#i have more Tavs awaiting playing just not right now

[duskforged]

Kelas adopted the name Stormborn after the nautiloid crash - it's their surname, or at least, they think. There's not much rattling around in their head besides the tadpole, and a gnawing worry eats away at them. Who will they kill in their sleep this time?

Equipped with little more than a rotten mind and an illithid tadpole, Carnage named themselves after the glorious wreckage left behind. And they have nothing left to lose - so, why not live up to that new name of theirs? It's a beautiful world for the taking, after all...

[astarion-obsessions]

I think not enough people understand that Astarion doesn't want you to be his main or only source of blood. This even stands in direct contrast to what he really wants to achieve with biting Tav. Let me explain.

Why Astarion doesn't want you to be his blood bag

Let me start with explaining how I approached this topic. First of all, when I triggered the bite scene in my playthrough, I obviously let Astarion drink from my Tav. But then I got curious. What happens when I don't stop him? He's said I could trust him just a moment ago, didn't he? So I did just that, I trusted him literally with my life. 

Aaaand... he killed me. Well. What did I expect from a vampire, really. But that he actually drained me dry broke my heart. I really wanted to trust him, to reach out and show him that I didn't judge him for what he was and so on. I was really disappointed in him and couldn't quite grasp why he would do this. Was it a conscious decision? Did he lose control? Surely he would apologise and explain everything to me once someone resurrected me, returning the trust I was giving him the night prior, right?... right?

Of course not. The dialogue after him killing Tav was... at least as disappointing as him killing Tav in the first place. He shows his usual attitude, apologises half-heartedly and then just keeps going on with talking about draining the occasional bandit. He even snaps when you mention the topic of him feeding after that with something like "I already apologised, what more do you want?".

There's no real regret, no emotions. He simply doesn't care.

We know that he didn't care in the beginning, he tells us as much when he confesses his unwanted, growing feelings towards Tav in act 2. But still the whole bite scene didn't sit right with me until…

The Nightmare 

I randomly stumbled upon a clip of Astarion having a nightmare, so I researched about it and even started an Astarion run to experience it myself. So, if you play as Astarion, at the second long rest of act 1 he has a nightmare about Cazador, in which he recites the rules that defined how Astarion and the other spawn had to live:

First, thou shalt not drink of the blood of thinking creatures. 

Second, thou shalt obey me in all things. 

Third, thou shalt not leave my side unless directed. 

Fourth, thou shalt know that thou art mine. 

However Astarion reacts to this dream, he jolts awake afterwards and instinctively panics that he needs to find a way back to his master as soon as possible. His eyes set on his companions, who are sleeping / meditating peacefully around the fire, and then a thought passes his mind.

He could try to break one of Cazador's rules right then and there. He's able to stand in the sun, to bathe in running water, so maybe…

And that's why he decides to bite a companion. Astarion wakes up utterly terrified of what his master will do to him if he doesn't return to him in an instant - and he knows all too well what kind of horrors would await him if he so much as dares to think about rebelling again (read about that here) - so he is in desperate need of confirmation that he is now able to withstand and actively break the rules that have dominated his life for two centuries.

He needs to know that he is able to drink the blood of a thinking creature. And there they are. His clueless companions served on a silver platter. It's like an invitation to him, to test his boundaries. And who would be more fitting than the good hearted leader of the party Astarion wanted to (or already has) seduce(d) anyway?

This piece of information shed a whole new light on the bite scene. But let's look a bit closer at that. 

The Bite Night 

The very first thing Tav registers about what's going on with Astarion that night is him baring his fangs right above us, about to sink them into our flesh. He pulls back as soon as we open our eyes, retreating immediately until there's a safe distance between him and Tav. 

This may be the first time Tav gets to know that Astarion is a vampire, so he gets defensive and tells us that he's never killed a person for food, only animals. But then, instead of letting the idea of feeding on Tav go, he insists that animals aren't enough. 

But it's not enough. Not if I have to fight. I feel so weak. 

If I just had a little blood, I could think clearer. Fight better. Please. 

Then he goes on, literally pleading to get what he wants while putting on a sad expression in the end, even averting his gaze. 

And if we now have in mind that he just woke up from a nightmare about Cazador, feeling powerless and in desperate need of even a glimpse of hope that he might escape Cazador's cruel grip, his lines make a lot of sense. He's veiling the truth, of course, but not all of what he says is a lie. 

He indeed feels weak - powerless in fact - so drinking Tav's blood (the blood of a thinking creature) could prove that he may have regained a bit of power over himself, which had been exclusively reserved for Cazador the last 200 years. This would absolutely make him feel stronger, more confident than he's felt for a long, long time. 

And he indeed could think clearer after tasting Tav's blood, because this would bring clarity to the question if he is now able to break Cazador's rules on purpose and therefore give him information to work with when he needs to think about what to do next. 

Right after this, we get the chance to push into Astarion's mind, and if we do this, we can see what he thinks about. 

His mind opens up, revealing cracked and quivering memories. At their heart, you see dark eyes, commanding you to feed. 

You open your mouth and bite down. Not into a tender neck, but in the twisting body of a rat - the only thing your master lets you eat. 

He recalls the memory of how his master used to force him to eat disgusting vermin. As his memory is told, we can clearly see how deeply this affects him, for he can't keep up his walls of defensiveness and detachment. They just crack, crumble and reveal his misery clearly for Tav to observe. When we ask him about it directly afterwards, he first seems to search for a way out - a witty remark, anything - but gives up almost immediately. And he looks and sounds just completely defeated and tired, confirming what Tav just saw in his mind. 

He goes on with talking about trust. I think here he's seeing a chance to gain Tav's sympathy. If he already reveals such delicate information about his past, he can as well make use of it. So he appeals to Tav's understanding, offering us that this past is the reason for him only trusting Tav slowly. But then he immediately adds that now he trusts Tav, and that in return Tav can trust him, too. 

What he does here is displaying himself as pitiful, gaining Tav's sympathy, then seemingly going out of his way and saying that despite all he does trust Tav, which puts Tav in the position to follow suit with returning the trust… which Astarion definitely lied about on his part. But that's what he does. Manipulating. 

If we then respond with "You tried to bite me. How can I trust you?" instead of assuring us of his trustworthiness with more manipulation, he gets frustrated. 

Because we don't have a choice! Not if we're going to save ourselves from these worms. 

But he goes on with masking his reasons, even if he gave us a hint right in the beginning of act 1 when we picked him up, where he said that he would rather control the tadpole instead of removing it. If we play as Astarion, it gets clear pretty fast that he holds onto the tadpole, because it seems to be the only thing that had been able to "save" him from Cazador whilst no one and nothing else even attempted to help him for two centuries. Of course he would not want to get rid of the tadpole just like that. But he says so nonetheless to align with Tav's goals and display himself as useful. 

And then he does something interesting. 

I need you alive. You need me strong. 

Please. Only be a taste, I swear. I'll be well, you'll be fine, and everything can go back to normal. 

In the beginning of this conversation he mentioned he needed the blood to fight better. Now he takes up on this by saying that Tav needs him strong, hinting on him getting stronger after having a taste of Tav's blood. And then he promises that after this "everything can go back to normal", which right now means Astarion feeding on animals again. 

A few things about this are odd. 

Firstly, "only be a taste". Everyone, literally everyone has heard about the insatiable hunger of vampires. So how is it supposed to work that Astarion gets stronger from just a taste of Tav's blood? For how long? A few hours? Not nearly long enough to pose a real advantage, eh? For me this makes no sense. And if we think about his true intentions - wanting to find out if he can break Cazador's rule - just a taste would be absolutely enough. (And after he bites Tav without killing them, he even says that he needs something more filling!) 

Secondly, if Astarion really wanted to become stronger with the help of Tav's blood, why would he promise to go back to normal afterwards? He just offered Tav a stronger companion but then immediately nullified this argument by literally saying that this will be a one time arrangement. 

Thirdly, he subtly offers a bargain. "You give me your blood, I will be a stronger fighter for you." He did so in the beginning as well, repeating it with different words. And it fits his character very well to do so, because for all he knows everything comes with a price. He almost gets beaten to death and Cazador mercifully comes to his rescue? The price is a never ending life of torment and abuse. Astarion helps a potential victim for Cazador to flee? The price is a year of starvation, locked up in a dusty and dark tomb without knowing if it will ever find an end. Mindflayers rescued him from Cazador, (passively) granting him to possibly be free of him at last? The price is becoming a tentacled monster in the end. 

If we then allow him to bite us, he's visibly surprised about our graciousness, but of course doesn't let this chance slip and suggests getting comfortable instantly. Then he finally gets to sink his teeth into Tav's neck. This part of the scene can more or less be viewed from both sides - Astarion's and Tav's. 

He begins to feed on Tav and after a bit we can decide to interrupt him, but have to pass an ability check first. This repeats a second time when playing Tav, and even if it's only one AC when we play Astarion and decide to bite a companion, it still aligns, showing that Astarion seemingly loses himself in the taste of Tav's blood - which is very likely because (as he later tells us) we were the first humanoid he's ever fed on, so it's imaginable that Tav's blood must be tasting almost divine to him. 

This theory is supported by his actions after we fail the first AC or just let him continue. He grabs the back of Tav's head to pull them towards himself, emphasising on how greedy he is sucking the blood out of Tav. The camera even uses the exact same angles before failing or skipping the first AC and after, so the comparison is easy and the difference is clear:

If we then fail or skip the next AC, Astarion just drains us dry… And it gets even better after the bite night. 

The Morning After 

When Tav gets revived and then talks to Astarion, he is visibly surprised to see us, after he left the dead body of Tav behind with saying "Oh no, something terrible has happened". Sure Astarion, something… 

All of this happens when Astarion still doesn't care for Tav. He reacts with panic when we confront him with the fact that he literally killed us, and just manages to get his expression under control after a few seconds. I mean, just look at him:

'Killed' feels like a strong word. Not many corpses have your vigour. 

He definitely knows what he's done, and that 'killed' is indeed the right word for it, he is just very very bad at coping with guilt (which is amazingly analysed by thelikesoffinn - definitely read this, you'll understand Astarion so much better after this). 

He instantly lays the focus on our codependency again, that we need each other and so on. If we question why we should keep him around, he answers with:

A strong, well-fed vampire? I'm a powerful weapon - you'd be a fool to toss me aside now. 

With mentioning this, he wants to make sure that Tav will let him stay by their side and therefore grant him protection. 

But more importantly he continues:

Anyway, last night was an aberration. It will never happen again. 

He doesn't even start with something like "Next time I'll be more careful" or anything similar. He straight up says that it will never happen again. Period. If we then ask who he will feed on next time he gets hungry, he presents the idea of feeding on villains and bandits "who need killing anyway". And this is exactly what he wants. This even shows in his reaction to Tav's response to his suggestion.

If we agree and therefore allow him to feed on our enemies ("Sounds good. Glad we could agree"), this is how he reacts:

As am I. I'm starting to feel a little peckish already. 

This itself doesn't sound all too enthusiastic, but we get his approval up, which definitely shows that he very much likes that Tav agreed. 

On the contrary, if we suggest he can feed on Tav, ignoring his will wish to feed on villains ("Look, I'm not against you feeding on me, but only if we talk about it first"), this is his reaction:

Of course! This sounds eminently reasonable. 

I shall wait patiently until you suggest we… dine together. 

Doesn't sound too bad either, eh? But we don't get his approval. He doesn't disapprove, of course, because this is still a thousand times better than what he had until then, but still not what he really wants… 

So, what does all of this mean for the initial question? 

Conclusion 

The crucial point here is what it means for Astarion to feed on Tav. The only things he remembers since Cazador turned him, are being relentlessly dominated and horrifyingly abused. The things Astarion wants the most are to be safe and to finally have control over himself again. 

He bit Tav for the sole purpose of finding out if he can be free of Cazador's rules. So why would he jump right into being dependent on Tav? He suggests to feed on villains, because then he is free of anyone's mercy. He doesn't need to rely on Tav to graciously allow him to get a drop of blood. He can do this himself now. 

This is such an important step for his character growth, to find the way to his autonomy again, so if we only allow him to feed on Tav, it instantly sets him back into old habits of bowing to his masters words - or in this case Tav's. Because it's all hes been doing for the last two centuries of his life. 

So, as much as the thought of the self-sacrificing offer to be his personal blood bag may seem romantic or whatever, it's actually the exact opposite, trapping Astarion in what he desperately tries to escape from. The restrictions that come with someone dominating him mentally and physically. And as I mentioned earlier, he doesn't believe in the goodness of people. For him every "kind" act has a price and he likes to know what he has to pay, so he wouldn't even want to just drink Tav's blood without Tav getting anything out of it. He would most certainly expect Tav one day to come around with something he doesn't want to give or do, so he wants to control such situations beforehand. 

All he wants is to make his own decisions and be free in every way possible… 

So please just let him drain some bandits, will ya? 

[sparkly-scales]

That's Mr. Dekarios to you Gale x Tav BG3

That's Mr. Dekarios to You

ObsidianRose96

Summary:

You twirl a strand of hair around your finger as you go to sit in the chair across from him. “Well, Gale- “Ah ah, that’s Mr. Dekarios to you.” He corrects. “Right. Mr. Dekarios. I apologize. It seems I find myself rather distracted when it comes to your class. “Oh? Distracted you say? And what seems to have you so distracted that you’re failing my class?” He gets up out of his chair and moves to stand beside you.   Tav decides to surprise Gale in his study but Gale has other ideas.

Notes:

The bad school girl/professor role play smut. Please enjoy this dumpster fire.

Work Text:

Night has fallen over Water Deep. You lean against the doorway of Gale's study, watching the newly titled professor as he works. He’s focused, meticulously looking down at each individual piece of parchment searching for wrong answers. He’s been grading papers for a couple of hours now, a tedious task that’s even more so when you have as many students as he does. You wonder if he’s ever going to take a break.

“I know you're there.” He says, not even bothering to look up from his current task. “Come in.” You slowly saunter over to his desk. His face is illuminated by light from a nearby brazier, casting hues of yellows and oranges on his fair colored skin. He looks rather handsome like this. You clear your throat in an attempt to get his attention. He lifts up his head from his grading. “Yes my- Oh. Oh my.” His lips tug into a wide grin as his eyes scan your body. You're completely nude as you stand before him, watching as he takes a moment to admire your nudity. Oh the thoughts that are going through his mind right now. He gathers up the stack of papers he’s been sorting through and tucks them away into a vacant drawer. He could get back to grading papers later. Now, he wanted nothing more than to indulge in his lovely, completely naked, wife. But how was he going to go about doing this? He’s quiet for a moment while he thinks and his silence starts to become a little worrying.

“Gale, is everything alright? We don’t have to if-

“Are you here to discuss your current grade, Mrs. Dekarios?” He says, suddenly.

You look at him, a bit confused. “I’m sorry, what?”

He folds his hands together as he keeps his eyes locked on you. Something mischievous flits behind those deep brown orbs of his as he continues.

“Your grade my dear. It seems you’ve been slacking when it comes to my class. You excel in every other subject except the one I happen to teach and your current grade is reflecting that. Why do you think that is?”

Oh? Oh! You see what he’s doing now. You never would have expected your husband to be the type that was into role playing. Everything was always so…vanilla, between the two of you. It’s not that you didn’t enjoy it when the two of you were intimate, this is just so unexpected. But not unwelcome. You twirl a strand of hair around your finger as you go to sit in the chair across from him.

“Well, Gale-

“Ah ah, that’s Mr. Dekarios to you.” He corrects.

“Right. Mr. Dekarios. I apologize. It seems I find myself rather distracted when it comes to your class.

“Oh? Distracted you say? And what seems to have you so distracted that you’re failing my class?” He gets up out of his chair and moves to stand beside you. You can’t help but notice that he’s now wielding a wooden ruler. When did he get that? And what was he planning on doing with it?

“I’m waiting, Mrs. Dekarios. And you’d better have a good explanation.” He says, snapping you back to reality. He lifts your chin with the ruler, forcing you to meet his eyes. They’re blazing with an unspoken desire, eagerly awaiting your answer.

“Well you see, there’s this very handsome classmate of mine who happens to sit in front of me. And I can't help but stare at him during your lectures.” You say. “It’s so hard to focus on what’s being said when he’s right there.”

“Is that so?” He leans down towards your ear, his beard tickling the shell of it as he asks, “Are my lessons that boring to you? “

Your lips tug into a devious grin. You were going to play your role beautifully.

“Oh yes. They’re incredibly boring. So much so that I can’t help but sit there and imagine being fucked by my fellow class mate.”

“Really now? What an interesting revelation.” He grabs your arm and guides you to stand, bending you over his desk. “Mulling over boys while I’m trying to teach you some of the most valuable information you could ever hope to learn? Unbelievable. And here I thought better of you Mrs. Dekarios. I think you need to be taught an entirely different lesson. One on the subject of discipline.”

“Oh, Mr. Dekarios, what could you possibly mean by that?” The ruler comes down onto your bare ass. Hard. You yelp in surprise, turning your head to face Gale. He has a smug look on his face, knowing you weren’t expecting it.

“Gale, did you just spank me?” The ruler comes down on you again, this time much harder.

“That’s Mr. Dekarios to you, young lady.” He says. He brings the ruler down on you again, and again, and again, relishing in the loud , pained cries that graced your lips. He’s relentless, not stopping until your skin is left red hot and stinging. He takes a moment to admire his work, impressed that you were able to withstand the pain for as long as you did. But now it was time to move on to something else. His cock was straining painfully against his trousers, begging to be released. Between the unexpected sight of you sauntering completely naked into his study and your willingness to play into his little fantasy, he found himself desperately needing more.

“You’re such a bad girl.” Say’s Gale, turning you to face him. His voice is different when he says this, dark and sultry, a tone you’ve yet to hear him use with you. It’s delectable and you can feel the insides of your thighs begin to dampen with your own desire. “Do you remember my lesson on how to cast mirror image or were you too busy longing for your classmate's cock to pay attention?”

You shake your head. “I’m going to have to go with the latter.”

“Then allow me to demonstrate.” He says the incantation for mirror image and a perfect copy of himself appears beside him.

“Hello again Mr. Dekarios. How may I be of assistance?”

“I have a very bad student of mine who needs to be disciplined. And I figured you could lend a hand.” He says, gesturing to you.

“Mr. Dekarios, I think you’ve indulged in a bit too much wine this evening. This is our wife, not one of your students.”

Gale leans over to the copy of himself and whispers in its ear. “I know that. I’m trying something new. Something sexual, just play along.”

“Oh. I see. That would explain why she’s naked. What would you like me to do?”

“Undress yourself.” Says Gale as he begins to take his ownclothes off. When he’s finished he sits down in the chair you were previously sitting in and pulls you into his lap. The copy of him gets down on his knees and settles between your legs, spreading them wide.

“My my Mrs. Dekarios. What do we have here?”

“I bet she’s sopping wet, isn’t she?” Asks Gale, moving his hands to grope both of your breasts.

“She is. Her arousal is quite evident. May I?”

“Do whatever you deem necessary.” Gale rolls one of your nipples between his fingers and you gasp, the sensation sending a jolt down your spine all the way down to your throbbing clit. “We need to remind her that she needs to focus on her teacher rather than some boy.”

Gale's copy moves his face towards your cunt and trails his tongue along your seam. This Gale wasn’t real but gods it sure felt like he was. You moan in satisfaction as his tongue slips between your folds, hitting all of your sweet spots as he laps up your decadent juices. He hums happily against you as the real Gale softly kisses your neck, continuing to grope your plush breasts and tease your nipples between his fingers.

“Do you think that boy could do something like this?” He asks. “I doubt he could elicit such beautiful sounds from you.”

You shake your head. “N-no Mr. Dekarios.”

“See? You don’t need some amateur wizard when you can have the master. You’ll pay attention to my lectures from now on, yes?” You nod but that isn’t good enough. He gives your nipple a harsh pinch. “I asked you a question, Mrs. Dekarios. Are you going to pay attention in my class from now on?”

“Yes! Yes, I’ll pay attention!”

