perhaps we might call him a bastard son, for certainly he acted like one. Running off like a slave, cavorting with--animals..."

Is he daring me to say something?

Cazador then turned those eyes on her. "And you say you loved him."

"I--did, yes. Before I met the Archduke, of course." She looked at the gravestone and gave a soft smile. "It was strange how long it took to earn his trust. He was running from something, I think."

"He always was a fearful sort. I assume you were the one to bury him? The one to make this gravestone?"

Tav took a deep breath before she answered. "I was, yes."

"Quite frankly, it surprises me that you would bother."

His voice was so severe; it made her think she'd done something wrong. She resented the feeling, but tried to keep her tone polite.

"Every man deserves a proper grave," she replied evenly. "I did not know him long, but...for that time, he was..."

It had started with wanting him, as she was sure he had intended. Then it had become oh-so-much more, and now...now, she didn't know.

She bowed her head just slightly.

"One might think you are unhappy in your marriage, if you pine so over a dead man," Cazador said then. "I cannot think the Archduke would approve."

"He knows of this...former romance. And he knows--" Tav gulped just slightly before going on, "--he knows, really, that 'tis he who holds my heart now. It is just that every so often...I think of the past, and what might have been."

"A life in the trees amongst the beasts is not fit to be lived." The sternness had a slight edge in it now, "You are lucky to have the Archduke to show you that there is more to life than speaking to those who have nothing to say worth hearing."

"It would have been good enough for me. My poor pale elf could have used a few colorful flowers in his hair."

With that she turned and began to walk away.

(The spawn who had been holding the umbrella over her head seemed to tense; she actually saw his eyes widening into fear when she looked.)

"I wasn't done speaking to you," Cazador said.

"I was done listening." It was out before she could stop it.

"One might think badly of a lady who makes so free with those above her."

"The only man above me is the Archduke, Lord Szarr. Unless you have plans to ascend to a crown."

She turned back briefly.

"One never knows what might happen," Cazador said in a darker tone, "I am surprised, you know, that you have so sharp a tongue. I expected nothing like this from so subservient a woman."

"I am such to my husband and no one else."

It was the last thing she said to him as she walked away. There was a strange thrill and yet a fear with it when she heard Cazador seething.

-----------------------------------

"Someone's been acting up today."

Tav had been standing by the window, staring out at the ships passing on the water for nearly an hour when she felt Gortash's hands on her hips.

"Your lady is only feverish," she said quietly, "An illness she caught tending to the needs of the people..."

"Of course she will require several days of rest to recover. After all, her loyalty is well known...and anything that could make her say such terrible things in earshot of others, well..."

It was easy, so easy, to relax into his touch. To gently cover the hands that slid forward and around the bump of her belly and feel...well, she didn't know what she was feeling. But she couldn't think that it was wrong anymore.

And even that fact was not scary any longer.

"When are you going to grow angry?" Tav asked after a long silence. "Throw something, perhaps...or have me locked away for making you look foolish?"

"Is that what you think of me?" Gortash's voice was softer than she had yet heard it. "I wasn't lying when I told you that you had nothing to fear from me."

Please... She gulped softly and begged silently, as she had been begging for months now. Stop being like this. Like someone I could...

To distract herself Tav looked out the window. The sun was setting in brilliant reds and golds, with a single dark ship passing on the horizon.

"You were a decision I made in haste, and I presume the same could be said from your position. But must you keep yourself in this state of agony? I'm sure you don't wish to be there." There was the lightest of grips at her belly. "And it's certainly not good for the child."

Deep breath.

She thought of Astarion, the first time he was comfortable participating in the lovemaking with Halsin. The first time she had woken up with the two of them. The last smiles she'd seen from either of them.

Then...

Then those thoughts turned to Gortash. The dances she had with him at the wedding, the smiles he gave at balls later on...the way he went about showing his interest. He was for every appearance a perfect gentleman...except in the bedroom, where he did things that made her weak in the knees. Where he left her wanting only to push her to greater heights of desire.

And where of late she slept beside him more often than not.

Tav opened her eyes and saw that the ship on the horizon was gone.

"You have not been what I expected," Tav replied, "Everything since the tadpole has been an endless series of unpleasant surprises. I could scarcely lay down my head without being woken by some problem, some fight...and then...then I lost everything."

Where was this coming from? Why was she saying all this this? She hardly knew. Her emotions were a horrible typhoon centered around the calm that he'd created. She had now been his wife longer than she had ever been with Astarion or Halsin...and there was a space shaped like him forming in her mind.

"I'm afraid to be at rest." she added "Because when all is quiet..."

She waited--waited for some mocking, some cutting remark she was sure was coming. But none did.

Deep breath.

"The nastiness comes out. My poor bride, dealing with so much...and alone. You really needn't do that. After all, how well can you help me handle this city if you are so burdened?"

"I didn't know whether I could trust you then...and now...and now..."

"We should lay down," Gortash said, "Clearly, you're in need of rest."

Tav relaxed and allowed herself to be lead to her bed, and was glad when he joined her. Even more so when she realized he was clad as he had been that first night, with one difference--this time, he wasn't wearing the gauntlet. Just that pair of black trousers...

"Something set this off," he said gently in her ear. "I want to know what set it off."

"I..." she took a deep breath as Gortash reached a hand up to stroke at her face. "I visited the...the grave, and...there's something--someone you should know about. I was...afraid to mention it because he's..."

"Did he harm you?"

"No, but...he could be dangerous to you at some point soon. I forgot all about him with the...the uh...what lead to my marrying you."

She was glad. So very, very glad, that he was really listening to her right now.

"Cazador." Tav said, "He was...Astarion's...sire. A vampire...and one of the most abusive pieces of shit I've ever heard of, if the way Astarion acted was any indication. I had been planning to deal with him--"

"Unsurprising," Gortash replied, "The man was always odd and reclusive, and while I had my suspicions..."

"And I may have upset him by not...paying him what he saw as his due. He's planning some sort of ritual..."

Here she explained what she knew of Cazador and his plans for ascension, and while Gortash quickly began to look more severe, at least he didn't vent any of that potential anger on her.

"I must inform the guards about that. Noble or not, I'll not have him steal what I've worked so hard for." He smirked slightly and pressed a brief kiss to her lips. "And I'll not have YOU risking either your life or my heir's by going after him."

"I've helped imprison Mizora--the former patron of the Grand Duke. I've assisted in the killing of a cambion..."

"Really, now."

"Raphael never stood a chance. Foolish man...and very stupid, too, telling me he had something I wanted, and by extension where to find it WITHOUT taking his deal."

There was something in Gortash's face then that she had never seen before.

Shock.

"I...presume...that you are not talking about th--"

"Raphael of the House of Hope, the one who wanted me to hand over the crown to him so he could become king of the hells or something along those lines."

"And you are...quite certain...that he is dead?"

"Certain as the sunrise," Tav replied. "He'd been a smoothtalking pain in my ass for too long for me NOT to kill him."

A pause...and then, from nowhere--one second, Gortash was laying beside her, looking her in the eye. The next, his lips were on hers and he was moving over her.

"Eager," she got out quickly, and when he let her break for air she added, "Aren't we?"

He didn't answer. There was a pause, and then, in rather an awkward dance she reached down to pull up the hem of her gown as his hands moved down to rid himself of his trousers.

"Off," he demanded, once he was bare before her, as he tugged her gown up and over her head. He yanked off her underclothes and moved atop her, planting another hot kiss on her lips.

Tav returned the kiss, and awkwardly shifted beneath Gortash as she spread her legs for him. And despite the awkward maneuvering due to her swollen belly, they contented themselves like this for several minutes.

He seemed to want to say something at one point--but then apparently thought better of it, and settled for pressing his hard cock against her wet heat and thrusting inwards a moment later. Tav groaned, and reached up, wanting to hold SOMETHING. Her hands ended up on his shoulders.

"Please," she said, meeting his eyes, "I want--"

It was what usually excited him. Her begging, pleading to be fucked, yet somehow this time, she didn't need to say any more. He drew back and pushed forward in rapid thrusts that were pushing her high already from how deep they were hitting.

More, more, MORE

Tav's nails clenched at the skin of his shoulders, and her knees squeezed at his sides as his hips rocked against hers. Gods above, how badly she suddenly wanted to kiss him again!

But there would be none of that, only the repeated invasions of his cock, spearing and spreading her around him as he vented whatever in the hell this was.

"More," she moaned softly, "More..."

She needed him now, wanted to feel him within her, to be reminded of what passion lay behind that dark smirking face of his.

And he was going to give it to her.

Gortash's thrusts grew faster and faster still. He braced himself with one hand and lowered his face, only just far enough away from hers to prevent a kiss. But she could see it now, the expression, the desperate need for her, the agonizing pleasure he felt as the climb begin.

It was like he wanted her to see his ecstasy, to witness what he was drawing from her.

"Harder--"

It sparked suddenly, unexpectedly, and Tav forced herself to keep that eye contact as the pleasure seized and burned through her body in rapid wildfire.

"Oh, gods!"

She moaned for Gortash, let him hear her pleasure, let him see the look in her eyes as she let go. It lifted her high, so high, so achingly keen, and then dropped her back into the warm sea of the afterglow.

Faster, and faster still. She was still sensitive but he was thrusting hard, lust driving him onward with no coherent thought or reason other than fuck. She bore with it, bringing her heels up to dig into his ass and encourage him to go deeper still.

No moment of hesitation appeared, as sometimes it had since first they had been married.

Tav kept his gaze, and it was exhilarating. He was close, so close, and for once she was focused solely on that, on seeing his pleasure, taking it in in every sense of the word.

On an inward thrust, as he sheathed himself entirely inside her, it struck him. His cock pulsed and he went empty inside her in three warm waves of lusty heat that rose threatening to drown him.

Gingerly, Gortash withdrew from her and curled close, as though all the troubles of the world melted away with his head on her chest.

For all his scolding that she needed to relax, Tav realized--as she raised a hand to tangle its fingers in his hair--that this was the first time she had ever seen him do so.

[felink-bloody-chrysanthemum]

I want to stand on Cazador Szarr's lap , While he spanks me.

He Punish me Because I'm a bad Spawn.

P. S.

✨He wears The Szarr Family Ring✨

[inquisitornocturn]

⊱─ 𝕤𝕡𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕤 & 𝕡𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕥𝕠𝕞𝕤 - 𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝟙 ─⊰

➺ 𝕡𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘: Cazador Szarr/f!reader the dhampir/spawn!Astarion

➺ 𝕥𝕒𝕘𝕤: no y/n is used, rating - E, dead dove do not eat, incest (father/daughter), POV second person, grooming, smut, loss of virginity (in a memory), light bondage, praise kink, fingering, vaginal fingering, spanking, semi-public sex, PiV, vampiric bites, asphyxiation, biting, creampies, threatening, Astarion is very pissed in chapter 1, canon-typical violence, hair pulling, throat fucking, cock worship, cum swallowing

➺ 𝕡𝕝𝕠𝕥 𝕤𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: You think you have everything you want, a loving father, one of his spawn to entertain you and protection of a vampire coven, but a master and his spawn have you caught in a middle, their jealousy, desire for control and possessiveness influencing their actions. Yet you don't want to be a doll pulled by strings, you want to be the Lady of the House, Lady Szarr, respected just like your father, Cazador, is. But that might not be what Cazador himself has planned for you, and maybe not what Astarion has in mind either. Can you stand against them - only time will tell.

➺ 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕕 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 7,506

𝕒𝕦𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕣 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕖: some months ago, on my old tumblr account, people wanted more to shades & shadows, and with encouragement (and people enabling me lol) i have promised to write it. well, here it is at long last! i am quite proud of this one and it took me a while to figure out in what direction i wanted to take these three chapters, but i'm glad to finally share this as it is all done and dusted, in the manner of speaking. the dove is so dead it's just bones, guys, so buckle up and, as always, enjoy♡~

➺ 𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥: [link] | [on AO3] |

You stand by the sarcophagus of Donnela the Architect. You know she’s your great great aunt or something along those lines, but you feel nothing when you gaze upon the flat surface of the tomb. It doesn’t even bear her image, it’s just a smooth slab of stone that is meant to represent the vampire that once was. You never asked your father if her body is there, or well, anything that can remain after a vampire is destroyed.

Yes, you remind yourself, you’re all monsters, yourself included. You don’t get to be murdered, you are destroyed. And you stand here, wondering what happened to this woman that was taken out of this life many years before you were even born and you are left with solemn questions. Your father does not speak about Donnela, he doesn’t speak about Vellioth either. Whoever came before Cazador Szarr are being erased from the history of your family. You only know their names because you found a list of previous Vampire Masters stashed away in some crook within the palace walls. You don’t even know who wrote the list or if it’s reliable at all, but you remember the skull in the room where your father took your virginity, in the dungeons beneath the mansion, you remember the scroll, clamped within the fanged jaw of someone who was alive once.

