#cazador szarr smut

[inquisitornocturn]

⊱─ 𝟙𝟛𝕥𝕙 𝕠𝕗 𝔸𝕦𝕘𝕦𝕤𝕥 ─⊰

➺ 𝕡𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘: Cazador Szarr x f!reader

➺ 𝕥𝕒𝕘𝕤: no y/n is used, rating - E, POV second person, human/vampire relationship, vampire powers, vampire seduction, usage of a leash, begging, dub-con, degradation if you squint really hard, smut, vaginal fingering, teasing, PiV, creampie, vampire bites, vampire turning.

➺ 𝕤𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: Norona, your childhood friend and now a priestess, gets a letter from you, inviting her to come visit and see your possible groom. Desiring to see you and no less curious about the man who you might marry, the woman returns to Baldur's Gate, only to become a witness to strange events surrounding you.

➺ 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕕 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 12,220 | On AO3

𝕒𝕦𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕣 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕖: See notes at the end of the story~

She saw you laying there, calm and peaceful, not stirring even in the slightest. Just your chest rose and fell with each of your breaths under the blankets. That’s what Norona saw before she stood from her own bed and walked towards the window. It is a hot evening and she wants to open a window, for your sake and her own, hoping that a possible breeze from outside would stir the stuffy air inside.

She came to the Baldur’s Gate to visit you, her dear childhood friend. When she got your letter some weeks ago, you spoke in it of a suitor. Tall and charming, from a good family. Yet your words omitted his name and Norona was dying to hear who he is. She scarcely remembered the noble families in the city, being away for far too long because she pledged her faith to Eilistraee, which led Norona down the paths rarely taken, all across Faerun. A messenger raven found her, not without help of some wizard or two, but it did find her and informed that her dearest friend was not only missing her, but also wanted her opinion about her suitor.

Yet when Norona arrived earlier today, you were reluctant to talk about the man at all, rather focusing on reminiscing over your time together, the childish games you two played, your father, who was now gone, and how he used to show tricks with a piece of paper. All the fun things that made you both laugh.

After the supper, Norona was shown a guest room, but you, still cheerful and excitable as if no years have passed at all, insisted that you two share a room, share a bed. Just like the old times, you persisted playfully, when you two would stay awake late in the night, telling stories of faeries and scary drow, of paladins in shining armors and maidens with rosy cheeks.

So Norona stayed in your bedroom. It has changed since she last saw it. Now it is draped in rich greens and mossy tones of it, reminding the half-elf of forests and marshes that she herself loves so much. The bed, which she shared with you just moments ago before stepping to the window to open it, is royally huge and soft. Silken sheets, many pillows, lightest of blankets stuffed with best feathers. Norona is sure that the quality would befit a Duke. Or maybe even a god or a goddess, if they fancy something like a four-post bed.

Yet it is hot. Too hot to sleep, at least for Norona. So she flings the window open, noting clear skies and a moon that shines brightly on the serpentine streets of Baldur’s Gate. She briefly notices some figures, late night stragglers hurrying about, either with crime on their minds or safety of home. There are some lights in the windows, but what draws Norona’s attention is a great bat, flitting in the moonlight. It keeps coming and going in whirling circles and looks like it has been doing just that for a while now. How the half-elf didn’t hear the flap of its wings she does not pause to think, but as if her presence scared the animal, it makes one more startled whirl near the window and flies off, towards the city center, disappearing from sight.

Quite surprised, Norona wonders what a bat of this size is doing in a big city like Gate. Usually, on her travels, she had seen such bats only in most remote areas. The sheer growth of them preventing the species from safely breeding anywhere close bigger clusters of population. Fear, mainly, is what drives them away when people of all races try to get rid of beasts that truly look quite terrifying up close. And here there was at least one, if not with entire family somewhere nearby.

But Norona doesn’t get to dwell on the bat for longer, because when she turns she sees you, sitting up in bed, eyes closed. Still asleep, she deducts and comes closer, gently calling your name. When no reply comes, the half-elf carefully presses back of her fingers to your forehead, but she finds the skin cool if not slightly sweaty. From the heat, most likely.

“Are you awake?” Norona whispers quietly but when no reply comes, she notices that despite your clearly unconscious state, you are facing the open window. With a smile she wonders if you too, despite your deep sleep, wanted to feel the cool breeze of the night that softly rolls into the room as if commanded by Norona.

Before she can do anything else, lay you down or try to rouse you with her words, you seem to relax and lie back into the soft sheets, turning on your side. Still smiling, Norona feels warmth when she watches you, so calm and peaceful. Then at last she climbs in too, forgoing pulling on the blanket, and closes her eyes.

Maybe tomorrow you will tell her about that suitor.

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Norona did meet the mysterious man you spoke about. Long black hair, tall in stature. He seemed like a nice enough man if a little pale. Leon, you introduced him, and Norona saw a flush on your cheeks, yet the guest himself didn’t seem to be excited to be in your presence. If anything, he stood still, unsmiling, yet perfectly polite. Maybe it is his upbringing, Norona thought to herself, and didn’t dwell on it longer. Leon spoke little and kissed your hand as he left, after spending merely half an hour, and departing right before supper.

“He’s always this quiet?” Norona wonders when you both sit down by the dining table and you laugh, waving your hand.

“Not really no, but maybe you startled him. He seems to be so unsure of himself, usually. Maybe he doesn’t like me?” You joke and let the servants pour cold, summer soup into the plates before you both.

“I’m sure he does.” Norona responds with an encouraging smile and you chuckle.

“I hope so, at the very least. It’s hard to pick a groom when I’m all alone.” You begin to eat and Norona watches you just for a moment longer before she starts on her supper as well.

She knows you don’t like to speak of your parents, both of whom passed five years ago or so. They have been influential in Baldur’s Gate enough that the Duke himself showed up at the funeral. But left alone with your family’s riches, you knew that in time you will have to find a man to marry. Leon, it seems, is only one of the candidates.

“So what is so special about this Leon that I needed to come back to see him?” Swallowing a mouthful of cold, rich soup, Norona looks over her plate onto you, and you pause before answering. It’s impolite to speak with your own mouth full, after all.

“Oh well.” You give your friend a sheepish smile. “Honestly, I just really wanted to see you again. Leon is not that special, but he’s the most handsome one at least. He says his family is adjacent to the Szarrs.” Last sentence you whisper like a conspirator and Norona’s eyebrows rise.

“Szarrs? Same ones that we heard about as children? Reclusive and strange? Weren’t there tales going around about maids never returning from the palace?” Lowering her eyes to the plate, Norona frowns. Even as kids you both heard the whispers and the gossip.

“Well yes, but you know how the tales get weaved about the nobles. I’m sure even I have some stories being told about being a loner or that I’m unmarried yet.” Rolling your eyes you scoop up more of the soup and Norona shrugs, remaining quiet for a moment while she eats too.

“You know.” She finally says. “If this Leon is a good match, then why not. Do you think he would be a suitable husband?”

“Maybe. He’s just one of the few so I’m not rushing to make a decision.” Now it’s your turn to shrug and Norona looks at you for a moment, wondering what is going on in your head. Leading on several men is not out of character to you, but how unserious you appear to be about marriage strikes your old friend as strange.