“Good girl.” You hiss as Gale's counterpart swirls his tongue around your clit. Your body instinctively tires to wriggle away from the overstimulation but the real Gale holds you firmly in place.

“Make her cum for us.” He commands. “I want to hear her howl.”

“As you wish, Mr. Dekarios.” Gale's copy continues to lap at your clit while simultaneously slipping a couple of his fingers inside of you.

“Oh gods! Oh gods yes! Please finger fuck me!” You gasp at the sensation of being filled and devoured at the same time. He fulfils your request and thrusts his fingers in and out of you. The state of your arousal is made evident by the sounds that come from beneath you. Gale groans at the wet, squelching, noise your cunt is making, the lewd sound making his own need become more and more painful as he waits for you to reach your climax. He’s never been left wanting for this long before. Who knew arousal could physically hurt?

“Ah, Ah, I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna c-cum!” Your declaration is like the sweetest music to your husbands ears. Your thighs clench around his mirror images head as you reach your climax, crying out as the feeling of pure unbridled pleasure overtakes you, releasing yourself in your husbands counterparts mouth. The Gale between your legs makes an effort to clean you up, lapping away the wetness that was now dripping down your thighs.

“I’ve longed for the chance to have a taste of our lovely wife. I must say It’s better than I could have ever imagined.”

“Sweet like honey, is she not?”

“More like a rich brandy. But quite delicious all the same.” “

You’ve got good taste sir. Then again, you are me.” Says Gale. “Let’s switch shall we?” He moves you off of his lap and motions for you to get down onto the floor.

“I’m not quite finished with you yet Mrs. Dekarios. I believe I deserve some compensation for your disobedient behavior in my classroom. On your hands and knees.” You obediently do as you’re told. Gale's copy goes to sit in the chair and the real Gale positions himself behind you. You feel his rock hard erection pressing against your entrance. “Open your mouth.” He commands. You see where this is going.

Gale Dekarios, you kinky bastard!

You open, allowing Gale’s mirror image to shove himself into your mouth while your husband grabs you by the hips and slides into you from behind. What a sight to behold! You’re stuck in the middle of a Gale sandwich as you suck on ones cock and the other one fucks you from behind. It feels incredible! The Gale that sits in the chair entangles his fingers in your hair, gripping it as you take his cock in your hand, sliding your mouth up and down the shaft before engulfing him. You feel him shiver as you suck him off. You're such a good girl, making him moan as you pleasure him with your mouth. Could the real Gale feel this too since this was technically him? That’s something you’d have to ask him later on. The Gale behind you, the real Gale, was thrusting into you from behind and he was unusually rough, unyielding as he shoved himself in and out of your tight little cunt. He had never been this rough with you before and by gods it was a welcome change. It hurt a little, yes but the pleasure far outweighed the pain. Fuck, this was amazing and you let him know by the moans that escaped from you. This was going to have to become a more frequent occurrence in your bedroom affairs.

“You’re getting extra credit for this.” His voice is breathy as he says this. “That should bring your grade up to parr.”

“Hells, she deserves to have a passing grade for the rest of the semester.” Says Gale’s copy. "Such a good girl taking us both like this." 

You look up at the mirror image of Gale as you take him deeper in your mouth, worshipping his cock with your tongue. "Yes, that's it. So good. So, so good."  He shudders and grips your hair tighter and you brace yourself for what’s about to come. He spills his seed into your mouth and you swallow every last drop of it, relishing the sweet, salty taste of him. He lets out a satisfied sigh as he moves you off of his cock, taking a moment to catch his breath as he lies back in the chair. The real Gale isn’t quite finished with you yet, rocking himself into your hips as hard and as fast as he can. Gods, he’s so deep inside of you, you can feel his balls slapping the back of your cunt as he keeps up the pace. Your head falls back and your mid section begins to tighten as your walls clench around him. You let out another loud cry as you ride out yet another orgasm, the waves of pleasure overtake you as he thrusts into you a few more times before he himself reaches his climax. The warmth of his seed spreads inside of you as he finally comes to a stop. By the time it’s all done, he’s a sweaty mess resting on top of you. With a wave of his hand Gale dismisses his mirror image, leaving the two of you alone of the floor of the study.

“What was this all about?” You pant.

“What? Did you not enjoy it?” Gale asks.

“No, no, I did. I really really did. This is just…new.” You say.

“I just wanted to try something different. Astarion was telling me about some different ways we could try to spice things up a little bit. And when I saw you standing over my desk completely nude I decided to try one of them.”

“Astarion?”

“Yes. He’s here visiting from Baldur's Gate.”

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that. Astarion is here? In Water Deep?”

“In our guest bedroom.” Says Gale. “I was going to tell you he was here earlier but you were taking a nap and I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“Gale Dekarios! I walked right past the guest bedroom butt ass naked coming to your study! Not to mention the door is WIDE OPEN. You could have said something!”

“Don’t worry Darling, I didn’t see anything. But gods you are loud!” Astarion calls out from the guest room.

Your face turns the brightest shade red and Gale just boops you on the nose.

[thehistoriccemetery]

Minthara’s New Dialogue

I’m pissed about Minthara’s new dialogue when Durge chooses to deny Bhaal, and I’m making it everyone problem.

Anyway, here’s Wonderwall.

———————————————————

Minthara stood outside the door to Durge’s new room at the Elfsong Tavern. Up until that night, they’d been sharing the room that now belonged only to Minthara.

It was late, but she’d found herself completely unable to relax. She didn’t sleep, but even her attempts to trance were only filled with regret of what had happened the previous day. Durge, lying dead on an alter of Bhaal before her. The rage that clawed its way up her throat. The way that rage shot out of her when Durge’s body had come back to life.

Her words had been cruel; hypocritical, even. But even that did not explain the regret and remorse that plagued her now. She didn’t know why, but it possessed her entire being. She was able to think of nothing else but that moment, played over and over in her mind.

She had never been one to hand out apologies. Even when she knew she was in the wrong she never sought to “make it right”. Why should she care if someone was pissed with her? Everyone in her life had been disposable. Everyone except Durge.

That is why, she supposed, she had come in the dead of night to darken her former lover’s doorstep.

She lightly tapped the door with two knuckles before cracking it open to checking to see if Durge was still awake.

They were, as she suspected they would be. Sleep was a rarity for them even on the best of days. Minthara stepped into the room without awaiting further invitation.

“What do you want? Have you come to berate me further?” The words came like a spit of acid. “Perhaps you have come to cull the weakest soldier from your ranks. Well I think I’ve had quite enough of your commentary for one day. Leave me.”

Minthara stood, rigid and unmoving. She has expected nothing short of fury from Durge, and yet she was still taken off guard.

“I have come to offer an apology,” she swallowed. “My behavior today was unacceptable, regardless of the circumstances and for that I apologize.”

Durge laughed. “When Scratch gets into the camp supplies and eats all the salami, it is ‘unacceptable behavior.’ What you have done to today is nothing short of monstrous.”

Minthara shifted slightly. She didn’t have a response prepared.

Durge broke the silence. “I thought you, of all people would understand. A deserter of both the spider queen and the absolute who found her power in godlessness. A lost child of House Baenre, the most powerful house in the underdark. And yet you see fit to lecture me about inheritance and power that I failed to collect at the cost of my own freedom. I thought maybe after all the nights you spent with me, sobbing against my urge to spill your blood you might understand why I must be rid of him. But I see now you’d rather have me a powerful slave than as I am.”

The room was silent again. Durge did not look at her, settling instead for continuing to arrange the room that would now belong to them alone.

“You know, perhaps if it had just been an unjustified outburst, I could have forgiven you. I could have looked past the hypocrisy, the accusations that defying my father made weak and unworthy,” they spoke again. “Perhaps if you had only called me stupid and weak, we could be allies once more. But you couldn’t stop there, could you? You couldn’t just insult what you perceived to be a lack of power, you had to make me feel used. As if this entire relationship was purely a tactical ruse.”

Minthara’s mouth worked faster than her mind. Before she could even think it through she blurted, “even now you cannot deny what a powerful force we were together.”

The words made Tav snap their head around to look Minthara in the eyes. “Don’t you dare try and dismiss my feelings with talk of strategy. I will not deny I was that I was drawn to you for the same reason you were drawn to me: because I thought you a powerful ally. But I do not share my bed with people just because they are ‘powerful allies.’ I do not learn about their favorite dishes and go out of my way to gather rare ingredients. I do not black out my own windows just so our home can be an oasis of darkness in this all too bright world. I do not rub their back and whisper sweet words to them as I hold them through nightmares. And I sure as hell don’t risk my own life in 1 on 1 duels with my own sister just for the sliver of hope that they could walk through this world a little less scared!” Durge’s eyes brimmed with tears and their bottom lip quivered. “You were so much more than a ‘powerful ally’ to me, Minthara. I did not love you because you were a matron of house Baenre. I did not love you because you were on the council of the dead three. I did not love you for the power I sought to gain from you. I loved you because you were my Minthara. My love for you may not have been a force that would save the world, but it did not make it less real or important. Power is not the only thing worth having. I would have gladly died by your side if it meant I could do so knowing that you loved me as I have loved you. If death was the only place we could be together, my dedication to you would not have faltered.”

Minthara stood in shock. She couldn’t not bring herself to move for fear that she may collapse onto the floor in a pathetic pile of tears.

“You will go to bed alone tonight, the bed we once shared, and you will sleep by yourself. And when you long for the comforts of home, you will not wake to find arrangements of mushrooms at your bedside. When forgotten moments of the past creep into your mind, and you reach for someone to hold you, you will find nothing but empty air. You will be alone and you will find it is not my ‘power’ that you truly miss.”

[kalmiaphlox]

Damn, this is what it feels like to be you?

AO3 Link / Masterlist

Part 1 / Part 3

Guide Me As You Do

Twisting his head up to rest his chin on her chest, Astarion smiles big and wide. Hircine is immediately suspicious, red eyes narrowed to slits, awaiting whatever he's about to say. “My love, can I play with my—yourself?” “Clarify.”

Pairing: Astarion x Named Female Tav (Hircine)

WC: 6.5k

Main Tags: Body Swap, Humor, Fluff, Smut, Body Worship, Guided Masturbation, Massages, Little Edging, and stretching because its good for the body.

A/N: Don't walk on people's back. it really isn't good for the spine.

A big thank you to @amoremagnificentbastard for your kind words on this chapter 🥰

Tag list: @zozoparsnips

Maybe being alive is the worst thing someone can be. 

If Astarion never uses the toilet again, it will still be too soon. Ugh, he feels so dirty—tainted. 

Still stuck in Hircine’s body, still subject to her body's needs, he laments his state. 

He furiously scrubs his slim body down in the bath, leaving red marks where he might have been a touch too rough and maybe taking too long to thoroughly inspect the wonderful tits now attached to his chest. Any slight movement has them swaying and the way they squeeze and conform around every touch or surface has his core quivering for something. It's so strange, the need to be filled instead of to fill. He wants so badly to slide his fingers into this heat, to know the feeling of being inside himself like that, but Hircine might not like him doing that to her body. 

So, fondling his breasts will have to do for now. It's not easy turning Hircine into a whimpering mess that begs for his cock even on their best, most lustful days when she's so tired, so overworked, and then she said she isn't attracted to her own body which certainly puts a damper on getting hot and heavy. Sex might be off the table, and while it's unfortunate to not experience such a once in a lifetime opportunity, they will be just fine without. 

He'll take this chance instead to learn what feels good in Hircine’s body so he can apply that when—not if—they return back to themselves.

Newly refreshed, Astarion towels off, but a shocking sight catches his eye.

My—no, Hircine’s reflection!

How did he not even think of the opportunity mirrors provide now?!

Trotting up to the mirror, Astarion gapes in awe at having something shown back at him, even if it isn’t exactly what he wants to see. Hircine is so lucky that he loves this beautiful face, so staring at it in adoration for much too long is no skin off his back…

Oh, he can make those jokes.

His pretty drow wife stares back at him now. Her soft, light gray skin with those rosy undertones that makes his mouth water from how inviting it is, is lit wonderfully in the bathroom candlelight, and the shiny slate and silver streaked hair long, silky and… grabbable. He loves the way her head will bend back when he takes a fistful of those locks to plant a kiss upon her lips or to sink his fangs into the sensual curve of her neck. 

Lavender eyes with a gold ring around the pupils reflect back into his gaze, catching the light perfectly. He can’t believe he ever thought them strange, and now the glow that shines so bright in the dark is always something he searches for in their quiet moments of peace in bed or on the den couch. Lavender and gold, a much better combination than the maroon that infests nearly every corner of their lives. 

Her straight, high-born nose, and her lovely plump mouth, unfortunately stained with a plum colored lipstick. He understands why she hides her natural lip color under it, but Astarion wants nothing more than to see her ghostly pale lips at all times. 

Maybe one day.

Thinking of ghostly pale, he draws his fingers down the smooth skin of her neck until he meets the ridiculously plush swell of a breast, watching as it indents with his touch. Beautiful, truly. He cups the left breast, Belbol as he’s named such a gift, and then moves on to the right one, Iiyola, his treasure. The areolas and nipples are the same bone white of her lips, with the slightest flush of pink beneath the surface. Fuck, he loves sucking on these.

Looking down, Astarion considers, could I? Just for a moment, see how it feels for him to taste his own tits… Hircine does it for him when asked, so why can't he?

Good gods, is he horny. He shakes the thought from his mind, freeing himself from the lust that threatens to overtake him.

With a fluffy, cotton robe wrapped around his body, he returns to the bedroom, throwing open Hircine’s closet to dig out a pair of panties from a dresser that he slides on quickly. 

I would much rather be naked, but I'm trying to be respectful.

Hircine stands by the fireplace, running a finger along the marble mantle. She turns, quirking an eyebrow at his appearance. “Did you bathe?”

“Yes,” he says, tightlipped, wrapping his arms around himself for some comfort.

“Wha-What happened? I thought you only needed to pee?”

He claps his hands over his ears. “Don't talk about it! It was awful and everything is ruined!”

The whole ordeal was traumatic. Astarion very badly wants to return to his vampire self. Gods, the grass really isn't greener on the other side. 

Taking pity on him, though he can absolutely see the smile she's smothering, Hircine holds out her arms, beckoning him to her. Rushing to melt into her embrace, he's not surprised to find why she likes to be held by him so much, strong arms supporting his thin frame, easily resting her chin on the top of his head so he's swallowed in solace.

What he does not enjoy is the distinct lack of heartbeat from the chest he's resting his ear against, but Hircine, his perfect girl, she never complains about such things.

Hmm, what else is his perfect girl good at? 

Oh, he knows.

Twisting his head up to rest his chin on her chest, Astarion smiles big and wide. Hircine is immediately suspicious, red eyes narrowed to slits, awaiting whatever he's about to say. “My love, can I play with my—yourself?”

“Clarify.”

“You’re so bendy. I want to try it out, you know, like when you lay on the floor in the splits or touch your toes to your head.”

“Ah, I see. Go wild, Husband.”

He purrs into her chest, “I love when you call me ‘husband’ in my voice.”

“You are so weird, Husband,” she says as a kiss is pressed to his forehead, “Off you go. Be flexible or whatever.”

Letting out a girlish shriek that they are both alarmed by, Astarion slides the lounge chair against the wall to give himself some space before settling down cross legged on the rug. Maybe he’s getting ahead of himself, now at a loss for what to do next. “So, what do I do?”

Hircine chuckles, a nice deep rumble that he likes. “I’d recommend some stretching so you don’t tear a muscle… Eugh, that’s the worst.” She sits down across from him, straightening her now much longer legs along the floor and Astarion copies the movement. “This is a perfect opportunity because I don’t think you stretch this poor body near enough.

“Now, follow my lead, Husband, but even if you feel like you can go further in your stretches, don’t strain yourself.” One leg is kept straight as the other is bent in, placing her foot against the first leg’s inner thigh. “Try not to arch your back, stay straight and lean forward to touch your toes. You should be able to wrap your hands around your foot.”

Following her verbal instructions and visual cues, Astarion stretches as she does, feeling the pull in his hamstrings. His stomach and chest are pressed against his thigh which isn’t so bad, though he’d prefer them pressed against his actual body.

She demonstrates some more stretches that they perform dutifully before Hircine gives him the go ahead to do as he pleases without wrecking her—his body.

The goal is the splits.

Returning to his feet, Astarion moves off the rug, letting his feet slip slowly out from under him sideways on the polished wood floor. He’s seen Hircine do this a thousand times, she’s always slow and steady with it. Eventually his groin meets the floor, having lowered himself all the way down. Gods, what fun! Hircine is still stretching every single muscle in her body, and Astarion clears his throat to get her attention, smiling deviously. “When we switch back, I am begging you to slide down like this onto my lap, preferably naked.”

She rolls those glinting red eyes, turning over on her side away from him to continue what she was doing in peace, the broad slopes of her back now concealing her completely.

Leaning forward so his stomach presses against the ground, he adjusts his legs out behind him, curling them up and arching his back upwards. 

And just like that, his toes are touching the top of his head.

He giggles quietly to himself, giddy at the strangeness of it. “Maybe we should start stretching together. I want to be able to do this.”

“Honestly, I expected you to be in much worse condition. If we stick to a good schedule, I bet you could be bent in half before the year is over.”

“Only if I get to bend you in half afterwards, my love~” He sings in the nice lilting tone of her voice. 

“Hmmm…” Is her only response. 

Playing around a little longer, Astarion twists this way and that, even doing what she calls a back bend with his forearms and elbows laid flat on the ground. The soreness that's plagued his body settles into a dull ache after all these tests of her flexibility.

Hircine is tense all the time. He can easily recall occasions where he’s rubbed a hand along her shoulders and remarked on the tenseness there. The body must feel so sore since Astarion is more loose…

Has he ever given Hircine a massage? Perhaps not, but now is a good opportunity to try so they can learn what the other wants.

“Pet?” He calls.

Hircine stops rolling her head around on her neck to look at him. “Yes?”

“Care for a massage? I do you, you do me?”

“Oh, that sounds nice.” Getting to her feet, Hircine points to their bed. “Does that work?”

“Yes, love. You lay down first.” He waits at the edge of the bed while she climbs up, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Actually, uhm—”

“What?” She asks.

He wets his plush lips. “Can you take the clothes off? I need to see myself naked, please!” Voice morphing into a beg, the kind she uses when she wants him to come on her face, the deviant.

Hircine sighs, the sound one he is all too familiar with from himself. 

Gods, this whole experience is strange. 

Always one to give in though, Hircine begins undressing, but that's not what he wants. Rushing forward, Astarion slaps her hands away and starts unfastening each button on his own. 

“You just wanted to feel yourself up, didn't you, Husband?” She says, easily letting him do all the work.

“Guilty as charged, my love~” Ah, the sing-songy tone is very fun. His real voice just doesn't hold those notes as smoothly. 

The shirt is quickly shucked off, baring the smooth planes of his—now Hircine's chest to him. 

Oh, he could just run his tongue over every part of that body. The chiseled pectoral muscles, flat abdominals, those tight pink nipples… He drags the tip of his fingers along every bit, the silky soft feel of his real skin a delight for the senses, making sure to circle the nipples the way Hircine likes and—

Nothing, of course. She stares at him in her usual expectant way. 

Astarion pouts. “Are you not turned on because I'm you or because I'm a woman, now?”

“Both.” Not even a speck of hesitation. 

“Eugh,” How did he end up with a misandrist that is only physically attracted to men? “What if I turned into a man?”

Those glimmering red eyes flick around the room before closing with a groan of disgust. “Then you'd look like my brother and that's even worse.”

Ah, right. 

“Fine.” He sinks into her firm chest, enjoying how it stands strong against his weight. “Hold me tight, please.”

In an instant, Hircine’s arms wrap around him, squeezing Astarion until his breath is forcefully pushed from his lungs in a grunt, and then the pressure is lessened with an “Oops, sorry,” muttered into his hair.

Is he really that strong? 

Alright, that’s enough. Astarion pulls away, holding Hircine at arms length. “Still not naked enough.”