Who was it – you do not know, but they seemed of great importance to Cazador, considering he placed the skull in such honored spot, on a cushion, as if to prevent it from crumbling apart. But rest of the memories are blurred by flashes of pain and then pleasure. Your father’s whispered words of praise, his sweaty body moving on top of you. You were smaller back then, shorter, slimmer. You felt so tiny under Cazador’s towering form as he took you three times that night, leaving you sore, but a woman at last. His daughter, his bride.

You press your lips into a thin line at these memories, your arousal stirs in the center of your body and you try not to remember that night, try not to indulge yourself in the memory of your father loving you so tenderly, so protectively. He touched you in a way one touches a wounded bird – with so much care, you have never forgotten it. You exhale with a blush, unable to stop your mind from washing over you with beautiful memories and the sarcophagus in front of you fades from your focus as you relive the touches and grazes of his fingertips, when you heard Cazador’s whispers against your ear promising eternity together, just you and him. How he filled your virgin body with his length and how he inhaled when he smelled blood the moment he took what was rightfully his. Your sigh is strained and you snap out of your thoughts when you begin feeling wetness between your thighs, soaking your underwear.

“Ah.” You exclaim and resist the urge to lift your skirts and inspect it with your fingers, you know already that you got aroused. Right in front of this tomb.

“What are you doing here, daughter?” Cazador’s voice makes you flinch because you didn’t even hear him approach and with a loud swish of your dress you turn to face a man who you love so deeply it makes your very soul ache.

“Father.” You bow your head to him and the Vampire Lord walks closer. He stops in front of you for a moment, then walks past and places a hand on the sarcophagus.

When you look at him you see him gazing down on it with an expression you can’t quite read but that looks close to reminiscence. The Szarr family ring on his finger seems to glint in the moonlight that’s coming through the trees but you’re not sure if it isn’t your mind just tricking you, adding to the beautiful live portrait of your father that you’re observing. He doesn’t come here often, to the family graves sequestered in the far corner of the garden and hidden under the trees. Just as he doesn’t speak about the Vampire Masters before him, so does Cazador avoid this part of his domain.

“You haven’t answered me.” Your father says and his eyes flick to you, making you freeze in spot for a moment, scared that he might get angry at you for being here. Your mind reels, trying to find an answer that would satisfy him.

“I come here to think, to escape the busyness of the palace if it gets too much.” You try to sound calm and not to start stammering, but your throat clenches at Cazador’s bloodstained icy glare that seems to look into your very soul.

“Is that so?” He asks silently and offers you his hand while still resting the other on the lid of the sarcophagus. “Come, my daughter.”

You take his hand without hesitation because if you hesitated – he would notice and he would punish you for it. You were always meant to do everything he tells you to, no matter what is it. But for now Cazador does not seem to be in one of his foul moods, so you let him pull you closer without fear. He holds your hand and taps the sarcophagus lid with the other, drawing your eyes to the action.

“Do you know who’s supposed to be here?” Vampire Lord asks and you pause, again trying to think of an appropriate answer, yet the cooling wetness between your legs is distracting you. Your desire may have passed but remnants of it still linger, making you want to rush this conversation and change your underwear.

“Is it Donnela?” You ask and you know there’s no point lying because he will catch you in your deceit. And you don’t want to experience what happens if he catches you lying, it happened once before and you ended up being suspended in ropes for a week while-

“You are correct.” Cazador’s voice interrupts the horrific memory and you raise your eyes to him looking up, and feeling so small in front of him once more. Previous memories, of your first night together, return, and you feel passion stir in you once again. This face that you love, this face that looks so beautiful when he’s panting while on top of you with his cock stroking your inner walls, you try to focus but it’s hard. Your dearest father, all yours.

“Why she doesn’t have her name carved?” You ask, doing your best to focus on anything else but your cunt that is becoming wetter once again.

“She doesn’t deserve it.” Cazador’s fingers absentmindedly lace with yours and he holds your hand firmly, but without pain. He looks down at the sarcophagus and frowns. “Some should never be remembered once they perish, my child.” With fingertips of his other hand he traces the stone, feeling notches and tiny crevices on the surface. It looks like your father has something on his mind.

His features look calm, almost tinged with a hint of nostalgia and you have a fleeting thought that this is a perfect chance to ask about Donnella, to ask about Vellioth, to perhaps at last learn a bit more about those who came before you, but before you can make up your mind if you should dare to speak the questions, Cazador’s gaze turns to you and his fingers leave the tomb lid, raising to your face. When you look down you see the Szarr crest ring clearly before your eyes as if he’s showing it to you.

“You will have one of your own soon enough.” Vampire Lord says while watching your expression with a small but proud smile on his face. “And when you do, my dear daughter, you will stand by my side instead of being hidden away like a precious jewel that you are.” He squeezes your fingers with his, subtly reminding you that everything he does is for you and you take his other hand with yours, holding it as if you’re a squire to a king, then lean your head kissing the ring, feeling cold metal and the edge of the gem under your lips. “You’re perfect.” Cazador whispers as he pulls his hand from your fingers and your lips, then cups the side of your face, the coldness of his touch makes you feel safe.

You raise your eyes to his and find him looking at you with smirk. The sharp edge always remains in his eyes, that cruel threat of horrors to come if you upset him, but right now he looks almost gentle as he gazes down on you. Horrible and beautiful. Breath catches in your throat and your eyes widen with adoration.

“You’re mine, aren’t you, dear?” Cazador asks in a quiet voice and his fingers work to caress your warm skin. You lean into it and smile softly, he can see the love you carry for him in your eyes. Despite allowing one of his wretched spawn to entertain you, Cazador knows that you belong to him and always will. Still, he likes seeing it in your eyes, in your face, to hear it in your words, to feel it in your body when he’s fucking you. Everything about you belongs to him.

“Of course, dad.” You smile and Cazador’s fingers slip from your cheek to your chin, gripping it and tilting your head higher, then he bends over you, pressing his lips against yours.

“You’re mine and will be mine, forever.” He whispers against your lips and you barely manage to stop a mewl escaping your mouth. The stirrings of your lust increase and you squeeze his fingers tighter. He knows what he’s doing to you and you’re sure he’s doing it on purpose. He trained you so well to be truly his and you never fail him.

Cazador’s lips press against yours once more and his fingers leave your chin before his palm rests against the small of your back and draws your body against his. With free hand you reach up and press your warm palm against his neck as you kiss him back. When his tongue nudges against your lips you part them, letting him in, and moan into the kiss, letting it wash away all the worries or questions you might’ve happened just moments ago. Your father’s tongue grazes over your fangs, a constant reminder of his legacy, and you feel him grip your fingers tighter.

You open your eyes when you feel father pulling away from the kiss and your eyes meet his. You’re gently panting, filled with need, your panties soak it all up and it’s as if he knows. He always does know.

“Even here you’re so ready for me, aren’t you? I can smell your arousal, my dear.” Cazador comments, making you blush despite wanting nothing more than to be filled by his cock until you can’t speak anymore. There’s no other man that fucks you the way he does, he knows all the tricks and games of your body, everything that there is to know about you, and he uses that knowledge against you in most beautiful, merciless ways.

“We could return to our chambers.” You suggest carefully and he lifts an eyebrow at you, feigning surprise.

“Turn around.” Cazador’s voice is a command and you pause, processing it, then let go of both his neck and his hand before you turn around. Your sopping cunt makes movement uncomfortable but you don’t betray it, just clench your fists into your skirts with anticipation. Next moment you feel your father’s hands on your waist, then on your stomach, sliding down your hips. “Lift them up, dear.” He whispers against your ear and a shiver runs down your spine. You begin lifting the skirts of your dress until they are all bunched up against your stomach and chest.

Cazador’s hands leave your hips and you watch him caress your thighs before he grips at them and moves you to face the sarcophagus. Your face flushes and you swallow hard, wondering what he has in mind yet when his fingers grip at your panties and begin moving them down your legs you know exactly what he has in mind – to take you here, on top of this tomb. Whether his reason is to defile the resting place of Donnela or just because he simply wants to fuck you – you don’t know neither do you care. You just bite on your lower lip and step out of your underwear when Cazador moves the garment down to your ankles. For a moment you stand still but then gasp when you feel his face press between your thighs from the back and inhale deeply through the fabric of your dress making you squirm slightly, blushing even harder.

“You smell so sweet, my daughter.” The Vampire Lord mutters against the skirts and you nearly break the skin of your bottom lip from how hard you’re biting on it. Your desire to have him immediately is palpable.

Yet your father seems to have half a mind to torture you in the sweetest way possible – by taking it slow. You sense him moving his face away and hear him stand up once more.

“Your hands behind you.” He commands and you pause, not sure if you should let go of your bunched up dress but decide that you should, then you move your hands behind you. A second later Cazador is tying your wrists together and from weird wet feeling on your skin you know he’s using your soaked panties to do that. “Leg up.” Vampire instructs and you inhale sharply, then lift one leg, resting your foot on the edge of the sarcophagus. “Such a good, obedient girl.” Cazador comments with a grin you can hear in his voice and you open your mouth to respond but a sudden grip on your throat makes you pause. He’s not squeezing to cut off your airflow but it’s a firm, commanding grip nonetheless.

Your father presses himself against your back and makes you lean your head back against his chest while he moves one hand, pulling your dress up again. Cold air of the night caressed your pussy that’s pulsating with need and warm blood. And Cazador is not unaware. When his long fingers begin caressing your plump from arousal folds, he exhales with satisfaction.

“You’re perfect.” He hums while his fingers play with your cunt, spreading your folds widely and letting your arousal begin to drip down your leg unobstructed.

You shiver and mewl at his touch, trying not to move your hips against his fingers, because you know you will be punished if you don’t remain still, as always, but it’s extremely hard to obey tonight. You’ve been wanting for your father even before he showed up at the cemetery part of the garden and now it’s near impossible when his fingertips are grazing your entrance and then moving onto your clit.

“You’re so wet for me.” Cazador comments with a tone that betrays his pride, he’s always proud when you’re easy for him. “You want me to fuck you, don’t you?” You nod before he even finishes his question and that makes him chuckle. “So so eager, my darling daughter. I guess that spawn of mine is incapable of doing even as little as keeping my precious girl satisfied sufficiently. Or is it that you truly don’t want any other man other than me, hm?” Cazador taunts and you lick your lips slowly, your eyelids become heavy because while he speaks he rubs lazy circles on your swollen clit, making you whimper and your propped leg tremble.

Yet you wonder if this is the right place to be touched like this, taken like this, it feels almost sinful. You feel like you can almost sense Donnela’s eyes on you, piercing through the stone lid of her tomb. And this split moment of doubt, a second of mild discomfort doesn’t go unnoticed by Cazador. His fingers do not pause but you feel his lips against your ear and his grip around your throat tightens.

“What is it, my dear?” He whispers and you swallow dryly.

“Dad… should we be doing this here?” You dare to speak but Cazador doesn’t seem phased by your question nor does it seem to upset him.

“Yes, I’m doing this here.” Your father replies in his most casual manner and you gasp because he pushes a finger into your cunt, making your body shiver in response. “Do you think I’m scared of ghosts?” He asks as he pushes another finger in then begins pumping them slowly, drawing out the sensation of your hot flesh suffocating his digits.

You moan and shake your head slightly, knowing that you wouldn’t have a say in this in the first place. You hear your body make squelching sounds as Cazador fucks you with his fingers and you whine louder now, your body slowly but steadily beginning to prepare for the orgasm, sending shivers down your spine and making your cunt occasionally clench around your father’s fingers. Cazador knows this and he pulls them out of you, then without a warning he thrusts them into your open mouth, making you gasp around his fingers. Yet you don’t protest, you move your tongue, lapping up your own arousal and hear him chuckle against your ear, a low rumble that you feel against your back too.

“Not yet, my dear, you will get yours, but only after I get mine.” His teeth nip at your ear and you whine with despair, your body craving for release.

Then he removes his fingers from your mouth and with a firm grip on your thigh he lowers your leg, pushing you forwards and bending you over the sarcophagus, his grip on your neck vanishing with your repositioning. Your right cheek presses against the cold stone and you feel your father lift your skirts, pilling them up on your back.

Smack.

You flinch when his palm connects with the skin of your ass and you moan again. You wring your arms but the improvised bonds made from your panties hold tight, Cazador, after all, is well versed in subduing his prey and right now – that’s you.