“Well, if you say so.” She offers a smile which you don’t even see because you are focused on your meal.

Rest of the supper continues in silence while Norona wonders if there’s another purpose of her being here, one that you are not sharing.

If there’s something more, you’re not telling her.

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“Look, look!” With an excited shout you point at the storefront of Facemaker's Boutique that Norona remembers being in the same spot since forever. You’re pointing at a dress, crimson red in color, truly beautiful.

When you grab Norona’s wrist and pull her with you towards the window, the half-elf observes finer details: the corset that is cut with a tasteful wedge to show off cleavage, how it emphasizes a slim waist of the showing doll it’s put upon, laces and beads – or are they gems? – in intricate patterns, contrasting with dark, rich red against the crimson of the fabric beneath, but most breathtaking is the volume of skirt that makes entire design appear as if the dress is bleeding a pool of blood around it.

It’s truly a wonderful garment, but Norona does not remember you picking such bold fashion statements before. Usually you went for pink or sky blue, most often white. When she turns away from the dress, she sees you completely enamored by the dress, your fingers gripping her wrist not painfully, but almost, because of how excited you are. “Should I get it?”

“Are you sure?” Norona asks and eyes your chosen attire for today - a moss-green dress with a tree-bark brown corset. Then she looks back at the scarlet vision that is a statement and an assertion both. She knows you as gentle, maybe whimsical, slightly naïve, but not the enchantress that would wear something like this.

“It’s so beautiful!” You sigh and finally release Norona’s wrist, stepping even closer to the glass. “Although I don’t know where I would wear it.” After a moment you admit with defeat and your face loses the joy that was there just moments ago. “You’re right, it would be silly of me to get this one. It’s truly breathtaking, but maybe meant for a woman other than me.”

“Don’t be sad. There’s other beautiful dresses that fit you more and are not as…” Norona struggles to find a different word than cutting and smiles, putting a hand on your shoulder. “Your closet is full already, I’m sure of it.”

You chuckle and turn to her, giving her an innocent shrug. “Of that you are correct.” One more glance to the stunning gown that your heart aches to have and you turn away, pointing at the store nearby. “Oh let’s go there!” You beam a smile and Norona relaxes, smiling back to you and following in your steps when you depart from the Facemaker’s storefront at last.

When you whirl to Norona again, wanting to tell her about a ring that one of the suitors have gifted you just three days ago, you notice a man in the crowd. It’s an overcast day and the sky is brewing with rain, therefore a lot of people are wearing warmer clothes and coats. The man easily blends in with them, if not for his tall stature that draws your attention to him. That’s what you think, at first.

Halting in your footsteps, you look at him, eyes meeting and the color of his irises is the same deep, rich ruby as is the dress you nearly purchased. Pointy ears adorned with small studs for earrings and black hair, surrounding the collar of elf’s black coat. He’s not smiling, not scowling. No expression at all is turning his sharp facial features in a show of emotion, but an intense gaze that locks with yours tells more than words or demeanor ever could.

You

are

seen.

Couple figures pass, huddled in their hooded cloaks but you notice nothing except the sea of red that opens up before your own very eyes. You hear your name being called, but it does not register, not right away. Only when Norona tugs at your puffy dress sleeve is when the man turns his gaze away and you snap out of your stupor. Casting a quick glance to your friend, you turn back to where the man stood, but he’s gone. “What is it- Oh.”

Looking around you feel a strange pull to find him, although you wouldn’t know the first thing to say to the elf even if you did find him in the crowd of strangers.

“What happened?” Norona’s brows knit because she doesn’t understand. She didn’t see what you saw, the elf that managed to become a calling beacon, a lighthouse, in a sea of cloaks and the grim haze of the overcast.

“I saw a man. An elf. Do you see him? He was tall.” You rush to explain, stepping towards where he stood but stopping before merging into the crowd.

“What? What man?” Norona now looks around as well, but she sees no one who stands out, no tall elves, that’s for sure.

“I well…” You sigh and give up, realizing that he’s gone without a trace for you to follow, but a strange longing remains in your chest, like a leash pulling you towards this unknown man like a lead upon a pet dog. “Nevermind, I thought… Ah, well. Doesn’t matter.” With a smile you turn to Norona and beam an even wider one. “The shop!”

Walking away towards an open door of the store, you leave Norona behind for a moment longer, who lingers in the spot and glances around once more. Something doesn’t feel right about this, yet she cannot say exactly what. To the priestess it feels like a dark cloud has passed over the street and yet it sounds silly even in her own thoughts.

“Norona?” She hears your voice and forces herself to look away from the passing people and towards you, where you wave at her to hurry with a slender, delicate hand.

“Coming!”

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“No! Let go of me! Let go!”

A voice, high pitched and full of panicked anger rings through the hallway that Norona just stepped into. She pauses, surprised to hear sounds of a scuffle and rushes to the open door from with the voice is heard again. “No! No I won’t go! Please!”

Inside a scene unfolds before Norona: a dozen or so broken dishes, upturned pots and ruined food everywhere on the floor, utensils scattered and knives tossed about, way too unsafe to be left like this. And then a boy, a tiefling, no older than fifteen, being held by a Cook and his helper, a woman of many years. The boy is thrashing and the Cook has to be careful lest the horns pierce him, but tiefling’s tail keeps swinging about wildly and hits the woman on the back repeatedly, which she takes with a flinch each time.

“What is going on?” Norona asks loudly and the boy’s eyes, color of amber set in the dark sclera, turn to her, full of panic.

“Let me go! I have to go! I have to follow!”

“Follow who? Your lady?”

“No! I have to!” Suddenly the tiefling falls quiet and turns his eyes to the kitchen window. When Norona follows his gaze, together with the kitchen servants, at first she sees nothing but darkness, but then…

A large bat is fleeting behind the window, only showing itself when it drifts into the moonlight. It rained earlier and after that the sky cleared, revealing beautiful visage of a moon in all her glory. Now that beauty is briefly obscured by the animal repeatedly, hiding the light with its massive body every time it comes closer to the glass.

“What an ugly thing.” The Cook grumbles and Norona has to agree. Is it the same bat she saw couple nights ago? One that fled when she appeared in the window? She can’t be too sure, they all look the same from this distance.

“Please!” The boy suddenly cries and the bat lingers by the window a second longer, then flies off, quickly hidden by the shadows of massive trees right outside.

When Norona looks at the tiefling, he’s already hanging limp in the hands of his captors, head dangling like some child’s toy, appearing nearly boneless. “I won’t resist, I will be good.” He mutters and Norona first makes eye contact with the Cook then with the woman but there are no answers any of them can provide.

The Cook, a burly dwarf with a mustache that would shame any noble, pulls the boy up onto his feet and spits on the floor. “Clean up the mess you’ve made, idiot.” Then he waves his hand in a dismissal way and walks down the stairs to where Norona knows pantry to be.

The woman releases the boy as well and he stands there, defeated and looking embarrassed, but Norona still does not understand what has transpired before she entered the scene. “But what happened?”