If her pretty claret eyes could roll all the way into the back of her head, they absolutely would. 

He drops to his knees, just the same as Hircine has many nights before this, always ready to please. They can roleplay for a bit, not that it will amount to anything when Hircine won’t get into the mood. More buttons are undone, pants pulled down, and all that’s left is the underwear. Nothing special, of course, because he wasn’t expecting to be eye level with his cock anytime soon—or ever.

A glance up at Hircine, who looks a mix of bored and intrigued, if such a thing is possible. Well, it’s Hircine, so yes, it is. “Are you about to be weird?” She asks.

“Just let me do this, Hircine. Don’t say anything.” It’s a desperate plea.

“Alright. Can I lay down so you can do… whatever it is you’re about to do?”

“Yes.” He springs to his feet, catching her off guard when he shoves against sturdy chest, sending her back onto their cozy bed. The pants are ripped off completely, tossed somewhere far away before Astarion crawls up, hands on her thighs. “Let’s see what all the fuss is about, hmm?” Hircine covers her handsome face with her hands in response. 

Tsk, shy thing. 

Straddling her pale thighs, Astarion bites his lip, taking a deep breath to steady himself as his hummingbird heart hammers away at an alarming pace. The sound has always been so delightful for him, but the feel is something else entirely, not quite painful but also a little unnatural—to him at least, this is normal for his lovely Hircine if all their nights together is anything to go by.

Index fingers feather around the edge of his underwear, teasing, ready to enter at any moment. 

It’s time. He has to see it as it’s meant to be seen.

Both fingers hook under the fabric, tugging each side down to slowly and delicately reveal the hidden treasure underneath. 

For the most part, it’s the same as it's always been, just from a slightly different angle. A cock with testicles. Too bad he can’t get it hard, that’s really what he wants to see. No matter, Astarion can still take a gander. Lifting his flaccid penis, he wraps a hand around it, testing the weight within this body’s smaller grasp. The foreskin is pulled back, exposing the glans. 

Is his mouth watering? 

Astarion ignores that and the heat pooling between his legs currently. It will do him no good to want his body so badly when the one inside it won’t respond well to any advances. 

Gods, they can’t turn back to their bodies soon enough. He needs to be plunging this cock into Hircine's tight cunt now.

He looks up, an arm is thrown over her eyes while he handles his own cock with care. Different bodies be damned, this cock is all his. 

“How does it feel?” He asks in a raspy whisper, his mouth so dry from hanging open as he fights with the urge to do something he probably shouldn’t.

Hircine shrugs, indifferent. He swallows down a sigh. He loves his wife as she is.

Dropping his cock in defeat, Astarion slips the underwear the rest of the way off and—

Maybe just a little smell… He brings them to his face and inhales. The underwear also gets scented with his cologne, not that Hircine cares when she isn't all that turned on by smells the way Astarion is. Rosemary, bergamot, brandy and a touch of undeath. Not surprising.

He sighs again and tosses them into the void with the pants.

Massage time. 

Propping herself up on elbows, Hircine gives him the saddest, wettest eyes he's ever seen. Is that what he looks like when he's pleading? No wonder his poor wife bends over backwards for him—literally.

“I'm sorry, Husband. I am trying, it's just—”

Astarion halts her words with his finger pressed to her lips. “Hush, pet. There is no need to apologize for not liking something. If you aren't into it, then you aren't into it. I would never begrudge you that. Now, roll over so I can sink my hands into those muscles.” 

Always a good listener, Hircine lays face down on the bed with arms crossed under her head for some support. Straddling her hips, which are surprisingly wide comparatively to the body he’s in now—thank the gods Hircine is so flexible—Astarion runs his hands over the rippling muscles in her back. Oh, these are nice. 

The hellish, scar-tissue ‘poem’ etched into his skin is promptly ignored. He's focusing on the good today, not the bad. 

He kneads his small hands into her upper shoulders, trying to press firmly into them until she shows any discomfort, but nothing comes. “How is it?” He asks.

“A little like nothing, honestly… Am I really so weak?”  

Well, that’s disappointing. “I’ve never thought you strong, but I didn’t realize it was this bad. What should I do then? I want you to feel good.”

Lifting her head, Hircine considers what to do. “How about you walk on my back? I bet the weight would feel nice.”

“Gods, my love and her big brain… or is it my brain?” She ‘tuts’ at him as Astarion gets to his feet, balancing carefully atop her back. Even though he’s now used to her more… top-heaviness, what with the mass of hair and her ample bust, balance isn’t something he’s mastered yet, so he steadies himself on a poster of their bed frame. He plants his feet along her shoulder blades. “Is it actually alright to do this to your back?”

“I don’t know—” She groans in his own lustful voice and Astarion’s knees might give out from the sound. Why doesn’t it sound like that to his actual ears? “Ooh, but it feels so good…” If he hadn’t put on panties, slick was going to be dripping from his legs by the end of this. 

He walks up and down Hircine’s broad back, putting attentive focus onto spots that get satisfied moans and groans out of her. The feeling is so strange, just digging his heels and toes into someone’s back instead of using hands as a massage… Maybe they’ll have to do this more often if the noises are anything to go by. 

It’s really hot. This whole thing is so hot. Is he really so attracted to himself or could this possibly be some leftover remains from Hircine’s body? He doesn’t care, Astarion is loving it.

The thighs are a little too slim to fully walk on, so Astarion works a foot and heel into a thigh one at a time, slowly moving up to the real prize.

That beautiful ass. 

It’s perfect. Gods, he hasn’t—Has he even seen it outside of the sides when he twists around best he can? 

Hircine is more into his back from how her hands roam up and down the curves of muscle, trailing along his shoulder blades and spine to the dimples in the small of his back. 

Astarion much prefers the tits and arse, of Hircine and of himself, apparently. 

Settling down to his knees, Astarion roughly pinches one arsecheek and Hircine jolts, peeking over her shoulder with a sharp glare. A wide smile strains his face, probably because Hircine rarely smiles, and he takes handfuls of each of her cheeks, rolling, kneading and squeezing them around. 

He leans down and bites one right in the center—hard enough to leave teeth marks.

Hircine yelps, swatting at Astarion. “Alright, enough, you wild animal.”

“Hircine, my darling love, my sweet pet, my perfect girl,” he begs in her adorable whiney voice, “I completely understand that you aren’t able to… get it up, but can I find some release here? I-I need something, I feel like I’m melting. It’s too much.” Astarion is squeezing his thighs together, anything to help the burning within.

It does not help.

Those deep pools of ruby look over his figure, probably finding it all much too desperate. Hircine chews at a lip, the motion so similar to how she does it in her own body. “I don’t mind, but could we… do it together? I could show you what feels the best to me.”

Astarion dives into her bare chest, wrapping his arms around her neck. “Oh my gods, I love you so much. You're so perfect for me, pet. I can put my fingers in my cunt?”

“Mine or yours?”

“Yes. Both. All of it. Anything, please.”

“You're so hungry, Husband.”

“I always am for you.”

She pulls away, pinching his nose. “And you. Can I put something on, please?”

Daring a peek back down, he sighs at his cock. Wretched thing might not be getting any action tonight. “Yes. Underwear only though. I need that skin-on-skin contact.”

“Yes, my lord.” Hircine mocks in a deep, affected accent as she slides off the bed, searching for wherever he threw the underwear. 

Is that what it sounds like when he’s being a brat? No wonder she finds him so silly all the time. 

“Wait, how should it lay?” Hircine asks. His cockhead sticks straight up out of the underwear, calling to Astarion, pleading to be free once again. 

Ignoring the siren call of his own penis, Astarion laughs, beckoning Hircine over. He sticks his hand into the underwear, holding back the snort of laughter when Hircine jumps while he adjusts his cock until it rests where it should, though it’s weird from this angle. “It should just… feel right? Does it?”

“I think so? I’ll get used to it.” 

“Good. I am very excited, though I’d much rather be back in my body, shoving my fingers and tongue into your cunt instead.”

“And I would much rather have your cock down my throat, but here we are.”

Hircine dirty talking him in his own voice? Could he come from listening to her describe everything in explicit detail?

Oh absolutely, yes. That's undeniable, but he wants something inside of him. So desperately, horrifically much. His cunt is throbbing with need and he knows the panties are soaked through completely. 

“Alright, pet, tell me what to do.” He takes her face in his hands, brushing a thumb across a sharp cheekbone. This is such an amazing experience. Each and every moment will be committed to memory with perfect clarity, if only they had one of those memory shards on hand so they could rewatch this as much as they please.

“I guess it’s time for you to get naked.”

His heart soars, the rhythmic pounding vibrating through his chest. “Will you help me?”

Hircine smiles, soft and sweet and he just adores the way those eyes crinkles around the edges. “Of course, Husband.” She unties the already loosened robe completely, flicking it over and down his shoulder.

With a smug grin, Astarion squeezes his arms around his tits and shakes his shoulders so they jiggle with the movement. He likes it when Hircine does it. 

An unimpressed, raised brow is all he gets for that action. “It's just a mirror.” She mutters.

“A mirror? What do you mean?”

“I'm pretending I'm looking into a mirror. This whole thing,” she waves between the two of them, “is hurting my head. I don't know if it's helping.”

“This hurts your head, but not the—” Astarion winces when, as if summoned, Herma-Mora's discordant chittering pierces a blade through his skull.

A̴̢̭̱̘̖͙̮̭͉̙͓͇̯͙̜͒̆̂͑ǫ̷̼̜͉̦͙̊̎̓͋͗̃͛̕ͅͅb̶̢̭͈̹͖̖͑̈́͂̀͐Ý̵̡͎̪̞͓̭͈́̆̓̏̐̈́̐ͅQ̷̡͉̭̙̪̼̲̪̩̣̣̻͇͕̼͂̍̀

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he groans. “I want it to stop.”

“I rarely ever hear him when I'm… enjoying myself—outside of when I seek him out intentionally. Stop thinking about him.”

“Are you thinking of another man when I'm inside you?!” I'm right here! How could she think of that vile monster when I, a beautiful, gorgeous, heart-breaking piece of man, am by her side?!

“He's not a man, and no, that's not what I meant. Let's move—”

“Hircine, my pet, I'm all for trying out new things, but bringing your mind-invader into the bedroom is not what I—”

Seemingly had enough, Hircine finds his nipples easily and pulls. Not hard, but it's enough for Astarion's brain to pleasantly shatter, the sting of arousal striking white-hot through every fiber of his being. His limbs turn to jelly, his core is screaming for something to fill him. The lewd moan that slips from his mouth couldn't possibly be contained even if he tried when his eyes slam shut, rocking forward in the hopes that Hircine might do more.

Instead, the traitorous (wo)man leans forward with a frown, releasing her tight hold on those peaks of delight much too early. “How about we move on to what's got you so bothered instead? I can smell the change… it's strange…”

“That's how I, uh, always know you're in the mood.” He's panting. His heart’s pounding. This body is absolutely quivering for more. 

How does Hircine keep it together when she responds so wholly with her body?

“Seems like cheating when you can just smell the difference.”

He wipes some drool from the side of his mouth. “That's called a natural advantage, pet. Not my problem that your body just… weeps for me.”

“Do you want to touch yourself or not?” 

He all but launches himself into Hircine’s chest, clutching at the curls that frame her beautifully pointed ears. “Please, I need it!” If he can't have his own cock, then the fingers will have to do. 

“Alright,” she climbs onto the bed, spreading her legs and patting the spot between, “sit here, back to me.” The robe is thrown to the floor, and panties, which are soaked as expected and he beats down the urge to taste them as he always does, are thrown away before Astarion dives in, situating himself right where she asked. Her cool hands immediately slip between his thighs and pry them open with ease, knees raised and feet planted on their soft bedding. The cool air in the room meets the wetness of his cunt for a very refreshing feeling. That’s nice. 

He’s stunned and insanely turned on by the forwardness Hircine is presenting when she is always the one waiting for his command. Being in his body must make her bold. 

“To start, your hands, please, Husband.” Both her hands are held up in waiting, her lips close to his ear, speaking in heady, hushed tones that have him fighting the urge to just shove her fingers into his dripping cunt so he can fuck himself silly on them.

Astarion enthusiastically places his hands in Hircine’s, and she guides them to his heaving chest to cup each breast in a hand. “To get started, sometimes I like to squeeze and roll them around,” and they do just that in tandem, gently squeezing the soft, weighty flesh of his tits, admiring how they spill over in his smaller hands. “Harder,” she whispers, digging their fingers in, right on the cusp of too hard. His head falls back, a breathy moan and wiggling hips, his response to the alluring sensation. 

This is decadent! He can’t believe Hircine is always so quiet in bed when it feels like this. His cunt continues to clench around nothing, and Astarion can barely wait for more.

“And when that isn’t enough anymore,” she says, shifting her grip to lay his fingertips onto his nipples, “then I know this is what I need.” They brush featherlight over the tightened buds, very gently circling around the areolas and good gods, Astarion wishes he could just come from this and literally nothing else. His tits are alight with the most delightful tingle that trails like fire through his stomach and loins, and this is only his touch, not Hircine’s.

“Can you—Can you do it?” He gasps out, arching his back to rest his head on her strong shoulder and jut his chest out. If he doesn’t get some more stimulation, he might explode. 

“Oh, my poor, needy Husband… You want me to touch you?” She coos.

“Fuck—Please, I need it, Hircine!” He demands, rocking back against her, looking down to relish in the way his tits bounce with the action. Finding it within herself to be gracious, Hircine cups his breasts now, thumb and forefingers pinching over his pale nipples to twist them around. His thighs slap together when he moans loud and long and desperate, struggling to comprehend how amazing it feels with her hands on him now. She could probably rip his nipples right off and it would still be one of the best experiences to date. 

She hums, a thoughtful noise that rumbles through her throat, and he can hear the smile in her voice when she speaks next. “I don’t think we play with our ears enough…” A wet tongue snakes along the shell of his ear, shockingly tender and sensitive, and Astarion’s breath hitches. Between the ear licking and the nipple touching, it’s all so much, so perfect, so good. 

And then Hircine pushes his breasts up towards their faces, releasing him so they bounce back into place. “Do it to yourself some more.” She commands, not all that stern in case he were to reject such a thing. As if. Following instructions like the good husband he is, Astarion returns his hands to where they belong, missing Hircine’s touch, but loving his own all the same. 

While he appreciates how much Hircine is getting into this, Astarion is stunned that she is noticeably not hard against his back. How?! 

Oh, well. His pleasure is the most important right now. 

Pinching, pulling, rolling, with this body reacting by clenching, yearning, throbbing… A frantic energy is building up within him, but with his touch on his breasts only, he knows there will be no reaching the brink of satisfaction.

As usual, Hircine’s timing is good, or maybe she knows her body well enough to understand that this kind of play would not be enough. Her fingers tickle down his flat stomach and he watches at it involuntarily clenches at the funny feeling. She then stops right at the apex of his sex, drumming against the pubic bone.

“Hmm, do you want to tease or shall I?” She asks and Astarion’s heart flutters. 

“You.” His desperate response is instantaneous. Why would she ever ask when she knows it’s so much better that she do it?

One hands scoops up a breast, lightly massaging it in a firm grip, but much to his dismay, the nipple is ignored entirely while her other hand pries open his thighs once again, palm and fingers smoothing along the supple flesh of his inner thigh, occasionally circling dangerously close to his lower lips before skirting away to repeat the motion. On his own, he could see how this wouldn’t be all that exciting, but with Hircine’s strong hands initiating, it has him on the verge of begging. 

On another lazy pass by his folds, Hircine leaves her hand to rest there, but finally offers some relief from the toying by brushing the thumb on her other hand over a peaked bud, and Astarion realizes he’s been holding his breath for much, much too long, his chest constricting with need until he sucks one in with a gasp as his hips jerk up, eager for Hircine to continue.

Her quiet voice, insistent and urging, reaches him. “Touch yourself, Husband.”

Biting back a moan, Astarion does as he's told, no hesitation, digits sliding down his stomach just as she did before, aiming for that swollen, sensitive bundle of nerves that he knows gets Hircine off so well. The second his fingers make contact, crackling sparks of pleasure jolt through his body, unleashing a debauched gasp that he didn't even know Hircine’s body was capable of. 

He’ll take more of that. His fingers slip down further, swirling just outside the hungry mouth of his cunt to coat himself in slick, and that movement is carried back up to the clit, gently rubbing around it for the most glorious sensation. Hircine, not one to sit idly by, turns her attention to his tits, kneading them with fervent affection and pulling on the impossibly, hardened peaks. He’s so breathless as his hips buck, searching for some more friction. 

“Oh, fuck, Hircine, it’s so, so good!” He mewls as she tenderly pinches his nipples. “Can-Can I put my fingers inside? Please, I want it so bad!”

He can hear how she licks her lips, letting out a quiet huff of laughter. “Are you going to fuck yourself on your fingers?”

“Yes!”

“Then do it.” She whispers. 

Instantly, he sinks his middle finger inside that glorious wet heat, then another follows immediately after because Astarion is craving it so deeply. His cunt grips his fingers as they slide in and out at a slow, cautious pace, reveling in how slick and warm and hot it is. While Astarion is lost in himself, Hircine flicks her fingers across his clit and roughly twists one of his nipples with the other hand, and he is lost to the shock of overwhelming euphoria that burns its way through his body. Her strokes on his clit continue, gentle and sensuous, urging him down a path to a mind-blowing orgasm, the likes he might not have experienced before. 

A third finger is added, a comfortable stretch inside him as he seeks out that spot Hircine loves so much and gods, does he want it. The coil is tightening within his belly, and Astarion presses back into Hircine, whining and moaning and gasping, and then—

Hircine stops, stilling all her movements completely.

Astarion is a yearning, flustered mess as he removes his fingers, panting hard when no release comes to ease the overwhelming burn. “Wh-Why did you stop?!” 

“It’s not fun if you come so quickly… I like the buildup, personally.” Her cold lips meet his cheek for a loud, smacking kiss that leaves him feeling dissatisfied. 

“Tch, I want to come, not play games.” Guess he’ll have to take his pleasure into his own hands if she’s going to be evil.

Wrapping an arm over his tits and covering his clit with her hand, Hircine smiles deviously against him. “No, we’re going slow.”

He scowls, “Is this because I fingered you under the desk while that gnome was asking for an advance payment last week?”

“Hmm, well now that you remind me… Yes. It is.” Hircine nibbles at his ear, fangs scraping against the sensitive skin there so gooseflesh raises across Astarion’s body, and he shivers. Running her fingers down through his puffy folds, she dips into his cunt once, then twice, before stroking the entrance and back up to his clit, teasing gently. “Also, my dear husband, I think it’s only fair that you know what it's like to be played with.”

It’s outright vengeance. Fine, they can play. He opens his slim legs as wide as he can, offering himself up completely for whatever Hircine has planned. Her fingers have warmed up to his body temperature now as she swirls them around, making a mess of his slick all along his cunt lips and thighs, occasionally giving some much needed attention to Astarion’s clit so he whines and squirms at the pleasure that strikes through his nerves.

Touch like this could feel just as good in his own body, but maybe it's the thrill, the strangeness, of being different that has him singing so much for each stroke, swipe and pinch. Hircine is rarely ever interested in self-pleasure unless he asks for a show, so the fact that she’s able to toy with him so well like this, knowing exactly the buttons to push, is a wonderful surprise. 

If it’s some advanced level of torture she’s learned or the height of absolute delight, Astarion is brought so close to the edge of oblivion, only to be brought back down again and again… and again, while Hircine whispers sweet nothings and taunts into his ears.

Whether her vengeance has been sated or she just knows he’s had enough, Hircine nuzzles her nose into his neck, trailing up until she murmurs in that decadent and deep voice. “Had enough, Husband?”

“Please.” A whispering plea slips past his lips, chest heaving and sweat clinging to his body as she works him over so thoroughly. Slickened fingers are brought to his mouth, and Astarion opens, keen to taste that nectar he so eagerly feasts on any other night. Musky, salty and sweet, not quite the same as it is when he’s tasting with his own tongue, but delicious all the same. Seeking out her lips, they meet in a slow, heated kiss to share his arousal. 