“Tell me you want me.” He demands, his words hard and cold, and you whine when you feel his thumb circle your back entrance and push against it gently, not quite breaching it but putting enough pressure as if he has half a mind to do so.

“I want you dad.” You reply in a hurry and resist the urge to rub your thighs together, impatient and eager to feel him inside of you, no matter the hole he chooses.

“Oh how I like hearing that, my dear.” Cazador chuckles and his hand leaves you, letting your stinging skin cool in the night’s air. “I met Donnela once, you know.” He proceeds to speak while you remain still, your mind barely registering what he’s talking about. All you hear is the sound of fabric being handled as he undoes his pants. “She was a woman of grace but she was weak.”

A palm returns to your rear and he rubs the cheek that he smacked before, you feel the tip of his cock aligning himself to your entrance and you wait patiently, saying nothing. Your cunt aches to be filled, your folds are drenched with your arousal and Cazador seems to be teasing the juices with his length.

“You won’t be weak, will you?” He asks in a voice that’s more curious than demanding and you slightly shake your head. It’s taking everything in you not to move, not to buck your hips against his dick in hopes to be pierced by it. Your body is screaming with desire and you nearly salivate at the thought of him claiming you. Yes, he trained you well. “No, of course you won’t. You’re incapable of being weak.” Cazador chuckles and begins to slide his cock in, slowly, savoring every inch. It makes you moan with despair, because you want him fast and hard yet he’s still torturing you in his own, caring way.

You want to beg but you know better than that so you just wait until his length is buried in you fully, coldness of it nearly making your eyes roll to the back of your head and you exhale with relief. Even when he’s torturing you like this, Cazador never keeps it up for long once his dick is inside you. For a moment he just keeps himself unmoving, enjoying the squeezing heat around his cock but then his fingers grip your hip and he begins thrusting. Slowly, almost carefully, taking himself nearly all the way out and sliding back in with ease.

“You’re such a wonderful creature.” Cazador muses and with a corner of your eye you see him watching his dick disappear in you and then come out again, and then disappear again. Your body reacts with a tremble but he doesn’t address it, seemingly lost in thought. “If only you knew how important you are.”

“I know dad, I know.” You whine, hoping that it will urge him and it seems to work as the Vampire Lord snaps out of his thoughts and shoves his cock deep before leaning over you.

You don’t know what to expect but when you feel one of his arms slide under your stomach in a possessive embrace and his other hand find your throat once more, all while he presses his chest against your back, pinning you to the sarcophagus you realize just how much he wants you right now. A second of movement and his left knee is now on the sarcophagus, giving him proper angle to begin thrusting once more.

His grip on your body makes you incapable of moving even the tiniest bit so you just close your eyes and let him fuck you, feeling his icy length moving faster and faster. You hear Cazador’s breath becoming labored the longer this continues and you feel his tongue against the back of your neck, tasting you. You hear his subdued groans and sounds of his skin slapping against yours with every thrust, the most beautiful symphony. You begin feeling yourself come close, the perch of your father’s knee on the sarcophagus giving him the ability to really use his power to slam into you with as much force as he wants to. And in a few wonderful moments he wants to give you it all.

You moan and tremble, subdued by his hands that are like a straight-jacket and your head swims from pleasure, there’s no thoughts, just your Vampire Lord and you on this tomb, loving each other in a way only a father and a daughter can. At least to you - this is perfect, complete expression of love, and you let yourself sink into the feeling, allowing it to wash over you and take all your worries away. It’s you and him and it will be so forever.

Lost in your extasy you don’t notice a presence approaching, neither does your father. He fully expected to you have you all to himself in this lonesome corner of the garden and he’s completely lost in his lust for you, fangs now promisingly grazing your skin and you wish he would bite you already. Yet you dare not beg. Szarrs don’t beg, after all.

But the figure stops and watches you two tangled in this twisted expression of love. Astarion is nearly dumbfounded when he sees your face, your parted lips, witnesses your expression that speaks of nothing else but ultimate satisfaction. He hears your moans, sees the sweat on your face and then his eyes turn to his master when he makes you cry out once his fangs sink into your neck. The spawn never seen Cazador like this, his expression filled with sensuality he never imagined seeing on a face of a man who he only knows as cruel.

Astarion realizes he sees something he shouldn’t and nearly moves to walk away, maybe hide, but he can’t, because if his master sensed him approaching he would’ve ordered him away already. So he remains still, trying to turn his eyes away but being unable to, his gaze again focused on you and your moment of utter bliss as you very obviously begin approaching your orgasm. He recognizes it even if he never saw you to be this much into it when you’re with him. Astarion’s hands clench into fists and he frowns, jealous and angry. At you, at Cazador, but most importantly at himself. The only way he even manages to get you obey is when he repeats phrases his master does, when Astarion invokes your father’s name before you to remind you who you truly belong to. Spawn’s teeth grit but he can’t look away so he watches with boiling fury in his chest, not daring to look away but not daring to say anything either.

If only he had the power like Cazador he could have anyone he wanted, including you. But he can’t even have you to want Astarion as much as you want your father, spiritually and carnally. He’s reminded of his own powerless existence and hates it.

Astarion keeps watching as you moan louder and louder, hears how your voice echoes into the night and listens to Cazador groan against your neck, his thrusts becoming erratic and hurried, rushing to grant him release that he craves so badly.

“Say it.” Cazador growls with undisguised lust the moment his fangs leave your neck and you immediately know what he means.

“I’m yours, dad! I’m your good girl!” you whine with a shaky voice, you’re trying to hold on, not to come just yet, you know he likes it when he finishes first, but his body pinning yours against the tomb lid is becoming too heavy, you can barely inhale.

“That’s right.” Cazador hisses and his grip on your throat tightens as his lips push aside the dress and press against your shoulder. “You’re mine, now and forever.” He repeats and you can’t tell if it’s a reminder to you or himself, your mind is too dazed to think, too filled with bliss you’re trying to keep at bay.

Then your father’s teeth clamp onto your shoulder tighter, so tight it’s like he wants to take an actual bite out of you. With that he comes, milking his cock with your clenched walls while you try not to come yourself. But the moment he does you let go and cry out, shouting his name into the night while Cazador squeezes on your throat nearly taking your breath away. Your cunt spasms, pulling out last drops of his seed and he keeps thrusting until he knows that your peak is passing. His hips against your body slow, then stop entirely, and you both remain still for a long moment. You hear Cazador panting against your skin with your shoulder still caught between his teeth and you smile dreamily. You couldn’t be happier.

At last the Vampire Lord releases your flesh from his bite and lifts his head, looking at your sweaty face with pride and something too close to love, but you see none of it, because by the time you open your eyes, Cazador is pushing himself from you, his hands leaving your neck and waist, his perched leg finding footing on the ground, and he pulls out of you carefully, not spilling a single drop of his cum. You gasp when you feel him push in a thumb into your cunt, then move it as if he’s confirming just how fully he filled you and it looks like the conclusion satisfies him because you feel your wrists being unbound from the bondage of your panties.

You bring your wrists to yourself, your arms feel numb and weird, but you still push yourself up from the tomb and look back at Cazador, feeling the skirts of your dress drop around your legs the moment you straighten your back, but now you see that he’s not even looking at you.

When you follow your father’s haughty gaze you recognize the silver curls and the scowl. Astarion. How long he has been standing here? You have no clue. You look at Cazador and see an arrogant grin on his face while he tucks his softening cock back into his pants and makes himself presentable once more.

You find yourself mortified for some reason. Maybe because of how Astarion is glaring at his master. With so much hate that you are sure your father will want to punish it. So when he begins walking, not giving you even a glance, you realize you’re clenching the skirts of your dress so strongly your hands are shaking. You watch Cazador walk to Astarion and lean down to his spawn’s ear, whispering something that you cannot hear. Astarion doesn’t move, his gaze now shifted onto you, and then Cazador pats his shoulder with a wide smirk as he walks off, tall and proud. A conqueror.

When your father’s footsteps fade, you watch Astarion straighten his back, his lips pressed into a thin line but he’s not moving. You swallow dryly and feel your legs move before you consciously demand them to. You briefly notice your panties tossed on the ground but ignore them and walk down the path, knowing you’ll have to pass Astarion. Your breathing stops entirely when you get closer, seeing pure rage in spawn’s eyes but you don’t look at him, you command yourself not to as you try to keep your strolling pace, but when you’re about to think that you’re safe, as you think nothing will happen when you pass the pale elf, you feel your upper arm suddenly being gripped with such force that your knees buckle and you drop down on the hard stone.

You raise your face and see Astarion come into view, his gaze filled with fury when he gazes down upon you, his lips curled into a snarl while he holds your arm so painfully you wince with an unsaid plea to be released, but it looks like he enjoys seeing you kneeling and hurting.

“You see me just as he does, don’t you? A worthless spawn! A slave for you both!” He asks in a voice that’s nearly trembling with fury and you gasp, trying to wrench your arm from his fingers.

“What? Astarion, I have no idea-“ Your own voice is shaking from pain and panic that you’re feeling at witnessing spawn’s rage that you don’t even know why you deserve it.

“SHUT UP!” Astarion bellows and you flinch as if hit.

Your eyes are wide from shock and building terror as your lips quiver, trying to form words that could save you or doom you. But spawn ignores your evident fear and finally releases your arm, now grabbing your jaw as he leans over you, bringing his face close to yours. His nails dig into your skin and you wince but keep looking into his eyes, not daring to guess what’s coming next.

“You will never see me as anything but a slave for the rest of your existence, will you?” Astarion’s voice is low and dangerous and you swallow dryly, remaining silent. Your arm throbs but you can barely feel right now. “Tell me, little dhampir, do you think being allowed to fuck you is enough?” He smirks but there’s venom in his expression, poison that you haven’t seen in him before, something that you now realize has been festering in him for a long long time.

“Astarion, what’s gotten into you?” You manage a silent whisper and he squeezes your jaw so tightly you let out a pained moan, your arms gripping at his wrist, trying to pull his hand away but it’s like trying to move a statue – impossible.

“Nothing’s gotten into me, darling. I’ve just realized that no matter how sweetly you moan for me, you will never be truly mine. Is it because I’m not your father or is it because I’m not powerful enough to kill him?”

Your heart skips a beat from sheer terror.

Kill your father? What is he talking about? He can’t be serious. He’s a spawn, surely he can’t even if he wanted to? And for you? Would Astarion attempt that just to have you all to himself?

“You’re hurting me.” You whine, trying to pry his fingers off your face and with a scoff he releases your jaw.

“You like being taught lessons, don’t you?” Spawn says while you rub your jaw with trembling fingers.

“If you hurt me my father will-“

“I don’t care!” Astarion raises his voice again and you just glare at him from under your eyebrows. Who is he to lay his hands on you? “You will be mine.” Not a promise but a threat while you watch him begin to unlace his pants. “Keep kneeling or I will snap your neck.” Another threat spoken with a tone of voice telling you that he means every word. Your knees hurt already but remain on them, watching how he takes out his semi-flaccid cock and begins stroking it with a smirk blooming on his face. “I love how easily you submit, darling. Some things even Cazador does right.”

“Just because you feel powerless it doesn’t mean you have any right to take it out on me.” You can’t help but respond, your jaw still hurts and so does your arm, and you stare at Astarion with anger instead of fear but he just grins at you. There’s no fondness in those eyes, there rarely is, and you understand only now, realize that for him – you’re a conquest, a symbol of power. To Cazador and Astarion both, it seems that to have you – is to have power.

The thought itself stirs something in your body. A response that is so deeply ingrained in you that you weren’t even aware of it until now – you want to be treated this way. Not with roughness but as a reward for being powerful. Maybe it’s just one more of Cazador’s lessons that you internalized it so deeply until it became a part of you.

“I’m not taking my anger out of you, sweet little dhampir. I’m just remind you that Cazador is not the only one who has claim to your body.” Astarion’s grin is sharp and you notice him growing harder by the second. “Open your mouth.” He commands and you look into his eyes with a scowl.

“If you hurt me-“

He slaps you so hard you see only white for a long moment, the sound of it ringing through your ears and nearly deafening you if only temporarily. Your head swings so strongly to your left that you nearly fall to all fours but somehow remain on your knees. Your anger gets replaced by shock and fear once again as you look at the spawn looming over you.

“I said open your mouth.” Astarion repeats and his voice is full of danger so you just release a shaky breath and open your mouth obediently. His expression softens at your compliance and he even smiles, although it’s a smile of a victor and not of a lover, but has he ever been your lover or just another man who wanted your body but not your soul? “See, it’s easier when you simply obey.” Spawn croons in a voice that would sound alluring if you didn’t know what danger lurked just under the surface.