“The lad’s gon’ crazy, m’lady, that’s what ‘appened.” The woman glares at the tiefling for a moment longer, but when he doesn’t move she steps to the side and gets a mop, then a bucket and thrusts both into his hands. “’ere, take these and get workin’ before Loreidas kick yer arse until yer tail comes up ye gullet.” She scoffs and gives Norona a look, then shakes her head in disapproval and walks outside, most likely to breathe in some fresh air.

Not feeling like she understands anything, Norona remains in her spot, surprised and not sure what to make of this even when the boy wets the mop and begins sweeping it over the dirty floor. He doesn’t look at the half-elf, nor does he say anything else. It’s as if she’s not even here. She wonders if he will speak to her if she tries to ask again, but decides against it and with one more cautious glance to the boy, she leaves the kitchen.

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For seven days you’ve been going to sleep feeling well and waking exhausted, weak and confused. You don’t know what is causing this, but when you wake up tonight, just a mere sight of Norona sleeping next you puts you at ease.

You haven’t admitted to her, the real reason why she’s here, but you’re scared of sleeping alone. The weakness, that the local healer couldn’t find the cause of, began wearing you down to dangerous levels just before Norona arrived. Her presence is making you feel better, relaxed and even though you still wake up tired, it’s not as bad is it has been for days. Unlike the last morning you woke alone, without your friend guarding you.

But tonight it’s almost too hot to sleep. The windows are open and a gentle breeze is moving through the sheer curtains, making them dance like ghosts your nanny used to tell about during late winter nights. When you were still a little girl and imagined yourself a princess. You remember those tales well, of lost lovers and angered parents, of spirits returned to haunt those they missed or hated. But you haven’t seen such things yourself nor you believe them.

Norona stirs and you glance at her, then smile softly. Placing your hand upon hers you resist giving it a comforting squeeze, too afraid to wake your friend. Her presence is making your heart lighter. And despite what you told her, you don’t look forward to the prospect of marrying. If only you had your mother to guide you through the courting, but you don’t and that makes you feel as if you’re stumbling about blindly. What does make one man a suitable candidate and not the other? You don’t know, you haven’t been prepared for this. Heaving a sigh, you know you should sleep and you toss the thin cover aside, not wanting anything else to cover you except for your linen nightgown.

Yet as you fluff your pillow and turn to lie back down, a sound catches your attention. A quiet flap of wings, right outside the window ahead of the bed. At first you ignore it, thinking of pigeons or some messenger creatures sent by local wizards, but your mind corrects you about the birds and so, with curiosity, you glance towards the window only to let out a loud gasp. Immediately you clamp a palm over your mouth and glance at Norona who is still fast asleep. But when you look back towards the window, the giant bat, black as ink, keeps hovering with the help of its huge, leathery wings.

You’ve never seen a bat like this before. It’s almost obscene in how big it is, unnerving you to the last fiber in your body. Despite the heat you shudder and notice beast’s red, beady eyes. You are not sure if it’s looking at you, but you feel watched, observed, studied.

“Shoo.” You hiss at the bat before returning the palm to your mouth, but it doesn’t move, just keeps flapping, hovering in the same spot, unnaturally still for a creature needing to stay in the air.

What you know of bats is that they flit around, side to side, swift and hunting, but this one appears like it’s here for a purpose, although you can’t understand what kind. There’s nothing inside the room that would attract a bat of any size, let alone this kind. No fruits or sweets, no honey or open bottles of mead. Yet the bat remains and it does not fly into the room no matter how much you expect it to. Any moment now, you keep thinking, but nothing happens and at last the animal flaps its wings harder, retreating from the open window. Another second, and it flies off, disappearing out of sight when it takes a turn.

With relief you exhale and slump where you sit, rubbing your sweaty forehead with trembling fingers. You don’t know what you would’ve done if it flew inside, if it started thrashing all around and causing chaos. You are just happy that it didn’t happen. Glancing at still asleep Norona, you wonder if you should wake her, tell her about the bat, but after a moment’s hesitation you decide against it. It was just a bat, no matter how big or terrifying.

Again you look towards the window, now debating yourself if you should close it, but decide not to. The night is way too hot and the animal seemed hesitant to get inside so maybe it won’t return. Clearly there’s nothing here that could entice it to come back. No, it will be looking somewhere else to sate its hunger.

That’s what you tell yourself repeatedly while you take one last cautious glance towards the window and lie down, quickly closing your eyes. You wish to sleep, to rest, and hopefully wake up less tired. You wish for pleasant dreams and hope they will come swiftly to you.

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Sitting on a chaise lounge, you find yourself in a room you don’t recognize. It has heavy dark drapes over the windows and candles everywhere. When you look down, you realize that you’re wearing a dress, similar to the one you saw at Facemaker’s storefront. Except for crimson it’s black, with shimmering gems that reflect the candles in a joyfully bright manner.

Your attention gets caught by the movement behind you and you turn over the shoulder to see who it is, expecting Norona or one of your maids. But you don’t get a glimpse of who is here with you. You just feel two large hands cup your face from behind, cold fingers chilling your skin beneath them, slipping around your chin. Whoever is holding you turns your face upright until you finally see a man leaning over you.

You know you're dreaming because he does not speak. It's the man from the streets of Gate, the one you met before. Even though you're seeing him upside-down, you recognize him with partial clarity, the memory of your encounter surfacing partially muddled, as it often is when you're caught between wakefulness and a dream.

Remaining silent, he leans in closer and strands of his black hair fall like curtains around the face. You don’t sense danger nor alarm of any kind. Instead, you feel like you can sense his intentions and they are not to harm you. When he leans ever closer you smile, delighted to see him again even though you don’t know the reason why you’re feeling such way. He does not smile in return, but instead leans ever closer and you close your eyes in anticipation.

Yet it’s not the kiss you receive, but a sensation of his tongue against yours. It doesn’t startle you for whatever reason. Instead you part your lips even further, letting him press the wet muscle upon yours in a demanding way, as if he’s yearning to taste you in a way only a few have done before. You hear your own moan, quiet and almost shy, and the grip on your chin tightens, his lips envelop your mouth and you melt under the kiss with fingers gripping the skirts of your gown.

When the elven man pulls back, his crimson eyes meet yours and you find yourself out of breath, sensing your face flush with heat that feels almost ethereal. When he releases your face, you try to follow his journey from behind you, yet unsuccessfully. Then, there’s a hand extended to you. When you look from it to the tall man, he’s looming over you but you don’t feel threatened or scared. In fact, you take his hand and despite the chill in his fingers, you hold on tighter, letting him pull you to his chest and begin leading you in a dance to a music tune that only he hears.

He’s smiling now, as he spins you around, one hand on the small of your back, other gently holding your hand up despite your, in comparison, firmer grip. He’s smiling, but there’s something else than mirth in his eyes, a wanton kind of need that you’ve seen in men before. Yet instead of repulsing you, it draws you in. You try to stop the dance, to slow your feet, wanting your lips against his again despite being taught better than to kiss strange men during dances. But he does not let you to lead, so you become increasingly restless, not being able to do anything about it.

“Stop, please.” You finally give in and plead, but your voice sounds distant, like it barely belongs to you.