Hircine hums when she breaks away, red eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Different… Interesting. I’ll stop playing with you now.”

He melts into her chest, drawing circles over one of his pale nipples with an index finger, “Oh, thank the gods, I’m rea—Ah!” She buries two fingers inside his cunt before he can finish speaking, curling them up just right to hit that spot inside, while the other hand seeks out the rosy bud at the apex of his sex, rubbing it perfectly between her fingers. Astarion’s been kept mercilessly at the edge of bliss, so these intent ministrations by Hircine shoves him right over. 

His eyes screw shut while a choked cry echoes out into their bedroom as he comes, writhing in her arms when shockwaves of his orgasm overtake this body. Stars are seen, breath is trapped in his chest, and his nails dig into his tits while each rippling wave sends him reeling in euphoria. The two stroking fingers inside of his core are constricted as the walls of his cunt pulse in tune with his fluttering heartbeat, ebbing slowly to an occasional twinge as Hircine helps him ride each crest, before it abates fully, and Astarion is left a trembling and limp pile of limbs.

Eventually enveloped in a tight embrace, Hircine holds him close, placing sweet pecks to his temple. “Was that what you wanted?”

He groans and swallows to wet his dry throat, feeling like dropped jelly. “Does… it always feel like that?”

“Sometimes.”

“Fuck, that’s amazing.” Finally some sense is returned to his loose arms and legs, and Astarion curls up against Hircine, feeling purely satisfied. “Thank you, my love.” His eyes are already growing heavy, all the energy drained from his body after that mind-bending orgasm. 

Maybe after a short nap, everything will return to normal.

[ellarazen]

Together once again

Chosen Family prompt of the BG3 Winter Holiday challenge.

Pairing: Spawn Astarion/GN!Tav (You)