Astarion’s hand moves to tangle into your hair and he roughly yanks back on them, making you face upwards. You blink couple times at the pain but keep your lips parted while he looks down on you with a smug expression. Expression that tells you he doesn’t see you, not really, maybe never have. You’re something to be used, to satisfy himself with, to remind him that the only power he has right now is power over you. And you can’t help but be turned on. You haven’t noticed through the whole interaction how Cazador’s cum seeped out of your cunt and down your thighs but now that you’re getting aroused again you realize how wet your skin is from your father’s seed and your own juices flowing freely out of your entrance.

“You’ve been taught to obey your whole life, little dhampir.” Astarion’s voice is almost soothing as he releases his hard cock and his fingers brush lose hair from your eyes, tucking it behind your ear like a lover would, but you see the storming rage behind his eyes. It’s subdued now but still present, so much like your father. “Now don’t speak, I don’t want to hear another word from you, understood?”

You nod with a blush spreading across your face and Astarion is not blind to that. It gives him a feeling of satisfaction that no matter what he does to you – you will want him and become aroused by him. It gives him that desired feeling of power. If not over anything else in his miserable slave life, then at least power over you.

“I’m going to enjoy this.” He whispers more to himself than to you and you grip your skirts, trying not to show how aroused you are becoming but your salivating mouth betrays you.

Astarion grips the base of his dick and steps just a little closer, still holding your head firmly in place just before he shoves himself fully into your mouth. You feel the tip of his cock at the back of your throat, cutting off air and you make a pathetic whine before your mouth is full and your face is smashed against his pelvis. You didn’t even have time to notice when his fingers left his length.

“Take it, pet, take it all.” Spawn croons and you let go of your dress and grab onto his pants. At first you try to pull your face away but his grip on your hair is so tight you can’t move an inch.

Your eyes begin to water and your tongue moves in protest of your throat trying to gag around his cock. You forget your stinging cheek and forget Astarion’s rage, you’re in your element now and your pussy throbs with desire even while you struggle without air. His words only escalate your desire, you can’t resist what’s in your nature.

After a long moment, by the point your head begins to swim from lack of oxygen, Astarion finally pulls your head away from his cock. You gasp for air and look up at him, tears rolling down your face and his glistening dick is still connected to your mouth by heavy strings of saliva.

“Beautiful.” Vampire spawn comments with almost soothing affection and then shoves his length back into your mouth, beginning to thrust against your face. “Good obedient little pet, aren’t you? You don’t care who you submit to as long as you do.” His words are mocking but you don’t care.

With drooping eyelids you try to swirl your tongue against his hard cock, enjoying the texture and the sensation of veins, your mouth keeps salivating, covering your chin and dripping down his balls but you care for none of this, you just want to feel him come down your throat. How the tip of his length hits the back of your throat again and again makes your whole body ache with renewed desire.

“What a cock-hungry slut you are.” You hear Astarion chuckle but his breathing sounds increasingly labored and you lift your eyes to him, finally seeing his satisfied expression and lust in his gaze that replaced the rage from earlier. He wants you so much, you realize. “Worship me like you worship Cazador.” He suddenly demands and pulls his dick out of your mouth.

He slams your face against his cock, wetness of it staining your cheek and eyelid, but you stick out your tongue and begin licking. You hear his breathy chuckle and finally he releases your hair, giving you freedom which you immediately use to drag your tongue up and down his length. When you look up at him, you see that Astarion is consumed by pleasure, his eyes clouded and lips parted. You both are panting loudly but you notice it only now.

“Tell me you want me. Tell me you need me.” Astarion says with a degree of desperation in his voice and you hesitate before answering.

“I need you, Astarion. And I want you.” You say with your own voice coarse from the rough face-fucking you have been administered just earlier and a pleased smile appears on Astarion’s face.

“Keep going.”

So you do. Enthusiastically you resume licking his cock, tracing every vein and groove with the tip of your tongue, swirling it around the soft tip of his dick, making him moan now. You feel his hand return to your hair, both of them this time, but he’s not gripping it anymore, just cradling your head while you keep covering his length with saliva. For a moment you even dip your head lower, licking his balls, taking one of them into your mouth gently, sucking on it, then giving same attention to the other one.

“Oh gods, you’re so good…” Astarion struggles to speak and you smile proudly to yourself, you always love to be praised.

After a moment longer you return to his cock and take it into your mouth fully, your tongue pressing to the underside of it and you begin to bob your head, completely focused on the task at hand. You feel Astarion’s fingers tremble against your skull and you know he’s close.

“Fuck, your mouth feels so delicious.” Spawn moans and you feel his length twitch against your tongue just before Astarion shoves it deep into your mouth and begins spilling himself down your throat.

You gulp it down, listening to him moan as he uses your mouth to milk himself of every last drop and when he finally stops you hear him panting while still firmly cradling your head. After a moment Astarion pulls back and you release his already softening dick from your mouth, letting it drop. You open your eyes and look up, noticing his flushed face, beads of sweat on his forehead and his clouded eyes, but a satisfied smirk soon pulls at his lips and by your hair he yanks you back, letting go just before you drop-sit on your feet, finally getting some relief for your knees.

Without a word you use the back of your hand to wipe your chin and lips while Astarion quietly tucks himself back into his pants.

“I hope you won’t forget who you belong to, darling.” He coos again so sweetly it’s almost hard to believe he lost his composure so utterly just earlier. Your desire is still throbbing within your body like a drum but you realize that he’s done with you, at least for now.

“So that’s what this was all about?” You ask and with a silent grunt you get to your feet, looking into his eyes with a small frown. “You saw me with father and decided you needed to remind me that he’s not the only one who can have me?”

Astarion laughs and reaches out, caressing the same cheek he hit. It feels soothing, pleasantly cold against your sore skin and you lean into his touch before you can think against it.

“Maybe. Maybe not. In any case, I had a good time.” Spawn says and you can’t help but smile ever so slightly.

“You’re easy to please then, unlike my father.” You tease him and Astarion chuckles, removing his hand from your face, then he eyes you up and down slowly, as if trying to memorize exactly how you look in this moment, disheveled hair and all, your dress crumpled and stained.

“Maybe you should consider prioritizing me instead of him then. I would be a merciful master to you.” He says and your blink few times, trying to understand if you really heard what you just heard. Does Astarion really want you to choose?

“Astarion…” You begin, trying to pick your words but he just laughs again and starting to walk away, strutting with pride of a Vampire Lord himself.

“I’ll see you around, I’m sure, my little dhampir.” He says loudly and strolls back to the palace while you remain standing there, exhausted and dumbfounded.

Suddenly you feel like you’re between a hammer and an anvil and you dread to think what would happen if both Cazador and Astarion began getting increasingly jealous over you.

One thing you are sure of, if it ever came to that – someone wouldn’t survive.

The thought makes you shudder and you hope it will never come to that.

[hissithlady]

A Sonnet on His Back

By HisSithLady

Astarion looks forward to a night with his Master, Cazador, who has promised him a special night.

18+ Erotica. Minors DNI

Relationships:

Astarion/Cazador Szarr

Characters:

Astarion

Cazador Szarr

Additional Tags/Warnings

Blood, Blood and Injury, Blood Drinking, Blood and Torture, Male Slash, Anal Sex, Anal, Master/Slave, Sexual Slavery, Dom/sub, Lust, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, I'm Bad At Tagging, Razors, Cutting

Astarion paced with anticipation in his chamber. Cazador, his master who had saved him years ago had promised a night together with something special.

This was a rare occurrence as of late, the vampire lord indulging more in the toys he ordered Astarion to bring to him than the one he claimed to be his favorite. He fussed, not sure why, moving his hair in places, feeling his own body, should be be clothed? Should he be naked and waiting?As his mind swam there was a soft knock.

"C-come in," he cursed how his voice shook as his master strode in, closing the door behind him. The proud vampire lord strutted to his spawn, taking him in with hungry eyes.

"M-my master," the spawn bowed low to his creator. Cazador, dressed casually, cupped Astarion's face, lifting it. The young vampire tried not to look eager to his raven haired Lord, but his touch sent shivers down his spine.

"My beloved, my Astarion,"

His chest fluttered as his eyes met the commanding red gaze of his master. His angled features almost soft as he stroked the spawns cheek with his thumb. Cazador pulled his beloved's face to him, pressing his lips against his. Astarion moaned into the kiss. His hands found Cazadors waist in an attempt to be as close as possible. Their tongues danced as if trying to devour each other.

Like starved lovers they tore at each other's clothing, gasping and groaning in passion. Cazador placed his hands on Astarion's shoulders, pushing the vampire spawn to his knees. The vampire lord's cock stood stiff, a considerable length that made Astarion's mouth water.

"You are magnificent, my lord,"

"Suck me,"

Astarion did not have to be asked twice. He nuzzled his face against Cazadors length before licking it up and down. He sucked his balls, teasing the tip of his penis, swirling his tongue around his head. The spawn was so absorbed in his task he barely registered his master speaking.

"Such a good boy, you do know how to please me," he gasped out.

Astarion's eyes widened feeling a rush of pride. He took all of Cazador's length in his mouth, gagging slightly before bobbing his head, taking his master to the back of his throat again and again.

"Good, good, take it, that's right," the vampire lord hissed. Cazador groaned as he pushed him to the hilt, his balls resting against his spawn’s chin. The white haired elf gagged, his throat closing around his master's length as he began to choke.

"You look so good with my cock in your mouth"

Astarion felt his body heat up at the praise of his master. Filled with new vigor, he placed his hands on the vampire's hips and bobbed his head, sliding back and forth over his Master's cock. Cazador moaned as he held the head of his spawn again to the base. He relished in the panic, the rapid breath, the squeezing of his throat. The vampire lord held him in place for a moment. Then pulled his cock from his mouth. Strings of saliva connected his spawn to his cock as Astarion coughed, catching his breath.

"Get up," the vampire ordered and Astarion obeyed. He looked over his master's body, toned and fit like his own, he reached out, letting a finger travel the deep gutters of Cazador's abs. Cazador grabbed the cock of his spawn, feeling the stiff white meat lurch in his grip. Astarion's legs almost gave way at the sudden attention, a whine escaping his lips.

"Y-you don't have to be rough, I come willingly," Astarion raised his hands giving an awkward playful grin that went ignored.

Pulling him in close, Cazador did not hesitate to sink his fangs into Astarion's shoulder. Astarion let out a moan as the blood flowed from his wound. The sharp pain of the bite turned into warm bliss. It was euphoric and he melted into Cazador's arms.

Cazador released him from the bite. Kissing him passionately, he shared the metallic tang of Astarion's blood.

"You already did that," Astarion whispered breathlessly, "I'm already yours."

"Yes you are, my beautiful boy." Cazador responded.

"On the bed, I have something special for you tonight," he commanded.

Astarion did as he was told, crawling onto the sheets on his hands and knees. His white ass presenting as his cock dribbled a pool onto the sheets below him. Astarion couldn't control the trembling of his body. His master, his lover, the one person he desired for pleasure and love would soon be inside him, he would soon be filled. Cazador watched as his beloved trembled with excitement. His pale form, toned and sculpted, a work of art.

"You are beautiful, Astarion. Saving such a treasure from the grip of death was well worth the trouble."

He ran a hand along the curve of Astarion's ass, eliciting a hiss from the spawn.

"I owe you my life, my master," Astarion moaned. "I am yours."

Cazador leaned forward, biting Astarion's earlobe. "You will be," he promised.

He pressed his thick cock tip against the spawns twitching hole. Astarion whimpered. His mind is a haze of need and desire. With only the saliva of his spawn’s throat Cazador pushed against the tight muscles of Astarion's hole.

Grunting, the vampire's spawn gritted his teeth, the sting of his tight hole behaving unyieldingly to his Master's attempt at penetration. Cazador grabbed Astarion’s hair wrenching his head back.

“Don’t resist me, spawn,” he seethed through gritted teeth.

Astarion whimpered, doing his best to relax as Cazador reared back, pushing harder into his slave's ass. With a pop and a gasp, his head slipped in. He held his spawns hip in his hands, the tight hot muscle squeezing his sensitive head. Astarion cried out, a mix of pleasure and pain, as he was filled.

"C-Cazador," gasped Astarion, the wave of pleasure building, more intense, as his mind threatened to shatter. Cazador grinned as he watched his spawn's back arch as he began to tunnel inside him, The pale elf cried out his bliss, his cock spilling seed onto the sheets beneath him in ecstasy. "M-more."