The man smiles a little wider, revealing his teeth and it makes his features appear sharper, more refined. “My lady, before long you will be pleading me to keep going.” He says in a way that makes your back tense and your eyes widen. You don’t know what that means, you can’t even begin to guess, and yet there’s a dark promise in those words, so thinly veiled.

“If you only told me your name.” You try saying, but it’s like your tongue refuses to obey you, language turning into a forgotten skill. Despite that it looks like he understands and keeps smiling, keeps turning with you in arms to the music you still haven’t heard a single note of.

“All in due time.” The words echo more in your mind rather than being spoken out loud and the elven man gives your fingers a short squeeze that is clearly meant to be comforting.

You want to tell him that you don’t understand, that you want to but can’t, but the dream begins to fade and you wake slowly, feeling exhausted once again.

“How are you?” Norona asks by your side and with your bleary eyes you find her sitting on the edge of the bed, already dressed. Morning light is coming through the windows and blue sky promises no rain to ruin the beauty of another summer day.

“Sleepy.” You murmur and turn to the side, burying your face into the pillow. Norona chuckles and gently rubs your shoulder.

“I heard there’s a delivery for you downstairs. One of your maids came earlier because she thought you’d be awake.”

The dream still lingers in your mind, yet when you hear of some sort of package, you look at Norona immediately, sleep forgotten and tiredness ignored for the time being. “Did she say from whom?”

To that Norona only shrugs and with curiosity beginning to gnaw at you like an impatient animal wanting to be released from its pen, you sit up and stretch, chasing last dregs of the dream away. “Oh I wonder what it is.” With a smile you try to sound cheerful despite feeling tired and the half-elf smiles in turn.

“You’ll have to go and check it out to know.”

Trying to keep up your usual cheery appearances, you get out of bed and prepare for the day in a delicate rush that makes Norona smile and cheer you on. Yet despite all that, she sees that something is amiss about you. She can’t quite put a finger on what does not seem right, but the half-elf notices the darkened skin under your eyes and a smile that appears slightly too unnatural, like you’re straining against the exhaustion.

All of that gets forgotten, and Norona dismisses signs of your fatigue as a bad night’s rest, when you’re flowing the stairs in a hurry. With a giggle and light voice you discuss with her what could be waiting for you so early in the morning and the maids smile when you pass them, presenting your usual cheerful self.

In the living room, on a massive oak table meant to seat a group of at least twelve, among the candelabras and the vases full of blooming flowers, there rests a box. Black as night and tied with a red ribbon that comes up in a big, double bow on top of it. Stopping by the box that is square and quite sizeable, you wait for Norona to join your side and then look at her excitedly. “Do you know what it is?”

“No more than you do, and I wouldn’t guess.” She smiles but curiosity has taken over her as well and she gently touches the satin ribbon. “It’s beautiful.”

“I know!” You chuckle and touch the box too, then the ribbon as well, but impatience gets the better of you and after exchanging one more glance with Norona, you can’t contain your excitement any longer. And so you pull on the satin, letting the ribbon become undone.

It slips out of its knots easily, elegantly and you push it off the top of the box, gently taking the sides and without any more delay lifting it. Immediately you peer inside and gasp, shocked. You recognize the crimson fabric and the gems sown so delicately into the laces. “It cannot be, surely?” You gasp and put the lid of the box to the side, tracing your fingertips over the intricate craftmanship that went into this dress.

And you know it’s a dress. Even more so, it’s the same one that you have been looking at in the store’s window just few days ago, enchanted by the beauty of it.

“Is it the same one-?” Norona asks, but does not even get to finish her question to know that it is the exact same dress. “It must’ve cost a fortune!” She exclaims almost reverently and touches the gems as well, before you two exchange a look. “Who could it be? Leon?”

“No I don’t think…” You murmur but then shrug and smile. “No, I don’t think it’s him. Only you know that I wanted this one. Maybe there’s a note, help me look.”

For the next minute, together you carefully lift the dress out of the box and first you press it to your chest, spinning around with it and feeling the skirts sweep over the floor. You imagine wearing it in a grand ball, dancing in it, just like you did in a dream. Then you pause, remembering the stranger in your night’s vision, but Norona does not let you think about him for long.

“There’s nothing here, no note.” She says and when you turn back to face the woman, you watch her lift the box and turn it around. First she shakes it over the table, after turning it upside down, and then inspects every inch of it, but even you can see that there’s truly not even a scrap of note.

“Maybe I’m ought to announce a ball!” You smile and with the wonderful dress still in your arms, you approach Norona’s side, catching her eye. “Maybe whoever sent this gift to me will show themselves then. What do you think? Isn’t it exciting?!” Barely able to contain yourself, you chuckle and hug the dress to your chest.

Yet Norona only rises an eyebrow at you, concerned to a degree. “Are you sure?”

“Who else it could be from if not a secret admirer?” You giggle and stroke the corset of the dress, clearly already imagining yourself wearing it, but Norona remembers the stranger and a feeling of unease fills her chest.

“Well, maybe, but-“ She begins, yet you interrupt her with a laugh.

“Oh come on, Norona, don’t be so grumpy. The day is beautiful, I got a dress I dreamed of and I have a ball to arrange.” With that you hug the gown tighter and rush off, most likely to find your maids.

Norona remains by the table, not sure how to feel about all this. She glances at the empty box, still in her hands, and wonders who could’ve been watching that day to see that you wished for this garment. You did mention several suitors before, so most likely one of them, who else? But the thought of that stranger still lingers in half-elf’s mind like a dark cloud threatening to pour rain upon a celebration.

“Come here!” She suddenly hears your voice and hesitates, but lowers the black box onto the table and sighs. Maybe she’s overthinking. Most likely she is.

With a turn of her heel, Norona heads towards your voice.

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He knew she was away, the half-elf priestess that haunted the side of his chosen one for days now. And nights too, which he found most insufferable. But not tonight, no. Tonight he will make you his. It won’t be hard either, he is sure of it. He visited you before, tasted your blood, lurked in your dreams. So he knows that with only one last push and you will succumb, submit, obey.

Tonight, when he finds himself in your room, the Vampire Lord is greeted by a calm breathing of one, not two. Leon has been useless in luring you away from your maids and your friend. He has been punished for it, appropriately to the size of the sin he committed. But now he has to do this himself. Come here, skulking in the shadows, avoiding the eyes that should not turn in his direction but have before. That doesn’t matter. The chase and the planning have finally come to a culmination.

Approaching your bed, where Cazador sees your form laying there in deep slumber, he thinks of why he’s here, why you, why all of this. If you were any other lowly soul unworthy of his attentions beyond just the purpose of sustenance, you’d be dragged through the hallways of his palace, kicking and screaming, most likely crying. Until you were dropped by his spawn at the foot of his throne and made worthy of the only purpose a mortal can serve to a being so much higher on the food chain than themselves. But not you.

No, your influence as a noble, the riches you possess, the noticeability of your life has made Cazador come up with a plan, which is now almost fulfilled. He can’t just whisk you away to his lair and to the dungeons, chain you and keep you there, not without someone to come knocking, looking for you. And that would be too simple, too unsophisticated. That would be a plan of those lesser than him. And lesser than you. You, Cazador has to acknowledge, deserve more than that.