Wordcount: Approximately 600 words.

~~~

It’s been a while since your last reunion with everyone in Withers’ party. Karlach and Wyll finally got out of Avernus for good after finding Zariel’s secret forge, but that’s a story for another time.

You all reunited again for Christmas. Withers didn’t even have to host the event this time. Shadowheart insisted we all gathered at her new cozy cottage with her parents and the many, many animals she adopted.

When you arrive with Astarion, Karlach is already running up. “Soldier, you made it!”

She sweeps you off the ground as she announces, “Gods, I missed you”. You reply “Me too Karlach, I still can’t believe you are here”

Emotionally she declares, “Oh, I have to pinch myself sometimes, so I don’t think this is all a dream”

It’s a dream really, to be reunited with everyone, seeing Halsin try to fit himself under the kitchen roof to help Gale prepare the main course, even though the mage assured he had ��all under control”.

Wyll was more than happy to share recent stories of adventures in Faerun and brought some exquisite wine, which Astarion still complained about.

Lae’zel joined but not in full flesh. The battle against Vlakith was not an easy feat, but she seemed quite happy to see us once again, even if not in an ideal form.

The warmest smile grows on your face, seeing them all together and well again.

Later on, you step outside the cottage to catch some fresh air, Halsin is sitting on the ground in awe surrounded by ducks. Karlach is making snow angels on the ground.

Turning your head just slightly, you see Astarion, who looks very moved by everything in a contained manner.

You take his hand to hold it in yours, proposing, “Penny for your thoughts?”

He quickly composes himself by pretending indignation. “A penny? Darling, you wound me”

You quickly imitate your partner’s mannerisms to jest a bit “Oh, my love, you know your thoughts are worth all the gold and treasures all Faerun, but you would have forgotten it way before the time I become the richest person in this land”

He plays along “How dare you? you’re lucky you are cute”

Lightheartedly, you reply, “I could say the same to you, but really, are you okay?”

Astarion looks at you lovingly and shares, “I am, I just feel so…blessed, how ironic I had to suffer 200 years to feel this. I’m exhilarated and frustrated at the same time…but we can explore this topic another time. I am truly glad to be here with you, among friends again. It’s a change from the usual bandits we always seem to find”

You hug your partner and as he tenderly returns it; It reminds you of your timid first hug. Astarion wasn’t used to affection in this way, but now he welcomes your embrace naturally. Gratitude fills your chest thinking about the trust he developed in your bond. You whisper, “I love you. You know you can tell me anything you wish, right?”

He felt content knowing you cared and replied, “I know, I just don’t want to spend a second in the past, not when you are here with me…and of course our dear friends awaiting us inside”

The pale elf pulls back slowly and suggests, “Now dear, shall we go inside again? The air is rather chill out here and as much as I love taking care of you, I don’t want you getting another cold”

“Of course darling, wherever you need me to be”

[sorryseraphim]

One - [untitled Astarion x Tav]

Bear with me, I haven't been writing for a year now. But BG3 awakened my senses so yeah hello hello??

TW: Mature Content (Sex, Blood)

-----------------------------------------------------------------

The wine tasted bitter in Polaris's lips; the grapes were processed hastily, she assumed. It left a wrong impression on her mouth. What fun they’re having right now after traveling far, nearing Baldur’s Gate. Looking briefly as her companions mingled with one another, laughter filling the air, the smell of smoke around them, another dissatisfied soul was staring at her, waiting.

Their eyes met briefly before Astarion started smirking in her direction. Her face started to blush, deep red illuminated by the fire; she broke their connection and stared at her drink.

By the Gods, she thought, they’ve bedded for many nights now, and here she was, cheeks flushed at the thought of him staring her down. At least the wine gave her the courage to stare back. She stood up and walked towards him, the wine giving her the courage to stand before Astarion.

Tonight, she was determined to challenge his character.

Leaned on his back under an oak tree, he was not looking when she walked over him, he was busy taking a sip of wine, deep in thought, his nose wrinkling at the taste. He looked up as Polaris began to approach him and he instantly stood straighter.

“Hello, darling”

Astarion leaned back, eyes taking her figure up and down; he lifted an arching eyebrow, and a small smirk curved the corner of his lips.

“Hello, handsome. Fancy your drink?”

"I don't know, darling, do I?"

He tilted his head to the side. She was slightly embarrassed with the way she responded. She gritted her teeth silently and forced a smile.

Raising her eyebrow, “Handsome, or the drink?” She was fighting back, smiling at him. “Both I suppose,” He rose to his feet. Polaris can’t help but notice his collar, his pale throat exposed.

“I’m afraid I’ve never been one for wine, though… I crave a different type of drink.”

“Darling, I just have something in mind. But it’ll need to wait once we’re done having fun.”

Astarion smirked once more. “O, are you suggesting something more enjoyable than this rather dreary fare?”

He stepped closer, and his expression changed from an arrogant sneer, cupping her chin possessively.

She playfully took his hands away, shaking her head. She is starting to like this type of courage taking over her. It must have been the wine or her determination to challenge Astarion, playing his games on him.

“O yes darling, something wild. Something you’ll want a drink after.”

Astarion chuckled, his eyes roaming around her body.

“You promise?” Leaning into her ear, he whispered, “You could only hope to satisfy my thirst.”

“O darling, you are in for a treat.”

Astarion licked his lips. Breathing her in, his fangs started to flash against his pale skin, in need of a bite. He can feel his body catching fire. Polaris was acting bolder, daring that he couldn’t help but bite into this silent war she initiated. He started pulling her in by the hip, his hands falling behind her.

Smacking his hands, Polaris giggled, her voice low, whispering. “Now, now we’re around the campfire, darling. You’re being too excited.”

“Oh, is that not what you have in mind?” He chuckled, “I thought this is what you want.”

“I’ll see you in your tent, you can follow once you finish that drink”

“What if I were to follow you now? I don’t want my food getting cold, not now that it’s pretty heated.”

Polaris kept her composure. Her boldness is only taking her further than she anticipated.

“That’ll spoil the surprise, darling”

Astarion chuckled softly; his hand found its way to her cheek, pulling her face close and quickly locking their lips; hers tasted of wine and honey.

He looked at her sternly, “Darling, don’t tempt me.”

“When the lights inside your tent dim, find out what awaits.”

“O, I wonder what will my treat be. Will you be waiting on your knees?”

She only responded with a wink to his mocking response. He stared at her as she walked towards his tent. Closing the flaps, he waited impatiently when the lights would dim.

All that talk she did left him hungry for more, hungry for her. Waiting for her was torment. He was becoming more impatient. After a few more minutes, he noticed the lights in his tent faded.

Finally, he thought.

As he moved towards the tent, he heard whispers inside. His ears perked up, and as he went inside, he saw Polaris, eyes closed, with nothing on. She was touching herself down there, murmuring his name. He inhaled sharply, approaching slowly.

“Darling, don’t tempt me by making yourself so vulnerable.” He removed his shirt and let loose his pants. Polaris’ head was starting to clear; maybe this was a bad idea. She can see how his eyes darken, his erection full. This might not be their first time, but she could sense a different kind of power taking over him, something she should not have played with.

She played along, not wanting to back down.

“Well, darling. Enjoying the show?”

“O, you’re impatient, darling? Starting the show without me?”

Astarion smirked as he knelt before her. He was still staring down there, how her hands worked around, how she played with herself. He moved on top of her, moving closer to her neck; she could feel his fangs on her skin. His hands crept across her form, to her thigh. His fingers brushing off her sensitive spot, he couldn’t help but laugh as she felt her tremble a little bit, already moist.

“Well, well, well. You certainly didn’t wait for me.”

He went for her lips, shoving his tongue deep. Gods, he was so hungry from the teasing she did. She needs to be this bold once in a while, he thought. Polaris was fighting back from his kiss, gripping into his arms. She moved her hips near his, teasing him.

“O, you’re playing a dangerous game.”

“I didn’t notice, am I?”

“Darling, do you want to find out what I can do to you right now?”

He stood away, raising her legs; he started kissing her legs, down to her thighs, until she felt his breath hot and heavy under her. Her anticipation left her moaning softly.

“That’s right, darling. Yearn for more,” He said as he started moving his tongue up her thigh and then back down.

“More…”

She tried to move his hips closer to his face, making him laugh softly. “Such naughty things to say, but why am I the one teasing you? I remember you saying you have a surprise.”

“Lie down then and find out.”

Astarion chuckled in response as they switched positions. He likes teasing her this way, breaking her anticipation for that moment. She was now on top of him, her face showing a hint of irritation.

She started kissing his neck, licking his jaw; she went further down, kissing his chest and down his stomach until she found his length and sucked him.

Astarion gasped, his hand gripping her hair tight. She was moving slowly and sensually. Her movements were sure and deep; his eyes stayed shut, and his brows furrowed. A crooked smile spread across his face.

“Darling…”

In between her movements, she moaned in reply. She was closing her mouth on him, moving up and down, eyes closed, gripping his waist. Astarion moved his face to look down at her, his expression smug. He was enjoying this.

“Darling, I’m impressed. It would help if you did this more often, you know. You’re quite good,” he spoke softly, his hand tightening his grip on her hair.

She stopped for a moment to ask. “More then?” He nodded in response, his eyes never leaving hers. He wants to see how she’s doing it. Moving up and down his length, he tilted his head to the side, laughing at himself.

“You know I’ll want this again, right?”

She nodded in response, never stopping her actions. He held her head firm using both of his hands; he was still watching her move, his waist thrusting up her mouth. She steadied herself in return, only moving her tongue, sucking when needed.

“O, such a good girl.”

His grip started to lose around her hair. She stopped taking him in her mouth and started crawling on top of him, placing small kisses on his neck and down his chest. She slipped him inside her, both of them moaning at the sensation. He laid back, eyes closed. Gripping her waist, he noticed she was slowly moving her body. It was sure and heavy, pounding hard on him. Their rhythm was in sync. He let out a contented breath as he moaned.

“You’re rather good at this, darling. My, who taught you this?”

“You taught me well.”

Gripping her waist harder, he replied, “O, did I?” Polaris was moving faster, her hands resting on Astation’s chest.

“You’re doing wonderful, darling.” He was smirking as he pulled her hips closer to him. Polaris started moaning a little louder, making him growl, wanting more. “Are you enjoying this, Astarion?” she asked him between moans. “Yes..o, yes, I am… very much,” he replied.

Polaris started touching her chest, adding more sensation to the pleasure she was feeling right now. He was enjoying her right in this state they’re in. “That’s it darling, want for more.”

Astarion moved his hands up her body, holding her a few inches shy of her chest. Bouncing her up and down, his moans become louder, in sync with hers. Polaris noticed felt his hands gripping her body tighter.

"I'm quite close, darling." His tone was husky, exhausted, as if he were fighting a battle. She throws her head back, moaning from pleasure. She was almost smiling as his grip only got more challenging.

"Darling, please... Don't stop," He spoke, his eyes tight shut. "I'm so close."

"Begging for more? My, Astarion, that's not like you."

Astarion growled, O, how exciting she is tonight, matching his demeanor. He wanted to take everything from her, as he had been very successful with the last few nights. Making her beg, moving her around as he pleased, he didn't expect this side of her, in want of dominance, to take over.

Astarion grunted, his fingers digging deeper. He started tensing underneath her, Polaris moving quickly, biting her lip. She was enjoying how much Astarion was struggling for his release.

"Darling..." He whispered; as soon as he gave in, reaching his climax, he held her hips steady, filling her up. Polaris was shaking from the sensation, too, her breathing heavy from all her movements.

"I'm glad you were the one to do this for the first time, darling," He spoke, his voice husky. She was still panting hard when Astarion slowly sat up, pulling her once more in his lap. "Tired already? I'm not done with you yet." He purred in her ears, raspy and hungry for more.

She felt his hands touch the small of her back, his lips trailing kisses on her neck. She was trying not to give in; she was supposed to savor Astarions' pleading, but it only made him want more.

"Astarion... I can't —" "Can't what, darling? O, you started this, didn't you?" She can feel his teeth nibble on her neck, ready to bite, his hands roaming around her body, gripping her thighs there, trailing small circles here. His touch only made her yearn for more, and she couldn't help it. Astarion was smirking as her reaction to his touch became more evident.

"A drink first, then, let me take my fill first... With your blood."

She nodded slowly, giving her approval for him to bite. He let his hand drop to her neck, tilting her head to the side, her chin up, exposing her neck. His eyes blazed.

Astarion bit her neck, her eyes closing as the pain started to kick in. Her blood so intoxicated him that he needed a moment to take it in. "You always taste so good, darling."

Licking the wound he inflicted, his tongue tracing the continued length. "I want more of this, more of you." He murmured his words in her ear.

She was still biting her lips, trying to suppress her desires to herself. As much as she wants this to go on, she can't help but think how hopeless she must have looked in front of him.

His hands began to wander again to her thigh. He was smirking at her expression. "O, I see. Are you trying to be quiet so we won't be heard? Or are you trying not to give in to your.. deepest desires?" He was leaving small kisses around her neck, licking where he bit her.

Polaris looked at him, her brows furrowed, and her face seemed troubled.

"Astarion... I know to you, this is all a game. Something fun you do for distraction. Or something else. But I..." Her voice faltered. She couldn't meet his eyes, not in this state where she was still sitting on his lap, her hands gripping his arms. She doesn't want to admit that the many times they bedded were her idea of getting to know him further, yet every time they did, there was no takeaway.

Astarion noticed how her expression changed. He was curious. "Darling, look at me," He whispered. They were quiet for a while. Just then, Polaris started to face him; she leaned in, kissing his lips hungrily. If he thinks this is all a game, she also wants to play it his way.

Astarion was taken aback, but he kissed her back. They were both getting worked up when Astarion lifted her gently. He laid her down, dressing her up with his shirt.

"What are you doing? Are we done?" Polaris was confused by his actions.

He slipped his pants on. He wrapped her body with the blankets he laid her on and carried her outside the tent. He was quiet as she brought her to a clearing near the camp. He gently put her down, spreading the blankets around her.

"What are we doing here?"

He held his breath for a while. Closing his eyes, his thoughts deep, he thought about the nights when he almost lost himself to her.

"Where no one will hear us. You wanted us to be quiet, correct?"

[lirotation]

I Hail From Silverymoon: The Sway

Pov My little Fanfiction Astarion X Amaara Ashvale (My Wizard Tav)

Your wish is my command

It was obvious to everyone Amaara was smitten with Astarion. Just look at that dreamy smile that graced her lips and that adoring gaze she often cast his way! Shadowheart had even commented that their affection was becoming sickening.

Initially, Astarion had only seduced Amaara as a matter of self-preservation. He sought to win over a useful ally against potential threats. But he soon became aware of just how thoroughly the young mage had fallen for his charms. He decided to see what he could make her do, now that she regarded him with such trusting, enamored eyes...

One night as Amaara and Gale tallied inventory, the vampire spawn strolled up.

"Darling, the vendor in the grove has this exquisite enchanted leather armor. I've been thinking that it might suit me better. My current attire is too flashy for effective stealth, you see." he purred, "Could we get them tomorrow?"

Amaara looked up from her task, her face lighting up with that familiar smile. "Alright, I'll make sure to get it for you tomorrow."

He continued, letting a hint of needfulness enter his voice, "And there's also an enchanted dagger available. With it, I could offer you an even greater level of protection."

Amaara's response was almost immediate, her dedication unwavering. "What else do you require? Tomorrow, we'll head over and get everything you need."

Gale frowned, his disapproval evident in his voice. "Amaara, we can't simply spend all our coins like that. We must allocate enough for essential supplies."

"I'll go out to gather herbs right now. I'll craft some potions tonight and barter with Arron tomorrow," Amaara assured him, “Don't worry, Gale. I've already set aside ample coins to secure your next magic artifact. You'll be taken care of."

With that, she swiftly departed from the camp. The two men were left alone, and Astarion chuckled, "For someone with good intentions, she certainly knows how to put you in your place."

Gale felt a surge of frustration, a feeling akin to a slap in the face. He knew that his need for magical items often consumed a significant portion of the party's resources.

He replied dryly, "I only want prudent use of our limited funds."

"Of course, forgive my thoughtlessness," Astarion said smoothly. But his smug smile made Gale's blood boil.

Gale opened his mouth for a scathing retort, but caught himself. Astarion awaited his reaction eagerly, but Gale simply gave a thin smile. "If acquiring trinkets keeps you occupied, far be it from me to intervene."

With that, he smoothly returned to his task, denying Astarion the satisfaction of getting a rise out of him. After all, Astarion is the last person on Faerûn he wants to engage in a conversation with.

__________________________________________________________

The Sway

As the party's journey unfolded, they stumbled upon a mesmerizing dark amethyst during one of their explorations. Amaara's keen intellect kicked into gear as she examined the gem, a glint of realization shining in her eyes. She declared, "This is it. This is the key that can unlock the Necromancy of Thay."

A spark of intrigue lit up Astarion's gaze at her words. Observing the glimmer of hesitation in Amaara's eyes, he saw a chance to bend her will to his desires once more. He turned to her, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "Would you be so kind as to let me have that book, darling?"

Amaara's fingers hovered uncertainly over the dark tome, an uneasiness settling in her chest. The ominous aura that clung to the book made her instincts recoil, a caution born of a lifetime of scholarly pursuits and magical studies. "I don't know...necromantic knowledge can be dangerous."

"I just wanted an edge over Cazador." Astarion purred, nuzzling her neck. "To keep myself safe, to keep you safe."

His touch made her shiver with longing, but apprehension lingered. "Perhaps it would be safer if Gale simply absorbed it..."

"Come now. Think of what knowledge could be gained from it," he cajoled, appealing to her scholarly side. His voice was a silky temptation that stirred something within her. "Imagine the secrets it holds, just waiting to be unveiled. I promise to tread carefully." he stroked her arm and met her eyes beseechingly.

Try as she might, Amaara found herself unable to resist when he gazed at her like that. "Alright, fine. But promise me you'll be careful, Astarion. Necromancy is dangerous, but it's not uncontrollable. I'll be watching over you." she conceded.

Astarion's lips curved into a satisfied smile, a silent triumph dancing in his gaze. He extended his hand, the anticipation evident in his posture. "You have my word, my dear. I'll handle it with the utmost care. You'll see."

And so, with the dark tome and the weight of his unspoken intentions, Astarion gained yet another victory.

_____________________________________________________

Murmurs of Discontent

Amaara accompanied Astarion on his nightly hunt one night. The flickering campfire cast a warm yet eerie glow upon the gathering of rest of the companions, their faces shadowed as they huddled together in quiet conversation. Gale, Wyll, Shadowheart, Karlach, and Lae'zel formed a circle, their shared unease drawing them together.

"Do you all see this? The way he's able to influence her decisions with such ease? It's as if she's... under his spell." Gale's brow furrowed.

Shadowheart's lips pressed into a thin line as she spoke, her voice edged with frustration. "We've seen the way she looks at him, as if he's the center of her world. It's sickening, really."

"Can't blame her for indulging in a bad boy," Karlach grinned and winked.

Wyll said. "True, but Astarion is not oblivious to this power he wields over her. He uses his influence to his advantage, and who's to say where that might lead us?"

Karlach's playful expression vanished. She slammed a fist into her palm. "Right then. it's time I had a little chat with that parasite, set him straight."

"Maybe something more subtle?" Gale suggested quickly. "Threatening him directly could make things worse."

Lae'zel finally spoke up after everyone voiced their concern. Her voice has a determined edge. "Amaara is no fool. The sways you worried about so far are over inconsequential decisions. She is not someone to be easily manipulated. Let's not underestimate her. We should wait and observe. If it becomes too out of control, simply dispose of him."

Lae'zel's words gave them pause. Perhaps they had underestimated Amaara's will. They exchanged glances between themselves. It is a delicate matter after all. For now, they will keep a watchful eye and do nothing more.

[sadinasaphrite]

Oh no here's more fic. I like to think Tav talking Yurgir to death made Astarion a little weak in the knees, so here's a 1500 words of Astarion realizing he's catching actual feelings.

Read on AO3!

* * * * *

After all these years, Astarion could hardly believe he was so close. Just one murder, and he’d have his answers. Raphael would tell him the secrets engraved upon his back, secrets kept from him ever since that wretched night Cazador held him down and carved runes into his flesh. He was so close, he could taste it. The devil they were to kill stood before them, giving a fucking monologue of all things, and Astarion burned with the desire, the need to sink his blades into the devil’s heart. Nothing would stand in his way.

And yet, Astarion couldn’t help but feel Tav did not appreciate the urgency of the situation.

The bard was just… just standing there, chit-chatting about what Raphael smelled like or something, when they should be gutting this bastard!

“What are you doing?” Astarion interrupted with a hiss. “The devil told us to kill this thing, so let’s stop chatting and kill it!”

Astarion reached for his blades and Tav subtly waved a hand. Nothing more than a flick of two fingers, but enough to signal Astarion to hold. Astarion stopped.

Dammit. Dammit! If Astarion had any sense, he’d ignore Tav, or use the conversation as an opportunity for a distraction. If he could slip into the shadows and climb up to where Yurgir stood, lording over them and prattling on about his contract or some nonsense… but no. The devil and his followers had already spotted them, and only a supreme distraction would allow Astarion to slip out of sight.

What in the nine hells, now the bastard was singing.

“Spill all the blood sworn to the night,” the devil sang in a gravelly voice, “Silence all prayers; smother each rite. Wander Shar’s Halls hungry to slay, leave no Justiciar alive to obey…”

What was Tav playing at? Tav knew how important this was to him! Why was this conversation even happening? Once they’d confirmed the devil was the target, their merry little band should have started right on the murder, not… not whatever the hells was happening now!

Astarion should act. While Yurgir was distracted by a fucking song, he should raise his crossbow, fire a bolt right through his eye… but he didn’t. Astarion didn’t reach for his weapons.

All because Tav signaled for him to wait.

Dammit.

He shouldn’t give a shit about Tav. Tav meant nothing to him, Astarion firmly told himself. The bard was just a means to an end, a fool to be seduced and tricked into protecting Astarion until he had no further need of protection. He didn’t care about Tav. He didn’t care about anyone. And he certainly wasn’t influenced by those late night talks, gentle words of compassion and understanding, a reassuring hand on his shoulder, a playful, teasing smile thrown his way, or the idiotic, blind trust to submit to his fangs…

Astarion held, awaiting Tav’s signal.

“Leave none to hear it, then be set free. This song is your oath, swear, swear it to me.”

The fucking devil was still singing.

“So he’s the one who slaughtered the Justiciars,” Astarion snapped when the wretched song ended at last. “Can we kill him now? Because if he doesn’t die, then Raphael won’t tell me a damn thing about my scars.”

Tav didn’t respond, didn’t even look his way, but instead focused on Yurgir with a sharp, piercing look. Astarion froze. Something had shifted in Tav’s gaze during the last line of the song. He’d never seen Tav’s eyes like that. This wasn’t a warrior gauging their odds, or a tactician analyzing a battlefield. Tav looked At Yurgir like a predator ready to strike, a wolf waiting for the perfect opportunity to rip the throat out of a hare.

“Quite bloodthirsty, as lyrics go,” Tav said, a little too casually. “Have you considered some instrumental accompaniment?”

“I don’t want to make it pretty, I want to silence it!” Yurgir roared. The stench of sulfur flared through the room, and the small infernal army shifted eagerly in response. Battle was upon them. “Enough prattle. The lyrics are clear. All who hear the song must die. Time to die.”

Yurgir aimed his crossbow right at Tav’s heart. Something twisted uncomfortably in Astarion’s gut and his fingers twitched toward his blades.

Tav didn’t even blink.

“Raphael’s a sly lyricist. He tricked you. Your followers heard your song and still live.”

Astarion froze. He hadn’t been paying much attention to the song, focusing on how to end Yurgir as quickly as possible, but…

Yurgir looked as taken aback as Astarion felt.

“The merregons?” He asked. “They barely have a thought to share among themselves… but they do have ears.”

Hellfire flared behind the devil’s eyes, and he turned to the hellish soldiers around them.

“Kill yourselves. Back to the hells with you!” he roared. Without hesitation, the merregons all around them obeyed, axes swinging all around them with the wet sound of blades into flesh. The army all around them shrank from a dozen devils, to just one devil and his pet.

The barest hint of a smirk pulled at Tav’s lips.

Astarion’s heart hadn’t beat in two centuries, but something in his chest fluttered.

“I still hear it!” Yurgir seized his head with one hand and shook violently. “Seems your theory is wrong!”

“You’re not finished yet,” Tav said, eyes never leaving Yurgir. “The displacer can hear you, can’t she?”