"Beg."

"Please, Master!" Astarion cried, a loud moan escaping him, Cazador's name following it as the vampire grabbed his face, turning him to face him and kissing him harshly, the other hand gripping the other's thigh to hold him open wider, Astarion's moans becoming muffled, before Cazador broke away, his mouth finding his throat, a low growl vibrating through his lips.

"Master!" Astarion gasped, as Cazador bit into his shoulder, hard. Crying out in both pain and pleasure, Astarion felt blood begin to drip down his skin, before Cazador began to lick it up, his hips still moving, his own breath coming in heavy gasps. Astarion's mind was spinning, Cazador's fingers gripping the skin of his thighs tightly, his hips slamming into him as he growled into his ear.

"You are mine, my spawn." Cazador's heated panting had Astarion's mind spinning. "Only mine, do you understand?"

"Yes, Master," breathed Astarion, his body shaking as Cazador's teeth grazed his neck only fueling his spawn's cries of passion.. "Only yours. I love you, I love you with all the days you have given me"

Suddenly Astarion felt a sharpness against his back, not the same sharpness as his Master's teeth, something more fine. Out of instinct he tried to turn and look only to have Cazador shove him back down, his cheek mashed into the sheets. '"M-mast-?"

"Hush," the vampire lord's rhythm didn't slow as he bent down to his ear,

"My beloved Astarion. I shall make you more beautiful than you are. I will make you art."

More sharpness caused Astarion to grit his teeth, his hands balling into fists. It was excruciating. He knew his master was rough but this was new. The sweat that formed ran into the open wounds causing him to howl.

Cazador was muttering something under his breath, something foreign that he'd never heard. Astarion gripped the sheets below him.

"Gods….what are you doing?" He cried out.

"I am carving a sonnet on your back my love, and marking the verses in scars. Your body is mine and I will make it so."

Astarion screamed, desperately wanting to stop the sting of cuts and scrapes against his back and the warmth of blood as it trickled down his skin. He wanted to look but was unable to as his master forced him into the sheets.

"Be still and take what I give you." His tone was dripping with lust.

"Y-yes," Astarion whimpered. All he could do was obey, all he could do was scream, in the mix of ecstasy and pain at his Master's hand. It must be beautiful, thought Astarion, it must be. His Master's poetry was second to none, it was an honor to be his canvas…an honor.

Cazador groaned, the razor digging into the soft flesh of his spawn's back, his tongue licking up the blood, the taste of copper, iron and salt mixing on his tongue, his mind drunk on it. Astarion was his, his perfect spawn, his to keep, to mark. His screams, sweet music.

He was making Astarion's body move on purpose with every sharp thrust of his cock, he wanted the blade to slip, it mattered not to him as he enjoyed carving over the mistakes again and again. Cazador growled as he continued to push his cock into Astarion, the man underneath himself gasping, moaning, his own cock still hard and drooling despite the pain. The vampire smiled as he saw Astarion's arms were shaking, and Cazador moved one of his hands from his thighs, to his shoulders digging his nails into the white skin.

"Grab your own cock and jerk yourself off," commanded the vampire, "Don't you dare stop and don't you dare cum until I say so"

At his words, Astarion reached for his sensitive cock. The pale elf's eyes rolled back as he started to pleasure himself, moaning into the thrusts. The vibrations went through Cazador’s whole body and he sunk over and over into his spawn.

"Be still, my beloved, you're going to make me, oops" Cazador teased digging the razor harder into Astarions back, the blinding pain causing him to shriek. "It needs to be perfect,"

Cazador laced his bloodied fingers in the vampire spawns white hair, dragging him to his knees, continuing the carve shapes and lines. "Hold this position, pet."

Astarion nodded, his breath uneven and heavy, his chest heaving. He could feel the cold air against the wounds on his back and the sting of them. It was almost too much, but he knew he had no choice but to stay as he was. He felt his Masters cock hitting deeper than before. His grunts turned to groans, groans becoming scream, Cazador digging the blade harder, relishing in his pain.

"Please...master, I...I need..."

Cazador smirked. "Be patient, my sweet. I'm not quite done yet. It’s magnificent, my beloved, the words on your skin are perfect"

Astarion whimpered, his eyes shut, tears threatening to spill. He knew what would happen if he didn't obey but that did not stop the screams that escaped him. He desperately kept the rhythm of his hand on his cock, his desire to please Cazador, to show him he could obey was driving him wild.

Astarion's hips moved in unison with his Master's, he wanted to please him, so badly as Cazador dug his nails into Astarion's locks. "Your screams are the sweetest, my beautiful spawn"

Astarion was a quivering mess. Cazador muttered softly, he strained to hear the words in hopes to get a taste of what masterpiece his master was forming. "M-master!"

"I think I'm almost done, my dear."

Cazador was grinning as he dug the razor in a little deeper, Astarion crying out, his back arching, blood flowing endlessly, the sheets below them running red. The vampire lord was loving the feeling of power over the spawn, watching as his blood seeped from his back, his cock being squeezed by his insides as they reacted to the blade. He had to stop himself from cumming prematurely, he had to finish what he was doing. Astarion squeezed his eyes closed, tears rolling down his cheeks, as he felt himself get close again. He so desperately wanted to release yet it seemed he was being kept on the edge, the pleasure and pain mixing together, the razor digging deeper into his back, his Master's nails digging into his skin.

"Please, Master," Astarion was dazed, head swimming. He whispered knowing what he wanted to hear, "please, make it hurt"

Cazador paused in surprise, his balls threatening to explode. Astarion could feel the jolt of his cock inside him. "As you wish, my love"

The sounds of flesh slapping against flesh intensified, Cazador carved the shape of his cock into his prized spawn over and over to the melody of the man's screams. The razor kept slipping, he kept digging it into the once perfect, unblemished back of his slave.

Astarion's mind spun, from bloodlessness or from the pleasure he wasn't sure. The smell of his blood, their sex, their sweat thickly filling the room. He knew from the moans of his Master that he was doing good, it felt like an eternity but he would endure this to have a piece of Cazador with him forever.

Finally, Astarion heard Cazador put the razor down, his flesh throbbing as the vampire lord wrapped his arms around his waist, kissing the bite marks on his shoulders.

"I-is it finished...your sonnet?" Astarion's voice dripped with desperation as he felt Cazador touch, tracing his masterpiece. Cazador wrapped his hand around Astarions neck, squeezing it as he held his body to him. Astarion felt his balls lurch, his eyes bulged before rolling back, mouth opening silent scream.

"Oh yes, my beloved," Cazador whispered in his ear, "and it is beautiful, it is perfect, just like you. Now cum, my beloved slave"

And that was all Astarion needed. He came hard, the white hot pleasure blinding him as his mind finally shattered, the feeling of his Master's teeth in his neck sending him spiraling over the edge. Cazador came moments after, his grip tightening as he rode his own orgasm out, filling his spawn.

Cazador released Astarion from his grip, the young man falling forward into the blood covered sheets, panting in bliss as his master slid out of him. Cazador looked down over his work, satisfied at the job he had done…one down, six to go.

He was brought back to reality as the man beneath him stirred, he leaned over the spawn, gently brushing the hair from his eyes that fluttered open.

"D-id I please you, Master?"

"Very much, my dear," the vampire Lord smiled, kissing his spawn on the head, before his attention was brought to the blood that had dripped down the young man's back, and down his thighs. Using the already stained sheets to wipe the blood from his chest Cazador held his hands over the open wounds and muttered. As he did so Astarian grunted as his skin stitched back together over the wounds in raised markings, scarring over.

"Will you read it to me? The sonnet?"

Cazador smirked "No,"

Astarion's brow furrowed.

"But you said it was for me, after all that, why not read it to me?" He reached out to his master, still craving the feel of him.

"Because," Cazador replied, jerking his shoulder away. "The beauty is not the words, but the art, the work."

Astarion looked puzzled as his Master rose, picking up his clothes up from the floor. Cazador redressed, making his way out of the room.

"Master?" Astarion called, "Lay with me please"

Cazador paused looking back at the mess he had left, the blood covered boy, the dirty sheets. "I have matters to attend too"

Astarion sat up.

"Do you not want to be with me, Master?"

Cazador chuckled. "You are insatiable."

"Please,"

"No, pet." It came out harsh. "I have more to write, your back isn't large enough for my vision."

“But..” Astarion said quietly, recoiling. "Yes Master,"

Cazador exited the room, not looking his way again, shutting the door behind him. The vampire spawn stood and reached back, feeling the new lumps formed on his flesh, turning to try and see if he could decipher what his master had written.

"How cruel of him" Astarion mused. He was used to his Master's tricks. He would find out eventually.

For now the young vampire laid on his bed, his blood stained, bruised body curling into the soft sheets, his mind swimming with what beautiful words he could have permanently etched on his back. Savoring the lingering feeling of his master’s touch before cleaning himself, bliss rang in his ears, his body tingling from his Master’s attention, Astarion didn't even notice the screams from the neighbouring chambers.

[the-case-book-of-fanfiction]

On My Knees

Love Bites, Chapter 8 // Love Bites {Masterlist}

Ship: Astarion Ancunin x fem!vampire spawn!elf!Tav/reader

Summary: A betrayal so severe even centuries of love threaten to break beneath its weight. Yet you offer forgiveness, even if Astarion has not felt its kindness in two hundred years.

Word Count: 2,360 words

Warnings: return to chp. 1 timeline, in-game timeline, reader becomes a vampire spawn, brief flashback, captured by Mindflayers, Astarion is vulnerable but also honest, confessions, Sebastian's back

Note: My apologies, I'm a day late! I had some technical difficulties yesterday but now we're back and almost done with Love Bites.

☟ Continue below the fold ☟

“You screamed well into the morning. None of us slept. My siblings, they…offered me their blankets. It was the first time they had been kind to me in…a very long time.” Astarion fidgeted with his fingers, his voice thick with tears as he wrapped up his story. The spawn in the cage stayed quiet, listening intently, some wearing wicked, wicked smiles. “And we planned. They helped me sneak out when night fell so I could— So I could go to my grave.” He looked up at you for the first time in a very long time. “He buried you there. In my coffin.”

Bits and pieces of your memory came back to you. “Yes… Yes, he did, I remember— I remember so much. It was… Dark. Cold. Dirty. But I smelled…you.”

~❊~

The air was musty. It reeked of death, more strongly than the sickhouses during a plague. Your eyes burned when you opened them. You tried not to breathe, then realized after several moments of holding your breath, you didn’t need to. There was no pain in your lungs. You weren’t lightheaded from trying to hold your breath.

“What?” you whispered to yourself. Your lips tugged around two identical objects in your mouth, teeth that you knew had not been there all your life. 

Your eyes adjusted to the space slowly, but you knew from just a few experimental wiggles the place was cramped and tiny. It didn’t take long for you to recognize the smell of your lover or the appearance of your surroundings, lined in soft red velvet; you’d help pick the coffin yourself, all those years ago. It was Astarion’s.

You whimpered, the panic starting to set in. “Asty? Where are you?” You could smell him, all around you, even under the terrible scent of earth and bodily fluids and death and embalming fluids. 

You had no heartbeat, but you were sure you could hear it pounding in your ears, screaming, Out, out, out! You began scratching at the coffin lid and realized there were already claw marks there, ripping the velvet and gouging the wood beneath. You were not the first to have crawled out of here.

If Asty could do it, so can I, you told yourself and began kicking the lid. It didn’t take long for it to crack open, the latch already broken. You wedged it open slowly, clawing handfuls of dirt out of the way until you could make way for yourself. 

It was slow going, digging your way out of grave dirt. It was fresh and not packed down yet, which was your only advantage to get yourself out. It clung to you like summer heat, worming its way into your clothes, your ears, your mouth. You worked through the panic that built up inside you, getting worse the longer it took.

After what felt like hours—what probably was hours—your hand broke the surface. You nearly cried with relief and forced the hole to widen until you could pull yourself out, grappling with more loose dirt and very little for leverage. 

Your head came up through the hole and you took your first deep breath in ages, only to start coughing. You hacked up blood and dirt, your entire body heaving with the effort. You trembled more terribly than you had on the day you’d learned Astarion had died as you finally freed yourself from the grave. You turned to face the stone as you dry-heaved. Sure enough, Astarion’s name was carved into it. 

“You got out faster than he did,” a nasty voice said and you surged your feet, whirling and reaching for your knife. It wasn’t there. You stumbled forward, your body catching up to your exhaustion before your mind did. A black-haired elf stood before you and smiled sardonically. Cazador. “The only weapons you have now are in your mouth, dear child.”