He leans over the bed like a dreadful shadow and watches you slumber, the cover abandoned and just a linen white gown covering your form that appears so small among the pillows and the size of the bed. At first, he didn’t find you intriguing beyond what he can gain by possessing you. Always looking to advance his position in Baldur’s Gate and, in time, the entirety of the Sword Coast, Cazador only focused on what you can give to him. Yet in weeks that he spent watching you, tracking where you went and who you talked to, hearing about you from Leon, all of that intrigued him. Among the nobles so saturated in debauchery, he began seeing you as a flower, stainless and without sin except that of naivety.

And then Cazador’s desires changed. Instead of wanting to make you just another spawn of his, lacking free will and doing whatever deeds he needs done for him, the vampire found himself desiring a trophy. A pretty pet to sit by his side, completely obedient not because of his powers cast upon you, but out of your own choice. That untainted flower that he could paint in crimson, like blank canvas that only Cazador would be allowed to draw upon.

He has to have you.

And now he’s here, hand hovering over your form, listening to your breathing that is deep and even. Cazador is almost reluctant to touch you and sully what he perceives as a first pure desire that he had in decades. That’s not true, and deep down he’s aware of it, but in this moment the vampire feels almost reverent. Cold fingers touch your warm shoulder and yet you do not stir. They trace down your naked arm and you remain as beautiful as the last sunrise Cazador has ever saw but kept fondly in his memory.

Something stirs within him, like a glimmer of doubt, a drop of humanity that hasn’t been poisoned by his monstrous nature and for a moment, just for a fraction of a second, he wants to leave and let you remain untouched. But then, like a candlelight in a cruel hand, this little ray of light in the darkness gets snuffed out without a trace.

Cazador’s features slowly change as his face splits with a wide grin. So close to his goal, he can finally enthrall the one that he has been pursuing so meticulously. And thus his fingers wrap around your waist, lift your hand and bring it to his lips, pressing a chaste kiss that he knows is a last gesture of true kindness that you will ever receive from him.

“Wake now, my little lamb.” He whispers and your eyes open on command. He knows you won’t scream, won’t struggle and won’t try to run away. Just one more spell cast upon your mortal mind to make his task easier.

When your dazed eyes find him, you gasp but don’t scream, just sit up in urgency and draw your fingers from his, clutching them to your chest.

“What… are you doing here?” You whisper while your heart flutters in your chest like a caged bird. The man who you recognize well now straightens his back, the grin remaining on his face.

“Stand, my dear. I won’t harm you.” He says in a way that you find it impossible to disobey.

And so you stand, letting your gown cover you except for one strap slipping off your shoulder. The man, the one you dreamed about before, is not looking at you as he undoes the clasps of his long coat, making you wonder how he is not hot in such summer heat. When he takes it off and drapes it carefully over the backrest of the chair nearby, then the elf turns back to you. And while unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt, while rolling the sleeves up and slowly approaching you once again, he lets his eyes roam over you.

“My name is Lord Cazador Szarr, dear. Do you know who I am?” He asks in a quiet voice and you swallow dryly, noticing the same hunger that you saw in his eyes when you dreamt.

“Yes.” The weakness in your voice sounds like gentleness instead and Cazador looks satisfied by your answer.

“I am here…” He pauses until he’s right in front of you, nearly intimidating you by the sheer tallness of his stature, but you don’t feel afraid, just upturn your face so that your eyes don’t lose the sight of his. “…to make you mine.”

You gasp when his left hand grips the underside of your jaw. You didn’t even see the movement, but that matters little. Now you begin to feel scared and stepping back you try to escape his harsh grip. It doesn’t pain you yet, but you know it will if Cazador wills it to.

“Don’t be afraid, my dear.” He whispers and the grin that appeared confident now gains an edge that makes you gasp for air again. You’re not quite terrified yet, but something feels utterly wrong. Why is he here, in your room? You don’t understand. There’s like an invisible hand stopping your mind from deeper comprehension. A veil cast upon your very soul that allows you to feel startled at most, when you have a feeling that you should be running.

“To make me… yours?” You whisper and step back, allowed to do so but the grip doesn’t loosen. Cazador just follows your tentative journey, step by small step, until your back bumps into the wall.

“Does that not please you?” He hums with predatory satisfaction and something that until now escaped your awareness downs upon you. How his eyes glow in the darkness of the room, how sharp his grin appears and not because of an intention, but because of…

“What are you?” Whispering faster than you could think of not doing so, you grope to your right, knowing that a nightstand is there, searching for something, anything, just in case you need to protect yourself.

“What am I? I’m your present and your future.” Cazador releases your chin and you flatten yourself against the wall even more. Your fingers only brush over a softcover book that you read in absence of Norona and nothing else. You’re completely defenseless.

But that sensation of growing urgency begins to dull when Cazador presses a hand to the wall by the side of your head. His other finds your hip and the chilly touch feels pleasantly cooling through the thin linen you’re wearing. Your eyelids droop and you feel like you’re submerged in water. Weightless but comfortable. When Szarr leans closer to your face, you keep looking at him, trying to remember what was it that you wanted to say, but thoughts escape you like broken threads and you rise your hand. It ghosts over Cazador’s shoulder, to the side of his neck and you press your fingertips there.

Suddenly, you inhale sharply when understanding strikes you and yet even that is dulled by whatever blanket of charm has been cast upon you. No pulse thrums beneath your touch, not even a weak one, and while given a chance that may begin to scare you, no time is given for you to process the increasing evidence of a monster that cloaked himself in a skin of a Lord. Instead, the dream becomes reality when his tongue presses against the roof of your mouth, making you gasp and allow him even more access. He took advantage of your distraction and parted lips, of whatever mild emotion of intrigue and shock you had been allowed to feel.

Your eyes are still locked on Cazador’s and he grins again, leaning more into you, over you. His fingers grip the flesh of your hip with more need. A type of urgency you recognize as passion in the making and that ignites a fire within you in response. It’s sweltering, in comparison to your muted emotions, and it overtakes your mind in mere seconds. You want this, you want his touch, crave this intrusion that becomes a kiss with Cazador’s tongue now pressing against yours and with his lips sealed tightly over yours, muffling any sweet mewls that he causes you to make.

Yet you don’t feel his breath tickling your skin even when the kiss becomes deep, needy, and your fingers grip onto his neck as if begging Cazador not to pull back, not to break the magic of the moment. He moves slightly, releasing your hip and you chase after his touch, pushing off the wall and closing whatever that was left of the gap between you, pressing yourself against his imposing form. Grasping at the sides of him, your fingers tugging at Cazador’s waist, you beg, if not with words then with touch, for him to embrace you and hold you. Instead, however, the elf breaks away from your lips and smiles a smile that can be mistaken for gentles.

“I think you wish to be mine, don’t you?” He whispers with satisfied amusement and you try to understand if he’s right in this assessment. Do you wish whatever it is that this man offers? What is it exactly that being his mean, what it entails? Yet it’s so difficult to think, to concentrate, to understand…

“What?” Your eyes widen when Cazador puts something around your neck. You haven’t even noticed his hands moving or the object that now encircles your throat. Letting your fingers explore the leather before you even get an answer, you step backwards from him and bump into the wall again.