The bard was doing well to hide the smirk threatening to come out, but there was something else in Tav’s eyes. Confidence. Hunger. Even with the devil looming over them, Astarion couldn’t tear his eyes away from Tav.

“Kill her.”

Astarion’s breath caught in his chest.

“Kill Nessa?” Yurgir hesitated, uncertain. The devil locked eyes with the bard. Tav’s gaze never wavered.

Slowly, Yurgir raised his crossbow, pointing it to the displacer beast lounging under the torchlight. “Stay very still, my beauty.”

The crossbow bolt pierced the beast’s heart and she collapsed, dead before she hit the floor. Tav’s eyes gleamed in victory, and Astarion had the wild, intrusive thought that he wanted to see that hungry, vicious gleam in Tav’s eyes a thousand times over. Standing side by side, interrogating information out of someone previously a threat, but now cowered under their combined might. He and Tav, working together, making sure no one would ever pose a danger to either of them ever again.

“I still hear it!” The devil roared.

“My dear hunter, isn’t it obvious?” Tav’s voice was sickly sweet, dripping from the bard’s lips like poisoned honey. The sound rolled down Astarion’s spine with a shiver. “You must kill yourself. Then you’ll be free.”

No. Surely not. There wasn’t a chance in the nine hells this would work. Astarion looked back at Yurgir, and was shocked to find the devil in a look of deep contemplation. Yurgir drew a sword from the scabbard on his back.

“If you’re wrong about this, I’ll claw my way out of Avernus and eat you alive, contract be damned!” Yurgir snarled. He placed the tip of the sword against his chest.

Tav smirked.

Astarion’s knees went weak.

“Nicely played, Raphael. Bastard.” Yurgir plunged the blade into his own heart, vanishing in an explosion of hellfire.

The room around them fell silent, filled only with the crackle of fire from the braziers.

Beside him, the other companions let out a sigh of relief, along with some laughter as the tension vanished from the air. Tav shot Astarion a smile and clapped him on the shoulder. This smile was closer to what Astarion was used to seeing, wide and open and honest, but there was still something in Tav’s eyes, a gleam of a successful hunt, the adrenaline still pumping through the bard’s veins.

“There you go. One devil, killed. Raphael should be happy.”

For the first time in a very long time, Astarion was speechless.

This was a side of Tav he never knew existed. Cunning. Manipulative. Even a touch sadistic and cruel. And Tav did all of it for him. All to help give Astarion what he wanted, to help him with Raphael’s deal.

As Astarion watched Tav leave the chamber, laughing with the others, he felt something akin to heat flush his cold body. Not desire. Certainly not lust. But… something. Something something more. Something dangerous. A hunger for Tav that had nothing to do with his vampiric thirst.

Astarion knew something within him had changed. He could no longer fool himself into thinking Tav was just another pawn or victim. Which only meant Tav was something else.

He let out a cold breath and ran a hand through his curls, then hurried to follow the others.

Shit.

[darkurgetrash]

WIP tag game🖤

Thank you to @graysparrowao3 for the tag! I honestly love doing these and I’m so happy you guys actually care about what I write, genuinely. 🥺 I’m tagging @bearhugsandshrugs @charmedcleric @duckweave

Enjoy a section of the next chapter for Lead Me Through the Dark, which is a long-awaited flashback to a certain campy party. ;) under the cut.

“Hey, soldier?”

Tav jumped, her attention turning back to Karlach. Oh right, they’d been talking about… what had they been talking about again?

“You seem a little zoned out there mate. You alright?” Karlach asked with kind concern, her usually booming voice turned soft and gentle as she regarded her friend.

“Hooo - my apologies!” Tav giggled, “I’m not quite used to drinking so much.”

“Isn’t that only your first bottle?” The tiefling smiled wearily, suspicion laced in her jovial tone.

Tav cast a sheepish glance at the half-empty bottle of plum fizz clutched in her hand. “I suppose it is,” she conceded, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “I must be a lightweight.” She concluded with a half-hearted snort.

“I guess so… come to think of it, I’ve never seen you drink much. No good pubs back in Athkatla?”

“I wouldn’t know, I wasn’t allowed to go to them. My upbringing was rather… sheltered in that regard.”

Karlach tutted, shaking her head in mock disapproval.

“Poor Tav! Don’t you worry, soon as we get to the city we are gonna go on one mad crawl! Make up for lost time - for both of us.”

Tav smiled back at her fiery friend, her boisterous spirit a welcome balm to Tav’s more rigid nature. Just by being around her, Tav could feel her hidden playfulness, so long repressed, edge closer to the surface.

Karlach had intimidated her greatly when they’d first met, not only because she’d thought she was Wyll’s devil contract but because of the sheer size of her! The tiefling was probably the strongest woman she’d ever laid eyes on and Tav couldn’t help but feel timid in front of her. She herself wasn’t that small - taller than the average human and having the slightly curvaceous body of a well-spoilt noble woman. What she did lack though was any amount of strength and stamina - even the long journeys to and from camp she and her companions had to make was enough to tire her out.

Thankfully, it didn’t take long for Tav’s shyness around Karlach to subside and she was glad for it, because now the tiefling was easily one of her closest companions in the camp. What Tav loved most about their friendship was how balanced they were, with Karlach’s intuitive nature always managing to break through Tav’s stone walls. She always seemed to know how Tav was feeling without her having to make any comment whatsoever - it was the perfect type of friendship for the highly-strung, overly anxious Tavlyn Fairchild.

“Anyway soldier, you got any plans for tonight?” Her tone brimmed with curiosity, “Or were you thinking of spending the whole time talking to mama K?”

Tav shrugged, a faint smile playing at the corners of her lips. “That doesn’t sound like a terrible idea, to be honest.”

“Sheesh!” Karlach scoffed. “Look around mate, have you not noticed how many eyes have been on you in the past ten minutes alone? You’re the star of the show.”

A flush of embarrassment crept up Tav’s cheeks as she reluctantly acknowledged the truth in Karlach’s words. Despite her reluctance to bask in the limelight, she couldn’t deny the curious gazes that followed her every move, the whispered murmurs that swirled in her wake. Not only were several of her companions peering at her from their tents but many of the tieflings too with a shy kind of eagerness. They really thought she was the one to save the day, didn’t they? Like some kind of hero. It was embarrassing - if anything, she’d contributed the least!

Sure. Her destruction spells caused havoc in the Goblin camp and she had been the one to strike down the camp’s leaders, but her damage wouldn’t have even been possible if not for her companions - Shadowheart, keeping her weak body from harm, or Lae’zel, who had single handedly taken out most of the goblin hoard. Hells, even the camp leaders wouldn’t have fallen if not for Wyll hexing them or Gale immobilising them with fog clouds and blindness. All of her companions, really, did more than her… so why weren’t they getting more of the credit?

Tav asked herself this but, deep down, she knew the answer. It was for the same reason as why she’d always been able to live an easy life - because she had a pretty face and learned-eloquence from her noble upbringing. When she had left that life behind, she’d resolved to never have to rely on her connections ever again; become her own person free from her family’s name, yet here she still was, reaping the benefits of nobility.

She looked back at Karlach, sighing. Her face must have turned sour because the tiefling looked on her now with gentle affection.

“You’re allowed to celebrate, you know. You don’t always have to be so hard on yourself.”

“I have to be hard on myself, no one else ever is.” Tav rolled her eyes, grateful for Karlach’s sympathy but also annoyed by it. She was undeserving of such grace.

“Not such a bad problem to have, if you ask me.” Karlach jabbed, grinning wide to show that she wasn’t being serious.

“I know it isn’t - Gods, sorry. I have no right to be so… moody.”

“Hmm, maybe what you really need is some… release?” Karlach whispered, leaning close.

Tav furrowed her brows.

“What, like throwing up or something?”

“No, ya twit!” Karlach laughed, “I mean another kind of release - maybe with the help of a certain tiefling?”

Tav’s eyes widened, realising what her friend was alluding to.

“You scoundrel! You do realise we have… tadpoles in our brains, right?” She stuttered, “There’s no time for such things - besides, whom are you even referring to?”

“Ah come on mate, don’t play coy! You know who I’m talking about!” Karlach groaned, “You and that wizard have been flirting non-stop for weeks, the tension has been kiiiiilling me! If I was you, I’d have jumped his bones hours ago, screw the party!”

“What, Rolan?!” Tav exclaimed, blushing as she realised how loud she’d shouted his name. She turned behind her and was grateful to spot Rolan preoccupied, engaged in an arm wrestle with his sister to which he was losing miserably and audibly. It made her giggle briefly before she stopped herself, pouting.

“Absolutely not!” She protested, frowning at Karlach. “Are you joking?!”

“Fuck no!” Her friend laughed. “Seriously, you’re not into him?”

“Well, he’s obviously handsome…” Tav said, picturing the tiefling with his high cheekbones and his glowing eyes like a sunset, that permanently bemused smirk on his face. “… but beyond that, he’s entirely, frustratingly arrogant. Did you hear what he said to me earlier today? He called me a butcher’s blade and himself a Master, ugh! Were I not a lady, I’d have slapped him for such a remark.”

“Of course, your ladyship!” Karlach laughed, bowing facetiously. “Well, in that case, I suppose you won’t give a shit if I told you I’ve seen him stealing glances at you more than anyone else this evening?”

“Hm, not at all.” Tav blushed, folding her arms.

“Orrrr that he’s looking at you right now?”

“He is?”

Tav turned around again and, as she did so, noticed him quickly turn his face from her with growing redness, his siblings laughing behind him.

“Go talk to him, Princess.” Karlach chuckled behind her, moving away from her tent in search of another wine bottle. As she passed Rolan, she turned back to Tav and winked teasingly, wiggling her eyebrows.

Gods…

Had she really thought Tav and Rolan had been flirting? Absurd - the two did nothing but argue right from the moment they met. He’d been eager to leave the Grove despite the protest of his siblings and Tav had only briefly mentioned that it would be a good idea to stay, but apparently that made her a ‘prying busy-body’ - ridiculous. He’d been the one making such a loud fuss! Every time they spoke after that, it was always an “oh, it’s you” from him or some sarcastic comment baiting Tav to retaliate, which… she, regrettably, usually did.

Flirting. Pah!

She’d prove Karlach completely wrong! She’d go up to him right now and make it evident that there was absolutely no tension going on between them. That would show her!

She took another swig from her bottle, wiping away the wetness from her lips, and marched towards he and his siblings, determination propelling her forwards.

[hopeforkitten]

We were Raphael's pet, but what about being Haarlep's pet?

• of course, Raphael will not allow him to leave an ordinary lost adventurer. but what about the new debtor, who did not have time to completely lose her mind and was picked up by Haarlep. Raphael is busy with adventures with tadpoles, he does not have time to give the new girl an instruction, so the poor thing is shaking and crying in the corners of the house. Haarlep finds a surprisingly reasonable debtor and decides to keep an eye on her. The owner is not spoiling him with attention at all right now, and any free ears will be pleasant to him.

• the debtor does not remember her past, does not remember why she is here, provoking these fragments of the mind is quite fun for Haarlep.

• Haarlep wears it under his arm like a ball

• while Raphael is away, he can take her to the boudoir, the main thing is that the owner did not find out about it.

• Haarlep plays a melody with the help of finger clicks, the debtor begins to answer him

"Maybe you were a bard?"

"A bard?" she asked thoughtfully.

"Well, you sang songs, all that"

"Songs... I think it's very scary."

"Scary?"

"Well, there was a beautiful woman in this house and she sang beautifully. But only at first it was beautiful, then she coughed more and more often, and her voice turned into a scream. Even rather loud sobs, and she still couldn't shut up, it was very scary."

Haarlep mumbled understandingly, remembering the debtor who had arrived in front of her. An opera singer whose fate is very poetic.

• "And there's a scary gentleman walking around the house. Everyone else shies away from him, and I saw him swearing at one of them... I would not like to meet him." the debtor huddles at the door of the boudoir, not daring to go any further.

"Oh, this is Lord Raphael and he is our host." Haarlep looks into the closets with clothes trying to find something the size of a girl.

The debtor is even more worried and hopefully asks him.

"But you can protect me from him, right?"

Haarlep laughs and returns his gaze to her, assessing her from head to toe, making her squirm under his undressing gaze.

"He's very busy right now, so you won't be seeing him anytime soon."

He thought a little.

"In the meantime, you will be my ward... well, or rather a pet"

"A pet... And who are you anyway?"

"I'm just a taller servant of Raphael"

"And you also look very similar to him: wings, horns and hairstyle..."

"He's a bastard in many ways. I can look different, but he only requires his appearance."

"Do you want me to take your form?" The usual cunning gleam returned to Haarlep's eyes.

"Doesn't it hurt?"

"It doesn't hurt more than everything that awaits you here. Give me your hand,"

Haarlep weaves their fingers and two identical debtors stand opposite each other. The girl realizes that she has not yet seen her own reflection, because there are no mirrors in the corridors of the house of hope.

"Am I beautiful?"

Her copy laughs and rubs her cheek

"So far, you're dirty, little mouse. But we will definitely see what is hiding under this dirt."

•Forgive me, but what suitable clothes can Haarlep find? Between bdsm belts and Raphael's huge shirts...... a fitish maid's dress? I approve of this idea

• which will drive you crazy faster: the entourage of hell, or the fact that Haarlep will use you as a gossip girl friend? He will tell you how terrible his master is, how pathetic he is, how he rehearses performances for clients and how he thinks about loving some mortal named Tav.

[nellyofthevalley]

spawn, ch.2

astarion x fem!tav…

rating: explicit content: NON-CON, tragedy, violence, lots of cazador, dead dove, probably death at some point, i don’t know it’s a lot, fuck or die summary: cazador uses the one thing astarion cares about to exert control over his favorite spawn in the worst ways.

“My boy, you’ve not been paying attention. I never needed you to be my spawn to control you. Leave if you like,” says Cazador. “But first, tell me, what do you think I will do with her if you leave? And where will you go running off to?” Tav just looks at Astarion across the room, accepting of what’s to come, eyes begging him to leave. She shakes her head, telling him not to stay; to save himself. If he left, she would be granted a fate worse than death, he knows it. To kill her would be a mercy. Cazador has never shown mercy. 

chapters: ch.1 | ch.2 | ch.3

read it on ao3 or below the cut:

The next time Astarion sees Tav, on their way back to the ballroom, he frantically looks her over for any signs, anything at all—a scratch, a bruise, or worse, puncture wounds. There are none, save for the ones he’d given her in the ballroom the prior evening, and they look revolting. The wounds on her neck have healed over with crusted, flaking blood, and her skin wears horrid shades of red, purple, and blue. 

By his own hand. He’d turned into something unrecognizable—he’d brutalized her. And still, she looks at him with a kindness he doesn’t deserve; he didn’t have to ruin her like that… did he? Would it have mattered how he’d ravaged her, would it have changed Cazador’s mind if he’d been more cruel with her?

Summoned back to the ballroom, Astarion’s on edge, knowing a new punishment awaits him today. Godey hadn’t done anything during his time in the kennel, not even staying to berate him, so he’s sure what is about to come will be worse than being beaten. Again, Cazador takes his place at the back in his stupid red chair, with Tav by his side, sitting on the floor like an obedient dog waiting for its next order.

Godey ushers Astarion into the room, shoving him to the floor in front of Cazador. He waits, silent, the fight in him out today.

“Nothing to say to me today, boy?” Cazador asks, looking down upon him. “You usually have such a sharp, creative tongue.”

Normally, it would take considerable effort to hold his mouth. Not now. Astarion’s spent the day in the kennels with no one, nothing; only himself and thoughts of what he’d done, and how it still wasn’t enough. He doesn’t know what Cazador wants anymore.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you,” orders Cazador, his tone shifting to one of anger and demand. Astarion obeys, meeting his master’s cold, empty eyes with his own blank stare, resisting giving Cazador the satisfaction of anything. “You’ve not only forgotten how you belong to me, you’ve lost all your manners while you were on your ‘vacation’, too.”

Yes, of course. He’s lost it all, so overwhelmed by choice and free will that he let his obedience slip. He’ll need to be taught how to behave again; be reminded to address Cazador solely as ‘master’, never to drink from thinking creatures, never to run away again...

No, he won’t give up, he won’t let Cazador break him so quickly. He knows he needs to keep it together—if not for himself, then for her. She’s done nothing wrong but show him love.

If there was any uncertainty left in his mind on taking the ritual for himself before, it’s gone now, replaced entirely by a burning desire to. Carve the runes he bore into Cazador’s skin, slow and precise, taking his life’s work—the sweetest revenge. Tav has too gentle a heart for it, and she’d almost convinced him, but he sees it now; he sees how crucial it is to seize this power, for the both of them. They’d never have to fear anyone again.

“Master,” he says at last, resolved to play along until the right moment. “Command me.”

“You want to own her? Then mark her.” Cazador smirks, tossing his dagger, and as it hits the floor with a clang, Astarion’s face drops. “She’s your lover, isn’t she? Why don’t you share your skin with her?”

I don’t want to own her.

He can’t say that. It would get worse—that’s how he justifies everything he does, how he gets through it. Cazador will make it worse if I don’t comply, he reminds himself as he picks up the blade, trembling so much that he feels like it might jump from his hand.

That bit of determination he’d worked so hard to muster washes away when he approaches Tav and can’t veer away from her stare; the fear in her pierces him worse than any weapon could. How she keeps her silence today, despite her mouth being free, makes it all the worse. Astarion wishes she would yell at him, tell him not to do it, or encourage him to like the absurd martyr she’s always been.

Cazador pushes her forward like a sacrificial offering; Astarion’s to maim and take for himself, but he had. It is evident, written all over her body in bruised splotches around two distinct puncture wounds. Is she not branded sufficiently already? Reluctantly, he positions himself and kneels behind her, going through the motions, undoing her top to bare her back.

Share your skin with her. Cazador wants him to write infernal into her skin, desecrate her the way he’d been. 

He runs a hand over her delicate skin, taking his time to build his resolve to go through with this, but each passing second just makes it harder. Though he looks at her and touches her, what he sees is something else: himself. His own pale, untouched skin, and when he presses the dagger to her skin, he’s cutting into his own. He drags the blade across her, and she weeps quietly; in his ears ring the screams he’d cried when Cazador carved into him for hours.

The sight of her flesh separating and pouring dark red repulses him, though he wishes he could say the same for the smell. The aroma of her sweet, sweet blood lingering in the air hits his nose like a soft caress, wafting up straight to his brain and rousing his hunger. His trepidation leaves an opening for the cravings to overwhelm him with ease, flooding his every sense and regressing him back to that same beast he’d been when he brutalized her.

Astarion hooks his arm under hers, fist to her throat and dagger in hand; he pulls her in and eagerly laps up the liquid seeping from the cut he’d gifted her with, staining his mouth red. Burying his fangs in the crook of her neck elicits a breathy groan from Tav that shakes him down to his core, grounding and reminding him where he is, what he’s doing—who he’s hurting.

She calls his name, voice soft and tone void, though he registers it as a plea. It hurts to hear her voice he’d missed so much, only for it to be a cry for help—to save her from himself. He detaches from her, but it’s too late, he’s done it all wrong from the start and they’ll both pay the price for it.

“First, thou shalt not drink the blood of thinking creatures.” Cazador’s reminder tells him he’s made a mistake, that he’ll come to regret feeding from her. “You think my rules no longer apply because I let you do it once?”

“No, I—”

“Don’t give me excuses, boy,” Cazador chides. “I didn’t ask for much, and you still couldn’t do it. I was wrong to think you could be taught.”

Cazador leans forward in his chair and motions Tav to come. She listens without question, afraid and still quivering every step she takes, dreaming of being anywhere but here. He’d yet to give her much attention—she’d not stayed in his chambers as he’d said, he’d sent lackeys to capture her, and he’d been ordering Astarion to hurt her; she’s not sure what to expect from Cazador himself.

Once, not long ago, she had felt so powerful, and Cazador felt so little, like a bug to be squashed. Astarion warned her; ‘more dangerous than you thought, perhaps, but I’ve never had any doubt,’ he said, and he was right. They were stupid to believe they had time. It only took one calculated move for Cazador to gain the upper hand.

Cazador jerks Tav forward by the wrist, pulling her into his lap and settling his hands on her thighs. Being this close to him makes her ill, let alone having him under her and touching her like this.

“No! Don’t touch her,” Astarion warns, though he knows they’re empty words. “She’s mine.”

“She could have been,” Cazador says. “You chose not to make her yours. I so graciously granted you the freedom you seek, and you squandered it, silly little spawn.” His fingers crawl up farther her legs, turning her stomach; Astarion, she could handle, but not Cazador—anything but him, but this.

It’s when Cazador’s eyes wander, looking over her like he’s about to devour her, that Astarion’s self-restraint lapses again. He raises the blade in hand and moves to strike, but his body relents near instantly; control envelops him fully, like a cold, piercing embrace.

“Sit down, worm,” commands Cazador, exerting his pull, compelling Astarion to the ground on his knees and sending the dagger across the floor.

It’s the first time Astarion’s felt this power for months, though it feels like years, their journey long and grueling. He felt so far away from Cazador’s control, almost safe, especially after he hadn’t felt the call of his master once they’d taken care of the Absolute.

All along, Cazador had been messing with him, he realizes that now. He should have known it earlier. Cazador is nothing but simple, of course it was a game—when the sun burned him, he should have seen that nothing had changed, that his master was simply waiting for the right time. 

“Have I taught you nothing? Second, thou shalt obey me in all things,” Cazador repeats the second rule, hammering in his lessons; soon he’d remind Astarion of them with more than words. “You shame me, child, you’ve truly forgotten my power.” 

Astarion will never forget his power or his rules again. Cazador practically rips the clothes off Tav, fierce and empowered by the whimpers and pathetic face plastered across his favorite spawn. A shudder wracks through her, wishing Astarion had gone through with putting her to the blade; doesn’t he know what Cazador is capable of, after two centuries? Couldn’t he have known and saved her from this?

The worst part is how she’s merely a thing to be used to punish him; Cazador doesn’t care to hurt her, he cares to hurt his spawn the most demoralizing way he knows how. He seeks to tear Astarion down into nothing. He could simply move on with the ritual and kill them both, but it wouldn’t be enough. 

She glues her eyes shut and closes her ears as Cazador shifts beneath her; the sound of a zipper passes right through her as her mind uncouples from her body. Astarion hears it clearly, and for the first time in a very, very long while, he weeps; he weeps and he watches the thing he loves most be destroyed, and he blames himself for it all.

When Astarion tries to avert his eyes, Cazador is quick to remind him of the next rule; “Third, thou shalt not leave my side unless directed.” 

Today he is compelled to watch, and he cannot even daydream or wander out of body. Cazador’s orders control him, mind and body fully, holding him still and attentive. Tav cries in a way she hadn’t when he’d ruined her himself; even then, when he’d turned animalistic and given up his body to instinct, she’d accepted him and forgiven him.

She will never forgive him for this, and he wouldn’t deserve it. He’d lost his nerve so easily to her tears and a selfish hunger and subjected her to a worse fate. He should have listened to her when she said to leave. Cazador never intended to let her go, and he’d never have it in him to hurt her the way his master wanted. At least if he’d left, he wouldn’t have to witness it now. At least one of them would have made it out.

“Tav,” he says, desperately calling out to her, wanting to hear anything but the sobs and merciless echoes of skin on skin.

“No,” she answers, her will whittled down to less than zero. She doesn’t want his words of comfort or his touch or even his love; she wants to be left alone, to never be touched again, by anyone. 

Cazador doesn’t have to say the last rule. Astarion already knows it’s coming—the whole spectacle is a sadistic affirmation that Cazador owns him and that he will be broken.

“Fourth, thou shalt know that thou art mine,” he says meekly, transfixed by the sight ahead. “Master.”

Will their friends come for them—what few they have left? If they do, will it be too late?

[honeyedwordsandblades]

Was writing out tags on agothorn's post about Astarion/Tav and how Tav could've been another Sebastian if they had met Astarion before but I got pretty carried away and instead wrote not an essay but a whole goddamn novel??? And did u know Tumblr only lets you put 30 tags top on a post? (And it still wasn't enough, lmao whoops.)

So here are those tags, a bit reformatted to be a text post instead. Thank you in advance if you decide to go on this crazy ride of my dumb ramblings!

--

Honestly, I imagine when they get down there and see all the vampire spawn, all his previous targets/victims (and the other six's I'm sure), Rose immediately thinks back to the beginning of their journey together. Of the early days where she was so smitten and head over heels for Astarion, without really knowing him or his past.

And looking at all his past victims, all in front of her (especially with his interaction with Sebastian), she immediately realizes that if they had met another way, if they had met before the mindflayers kidnapped them all, she would have also been so easily manipulated and played. Lured just like the rest of his victims straight to Cazador. Like a lamb to slaughter. Like a fool lured straight off a cliff. And so happily too. So blissfully unaware and ignorant of her awaiting inevitable fate.