Instinctively, you ran your tongue across your teeth and hissed as your new fangs sliced your tongue open. The tang of your own blood did nothing but make you aware of the pulsing, needy hunger curling in your gut. 

Memories came flooding back. Astarion, in your tavern, a vampire. Sleeping with him. Going back to Cazador with him. The pain of the bite that turned you. Attempting to run—being snatched up by Cazador and brought into the pit of the palace. Thousands upon thousands of spawn kept inside cages, jeering at you, watching you, giving you enough strength to try to fight back. Smiling defiantly at the vampire who promised you pain, even as you cried at the sound of Astarion’s sobs from so far above you. Darkness finally overtaking you as your body gave into the bite, the blood drained from your veins, your bones rearranging themselves, knitting together your new vampiric body.

“Get away from me,” you spat, stumbling away from him.

Cazador laughed. “Where will you go, little one? No one can save you now. Not now that you are this. You are mine.”

You heard a shout. Cazador stopped, turning to search for its origin. Another shout, this time your name, this time clearly Astarion’s voice.

“Do not meddle, boy,” Cazador warned, raising his voice in the direction of the shout.

A hand touched your shoulder. You looked, knowing you would see Astarion the moment you felt his touch. Cazador remained blissfully unaware that his spawn had already reached you. 

Astarion offered you his hand. You glanced back at your maker once, then slipped your hand into his. The two of you took off running. 

Cazador let out a shout, but neither of you heeded. You left the cemetery behind and began running through the streets of Baldur’s Gate.

“Where do we go?” you demanded, impressed by how much faster you were now, even without blood. 

“Anywhere,” Astarion said, glancing at you. “You wanted to run? Now we are. Just don’t stop until the city’s behind us.”

“How did you find me?” you asked.

He flashed you a fangy grin. “Dalyria. She helped me sneak past Godey.”

“She helped? Why?”

He shrugged. “She didn’t say, and I didn’t ask.”

The sky above you opened up. You both stopped short, staring up at the massive ship that had come through the rip in the world. 

“Come back here!” Cazador’s shout rang through the street. He was still some distance away, but he was gaining on you.

You tugged on Astarion’s arm. “Honey, we have to go.”

Astarion was staring at something just ahead of you. “What in the gods’ names is that?”

You turned and something with tentacles for a face grabbed your head. You screamed as, once again, the world went dark.

~❊~

The rest was a blank, until you woke up on the beach with Astarion leaning over you, but the rest of your companions had filled you in. After you’d blacked out, you’d been put in a pod and a tadpole was forced into your head. Some part of you had always been glad you’d had no memory of that—but if you had remembered it, would you have also remembered everything else?

You looked up at Astarion, who was nervously chewing his lower lip, his fang peeking out. You felt your own fang with your tongue. He did this to me.

You took a step backward, putting distance between him and yourself. You saw his heart break in the way his eyes began to water. 

“It was you? You brought me to Cazador? You’re why I’m like this?” You felt short of breath, your chest tight, your head spinning: the beginnings of a panic attack your body remembered from its time alive—which was much more recent than Astarion had been telling you.

“Darling, I had to,” he whispered. “You told me to. You begged me to bring you to him so I wouldn’t get hurt!”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you hissed. “You didn’t have to tell the others, you could have fed them the same story you told me about keeping me safe from Cazador for two hundred years. But why me? Why did you lie to me about how I was turned?”

Hurt flashed in his eyes. But there was more to it than that. He was afraid, afraid because he was vulnerable in front of too many people, afraid because you were slowly backing away from him. 

“I couldn’t tell you, darling, you wouldn’t have believed me—”

“No more lies, Astarion,” you snapped. “Tell me the truth! Why did you lie?”

His lower lip trembled. “Because I was scared, alright? I saw the fear on your face on the beach and it—it looked like the fear in your eyes when I brought you to Cazador. You were already afraid. Of me! I… I didn’t want to make it worse. I didn’t want you to hate me when you were all I had. I was—” His eyes dropped briefly to the floor. Then he looked back up at you, tears rolling down his cheeks. You knew they were real. “I was scared you’d stake me for what I did to you the first chance you got. Worse, I was scared you’d leave me.”

You studied his face. As you looked at him, your anger began to fade. Death scares him less than losing me. “Astarion…”

He dropped to his knees, clearly expecting more rage. He trembled as he kept explaining, “I had already been without you for long enough. I didn’t want to do it again, I was scared that you’d forget me the way I—the way I forgot you. I was selfish, darling, I was so selfish because I didn’t want to do what you had to do for two hundred years and remember and love and ache when it wasn’t returned. So I lied. And I lied well. I made up story after story and you believed them so much they were becoming your memories. Anything else was just a bad dream to you and I let you believe that! It was easier to dismiss your real memories as nightmares than confess what really happened. That’s why I did it. Because it was easy.” He sniffled and roughly wiped away his tears with his wrist. “You can hate me all you want, but I am going to be selfish even more and I am going to beg you to stay. Hate me for the next two hundred years but please, please don’t leave me.”

And Astarion remained kneeling on the ground, shaking, waiting for you to speak. No one—not the other spawn or your companions—dared speak or move.

Then you knelt in front of him and gently cupped his cheek in your hand, coaxing his head up. “Astarion… I don’t hate you, honey. I don’t. I…I understand. I’m not upset that you did what I asked you to do, I just…I wish you had told me the truth about it. I don’t like it, but I understand it. And I forgive you.”

The tension in the room shifted. Astarion stared at you with those wide, wet eyes of his, clearly caught off guard as much as, if not more than, your companions.

“Why?” he asked at last. “I let him turn you into a spawn! I let him make you the same abomination as me, as my siblings, as all these poor souls that had the misfortune of meeting me!”

You kissed the top of his head. “Meeting you was never misfortune,” you said to him. “Not in our lives. Not in your undeath. Not in mine.”

Astarion gripped your hand desperately. “Why?” he pleaded.

“Two hundred years are not easily shaken in six months,” you said softly, reminding him of a conversation you had already had about his instinctive need to seduce and manipulate you when he already had you. “I cannot blame you for any of your lies when I know why you have said them. You told me yourself, it’s instinctive. That you wanted protection. You couldn’t have known how I would have reacted if you told me the truth when I woke up, I’m not even sure of that. There was no promise that I would protect you then.” I squeezed his hand gently. “But I’m going to protect you now. I swear it.”

He shook his head, but he held your hand tightly as if he was still afraid of you leaving him, the bones in your fingers grinding from the pressure. “I’m… I’m not sure I’m worth protecting—”

“You are,” you said, cutting him off without a second thought. 

“Why protect me after what I did to you?”

Your heart broke. “Can’t you see? Oh, honey, it’s because I love you! I knew what I was getting myself into then, even if I didn’t remember it for so long. It’s not your fault I insisted, you even gave me several ways out.” You stood and pulled him up with you. “Come on, up you get. We’ve still got work to do, remember?”

Astarion dusted himself off as he got off the ground. He looked at you tenderly, his eyes soft. “Thank you,” he whispered. 

From the cage, Sebastian cleared his throat petulantly. The bubble that had kept your focus on Astarion popped. 

“Tender,” he drawled, “but foolish, trusting him again.”

“Speak for yourself,” you said, shrugging. “You’ll see, when we free you all.”

Astarion pulled a face. “Are you sure we can?”

You glanced back at Sebastian. “You said I fought back, right? And that was without a tadpole, when I was still a thrall.” You turned back to Astarion. “He can’t control either of us anymore. If anyone can kill him, it’s us.”

Slowly, Astarion nodded. “I… Yes. We can. Together.”

Sebastian drew closer to the cage’s bars. He held them as he murmured, “Maybe you will do it. Gods help us if you don’t, though.”

Astarion rolled his eyes. “Haven’t you learned the gods don’t listen to the likes of us?”

“Boys,” you chided, before Sebastian could snap back. You glanced at your other companions. “Is everybody ready?” They nodded and, at last, Astarion nodded, too.

You offered him your hand. “Now, let’s go kill our maker, shall we?”

☞ ❊ ☜

[Image Caption: I do not give permission to repost, translate, or publish my work on any other site or app by anyone except myself. I do not give permission for my work to be fed into AI (for audio, art, or writing).]

Baldur's Gate 3 // Astarion Ancunin

Taglist: {comment and let me know if you'd like to be added to the Astarion taglist!} @wayward-hel @cheeslyy @ofmyth-andmagicart @neetheslayer @whispering-depths @freesidexjunkie @lightsinmycity @the0ldmann @gobbodoggo @oooof-ifellforyou @beeblisss @fangboner @aquaarietes @fiercest-eigengrau-skies @niqhtfell @call-me-nyxx @lueji-m @ceres-xiv @tricksy-trinity @graynstairs @rosa-rubus @ynisthatyou @thegoodwitchs-blog @catching-fire-in-the-wind @kiyastrf94 @vincemachina @silverfangmarks @ravenswritingroom @hinata7346 @hellethil @caramel-hufflepuff @beemiilk @mypainischronicbutmyassisiconic @starwatch77 @julianmarie @sadexistentialism @supernaturallover15 @writinghound @frankie-mercury @kindadolly @infernalrusalka

[ofsilentthings]

A Discourse on Art and Fear

The Szarr ballroom, empty save for the Lord of the house, his henchman Godey, and the favorite spawn.

Cazador Szarr attempts to write poetry.

(Explicit, Cazador/Astarion. Pre-game, Cazador PoV.)

[talesofthedm]

Rather Likes Her

Did i write smut for the first time? Yes. Is it bad? Probably. Is it grammatically correct? Also probably but I've been up for 13 hours straight at this point and who knows.

This is the second night Astarion asks Tav (Freya) to bed [in game it's just a line, no scene attached to it]. For me, it happened after finding the adamantine forge.

As a side note, having text to speech read this thing out loud at max volume was something I could not handle.

18+ MDNI (i warned ya)

Tav is Freya (she/her). No real description of her in this beyond her scars and AFAB.

Summary:

It's the night after finding the forge in the underdark. It's also the night after Astarion set off nearly every trap in the gods damned building and triggered two ambushes that nearly got them all killed. Freya is mad, Astarion is desperate to keep his protected status. Smut ensues.

Word Count: 2.8k

Excerpt:

He could taste the salt and sweat on her skin as he laid delicate kisses along her neck and spine. His lips were soft, their caress strangely intimate as he left whispered words trailed across her skin. “Shh… You’re being so good for me.”

CW: Smut, blood, light BD/SM, blood kink (vampire, duh), vaginal sex, dubcon (because Astarion is still disassociating), disassociating, scars, mentions of Cazador (because Cazador)

He rather liked Freya. He liked her boldness, the way she just as quickly goaded their enemies into fights so she could feign innocence at their deaths just as much as she shot a bolt through their skulls from the shadows. He liked that underlying tone of viciousness, the way she had cored out the very throat of a pesky little redcap because it had annoyed her. He liked the way those pretty hips of hers swayed when she stalked from slaver to slaver, shoving them over railings and into the churning waters below before they could even scream. He especially liked how she tolerated his existence, baring her neck to him out of necessity for their mutual survival and stupidly allowing him to manipulate her into the rather compromising position below him.

Nude. Face down and ass up with her legs spread. Pretty hips resting against his thighs so he could have unfettered access to her desperate cunt. Her heart beating oh so very fast in that pretty chest of hers.

He pushed in at a practiced rhythm, his left hand pressed forcefully into the back of her head so he wouldn’t have to see her face and the other leaving a whisper of a bruise against her hip so she would keep still. He rather liked Freya, and he didn’t need that ruined.

No, the woman below him was a mark. Something sweet and pretty to pluck and play at until he got what he wanted; and her being angry with him was not that—

He felt her muscles flutter again, in that disgustingly familiar way of someone spent but demanding yet another release. Always taking and taking and taking and still having the gall to demand for more—

Greedy little thing. He liked that about her, too.

Freya had just as much control over their companions as he had over her now, if not more so. With a wave of her hand, they would turn on him. Wyll would make good on his otherwise empty promises, Lae’zel would have an outlet—beyond Shadowheart—for testing knives and seeing bloodshed. And he had triggered a few too many traps today, half the camp returning beaten and bloody and burned as he stepped into ambush after ambush, trap after trap—

His hands withdrew from their respective places, one dragging down the curve of her neck as the other dragged its way along her right side, making sure the smooth of his calluses could be felt across every inch of raised scars and newly puckered burns and across the faint whispers of cuts and jagged tearings of claws that could have only been healed by magic and savage bites from beasts he did not recognize.

Freya shivered involuntarily, feeling deft fingers dance from oversensitive flesh to muffled scars and back again as he inched ever closer to the span of her shoulders.