“This is to ensure that you know your place, little lamb.” Cazador smiles a vicious kind of smile but that too does not really reach you through the fog of your mind. Instead, you focus on a leash that is trailing from the collar around your neck.

“But why?” You ask, not quite comprehending why would he need to leash you.

But Cazador is not in a mood to give you an answer and he steps away from you, letting the lead become taunt when you don’t follow his brief departure. Yet the moment you feel the pull of a leash, you make one unsure step forward. In fraction of a second your hesitation makes Cazador sneer and he pulls on the lead so hard you come forwards, stumbling over your own feet and dropping to your knees before him.

Wide-eyed and confused if you have upset him and why, you look up, sensing rather than seeing Cazador pull up on the leash, making the collar dig into the side of your neck and front of your throat. It begins to choke you and you grip at the collar but to get a hold on it seems impossible, your fingers slipping over rounded edges of smooth, oiled leather. “Please?” You choke out and the elf awards you another satisfied grin.

“What was that, hm?” He taunts, watching you from above like a god that has a choice to rain wrath upon you or favors. Which you might receive will depend on how well you worship him.

“Please, stop.” Spluttering and choking, you beg again, feeling the burning in your lungs that is making you even dizzier than before.

“What was that?” He asks again, keeping the leash so taunt you wonder if it would snap soon. The tension and the discomfort make you want to rise from your knees and yet you have a feeling that Cazador would not approve of it. So you beg again. Beg and mean it.

“Please, Lord Cazador, stop. It hurts.” You rasp with your voice barely audible and he tugs on a leash towards himself. You stumble after it, reaching out and briefly flailing until you grip onto his legs, preventing yourself from crashing into his knees.

Gasping for air, you remain still for just a second, your heart hammering within your chest like its steel being shaped on a dwarven anvil, then the leash is pulled again, your head gets lifted upwards and a side of your face presses against Cazador. Confused and still trying to recover from the scare that you lived through just moments ago, you don’t quite understand what’s going on just yet, but vampire’s hand on the top of your head clears it up swiftly.

You look up, beginning to feel a sheen of sweat around your neck and on your palms. It gets absorbed by the expensive fabric of his pants that feels so soft against your cheek if not for the hardness underneath. Eyes widening, you try to find words, form a question to ask, but his smirk and the glow of Cazador’s eyes are answers enough. He pushes your face against his crotch harder, the erection so solid that it hurts the skin over your cheekbone. “You will serve me tonight and afterwards you will belong to me. So show me how much you crave to be mine.”

As Cazador demands your fealty, his fingers and nails begin to dig into your scalp and you whine with pain, flushing fiercely at the realization what he has in mind to you. He waits for something before you’re released and without knowing what else to do, you stick out your tongue and move your head just enough to leave a wet streak over the laces of his crotch. “Again.” Cazador says and from his eyes you can tell that you’re satisfying him and his wishes. So you repeat the action, ignoring how dry your tongue feels with the fabric absorbing your saliva, trying to let your tongue run along the entirety of his length even if it’s clad in cloth.

“You learn fast, dear. You may yet earn better treatment than those who fail me so often.” He hums the praise and on his lips it sounds sickly sweetly, like poisoned honey dripping from viper’s fangs.

Fangs, not unlike his own. Sharp and dangerous. And at this point you don’t need to ask Cazador what he is. You know. Maybe you always knew, ever since that first meeting in a busy street. You don’t get to linger over this thought for long because the leash is used again and vampire drags you to your feet, making you gasp and choke from the collar not relenting its grip over your throat.

“To the bed, little lamb. Let me taste the warmth before it is extinguished forever.” Not quite understanding what he means, you do as instructed and walk towards the bed.

After you climb into it, Cazador stops you by the leash and you look at him over your shoulder, only to be toppled to your side by his free hand. The smile that he had the entire time is gone now and his burning sanguine gaze eyes your form. Keeping the leash taunt but without making it choke you, he traces his palm over your ankle, your calf, over your knee, gripping the flesh of your thigh. The white nightgown rises with his touch and while it’s hot in this room, you still shiver. You enjoy his icy touch, you realize, and exhale when Cazador’s touch seeks further heights. Of your naked hip, the curve of your waist, but stops just below your breast.

Instead of progressing in revealing your bare body underneath the white linen, Cazador grips your leg just beneath the knee and lifts it, making you quietly yelp in surprise. Exposed so intimately you feel your face begin to burn and look away, gripping the sheets under your fingers in shame. His gaze feels almost physical in how it notices every little detail of your most intimate part. The plump swell of your folds, indicating the rush of blood from arousal, and of course the moistness that’s already smearing inner sides of both your thighs. A glistening, pale strand connects your left thigh to your core and the vampire smiles again.

Draping that same leg over his shoulder and preventing you from possibly hiding the sight from Cazador’s hungry gaze, he steps to the edge of the bed, not tearing his eyes away from your slit. The hand that holds the leash strokes your thigh that’s still on the bed while he holds the other firmly pressed against himself, and you feel his chilling touch slip over your folds, sending a shiver through your body that makes the man exhale with anticipation.

The fingers keep exploring. Tracing your delicate flesh, Cazador pokes at your clit and makes you jump, which in turn makes him chuckle. “So sensitive, hm? So needy. I knew you will enjoy this kind of attention.” There’s no mockery in his tone, but a degree of arrogancy can be heard and you squirm slightly, wanting to slip away from his grasp but knowing that you can’t even if you try.

Another whiny gasp escapes your lips when he nudges the sensitive nub again and you focus on the bedsheets, trying not to think of how exposed you are, prodded and poked at like a specimen on some shop’s counter. Yet Cazador continues, dipping a fingertip into your core, making it slick and bringing it back to your clit so that he can begin rubbing it in slow, tantalizing circles. You struggle to remain still and every time you fail, the collar reminds you of guidance that Cazador can apply to your foggy mind. If not by word, then by action he will make you obey and do exactly what he wants.

“You’re not a virgin, are you?” The question catches you completely off-guard and you look at the vampire immediately, eyes wide in both shock and embarrassment.

“N-no, but-“

Cazador scoffs, but doesn’t appear to be too displeased. He just smirks again and looks down at his finger working your clit to swelling with perfect precision. You whimper and look down, feeling your face burning with shame. Yes, you are no virgin, but the encounters that you did have have been youthful explorations beneath the sheets, not… this wanton display of everything that you are.

“Please, stop.” You whimper again with your thighs trembling from strain.

It’s pleasure more than shame, but you refuse to succumb to it. It clouds your mind even more, yet you want to preserve the last fraction of decency that you have left. Cazador, however, cares nothing for your feelings. Instead, his index and middle finger move and spread your folds so wide you choke back a desperate wail and chew on your bottom lip, looking away once again.

“Don’t be embarrassed, dear.” Cazador chuckles but it sounds darkly joyful. “This is a luxury that you cannot afford. This you shall learn soon enough.” As he speaks, the vampire rubs your spread flesh then removes his fingers on to trace the drenched entrance until he plunges his digits into you, up to the knuckles, making you cry out and lower your head to the bed, whimpering and moaning.