She knows, in that instant, if they had met before instead of when they did, she'd be down here with the rest of his victims. And, more than likely, afterward he would've just completely and entirely forgotten about her. Assumed her dead and had been done with it.

She wouldn't even be a ghost of a memory to haunt him for eternity, for the rest of his undead life. She'd been nothing to him.

(I'd like to believe that wouldn't be true though. He'd remember her just like he remembered Sebastian. Another poor innocent soul that, in their very short time together, she would have undoubtedly left quite the impression and mark upon him. He would always remember her. And, yes, she would absolutely haunt him for the rest of his undead life. Such a naive girl with such a big loving caring heart. How could he ever forget her? And her soft brown-hazel eyes and her lovely up-done brown hair. And the biggest smile he's ever seen. All just for him. Because of him. He'd never truly forget her. But I digress (too much). We're talking about Rose's point of view not Astarion's, lmao.)

She'd mean nothing to him as he found a way to usurp Cazador (if he was able to at all otherwise. But assuming if he did.) and would so easily and readily sacrifice her and all his and his "sibling's" victims in order to become the ~Vampire Ascendant~ .

Because she would mean nothing to him. Or, at least, (after seeing his panic and slight hesitation after talking to Sebastian) he would try to make himself believe that. Push away all the rising guilt suddenly trying to claw itself up from his dead heart and out his throat. Push it all down, hoping it would return from whence it came and just shut up and never return. That this is what he wants. What he's always wanted. (Right?)

And, after they speak with Sebastian, Rose would speak with Astarion personally. An argument as 'old as time' (i.e. as long as their relationship has been) started fresh and anew once more. About Astarion doing the ritual himself. And she would say in no uncertain bitter terms all that i've described above to him, to his face.

And maybe he's thought about it before. About how easy a target she would've been. How she would've been another poor lost soul. Gone. Disappeared into the night. Far from reach from family, from friends, from anyone and everyone. So easily snatched from her life. Not a trace of her to be found. Almost like she never existed. (But he would remember her. Gods, her smile. Her eyes. She would haunt him.)

But now, after seeing Sebastian, seeing all his victims in front of him... Discovering that they hadn't died and were very much (horribly) alive and undead, vampire spawn just like him and his 'siblings'. All of them connected to him, not just as his past victims, but through carved scars just like the one on his back. All for this grim infernal ritual where they would all be sacrificed (including himself if his plan to kill and usurp Cazador in the ritual didn't succeed).

But now presented with Rose's theoretical... To imagine her right alongside Sebastian and all his other victims, in just as terrible and poor a state as they are. And, instead of seeing her lovely brown-hazel eyes, being meet only with undead vampiric red burning straight into his soul... It instantly sends a chill down his spine. And it makes him sick to his stomach to even think, to even imagine such an image.

But Rose presses on, despite his reaction, despite the clear look of horror that passes on his face. And brings his imagination further. Spelling out as clear as she can exactly what her fate would end up being if she had been one of his victims. If he took up the ritual in Cazador's place- She would die. Right alongside all the other vampire spawn. They were meant for sacrifice after all. And that's the role they and, more importantly, she would serve.

He'd have everything. And she would be dead.

Sacrificed for the power he would then have.

He's too stunned to speak, but he knows what she's doing. Her manipulations are too obvious. But perhaps that's the point. She's not trying to manipulate him, she's trying to persuade him. Or better put, she's pleading. Begging him to see the terrible horror of the atrocity he's planning to commit. (As if he doesn't already know. As if he didn't know it all along. Although, admittedly, not at this scale. It was only 6 before, not 7,000.)

All by placing herself in the role of one of his victims.

And he has to admit: It's working.

He'll try to reason with her (twist and manipulate it back). That she's not. And, besides, he's doing it for both of them. So they can both be safe. With such power he can-

She huffs exasperated, disappointed. And she's already shaking her head. Somehow disbelieving that he's coming up with the same excuses as he always has.

But he knows they both heard his voice as he spoke. Quivering, uncertain. Clearly reaching, relying on old scripted justifications. But he still clings tightly to old hopes, old plans.

And, here and now, just before the end, just before the finale, is when she finally pulls out the ultimatum she's been mulling about for ages.

He must not go through with the ritual. If he does... She will ensure he never takes it.

She stares straight into his eyes as she tells him. Eyes (and heart) hardened. Walls up. Back straightened. Looking at him defiantly.

The look of a Hero.

He's only seen her do it a few times before but never to him. And now that she is... Now that he's on the other side of it. Well, he won't lie. A cold feeling of fear runs down his spine. He knows when she's like this that she means every word she says and will absolutely commit to it.

Before he can even speak, she softens, breaks. Pain written plainly across her face.

Ever so softly, she pleads with him not to go through with it (the ritual). She admits she doesn't want to, but she will- end him (What a nice way to say "kill him where he stands". Almost like she can't even bring herself to say it.) And he fully believes her.

Her earlier pleading, her theoretical, may have (deeply) shaken him, but this- This ultimatum... certainly gave him pause.

Although not as much as her next words.

"Please don't make me kill you."

Hushed, soft. An almost whisper that, well- metaphorically speaking, kills him on the spot. Like a stake to his undead heart.

The image of him beginning the ritual and her swinging her sword, one good ol' swing through his neck, his head suddenly gone enters his mind.

She would do it. He knows it.

Would he risk it? Attempt the ritual and, if he succeeds, if she doesn't chop off his head, beg for forgiveness? (Command her to forgive him even? He quickly pushes the thought from his mind.)

But staring into her pained, pleading eyes, her words still echoing in his mind like relentless ghosts haunting him, he knew his choice had been made.

Only a bit reluctantly does he promise her then and there that he would not go through with taking Cazador's place in the ritual. They would stop him and nothing more. Promise.

He can see that Rose is hesitant to believe him but she does relax some. Perhaps naively hoping that he had in fact come to his senses and was actually going to follow through with his promise. (After all, he's made promises before and kept them. Right?)

And he does.

(Although when he finally has the staff in his hands and he hesitates for just a small second, she's very kind to not bring up that moment later on.)

(And yes. She noticed. But after he continues on to save and free all the vampire spawns, both his siblings and those in the cells, she quickly forgets about it. All forgiven.)

[jynrso]

hello all!! i've returned with the long-awaited bite scene + tiefling scene combo. once again, we are playing fast and loose with canon timelines, giving some days in between for travel and rest i've taken some of astarion's lines directly from the game on a few occasions but this fic doesn't follow the canon script for these scenes. i don't own those lines and all the credit to larian studios! i would recommend reading the previous fic in this series for context but you don't necessarily have to. the beginning italicized portion is directly taken from that fic because it leads into this one nicely. there's also a portion at the end taken from a flashback scene in exorcism, so if you recognize that, that's where it's from! read it on ao3!

Despite their tentative alliance, it’s clear that Astarion’s promise to watch her back has done little to endear her to him. Tav is damn slippery, especially now that he’s actively trying to catch her. Any attempt at flirtation has become infinitely more difficult when he can barely engage her in a conversation; when she’s not giving him limited, few-worded answers, she disappears from sight before he can even open his mouth. 

All the while, his hunger grows. Their group frequently gets into an inordinately large amount of fights, all of which drain his already low supply of strength. Managing on rodents or the occasional deer alone is no longer feasible; he’s getting sloppy, with too many close calls that would never happen on a proper diet. 

All the while, the taste of Tav’s blood haunts him. It hadn’t been much but it had been enough to get him intoxicated off of the taste. He can smell the others’ blood, can guess at what it might taste like (Shadowheart, for example, undoubtedly has a heavy, enigmatic flavor –– but likely much too sweet for his taste), and would be perfectly satisfied drinking from most of them. . .but it’s Tav’s blood he wants –– craves, even. 

And so his attempt at a slow, practiced seduction very nearly fizzles out days after it’d formed in his mind. Unable to think of anything other than the hunger gnawing at his gut, he acts on instinct, on impulse, and sneaks up on her one night while she sleeps. 

Just a little taste, he tells himself, to tide himself over until he can hunt again. He kneels at her side, mesmerized by the sound of her heart thumping and the heady rush of her blood through her veins, and his fangs slide out unconsciously. Just a taste and nothing more. . .

Tav wakes. 

-

In retrospect, Astarion concludes that attempting to sneak up on one of the more observant members of their party had likely not been the best strategy. 

As Tav lurches upwards, his fangs inches away from scraping the skin of her throat, he reels backward, settling into a clumsy crouch. She stares at him, brows pulling together in confusion, and all he can think to say is, “ –– Shit.”  

Before he can even begin to explain himself, she twists, rolling him underneath her and pressing her dagger against his neck. Her lips curl back in a snarl, muscles tense underneath her skin. But she doesn’t attack, not yet. Had he been anyone else, he suspects she would have killed him already. 

Astarion presses his advantage. “It’s not what you think,” he starts, words coming in a desperate rush to try and turn the conversation back in his favor. He shifts slightly but her thighs tighten around his hips, keeping him pinned to the ground. “I’m not some monster. I feed on animals! Boars, deer, kobolds––whatever I can get.” 

Her gaze hardens, though there’s an uncurrent of something else underneath –– fear? “You’re a vampire.” 

“Vampire spawn,” he corrects, exhaling as if a giant weight has been put on his shoulders by sharing this secret. It’s difficult to tell what she’s thinking but he feels his best option right now is to appeal to her empathy. “I’m just too slow right now. Too weak. And if I just had a little blood, I could think clearer. Fight better. Please.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she hisses. The edge of her blade digs into his neck but she doesn’t make a mark. A reminder that she’s in control here more than anything else. 

“I was sure you’d say no,” he admits, having anticipated this situation. “Or that you’d ram a stake between my ribs. No, I needed you to trust me. And you can trust me. We’re partners –– nothing has to change.”

“We agreed to watch each other’s backs and then I wake up with your teeth against my neck,” she retorts. “ Everything has changed.” 

“Oh, don’t be like that, darling,” he rolls his eyes with a huff, irritated that his desperate pleas seemingly haven’t moved her –– literally or figuratively. “Don’t be so dramatic. You’re of better use to everyone alive –– I wouldn’t have killed you.” 

Well, probably not.

“It was only going to be a taste, I swear. I’ll be well, you’ll be fine, and everything can go back to normal.” In one last attempt, he says softly, eyes wide and pleading, “Please.” 

He does his best to keep his expression and posture open as she leans forward and studies him from her position on top of him. A few breaths pass in strained silence. His tadpole wiggles from behind his eye but he waits, not eager to invade her privacy just yet. 

“You’re not drinking from me,” she says finally. The dagger in her hand moves away from his jugular but she doesn’t sheathe it. “I don’t care if you drain someone else in camp dry but not me.” 

Disappointment tinged with indignant anger curls deep in his gut. After everything he’s done for her, after carrying her to safety when she’s alone and injured, this is the response he gets? All he needs is the smallest, tiniest bit of blood and she turns him down, despite their partnership? 

It had been an impulsive decision to try and feed on her tonight, but he’d thought that since they’d had a moment together a few days ago, it wouldn’t be as difficult to sway her into agreeing. 

“No,” he sneers. “No, of course. Silly of me to even ask.” Never mind the fact that had she not woken up, he never would have asked at all. He shifts, still pinned. “Now, if you’d just let me go, I’ll get out of your hair.” 

Tav’s mouth opens slightly in realization before she practically scrambles off of his lap, clearly eager to no longer be touching him now that she’s uncovered his true nature. Astarion scowls, making a show of picking himself up off the floor of her tent and brushing any dirt, real or imaginary, off of his shirt and pants. 

She stands slowly, watching him warily. Her knife remains in her hand. He waits for her to say something but, unsurprisingly, she says nothing. He scoffs, knowing that he should have expected her silence by now . . . and yet, he feels oddly hurt by her lack of reaction.

Just because she’d agreed to a partnership doesn’t mean she’s any different than the rest. It’s a matter of survival, that’s all. She doesn’t have to like you. 

As he turns on his heel to go, she finally speaks. “I won’t tell the others.” 

“Tch, why not?” he snaps, head turning to face her. There’s an undercurrent of irritation to his voice that he doesn’t intend but he’s tired and hungry.  “Don’t want to expose my dirty little secret to the rest of the group?”

“No,” she says simply, but her words are a clear dismissal.

Not sure whether or not to believe her, he just shakes his head and leaves her tent, stalking over to his own and pulling the flaps closed tightly. 

Angrily, he runs his fingers through his hair, mussing his perfectly coiffed curls. All the time he’s spent planning over the past few days ––  wasted in the span of a few seconds. He’ll be lucky if survives until morning. Pacing doesn’t help but he can’t seem to stay still; in his agitation, he begins to pack up some of his belongings –– maybe it’s best that he gets out of here before someone comes in with a stake. 

But something stops him from leaving. Even knowing it’s likely in his best interest to go under the cover of darkness, he remains where he is. He still needs them –– needs Tav –– to defeat Cazador. 

It’s a minor slip-up, he tells himself as he tentatively settles in for the night, back to the canvas wall of his tent. He won’t trance, not until he’s sure that it’s safe for him to do so. Instead, he prepares himself for the worst and waits.  

----

The next morning comes quietly, with no stakes or screaming mobs in sight. When Astarion steps out of his tent, it’s all as it normally is –– no one comes up to him and confronts him about his vampirism, let alone give him a sideways look or avoid him more than usual. 

Maybe Tav had been telling the truth. But why? To what end?

The woman in question sits by herself on the outskirts of the camp, hunched over a bowl of whatever slop Gale has made for breakfast. Though he tries to catch her gaze, she keeps her head down and focuses solely on her food, not looking at anyone. Scoffing and wondering why he’s the one who has to do all of the work, he eventually makes his way over to where she sits. 

He clears his throat before approaching her; it’s a formality, more than anything, as she likely had seen him coming long before he’d announced it. But he waits to speak until she raises her head and meets his gaze. “Morning. I hope last night’s unpleasantness hasn’t left a bad taste in your––” 

Her eyebrows narrow. Quickly, he corrects himself and changes course, “Well, I hope there are no bad feelings.” 

She swallows the mouthful of food she’d been chewing on. “Like I told you last night, I won’t say anything.” 

“I was thinking more about our relationship, darling,” he corrects, though the reassertion of her earlier claim to keep his secret does comfort him. With how poorly it’d gone last night, he needs time to figure out how to properly broach the subject to the group in a way that won’t lead to his head being severed from his shoulders. “I just hope you can forgive me for wanting a taste.” 

Tav sets her bowl down near her feet, then rolls her shoulders back. “So long as it doesn’t happen again.” 

“It won’t,” he reassures her. She doesn’t need to know that he’d tasted her blood already, albeit dried and old. Though he’s disappointed that he won’t be able to try it again (not easily, anyway), he’s more relieved that she hasn’t turned their group against him. 

“I’m just glad you’re being sensible about these revelations,” he muses, shooting her a sideways look. “Not many people would take this news so . . . pragmatically.” 

“We all have secrets.” She stands as she says it, picking up her bowl in one fluid movement. Then, without another word, she leaves Astarion behind, not looking back once. 

Slightly bemused, his mouth closes with an audible click as he watches her leave, unable to offer any parting words or flirtations before she’s too far away. Gods, what a strange woman –– but he’s always enjoyed a challenge. 

With that in mind, he stalks back to his tent to plan, prepared to double his efforts to smooth the whole vampire situation over properly . . . and to figure out how to repay her for keeping her silence. 

----

“I have something for you.” 

Astarion doesn’t startle at the sound of Tav’s voice but he certainly comes close. He shuts his book and turns toward her, marveling that he hadn’t even heard her approach. 

“Oh?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. Her coming to him for once? What a surprise. “You shouldn’t have, pet. Now –– what is it?” 

She tilts her head toward the forest, a silent invitation. While he would normally take advantage of the opportunity to get her alone, it provides the perfect opportunity for him to stake him. Maybe now that she’s gotten the chance to think, she’s changed her mind; after all, she’d been quick to put a dagger to his throat when he’d waken her up the other night. 

In the end, however, his curiosity gets the best of him. Unless she truly takes him off guard, he’s confident he can fend off a stake to the chest, even if it means getting injured elsewhere. When he motions for her to lead the way, she heads off into the night and he follows close behind, watching his own back as much as hers. His dagger is a comforting presence at his side. 

As she picks through the underbrush and foliage, leading him deeper into the trees, he takes the opportunity to watch her, eyes dragging up and down her figure. As he does so, his mind moves from murder to sex. It wouldn’t be unpleasant to seduce her, he thinks. Though she’s not the most beautiful person he’s slept with, far from it, she’s certainly not unattractive. That being said, he doesn’t know what she’s hiding underneath all those layers of clothing –– but if it’s truly that terrible, he can still find a way to work with it.

After a few minutes of walking, they reach a small clearing. Tav waits expectantly while Astarion scans the area, looking for the reason why she’s brought him out here –– 

“Is that –– Tav, darling, what is this?” 

“Food,” she says simply. At his dumbfounded look, she clarifies, nodding toward the man lying in a heap in the middle of the clearing, “For you.” 

It takes a lot to shock him but this is one of those instances. Astarion blinks, taking a step forward to get a better look. A few feet away, an unconscious man –– not a corpse, as he’d first assumed –– lies on the ground, his hands and feet tied behind his back. Based on his dirty and disheveled appearance, he seems to be a common highwayman, someone nobody would miss. There’s a bruise on his temple with a small hint of blood leaking out of a cut at the center; at the smell of it, his nostrils flare, his stomach growling. 

He turns back to Tav, who’s looking quite proud of herself. Still not properly comprehending the situation, he says slowly, “Let me get this straight. You found this man, knocked him unconscious, and brought him here –– all for me to drink?” 

She nods, not elaborating. 

“I’m grateful, truly, but . . . “ he trails off, looking back at the body again. “Why?” 

Her boot digs a ditch into the ground in front of her. “If you knew how to hunt properly, you wouldn’t have tried to feed off of me,” she explains quietly, crossing her arms over her chest. “So I did the work myself.” 

The reasoning behind her words is entirely wrong –– and he does know how to hunt, actually –– but he doesn’t want to get into the mess that is Cazador and his rules. And when presented with this –– this gift, he doesn’t have it in him to be offended at her lack of faith in his abilities. 

While he wants to say more and interrogate her further, the smell of blood sparks his hunger once again; his questions can wait until he’s finished indulging. He inclines his head to her in dismissal, saying, “I won’t forget this.” 

Astarion sinks to his knees next to the man and grabs his shoulders, bringing his neck toward his mouth. He doesn’t bite immediately, Cazador’s words ringing in his ears ––  “ thou shalt not drink of the blood of thinking creatures” –– but nothing had happened when he’d tasted Tav’s blood a week ago. If it’s the tadpole’s work, then that’s yet another reason to be thankful for the illithids’ abduction. 

He closes the distance and bites into the man’s neck without another thought, too hungry to think about the possible consequences. The taste of blood fills his mouth, hot and rich, though he feels the smallest tinge of disappointment when he realizes it’s nothing like Tav’s. In comparison, the man’s blood is duller, less fragrant. But having fresh blood at his disposal, regardless of who it comes from, is a luxury he’d never imagined having. 

So he happily takes his fill. 

Finally, after minutes or hours, he pulls away from the now-corpse. He feels . . . full, almost bloated and drunk. Sated. He nearly groans from the pleasure of it, blood dripping down his chin; absently, he swipes his fingers over the mess on the lower half of his face and sucks his fingers into his mouth indulgently, indulging in every last drop –– in every last drop of this gift.  

When he’s finally finished gorging himself, he looks up –– and stops, surprised to see that Tav’s still there. Standing a few feet away from him, her gaze remains focused on the forest around them, scanning for potential threats. 

Brows furrowed in confusion, he slowly pushes himself up from his knees and stands. This small movement draws her attention. She glances toward him, then at the body on the ground, and then back at him once again. She tilts her head slightly, brow raised, a silent question posed by her body language: Finished?

He blinks, feeling off-kilter. He says dumbly, “You’re here.” 

“I was standing guard,” she says slowly, as if it’s obvious. 

“Yes, but –– ” he flounders, lost for words for the second time that night. With the way all of the stolen blood has seemingly rushed to his head at once, he can’t think properly; on the best of days, he struggles to predict her, now even more so. She’d brought him this man and watched over him while he fed . . . he’s oddly touched and unable to voice it properly. “You stayed.” When you didn’t have to. 

Tav shifts, crossing her arms over her chest. “We’re partners,” she replies after a beat, clearly confused by his disjointed interrogation. “I was watching your back.” 

When he’d propositioned her a few days ago, it’d been an attempt to get her in his corner, nothing more. He hadn’t expected this level of loyalty. Finding and kidnapping someone to feed him after just finding out that he’s a vampire spawn –– that goes above and beyond any version of partnership he understands. It puts him on edge, almost making him suspicious; he doesn’t like owing people. 

“Right,” he says weakly. Still scrambling for the upper hand in the conversation, he shifts the direction of it. “So if any of our companions had stumbled across this gruesome scene, you would have –– what?” 

“I would have taken care of it.” Her voice is firm. 

Why? Astarion wants to shout, wants to grab her by the shoulders and shake her. I’ve done nothing for you –– I barely know you. I’m a monster. Why are you so bloody loyal? But he says none of that. 

After examining him for a few seconds, she exhales but doesn’t push the matter any further. “If you’re done, let’s get rid of the body.” 

“I’ve got it, darling,” he brushes her off with the wave of a hand. “You’ve done so much already, giving me this gift. I can take care of a corpse.” 

Besides, it’ll give him some time alone to think. He desperately needs it after the evening he’s had. 

Tav nods and heads back toward their camp without another word. 

He watches her go, eyes fixed on the spot in the forest she’d disappeared into even after she’s gone. Then, shaking his head slightly as if to remind himself of the task at hand, he bends down, grabs the corpse underneath its armpits, and drags it into the underbrush. 

----

Despite having repeatedly told Tav that he can hunt for meals on his own, Astarion isn’t opposed to her company when scouting out new targets. His partner has proven remarkably useful in finding and subduing potential victims, and, as a result, he rarely even gets dirt underneath his fingernails. Her personality is ––  fine, he supposes, though barely there and usually unamusing; at least she doesn’t bother him with constant inane chatter. 

Many of their other companions are deep in the wetlands, searching for a hag. It’s a fight he’d been vehemently uninterested in, though held his opinions to himself until Tav had voiced hers. Having already pegged her as the hero type due to her actions at the goblin camp, he’d been resigned to slogging through the muddy waters in the wetlands; however, when asked, Tav had declined to go along, a decision that he quickly seconded. 

(“Not enough children for you to save in the middle of a bog?” he asks, curious despite himself. 

She shrugs a shoulder. “Mayrina made her choice. I’ve made mine.” 

That had been the end of it –– and he couldn’t agree more.)

It’d been easy for the two of them to sneak off and leave the wetlands with the excuse of scouting. Shadowheart hadn’t cared and Lae’zel hadn’t even spared the pair a second glance when they’d left an hour earlier. 

Crouched behind a boulder, he watches a lone raider wander away from his campsite to take a piss. After a few seconds, he glances over to Tav and raises an eyebrow, silently asking her what she thinks. 

She pauses, glances over at the rest of his group, gauging the distance, then nods her approval. It’s not that he needs her to do so, but she had been the one to insist that he does the incapacitating this time to prove that he actually could hunt for himself –– as if she hadn’t seen him in the middle of a battle.

Silently, he takes the long way around to sneak up on the man, unsheathing his dagger as he does so. Once in place, all it takes is one quick motion for him to stand and slam the butt of his knife against the man’s forehead in an attempt to knock him down quickly and quietly. 

But for all his earlier bluster and confidence, his hit doesn’t immediately take out the raider, who seemingly had a thicker-than-usual skull. Instead, the raider bites down on a cry of pain and surprise, turning around as he does so; in an attempt to silence him before he alerts his companions, Astarion acts on impulse and slits his throat to quiet him. 

The man drops like a rock, blood pouring from the wound on his neck. The life leaves his eyes rather quickly after that. 

Cursing under his breath, he drags the body back over to where he and Tav had been hiding earlier. At the sight of him, her eyebrows jump up, and she prods the man with the toe of her boot. 