The final straw had been imposing on the territory of a handful of imps—or were they elementals? He wasn’t sure, he didn’t care. They were all winged little nuisances that brought fire and brimstone and pain wherever they landed—

His fingers left white marks across the junction where shoulder met neck. Two thumbs pressed into the base of her spine, drawing circles harder than he had meant to. Astarion slowed his thrusts before stilling entirely, enthralled by the way the blood receded at his touch. The way skin turned an almost deathly pale only to have the color flood back the moment he moved…

Either way, it had left Freya angry and screaming and sweating and stressed. It was too hot in the forge, Lae’zel and her had been nearly dragged into a pit of lava the little pests likely called their nest, and their so-called cure only seemed to be slipping further and further from their grasp with each step they took—

Astarion’s hands pressed harder. We’ll find a healer, she had said.

His hips snapped forward. His name is Halsin, she had reported.

The spawn’s grip tightened, threatening to leave bruises. We’ll free him from the goblins, she had volunteered.

Freya let out a gasp from those pretty lips of hers each time he pounded into her again.

And again

And again

And again.

The only things that stopped him from flipping her over and wrapping his hands around her throat and seeing how fast he could get that pretty little heart to beat and watch her eyes rollback in a way that conflated forced submission and ecstasy as that pretty skin became a pretty pallor was because he needed her—

Her lovely little gasps became a lovely little moan when she started to spasm around him again. Gods, she was insufferable.

He rather liked that.

Which was a shame, because the way she had dragged him out of the forge and up the tunnels, by the ear, to the nearest respite that they could find cool air and clean water told him that she didn’t like him.

Astarion loosened his grip, rubbing firm circles into the meat of her shoulders while his thrusts slowed and stilled once more. Part of him wished he had scented oils or lotion or anything that could hide the smells of sex and sweat and the arguably stagnant water that dripped from the stalactites and the whispers of too warm air that traveled its way up from the tunnels below. It was a mix of familiar and unfamiliar, things he could blot out with a thought combined with new sensations that distracted him just enough to pull him back to the present.

She relaxed just a little bit further into the bedroll beneath them. “Please, please, plea—” she whispered, mind only half there.

He bent low, pressing the planes of his body flush against hers. His hands dragged slowly along her shoulders, her arms, her wrists, before lacing his fingers between hers. Her copper-touched skin felt deliciously warm, even after he had been so ready to escape the oppressive heat of the forge below them. He could taste the salt and sweat on her skin as he laid delicate kisses along her neck and spine. His lips were soft, their caress strangely intimate as he left whispered words trailed across her skin.

“Shh… You’re being so good for me.” He might as well have sent it directly into her mind through the tadpole, or whispered against the shell of her ear, with how it made her melt. The words were more muscle than conscious thought, but they worked all the same. And she didn’t need to know that. She didn’t need to know how many times he had whispered those words, how he had used soft touches and soft words to train pretty little marks like the one under him into submissive compliance for his master—

His lips traveled back up the length of her spine and to the crook of her neck, a small twitch of his hips highlighting each delicate brush of skin. She turned her head to provide access, the sprawling foliage depicted in her tattoo hiding the punctures of his previous bites. Freya tasted of salt and sweat and ink and ash and blood. His breaths came in short pants, an entirely unneeded attempt to feign life as he lavished her throat with kisses and nips and licks and bites.

He wished for anything that would put a layer between them, no matter how thin. Anything that would feel or smell or taste familiar. A knife to the back, rotting compost, burning flesh, even the taste of a diseased rat. Anything that he could focus on so that he wouldn’t forever associate the sound of her voice and the taste of her skin with abusing her pleasure for his own gain—

Astarion hadn’t realized his mistake until it was too late, caught up in muscle memory and practiced words and motions he hated as much as he found them comfortably familiar. It was one thing to hear the frantic beating of her heart, to even feel it through her back or the pulse point on her wrist. It was another to drag his teeth across her throat, to feel it reverberate in his mouth and through his fangs. They ached at the stimulation, and it was only made worse because he knew what she tasted like. Some deep, dark part of him recognized the scent of her, remembered the taste of her. It wanted more of her.

He gripped her hands harder, fisting the blankets below them with both their hands as his body began to move on its own—not that there was much thought in his actions before. His teeth scraped at delicate skin, breaking it but not daring to draw blood in an ill-fated attempt to sate himself with the tang of stale ink and warm flesh. He struggled atop her, as if the spawn could get any closer to the beating of her chest and the lifeblood it pumped through her by pushing deeper inside her. A distant thought wandered into the still-functioning part of his mind:

Would his master like this one? Would he be proud of him? Would he be rewarded? Would he be allowed to have a taste—

His grip was painful and frantic, trying to hold on to any semblance of reality before the fragile threads of his control snapped while the rest of his body writhed atop hers. Against every ounce of better judgement Astarion very well knew she possessed, she untangled her hand from his and wound it through the velvet of his hair and pulled.

Astarion growled from somewhere low in his chest. The simple action squashed any thoughts in his mind just as quickly as they appeared. It wasn’t just permission, but as much of a plea in its own right as the ones that died in his throat.

His breaths came hot and short, something he no longer had to pretend, as he let Freya guide him to where she wanted. The idea, the anticipation, of feeling her sweetness on his tongue was enough to drive him closer to the edge than he’d realized. He’d fed on her that first night and on occasion in the days following, but all while she slept. All with spoken permission and none with her wrapped around his cock.

He could smell the stale ink on her throat, the salty tang of her sweat, and the hints of himself where he had licked her clean. Astarion pulled away for a moment, resisting the gentle tug of Freya until he found the shell of her ear.

“Tell me to stop—” he left the statement unfinished, both afraid she would and wouldn’t at the same time.

Whatever words Freya had meant to respond came out a garbled, orgasmic mess when he tore into her throat. He wasn’t gentle, he wasn’t patient, he wasn’t hesitant like all the times before when he had been afraid that waking her meant revoking that precious gift and possibly having a knife to his throat. It was hard, it would bruise, whatever attempt some soon-to-be dead fool would try to make at tearing him away from her would likely cause more damage than anything the spawn was capable of himself.

His right hand suddenly felt painfully empty, its match gripping desperately at his hair. Fisting the blankets did nothing to sate him and instead he wound his arm around her torso, gripping possessively at her left breast. The way it gave under him, how the supple flesh molded to fit his hand so perfectly, spurred him on. His thrusts were erratic, rutting more like a desperate animal than anything that could be considered civil.

It was a strange combination of sensations, the way the muscles of her neck fought to force out the intruding fangs while her core fought to take him deeper. All while the warmth of her blood flooded into him, bringing with it a sense of bliss and belonging and happiness. He felt the dull thump of his heart spark to life, how good it felt to feel is face flush as his belly filled. He felt alive.

Freya fought against his iron grip, trying desperately to meet each thrust while Astarion tried is best to hold her still. He only bit down harder and pressed deeper. His entire weight pinning her, her body built more for lithe, quiet movements than the brute strength it would take to throw him off—not that she wanted to.

Astarion half wondered if this is how Cazador felt those handful of times he had seen him feed. The ecstasy, the bliss. The warmth and the pulse and the thrum of life coursing through him in a desperate bid to make him feel alive, if only for the briefest moment…

He hated Cazador now. Well and truly hated him beyond anything Astarion thought possible. Not for the centuries of torment, not for the torture and blades. Not even for dangling him in front of half-witted and wholly drunk blood bags who would have just as easily jumped into the harbor in the dead of winter as sauntered into a vampire den if it meant they would get a good—

Fuck. Freya ripped him violently back to the present once more as she sang his name in a half-choked scream. He could feel it, the way her throat contracted to make every sound and took in every breath between the syllables. As well as the taste of it on his tongue and the smell of it in her blood. Gods.

Astarion groaned, his entire body shuddering as rope after rope of warm seed flooded the woman beneath him. Freya’s body only moved limply under him, her breathing shallow and her heart slow. The dopamine high and rapidly fading adrenaline had sapped her strength. He pulled away tauntingly slow, leaving her to lie on his bedroll as he watched.

He watched the trickle of blood trail down the plains of her throat, the beautiful red catching the firelight that snuck its way in through the cracks in the tent, and his seed leak out of her and on to the bedroll. It was a sick sort of fascination, a sick sort of pride that made him leave her there like that.

He cocked his head to the side in wonder. How would her walk of shame look, leaving his tent? Would she leave out the front, not a care in the world, and march her way to her own tent to fetch her weapons and armor? Would the shame of it all overtake her, sending her to stalk her way under the fabric walls and out the back and pretend she had slept in her tent the entire night? Would she go to Shadowheart to heal the bruises and clear her head of that bloodless fog? Would they gossip, would Freya even entertain that idea or would she pretend the night never happened and let the memory of it die with them…

Astarion smiled at that, knowing full well how that pretty song of hers echoed across the cavern and likely woke-up whoever of their companions was in that fragile place between sleep and wake. He licked her from his lips, knowing full well he would have to wash the rest off his face and chin before confronting the rest of their group come the dawn. He had been rather messy, and he wondered if he himself would have regrets come the dawn; if he would scrub at the bedroll like a madman in an attempt to remove the stains of the night before taking a blade to it and stealing a new one from the druids.

The new warmth of his skin began to fade, leaving behind it an empty cold. He knew the flush of his cheeks was gone and the beating of his heart stalled, skipping and murmuring until it was nothing but a distant echo that did nothing but make sure the blood already there didn’t congeal into a disgusting mess. He was dead again. He was hungry again. The spawn’s smile faltered, thoughts returning to that of his master—old master.

He hated Cazador for making him watch, more than anything. Making all of them—him and his siblings—watch knowing that his pathetic, little spawns would never know how it felt to have their face flush with false-life and their dead heart beat once more inside their equally dead chest. All they got as a reward was a live plague rat instead of a dead one and the ability to watch a dying mark warm his dead cock. It was an inside joke that Cazador had with himself, a means of power and control that only he really understood.

But, above all, Astarion hated that he understood why.

Freya let out a final hum as she drifted off to sleep, her hands twitching in that childish way they always did when she began to dream. Astarion stood, draping a spare blanket across her naked body so she would have something against the cold. He wasn’t sure why he was smiling, but he was.

He rather liked her like this.

[brabblesblog]

Ch 1: Whither is thy beloved gone?

Astarion has ascended, and she has stayed with him. Life in the Crimson Palace isn’t as idyllic as it seems. Is there a chance for their relationship to go back to how it was? Or is it too late for the Ascendant and his consort?

This series is about Ban, my Tav, and the Vampire Ascendant. Will be angst and smut, with sprinkles of fluff.

This fic is a softer take on Ascendant!Astarion and of the changes he undergoes after the rite. Can Ban handle the change, and if a chance came, would she choose to run? And can the Ascendant win her back in time? Inspired by the concept of vampire wives and that IGN interview with Larian that discussed the ascension.

Professionally edited by @editing-by-night

A small scene at breakfast that sets up the situation in the Palace for the past six months.

Read on AO3

Masterlist.

Ban opened her eyes to yet another dawn; a shaft of sunlight peeked through the gap between vermilion curtains, shining on her face. Her hand moved, reaching for the empty space beside her before she stopped herself. There was no need to check - there never was, not for months now.

She made her way out of the gigantic four-poster bed she and her lord sleep in. Her silken robe awaited her, draped over the luxurious couch, and she slipped it on wordlessly. The servants all murmured soft greetings as she passed them on her way to breakfast, but Ban paid them no mind. The days and nights all blended for her, days of meetings and nights of wheedling their way into the high society of Baldur’s Gate. And sex, of course, but even that had become stale to her now. Not that her partner wasn’t a consummate lover - far from it - but the souring of the love she has for him tainted even the most pleasurable of moments.

The doors to the dining room were held open for her, and as she walked in, he looked up. He shot her a wry grin and crossed the room, taking her hand and pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles. Every morning he did this; it would have made her swoon six months ago.

When he was different. When he was the man she’d loved.

“I had to rise early, love,” he began, as if he didn’t do so every damn morning. “Preparations for renovating the… basement area are finally underway, and I did not want them missing any single detail of what I have planned for it.”

The basement area. The dungeons. He couldn't even bring himself to say the word; he refused any reminder of his past self. If he had his way, people would think he sprang into existence some six months ago. She allowed him to lead her to the ridiculously large table. As always, he was seated at the head and she to his right.

He offered her a tart, which she waved off; it wasn’t as if she could actually enjoy it. Mortal food had been tasteless since she’d turned. Instead she reached for the bottle of blood on the table, warmed just before it was served.