“Please…” You beg and you don’t know how many times you used this little, fragile word already, but even you understand that it is pointless. But you can’t stop clinging to the hope that Cazador might change his mind, leave this room and never return. This hope is almost childish in its naivety but you are incapable of letting it go.

“Shhh.” Shushing you softly, Cazador begins moving his fingers within you. It hurts at first and you strain against the intrusion, but when he curls them, exploring the slick and hot passage of your body, it begins to relax as if on command, clenching and releasing around his fingers, like it’s begging for more friction.

You hear the vampire chuckle again and he pulls them out. Next moment an obscene sound is heard when, so loud in the otherwise perfect stillness of the room, Cazador sucks the evidence of your arousal from his fingers. “Unsullied. Not too much.” He says more to himself than to you, and you squeeze your eyes shut, trembling and hating yourself for wanting more, for that fire that has spread like wildfire through your body, burning hottest where he touched you.

Another plea forms on the tip of your tongue. One that would beg for more and harder. But Cazador is ahead of you and your puny wishes. Counting midnight hours until the dawn breaks, he does not intend to waste more time he can’t afford. So he moves to unlace his pants and you catch a glimpse of that when you muster up the courage, urged by your own licentious needs that push everything else out of your mind, and glance up at him. A strand of hair falls over the right side of the vampire’s face, obscuring one scarlet eye that is focused on what his fingers are doing. You don’t even have half a mind to move. Despite the leash and your leg still on his shoulder, you remain as you are and wait.

A gasp escapes you when he releases his cock. Long, hard and ready to impale you upon it, it swings slightly when Cazador moves to lower his pants just enough for comfort of movement. He notices your wide eyes and amusedly lets you stare for a moment or two longer. “I advise you relax.” The vampire informs but you’re unable to peel away your eyes from the sight.

Watching him grip the base of his length, somehow imposing and intimidating and yet at the same time making you swallow with hunger, you chew on your bottom lip in anticipation. As if in a mood to tease you, Cazador rubs his swollen tip against the dripping folds and parts them with it, briefly nudging at your clit and eliciting a mewl out of you. He sees how you can’t tear your gaze away, how voracious your eyes betray you feeling. Still, it’s a game to him, one that he will have an eternity to play with you if he wishes so and right now – he does wish for it.

He teases you again, one more slow stroke over your cunt that Cazador knows is ready to swallow his cock whole. He dips only the head into you, making you release your bottom lip and gasp as if urging him now, but he pulls it out, swinging it lightly between his fingers, showing you how wet your body left him from this little contact. “You are ready, are you not?” He taunts and you look up at him, swallow again and nod. “Beg for it then.”

Beg? He wants you to beg? Something deep in your soul tries to remind you that this is not who you are, but lust drowns the small voice out, erasing it without a trace, and so you lick your lips before you beg, just as he wants you to. “Please, Lord Cazador. I… I need you. Please… You can’t- I mean, I beg you, please take me.”

Cazador’s laughter startles you and you smile sheepishly, feeling silly, but he does not let this feeling fester in your head. Instead, he tugs at your leash and smirks, completely satisfied with your amateur attempt at pleading for what you crave. “You’ll learn to do better. In time. Now, for your reward.” He looks down and points his cock at you again, aiming it right where you need him most and this time you don’t shy away, watching how he pushes his length into you, slowly, inch by inch.

Your body strains with even bigger intrusion than what his fingers have been and you moan, but persist in observing until he’s fully inside of you, leaving you panting with both exertion to accommodate his size and with impatience. Cazador doesn’t remain sheathed for long. He pulls the leash taunt and makes you look at his face while he begins to thrust. It’s not slow or gentle and you clench your teeth through which the moans still escape despite it all. “Keep looking at me, little lamb. This is a lesson I won’t teach twice.” The vampire says with a sharp smile and you quickly nod, too afraid to do anything else than obey.

But as you keep your eyes locked onto his burning vermillion ones, feeling yourself as if you’re sinking into a sea of boiling blood, Cazador’s thrusts gain even more power behind them, making the bed creak even though you’re the only one upon it. He rocks against you again and again, his cock reaching deep, especially because of the angle he has you at and you moan with his every push that feels both uncomfortable and so welcome at the same time.

“Louder! I want to hear you!” Cazador demands and unwilling to trust your competence even in this, he slams into you with such force that you cry out with a whimper. The collar and the leash keep you in place, leaning on your elbow and gripping the sheets while the vampire seems to fuck entirety of his rage into you. “Again!” Another command and another deep slam that brings tears to your eyes.

You’re not sure how deep he is inside of you, but every time he does this, for a single moment the pain is so intense that it makes your head swim. Yet the pleasure that comes afterwards is so much sweeter and so you gasp for air, watching Cazador’s face, his eyes, and feel yourself sweat in the muggy heat of this summer night. Your nightgown clings to your skin, becoming a crumpled, damp mess over your body, but that’s the least thing you’re paying attention to right now.

Another harsh thrust, almost every one of them being of force and precision, making your eyes water until tears mar your cheeks in salty streaks. This satisfies Cazador, because he smirks and tugs on your leash harder, leaning into you all while his hips piston into you without a pause. Your toes curl, your legs tremble, your spine tenses underneath the muscles and you gasp for air right against his lips when he descends upon you. “You belong to me.” He whispers, but before he’s able to lean back, you grip the back of his neck and pull yourself upwards just enough to crash your lips against Cazador’s.

The vampire does not push you away. He kisses you back deeply and roughly. His fangs do not feel strange anymore when your tongue runs over them and he groans into your mouth before breaking away and ramming into you even harder, which you didn’t think was even possible. He’s chasing the climax but you might be ahead of him, because you’re still tasting his tongue on yours and that sends a shudder that sinks deep into the core of you.

“Wait, I’m-“ You try to make him slow down, you don’t want to come just yet, finding yourself insatiable to the rough fucking you’re getting administered, but Cazador does not listen and even if he does, he clearly does not care.

Pounding into you with almost everything he has, the vampire pulls your leash roughly and watches his cock drive into you repeatedly. You’re so wet that your thighs are smeared in it, together with his loins, and the sounds of skin against skin are the only music that accompanies your cries of pleasure and his groans of effort.

Sneering as he feels his bliss quickly approaching, Cazador doesn’t even bother to check how you are fairing the sweet assault that will leave you utterly ravished once he’s done with you. Nails dig into your leg when the vampire feels tension in his loins that he can’t and won’t postpone anymore. With a strained grunt Cazador delivers one more hard thrust, letting the few that follow lose their rhythmic pace as he spills himself deep within you. Gasping for air, he focuses on his own pleasure alone, not seeing just how close you are.

When Cazador’s thrusts become erratic, you are almost there and you feel him filling you with his seed that is cold but not uncomfortably so. Not that you’re paying any real attention that, enveloped in the orgasm that begins to overtake you. When the vampire’s thrusts become to lose their pace and start to slow, as an act of last attempt not to be cheated out of satisfaction, you reach down and rub your clit fast and precise, knowing exactly what you like and how. You gasp and Cazador groans when your body clenches around him at the renewed intensity of pleasure.

“What are you-“ He groans, but then sees what you’re doing and scoffs with a smirk when your eyes meet again. He sees the desperation in your expression and stops completely, letting you come onto his cock while he does nothing to help you with your climax.

But it comes and it comes fast. Your visions swims just for a second and despite the leash you throw your head back with a cry. You tense and shiver, tremble and moan again, circling your clit until it’s throbbing and too painful for touch. Only then you move your hand away, after the last few shakes that run through your body, and try to lie into the bed. To your surprise, the leash relaxes and you’re able to do just that.

Panting and gasping for air, you look at Cazador who stands still for a moment, then lowers your leg. When he pulls out there’s a quiet squelching sound that would embarrass you if you weren’t so utterly spent. You watch the vampire climb into the bed, crawl over you and you look at him, dazed and exhausted, not even able to speak.

“Lord Cazador.” Is all you manage and Cazador smiles the kind of smile that is full of promise.

Without saying a word, he lays upon you, pressing you deep into the mattress at which you huff, still unable to breathe properly, and your hands grip at his sides in a weak attempt to push him off. When Cazador’s lips find your neck, you think he wants more, to continue fucking you until you forget your own name and you’re about to protest, beg for more time to recover and catch your breath, but then pain startles you.

Your eyes widen, air gets stuck in your throat and you understand what he is doing. You can feel him draining your blood, can hear him swallowing mouthfuls of it and you try to push him away again, but strength is leaving you faster than you could recover.

“Please…” One last desperate plea as you stare into the dark ceiling of your room and feel your hands being grabbed at and pinned overhead by the wrists, taunt, not unlike the leash that’s been around your neck this entire time.

When inky blackness begins to surround edges of your vision, Cazador pulls back and glowing embers of his eyes meet yours. He sees your blood trickling down your neck and seep onto the neck of your white nightgown. The sight pleases him. Licking the blood from his lips, he smiles, hauntingly gently.

“You are mine, forever.”

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𝔼𝕡𝕚𝕝𝕠𝕘𝕦𝕖

Norona’s trip took longer than expected. About a week, six days to be exact. By the time she returned to Baldur’s Gate, wondering what her friend has been up to, she discovered the entire city buzzing about a ball happening that very night in your mansion.

She asked people around, wanting to hear the gossip but not much has been heard besides some obscure rumors and that you might announce an engagement during the ball. Wondering who you chose and why so soon, when last time she spoke to you about betrothal you didn’t seem too eager to settle just yet, Norona decided to figure out what is happening right away. Yet to her surprise, she wasn’t let in. Hired guards protected the front gate and told her that Lady of the House has not permitted entrance to anyone until the evening.

Walking around the mansion, Norona managed to get glimpses of servants scuttling around and the open window of your bedroom, but the curtains behind were drawn and so she decided not to call upon you. Instead, the priestess decided to wait until evening and lingered in a nearby tavern until the time came of which people spoke as a start of your celebration.

Norona does not own many fancy dresses and when she dresses in a purple, simple summer dress, the woman wonders if she will even be let in, considering how grim the guards looked earlier today. But her fears don’t come to pass when she approaches the widely open door and not the guards, but two servants in elegant clothing greet her and invite her with wide smiles.

Torches and candles are everywhere and Norona has never seen your home so full of light before. Last rays of dusk look bleak in comparison to the beauty of the arranged illumination that she sees around her. Taking tentative steps she navigates the crowd that seems to be filling every room and every corridor of the mansion. Everyone is chatting, drinking, sharing jokes. Expensive ensembles adorn the men and women look like decorated statues in their gowns of every color on the spectrum. Gems and beads glitter all around and Norona finds herself out of place, just as she always felt when in your company when growing up.

Yet she struggles to find you in the crowd and when a passing maid informs her that the Lady of the House can be found in the ballroom, that’s exactly where Norona heads. It takes her longer than she hoped, her anxiety making her impatient. She just wants to make sure that you’re okay, that you’re happy, but that strange feeling she felt in her gut before she left returns tenfold.

The door to the ballroom is open and she hears music emanating from within. It’s a piece she has never heard before, strong and imposing in how the melody is carried by stringed instruments. It makes Norona feel a strange chill in the choking heat that the mansion is packed with.

Apologizing to the guests through which she squeezes on her path deeper into the room, she finally stumbles out into the dance floor. First, Norona notices the dancing couples. They spin and smile and laugh, relishing the festivities without restraints. There are sounds of crystal being brought together and people cheer with their glasses, but when the couples part, Norona finally sees you and she inhales in shock.

Norona did expect you to wear the dress that you have been gifted. The beauty of crimson now makes you look like a dark goddess who stepped among the mortals. You’re not smiling, that much is clear even from where the half-elf is standing, but then she notices a hand on your shoulder and finally she realizes that her friend is not observing the ballroom alone.

Behind you, Norona sees a tall man. His black hair is combed back and he wears a black suit with red embellishments that look bloody in the light of candles. He stands straight, attentive to seemingly everything that is happening in the room, until his gaze lands on the priestess and feels like a punch. She staggers slightly, feeling her heart beginning to beat faster with fear that runs icy fingers over her insides.

At first the man doesn’t move at all, but after a moment, when Norona begins to gasp for air, he leans to your ear and whispers something that is impossible to hear from this distance and the music that drowns out almost everything. When the man whispers, Norona looks at you, to your focused face and then the lace neckband that you wear. It glimmers with jewels when you turn ever so slightly to hear him better.

Norona wants to say something, shout something. There’s fear she cannot explain beyond utter and complete understanding that the man shouldn’t touch you, shouldn’t be near you. Yet her feet do not move, her lungs can’t draw enough breath for her to scream. She stands, helpless, and watches something red and uncomfortably looking like blood drip in two swollen drops from beneath the choker and slip down to your collarbone.

She looks at the man again and he meets Norona’s eyes with his intense gaze, but what’s more disturbing is a smile that now appears on your face – predatory and almost vicious. She doesn’t recognize you for a second, thinking it’s some sort of foul illusion. But no, there you are, her friend, so familiar and yet so unrecognizable at the same time. The elven man’s hand slips from your shoulder while Norona watches with growing despair and wraps around your neck in a gesture that can only be read as possessive.

When the priestess looks at him again, the man’s face slowly blooms with a haunting, merciless smile.

(𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕦𝕒𝕝) 𝕒𝕦𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕣 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕖: So, where to begin? I'll start by saying that to some this one shot might ring strangely familiar and if so - you will be correct. I always wanted to write a love letter type of fic to one and only Bram Stoker. And so, I have taken a chance to do exactly that here. Granted, this is a combination of both "Dracula" and "Bram Stoker's Dracula", the 1992 movie that is among my favorite. Naturally, I didn't do the copy-paste of scenes, but almost every one of them is loosely based either on the book or the movie, whichever gripped my fancy.

The title itself, 13th of August, comes from the book. It's the date in Mina's diary that first mentions Dracula in his bat form and so, this significant entry has become the title of the fic. I was always the one to say that Cazador is Dracula (and Starhd) coded and I guess this is my essay on that, a creative one. I hope you enjoyed the story, I have enjoyed writing it and sharing it with all of you <333

[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

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[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 :)

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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✨

[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.

[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.

[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.)

[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?”

☞ ❊ ☜

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Baldur's Gate 3 // Astarion Ancunin

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[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?