“I’m surprised you even bothered with touching the dungeons,” she said, smiling placidly as her use of the word was rewarded with a glare.

“The basement,” he hissed, “is the most neglected part of the house. It is- never mind.” As expected, Astarion refused any mention of what the basement used to be. “Besides. The artisan guilds are clamoring for space to rent, and as you suggested, I entertained their request.”

It was Ban’s turn to roll her eyes. Astarion was right - she had asked him to focus his attention on not just the patriars, but also the artisan guilds, a calculated decision designed to win more people to their side, to sink their claws deeper into the heart of the city. It made sense to not only win over the very cream of the crop, but also the people slightly below it. At worst, it would be a waste of time and of negligible resources. At best, it would help curtail the surprising resistance the Ascendant had been encountering in his efforts to win over the nobility.

The Szarrs had been a well-known family with noble roots, and so Cazador had the name to match his wealth and status. Astarion Ancunín, however, had no such privilege. Thus, when he’d emerged as the successor to Cazador’s estate, there had been more than a few raised eyebrows. Added to that, Astarion hadn’t had to plan anything in two centuries, so the task of ingratiating them with the city’s gentry had mostly fallen to Ban. Well, the planning and scheming, anyway. The Ascendant acted as the face, charming and manipulating his way through the meetings and parties, while his consort laid out their strategy, playing the perfect lady-wife and hostess.

Plans for a future she'd never desired, but sought for his sake anyway, ambitions and schemes that were all too similar to what her father had groomed her for. It had all come back to her with a distressing effortlessness, the machinations as natural as breathing. She hadn’t seen fit to let Astarion know this, not now. Before the rite, there had been the potential of so much time together that she hadn’t felt any urgency to share the circumstances of her early life with him. After the rite, things had just been... different.

“If it’s for the artisan guilds, then do it,” Ban said, pouring the warmed blood into her glass, taking a sip. “Gods know you need all the support you can get from them, especially considering how tenuous your position has remained with the patriars.”

Astarion scoffed, but didn’t reply to her taunt. Instead he took a long, slow bite of his tart and made an exaggerated gesture of delight, reminding her exactly what she’d been missing out on.

“Well, my treasure, it worked. There will be a ball held a tenday from now, with all the guilds attending.” Pride at managing to pull that off without her aid or knowledge tinged his voice.

Ban narrowed her eyes. All the guilds? Generally she would consider that a significant success, but the fact that she may have to face her family there gave her pause. She took a long pull from her goblet at the thought.

“All the guilds…” she repeated, for a moment not bothering to mask her feelings, her horror bleeding through.

“You’re now reduced to parroting what I say? Pet, I didn’t take you to be so dull,” Astarion sneered, taking the opportunity to strike. He wasn’t stupid; he’d always been aware that things had changed between him and his consort.

It had been a whirlwind of events since he’d ascended. At first, there’d been an overwhelming sense of power, of endless possibilities. He had everything - power, freedom, riches. He had her by his side. The following days had been battle after battle as they’d slowly approached the Netherbrain. There hadn’t been time to reexamine their relationship, other than to realize it was failing. Hells, there had barely been time for him to explore his new abilities.

Then, just as quickly, the brain had been defeated and they were finally alone together. Just the two of them and Cazador’s palace. My palace, he reminded himself. Not his.

They were finally, truly together, the Absolute vanquished at last - it should have been a wondrous time. They should have been happy in each other’s arms, at the start of their shared eternity. But she’d become cold after the rite, a chill that had yet to thaw. She flinched from his touches, from his lips. Her smiles never met her eyes, and all she did was help him lay out plans for his dominion. At night, she yielded to his every desire. Every night he made love to her, as he had been doing since the first night after his ascension. She only played her role, saying the right words, moaning the right way, but he sensed the absence there. None of it ever reached her.

At first, he’d attempted to take whatever emotions she’d shown at face value. She’d seemed to like planning their conquest of Baldur’s Gate, seemed to have taken to heart the words he’d so casually thrown out during their journey, so he’d acted just as enthusiastic about it. She’d seemed to react positively whenever he’d asked for suggestions regarding their schemes; he not being well suited to formulating detailed plans and her proving knowledgeable, he tended to follow her advice. Initially these things had seemed to at least elicit a response in her that wasn't hollowness. As time passed, however, even they had seemed to lose their luster, the emptiness in her eyes becoming more and more prominent.

He had never seen her in silks or in anything expensive throughout their time fighting the Absolute. The moment he’d gotten access to Cazador’s wealth, he’d bought her everything he’d wanted to give her before: gowns, shoes, jewelry. All she had to do was glance at an item once, and it was hers. But the emptiness only grew.

He’d attempted to convince himself he couldn’t understand how they had ended up this way, but truthfully it was that he couldn't admit to himself what he knew the root cause to be. That initial confusion had slowly turned into resentment. Deep down, he knew where he’d gone wrong, of course, but really, was leaving the palace such a big deal?

That had been their first major argument. Astarion had come back from a meeting one day to find Ban gone, the servants explaining she’d left the palace to walk around the city. He had refrained from going after her, but he had been worried. What if someone took the Ascendant’s consort as a hostage? What if she roamed too far, and somehow the extension of his powers failed? Then what? The image of her burning in the sun had filled him with an impotent, all-consuming fury. He had told her not to wander!

When she had finally gotten home, her hands full of pastries she had bought for him, he had flown into a fit of rage.

“How dare you sneak off like that, Ban! Without asking! Without me knowing!”

Ban had flinched. She’d held up the pastries. “I bought them to surprise-”

He’d almost shoved them out of her hands, but had stopped himself. Barely. “Have I not told you, pet, not to stray too far? What if you were hurt? What if you burned in the sun?” His eyes had glinted then, the fires of worry mixing with anger.

“You are mine, and I do not like not knowing where my things are.”

She had tried to argue about having the freedom to go where she pleased, but he’d shut her down the moment she’d begun.

“Do I not buy you everything you wish for? Anything you ask? You merely have to give voice to what you desire, and I shall have it procured for you. But you do not leave. Not without my express permission.”

It had only gone downhill from there.

Astarion snapped back from his reverie when he noticed Ban had ignored his verbal barb. He watched her, realizing this was the first genuine shred of emotion he’d seen from her in weeks. Something was bothering her about having the artisan guilds over for a party, and it piqued his interest. His concern too, of course. But he would never admit that. Even to himself.

He sat up straighter, aiming his words carefully. Precisely.

“My little love,” he cooed, “What… exactly is the issue with our soon-to-be guests? I had assumed you would love to have them over, considering it was your idea to reach out to them and form alliances in the first place.”

Ban froze. Her eyes widened as Astarion asked her this question. While he had yet to compel her to do anything, there was no evidence that he couldn't. Perhaps he already had, and she was unaware. Compulsion was the thing she was most terrified of, because the moment he started - the moment he considered it necessary to keep her - would be the moment she’d lose what little of herself she had left.

So she decided to be honest.

“I never told you where I came from, did I?” she said.

He shook his head. “I doubt you had humbler origins than I did, but no. You have not.”

Ban laughed bitterly and braced herself, pouring out another glass of blood.

“I came from one of the guild’s artisan families.”

His eyebrows rose, surprised and rather pleased, despite himself. They hadn’t had an actual conversation that wasn’t about Baldur’s Gate, its people, or their schemes in weeks. He reined in the venom he’d been wielding so often these days, letting his curiosity take over for the time being.

“Which one? Ca-” he bit his lip, “My former master knew a lot of these guilds. They helped maintain the palace and procured items for him. I have never heard of your family name, nor seen it.”

She laughed again, a real one this time, and his eyebrows rose even further, intrigued.

“We dealt in ornate mirrors.” That explained it. Of course Cazador would not have bothered with that.

The Ascendant huffed in response. “Ironic. Well. You’ll be glad to know I have yet to speak to any mirror-makers. I hadn’t decided on what type of mirror I want for our bedroom, or how grandiose it should be. Shall I ask your family?”

The last sentence was less a taunt and more a genuine question. She seemed to dread seeing them, but if she wanted them here - for whatever reason at all - he would be more than happy to oblige her.

In truth, all he really wanted was her happiness, to bask in the glow of her smile again. He just seemed to have lost sight of how to inspire it ever since he became this version of himself.

Ban took it the wrong way, of course, and visibly stiffened.

“I do not want to see them. I-” her voice cut off, hesitant, “I left years ago. They probably don't even know if I’m alive.”

The Ascendant felt an odd twinge in his chest, a familiar but long-forgotten sensation. None of it was visible on his face, however. He smirked. “Very well, pet.”

Astarion leaned over, fingers tilting her chin up to meet his gaze. Crimson eyes bored into Ban with an intensity that only seemed to unnerve her. “And don’t fret about them. The only family you’ll ever need is me.”

Ban had to look away. She couldn’t stare into those eyes and listen to that voice talk about her family. She had always envisioned this conversation to be one where she’d spill all her secrets to him, and he’d hold her, stroke her hair and tell her everything would be alright. That he understood and loved her anyway. But that time had passed, and so had that man she’d loved. What remained of him was a pale specter.

She had often asked herself if he was even the same man. She’d observed him, and with Gale’s assistance had studied books on the matter. In the end she had come to one painful conclusion: he was Astarion. His worst traits turned up and his greatest strengths diminished, but it was undoubtedly him.

There had been one night when he’d seemed like his old self. One night in the past five months that had given her some small glimmer of hope that he hadn’t completely changed.

She had woken up in the middle of the night to the sound of weeping. Astarion had been lying beside her, arms taut, hands clenched into fists, sweat soaking into the sheets. His face a rictus of pain, his cries a mix of unintelligible words and whimpers. She’d instinctively rushed to hold him; he’d woken up at her touch and his eyes had found hers.

They were his eyes.

“You’re okay, you’re here,” she had crooned, the same words she had repeated in the old days. They’d come back like no time had passed; as if he wasn’t what he was now. Like he was just her Astarion.

He had leaned into her touch, head resting on her chest.

“I’m sorry to wake you, darling,” he’d said; his use of her old nickname had almost made her sob. “He… I saw him again. I’d thought this would be over.”

She’d kissed his forehead then, holding him close. His conscious mind may have tried to deny it, but it seemed like his subconscious was still haunted by Cazador. He had clung to her for dear life that night; she had tried to stay awake, to stop time, so that perhaps he would stay that version of himself forever. But in the end, sleep had won, and as she’d drifted off she had heard him say something which she’d attributed to her own imagination.

“Thank you for still being here,” she’d thought he’d whispered against her chest, “I love you.”

They were spoken with such tenderness that she had doubted it was real. In the morning, he’d been gone from her side, already eating breakfast. He’d acted like nothing had happened in the night, and so she’d had her hopes dashed away; fleeting as they were she had still yearned for it to be real, wishing it had lasted longer than those few moments he was in her arms.

Ever since then, she had attempted to catch any glimpse of her Astarion in the Ascendant. There occasionally seemed to be some hint of him, but it was always too quick, too subtle, and after so many months she’d all but given up. Gone were the days when she’d known which of his honeyed words were lies and which were truth; it felt as though she was back in those days in the Grove when she couldn't read him. Even now, as her lord called himself her family, she found herself wincing internally.

On the outside, she offered him a smile.

“Thank you, Astarion. That means a lot.”

The Ascendant smiled, a toothy grin that would have looked at home in a shark’s maw.

“Of course! And we shall be a bigger family, if only you’ll let me-"

“No,” Ban said, and she was firm. This was another argument they’d constantly waged. He wanted to create an army of spawn, claiming that they would keep her company and serve her and their ambitions. He had promised to procure his spawn ethically, from willing subjects, but she had said no, refusing to doom anyone else to the same fate.

His eyes hardened, fingers twitching on her chin, but he let go. She released the breath she had been holding, worried that this would be when he’d hit the end of his rope and force her obedience.

He exhaled. “Fine. You’ll come around, once you’re alone and bored for a decade or so more.”

Astarion pushed away his breakfast. This hadn’t gone the way he’d wanted it to, and to be frank? Every day since that argument about her leaving the house and having her freedom had gone the same way: to barely veiled insults and chilly indifference. He hated it. He hated what they’d become.

At night when he made love to her, he imagined they were back in that clearing where it all began. At dawn, he watched her sleep and pretended they were back in the Shadow-Cursed lands. Fruitless reminiscing, but it was all he had to hold onto. Memories, each holding the ghost of their love, leaving him to wish it back to life.

He brushed those thoughts away. They were the thoughts of a much weaker man, and he was anything but.

But then why did his newly beating heart ache so much whenever they did this venomous song and dance?