“Yes, yes, I know,” he hisses, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Don’t say a word –– I don’t want to hear it.” 

The one time he wants to her remain quiet is when she decides to speak. Raising her arms to demonstrate a chokehold, she remarks, “You should have just cut off his air for a few seconds.” 

As if he has the strength for that. He scoffs, the bitterness of failure sitting heavily in his chest. “Is the thief telling the vampire how to hunt?” 

She shrugs a shoulder, though the spark of amusement in her eyes says all that he needs to know. He’s already ready to abandon this little venture but when Tav reaches down to grab the body’s feet, he groans and rolls his eyes before picking him up by the armpits. 

In response, she only shrugs, though there’s a spark of amusement in her eyes that says she feels otherwise. Yet she does as he says and remains quiet as she grabs the body’s feet and helps Astarion haul him to a safer decision. 

Upon reaching an outcrop a little farther away, she’s the one to break the silence. “Can you even drink from a corpse?” 

“I don’t see why not,” he says, dropping the corpse down with a grunt. He’s never tried, but a dead body isn’t considered a thinking creature in the same way that someone alive would be. “Here’s to trying, I suppose. We can always go back to the camp and try again.” 

That seems to be a good enough explanation to her. She once again nods and wanders off a bit, likely to give him privacy that he doesn’t need to feed, though her thoughtfulness is oddly . . . touching. 

When he bites down, he can immediately taste a difference. Unlike the hot rush of liquid he’d gotten from feeding on someone alive, a dead man is limp and dull in comparison, like water from a stagnant pool rather than a rushing river. It’s still edible, though he’s not lost in the taste of it. 

And it certainly doesn’t compare to Tav’s. To taste her, right from the source . . . It’s easy to lose himself in that fantasy, even drinking stale, rapidly cooling blood. 

Suddenly, he hears footsteps approaching behind him and steel being drawn from a sheath. He lifts his head from the corpse and turns around, not bothering to wipe his mouth, only to be faced with the startled faces of some of his traveling companions. 

“Astarion!” Karlach exclaims, eyes wide with panic. “Tell me you’re not –– you’re not eating that dead guy, are you?” 

Ah. Shit.  

“Is this what you call scouting?” Shadowheart asks, dismayed. 

“Gods.” Gale.

But his attention isn’t immediately drawn to Karlach and the others, who have either already pulled their weapons or are looking at him in various states of disgust. Rather, it’s Tav who catches his eye first ––  Tav, who’s standing in front of him with both of her knives drawn, lips curled back in a snarl, and seemingly ready to defend him from their companions before he’d barely even moved. 

Quickly, he stands, raising his hands as he does so, and takes a step forward so Tav is no longer covering him with her body. His voice is soft, oddly so, when he addresses her, “Thank you, darling, but I don’t think that will be necessary.” 

Then, he faces the rest of their group, surveying their reactions. Wyll is the one he’s most concerned about, the self-proclaimed monster hunter, but none of them have moved to cut him down just yet. At least he’ll have Tav on his side if this goes sour, but he first needs to do everything in his power to diffuse the situation. 

“Well, yes, but not like that,” he corrects, grimacing at the thought of cannibalism. “The thing is –– I’m a vampire. Spawn. I was merely drinking his blood, nothing more.”  

Tav stays silent and unmoving at his side but he can practically sense the tension in her body without looking. It’s almost as if she’s waiting for his signal to attack, like some sort of bodyguard. 

He’s barely even done anything and his plan is working better than anticipated. This kind of loyalty was not something he’d ever expected from her. Once he sleeps with her, that will lock everything in, mind, body, and soul. 

Gale is the first to speak, looking apprehensive but not outright murderous. “So we’re traveling with a vampire, are we? A word of warning, Astarion: I taste absolutely awful.” 

Astarion wrinkles his nose at the thought. Even without the orb trapped in the wizard’s body, he wouldn’t dare. “As if I would ever try, darling.” 

“I just better not wake in the middle of the night to find fangs at my throat,” Shadowheart remarks. 

He purposefully does not look at Tav when she says that. 

“He gave me his word,” Tav rasps instead. At the sound of her voice, he chances a glance in her direction; her face is completely serious, with no hint of any of her earlier amusement. “I trust him. He says that he won’t feed off of anyone in camp and I trust him.” 

He hasn’t said anything of the sort but if that’s what it takes for them to believe him, then so be it. He and Tav have had enough luck on their own, anyway. 

“You knew?” Karlach asks Tav. She doesn’t sound angry, just bewildered. “Why didn’t you say anything?” 

“Not my secret to tell.” The matter is simple enough to Tav but it means everything to him. 

The rest of their companions slowly nod in agreement, coming to some sort of silent consensus between them. So long as he doesn’t try to attack any of them, he is free to stay. The relief he feels at this revelation is dizzying, even more so that Tav has spoken up in his defense. If he can sway her to his side, surely he can get the others to help him take down Cazador. It . . . it might actually be doable, now. 

Eager to change the subject away from his vampiric nature, he claps his hands together once and plasters a bright smile on his face. “Shall we go? There’s a long day ahead of us.” With a bounce to his step, he sidles up next to Wyll, striking up another conversation. To his surprise, the other man doesn’t step away, just nods in acknowledgment. “Now, tell me all about that hag, my friend.” 

He pointedly ignores Shadowheart’s half-hearted whisper from behind him about getting him to wear a bell at night so they can hear him coming, and he very much pretends he doesn’t hear Tav’s quiet, barely there chuckle in response. 

----

Has Astarion truly fallen so low that he grows jealous of children? 

Scowling into his cup of wine, he watches as Tav amuses the tiefling children with thinly veiled disdain. Even Mol looks entranced by her sleight of hand, despite all efforts to pretend as if she doesn’t care. 

When he’d told Tav to come and meet him later that night, prepared to put the next stage of his plan into motion, he hadn’t thought she’d make him wait this long. Maddening woman. She’s likely doing this just to annoy him. 

Though he sees Shadowheart approach him off to the side, he doesn’t say anything in welcome, waiting for her to act first. Luckily for him, she (unlike Tav) doesn’t make him wait. 

“Anyone with eyes can see how intently you’re tracking her,” Shadowheart remarks, raising a brow. “Give it a rest, Astarion. If she wants your company, then she will come over eventually.” 

He scoffs, lips curling back into a sneer. What an idea! “Of course she wants my company. Everyone does!” 

Shadowheart’s hum in reply is decidedly unconvincing. 

He’s about to tell her to leave him alone if she finds his presence lacking –– he has brooding to do, anyway –– when she speaks again. 

“I can’t read her,” she says thoughtfully. “I mean, she’s clearly a skilled fighter and I’d rather have her with me than against me. But out of everyone in this camp, I know next to nothing about her.” 

It’s a not-so-subtle attempt to gather intel on Tav, one that even the most socially inept person could easily recognize. Though he too is in the dark regarding most things about the other rogue, he has no intention of sharing any of his findings with anyone else. After all, they all have secrets –– she’d kept his, so he’ll keep his observations to himself. 

He smiles lazily, fangs flashing in the firelight. “I find it more fun to go in blind. After all, what’s pleasure without a little risk, hmm?” 

Shadowheart rolls her eyes at his answer. “I won’t tell you to be careful, because if she does anything to you, Gods know you probably deserved it,” she says, eyes crinkling in mirth as she finishes her drink. Heading toward the keg, she adds over her shoulder, more serious than before, “But be careful with her. We’ll need her blades in the days to come.”  

Astarion frowns in mock offense, throwing up his hands dramatically. It’s what he’d expected from the other members of their group –– he hasn’t exactly tried too hard to make them like him –– though the lack of heat behind her words surprised him. It sounds like a joke between friends, gentle ribbing meant to provoke laughter rather than true outrage. 

It doesn’t make sense for Shadowheart to view him in that light. He clenches his wine goblet tighter, the liquid splashing around the interior of the cup at his rough movements. He must have misheard her –– she must have said it with more malice than he’d originally heard. 

On the other side of camp, the tiefling wizard lights up the sky with his amateur fireworks, with scattered applause from other refugees. He finishes his horrid wine with a frown, setting his goblet haphazardly on the ground and searching for another bottle. If Tav’s going to make him wait, then he might as well try to enjoy himself in the meantime. 

Hand curled around the neck of a bottle, he straightens, only to see the other rogue finally heading in his direction. As she approaches, he pops the cork off and takes a swig, grimacing as he does so. 

“You know,” he starts casually, turning toward her as if he hasn’t been waiting all night. “I never thought I’d be the one they toast for saving so many lives. After all, it was you who did all the hard work. The rest of us just cleaned up afterward.” He waves a dismissive hand. “And now that I’m here. . .” He drinks again, swallowing with effort. “I hate it. This is awful.” 

Tav crosses her arms over her chest, shrugging a shoulder. As she speaks, she glances over at the burly arch-druid. “We did what we needed to do to save Halsin.” 

“Ah yes –– Halsin,” he sneers. “Who has done next to nothing to help us with our little tadpole problem yet, after all that.” 

She tilts her head in what he takes as an agreement, so he continues on, “But after all that, the only thing I get is a pat on the shoulder and vinegar for wine.” 

“Should have asked to see Mol’s stash, then,” she remarks matter-of-factly as if he’s supposed to have known that. “She hid the good stuff.” 

“All I want is a little fun. Is that so much to ask?” He glances at her now with heavy-lidded eyes. It’s too easy to slip back into this persona, even though he’s gone so long without. When he takes a step closer to her, she raises her chin to better meet his gaze instead of stepping away. Relief sparks in his chest –– it’s working. “We could always make our own entertainment, darling. Get a little closer, so to speak.” 

It takes her a second to process his words, her eyes darkening. But instead of enthusiastically agreeing to his proposition, she says, “I wanted to talk to you. About . . .” she glances around to the rest of the camp, noting that the party’s slowly dying down. “Well. Maybe not here.” 

Well, he can work with that. With a flourish, he gestures for her to enter his tent. “Lead the way.” 

But she shakes her head. “I don’t want to be overheard.” 

“A screamer, are you?” Underneath the shadow of her hood, her cheeks redden at his words. But he acquiesces to her proposal –– if she wants to be fucked up against a tree rather than in his bedroll, then who is he to deny her anything? It’s certainly not the strangest place he’s bedded someone. 

Not bothering to designate him with a response, she strides into the forest, looking over her shoulder once to make sure that he’s behind her. A few minutes later, they’re in the same clearing where she’d given him the gift of an unconscious body; he almost expects to see another lying somewhere close. 

Before she opens her mouth, he interrupts whatever thought she had planned to say. “I’ve been waiting for this,” he murmurs, stepping closer. The final pieces of his plan start snapping into place. “Waiting since the moment I set eyes on you.” A breath. He’s only a breadth away from her now. “Waiting to have you.” 

But instead of melting into his arms, her eyes widen in panic. She steps away from him, shaking her head. Her tongue darts out to lick her lips before she says, “I just wanted to talk.” 

His brain scrambles for an answer now that she’s gone off script. “Talk? We can talk. We can also –– ” 

“About food. For you.” A rush of words pour out of her mouth, interrupting his flirtatations. “I was thinking. There’s not going to be a lot of –– options in the Shadow-Cursed Lands. And I want you to be at your best.” 

Tav trails off. He does his best to fill in the blanks. “Trying to tell me you have another body stashed away somewhere?” 

She huffs out an irritated breath. “I am offering my blood. Now and if you need it before we get to Moonrise.” 

–– Oh. Now that is something. 

For a few seconds, he’s lost in the possibility of tasting her blood straight from the source, his eyes unconsciously seeking out the curve of her throat, hidden from view by her leather armor. His fangs poke at his bottom lip uncomfortably, mouth filling with saliva in anticipation. Now that she’s reminded him, he is hungry. . .

But first, he wants confirmation that this is actually something that she wants. Not what she thinks that he or their companions need –– because he can manage, albeit unhappily –– but something that she wants him to do. 

“Not that I’m uninterested,” he says lowly. “Because I am . But is this something you want, Tav?” 

In the darkness, he watches the way she shivers when his tongue curls around her name rather than an endearment, though she remains silent as she considers his question. He adds, “I can hunt for myself, you know. Even in the Shadow-Cursed Lands.” 

If she declines, then he’ll let her go without protest. She isn’t obligated to do this, just because they’ve agreed to watch each other’s backs ––  partners. Ultimately, he doesn’t need her as much as he wants her. But if she agrees. . .

“So long as you won’t take more than you need,” she replies finally, shifting her weight to her other foot. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” 

After a beat of hesitation, she pushes down her hood and begins untying the leather gorget from around her throat. 

He’d say something flirtatious if he could even think, but all thoughts fly out of his head the moment he sees the expanse of skin she’s just bared to him. His tongue darts out to lick his lips, eyes darkening at the possibility of feeding.

And then he sees her neck –– properly sees it for the first time without anything obscuring his vision. A large scar covers the expanse of her throat, jagged and uneven, curling up toward her jawline. If he had to guess, someone had gotten behind her with either a dagger or garrote wire, and she’d fought back, if the messiness of it is anything to go by. 

She’s a survivor. He’d known this already, having seen the scrappy and dirty way she fought, and this only confirmed his prior assumptions. Oh, but this makes her so much more –– 

“If there’s not enough room, just bite somewhere else,” she mutters, her voice cutting through his internal musings. She looks away from him, jaw clenching, clearly misunderstanding the path his mind has gone down. Her eyes harden. “Maybe this is a mistake –– ” 

He strides over to her, takes her chin gently, and nudges her face up to meet his gaze properly. “There is plenty of room,” he purrs, practically ravenous at the thought of sinking his teeth into her neck. But there’s a line he won’t cross, not with her. “If you’re. . .still willing?”

She searches his gaze for something he can’t quite identify but she evidently finds what she’s looking for after a few beats of scrutiny. With a determined glint in her eyes, she tilts her chin back and exposes more of her throat to him. She warns him again, “Only a taste.” 

As if he could ever be satisfied with only a taste of her.

Having anticipated this moment ever since he tasted her dried blood stained onto his clothing, he’s eager to jump to the chase and sink his teeth into her skin. But with Tav presenting herself so willingly to him, waiting and ready, he can’t help but take his time. Who knows if he’ll ever get this opportunity again? 

His lips brush the side of her neck in a barely there whisper, ghosting along the skin underneath her ear. She trembles minutely but doesn’t say a word, not even when he steps forward and tugs her into his arms. The hold is loose enough that she can break free if she’d like, one hand on her waist and the other splayed against the other side of her head, cradling it as she leans back to give him better access to her neck. 

Astarion is close enough to her that he can feel her breath against his skin, can practically hear the blood rushing in her veins and her heart’s steady beats. How has he never noticed how filled with life she is? So devastatingly alive.  

“What are you doing?” she whispers, body tensing under his hold. 

He pauses in his ministrations. If she asks him to stop, he will, but she’s said nothing of that sort nor has she pulled away from him. He clicks his tongue, finding a spot next to the beginning of her scar that is practically begging for his attention. “Patience, darling.” 

“Just –– fucking bite me.” Her voice trembles slightly. 

“If you insist,” he replies, slightly put out that he can’t continue his exploration of her body but eager to dive into the main course. And with that, he bites. 

Tav’s small gasp of pain goes unnoticed as the vibrant, heady taste of her blood fills his mouth. Immediately, he groans in pleasure, surging forward and pressing her body tighter to him for better access. It’s everything he ever could have dreamed of and more –– 

He feels –– powerful. He feels alive. 

Her dried blood on his shirt sleeves had only been a pale echo of this. To taste right from the source is an inexplicable luxury; it is only Tav –– her blood on his tongue, the feeling of her skin against his lips, the press of her body against his. He does not enjoy being a vampire spawn but at this moment, he can’t help but savor the experience that only he can have because of it. Unsurprisingly, the front of his pants are tighter than usual, and he struggles not to pull her closer, warring with the instinct in his head that tells him to take her here and now. 

It’s only because he’s had practice drinking from other individuals that he’s able to stop himself from taking too much. Though he’d love to drain her dry, that would be a one-time thing. If he plays his cards right, he might be able to convince her to give him another taste in the future. 

Regretfully, he pulls away, laving her neck with attention with his tongue until he’s gathered up every last drop of blood. Tav’s hands fist tightly in his shirt, clinging to him. Her eyes remain closed. Does she trust him, he wonders, not to take advantage while she’s vulnerable? He could so very easily end her existence now . . . had he not still had use for her. 

When he finishes, he detaches himself from her and steps away, watching as she takes a shuddering breath and does her best to steady herself. 

“This is a gift, you know,” Astarion says lowly, unintentionally echoing his words from so many days previous. In more ways than one, she has proved her loyalty to him –– perhaps it is time he does the same for her. “I won’t forget it.” 

Her hand goes to her neck, pressing against the puncture wounds. “Did you take enough?” 

His eyes darken, his voice lowering to a purr. “More than enough.” 

After a small delay, she nods once. “Good.” 

The strangest urge to kiss her suddenly takes hold of him, an impulse he almost indulges. He leans toward her without thinking, dragged into her orbit unconsciously. The way she meets his gaze is electric, heat sizzling between them. It would be so easy to . . .

“Darling –– “ His lips part. He has half a mind to take her right now, in the middle of the forest, proper seduction plans be damned. 

“Goodnight, Astarion,” she says abruptly. “I look forward to seeing you fight.” 

With that, she turns on her heel and leaves, practically running out of the clearing and back toward their camp. 

Astarion blinks. It takes him a minute or two to process what had just happened, the feeling that had washed over him. For a few seconds, he hadn’t been thinking about his plan at all, just how nice it would be to press his lips against her –– for no reason other than because he’d wanted to. 

The taste of her blood lingers in his mouth when he curses under his breath and follows. 

[queen-scribbles]

Certain as the Sun

@pillarspromptsweekly fill #78, the long-awaited Ederity wedding fic that killed me with cute. (Roll For It elements: Dengler for my NPC the Watcher gets along well with, candlelight/kiss, and flirting/affection)

Charity had always been an early riser. This was not because of her faith or her livelihood, though it certainly came in handy for both, but just the schedule she kept naturally. Today she was up early even for her.

If it counted as ‘being up early’ when you were so excited you didn’t truly fall asleep. She was going to spend the day running on joy, adrenaline, and murkberry juice, that was certain as the sunrise. And she didn’t even care.

Charity ran through her mental list as she waited for Tavi to arrive. She’d  picked the flowers last night, as late as possible so they would at least be sort of fresh. The chapel was all set up, though Tavi would have to light the candles. She’d pulled out her dress and made sure it was in good condition... The only thing left to do was curl up on the couch with Sparrow and doze until Tavi got there to help her get ready.

It was both too long and not long enough when there was a brisk knock on the door, followed by Tavi letting herself in before Charity had even made it to her feet.

“Thanks for helpin’ with this, Tav,” she said, carefully moving Sparrow from her lap to the couch as she stood. The calico let out a half-hearted mrrr of protest before curling up and going back to sleep.

“You kiddin’? I wouldn’t miss this for the fuckin’ world,” Tavi grinned, running one hand through her hair. “It’s absolutely worth bein’ up at the asscrack of dawn.”

Charity laughed. “Still, thanks. This whole thing’s so last minute, it’s nice havin’ a friend who can be here. Now....” She pulled out her ponytail and shook her head so her hair fell loose around her shoulders. “You said you aren’t great with hair. What can you do?” It was best to get right to business; they only had about an hour until sunrise.

Tavi grinned apologetically. “Ponytails and braids, and even the braids are kinda shitty.”

“Well, luckily, I know some styles that fit those limitations,” Charity said with a smile. She ran through a few of them, explained the reasons a bride might choose them, but left it up to Tavi. If she was willing to help out at the last minute, the least Charity could do was make it easy for her.

“Eh, fuck it, I’ve always liked a challenge,” Tavi smirked at the end of the list. “Let’s do the first one you mentioned, with the braids back to a ponytail. That’ll look real pretty on you, an’ I think I can manage it.”

“If you’re sure,” Charity shrugged.

“Yep. Sit down and tell me where to find what I’ll need.” Tavi cracked her knuckles.

“String for hair ties is on my dresser, the flowers to weave in are in the spare room,” Charity said as she settled into the lower-backed chair in her living room.

“About those, anything special with how they go in?”

“Kinda?” Charity played with a lock of hair. “There’s red, yellow, and white flowers, you do one at the start of each braid, three of each color, but there’s no set order for the colors. You can alternate, group ‘em together, do it randomly. It’s your choice.”

“Got it,” Tavi nodded. She ducked in the two rooms in turn, emerging with everything she needed. “Pray for me,” she said teasingly, “or you’re gonna be real lucky Edér loves ya no matter what.”

Charity snorted. “You’re just fillin’ me with confidence, Tav.”

“Hey, you’re the one who asked me,” Tavi reminded with a laugh. “An’ I do have a rough idea of what I’m doin’, it just won’t be perfect and fancy.”

“Doesn’t need to be,” Charity assured her, then fell silent in order to not be a distraction while Tavi worked.

<>O<>O<>

It was good her hair didn’t need to be perfect; Tavi’s assessment of her skill proved accurate. She got the braids in, relatively straight and only a little lumpy, the flowers miraculously unbruised, and tied the loose part up in one of the messy buns Charity used for gardening before sticking more flowers in the ribbon securing it.

“There we go,” she said triumphantly as she stepped back. “Pretty as a picture.”

“I’m so relieved,” Charity deadpanned, grinning as Tavi rolled her eyes. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Anything else you need me to help with?”

“Actually, since you’re gonna be waitin’ in the chapel anyway, t’ be our witness, could you light the candles? There’s a lot, an’ if I have to light ‘em and get dressed it’ll take too long,” Charity explained as she glanced out the window. There was the faintest hint of pink showing. They really did need to hurry.

“Sure thing,” Tavi said. “Again, anything special?”

“There’s two skinny ones an’ a wider one a little apart from the rest at the front, don’t light those. But all the rest.”

“Alright, sure.” Tavi gave Sparrow one final pet before heading out toward the chapel.

The first flutter of nerves hit as Charity stood in the doorway of her room, looking at the dress laid out on the bed. I’m getting married. Exciting as the thought was, it was also a little intimidating. She traced her fingers over the flowers embroidered down the sleeves and along the hem; red and yellow stitches twined together against white linen, painstakingly and lovingly done by her mother. I wish you could be here, Charity sighed as she carefully slipped her shirt off so as not to wreck Tavi’s work on her hair. I wish it was safe to tell you... But it wasn’t, no matter how sure she was her parents would love Edér, so she would have to content herself with having her mother there in spirit via the needlework on the dress and equally beautiful woven sash, also in the traditional red and yellow.

Charity smiled to herself as she pulled the dress on--just as careful around her hair--and tied the sash. She knew as well as any Eothasian the red was for life and the yellow for prosperity and happiness, but it was funny in this case how the colors also matched her and Edér’s hair.

Speaking of her hair.. She peeked in the mirror to check and was relieved it still looked good. No slipping or drooping or frizz.

The sky out her window was decidedly more pink. She really should hurry; Edér would be waiting for her, and they needed time to complete the ceremony so she could get back out of the dress, maybe remove some of the flowers from her hair, before Hendyna showed up to help her get ready for the ‘real’ Berathian wedding. She’d gotten away with the half-truth that her dress’ design was from her Ixamitl heritage, but being completely ready hours before the wedding might make her friend suspicious.

It took all of ten seconds for personal preference and the warm weather to justify going barefoot, which meant she  was ready, and just in time. With a smile at her reflection and a deep, shaky breath, Charity picked up her bouquet(iris, white heather and camellias), squeezed her necklace pendent to steady her nerves(overwhelmingly giddy rather than scared, but still jangling), and made her way back to the chapel.

She could see the candlelight through the windows, but was quickly distracted from both that and the still-cool earth under her feet because she’d been right. Edér was waiting for her.

Charity watched his smile bloom like the coming sunrise, lighting his whole face as his eyes crinkled at the corners from the breadth of it. She was pretty sure her face was the match of his.

Edér whistled softly as he reached for her hand. “Char, you... you look....”

She laughed when words failed him, because she knew the feeling, and replied,  “So do you,” through her achingly wide smile, heart beating faster as she linked her fingers with his and his outfit registered. His green shirt was an exact match for the one she’d lent him months ago, after their (brief) snow battle. The one she’d ‘borrowed’ from her father and never given back. “Where’d that come from?”

“Oh.” He smiled sheepishly and squeezed her hand. “You, uh, never asked for it back, and I kept forgettin’.... Found it yesterday an’ figured wearin’ it today was as good a way as any to give it back.”

Charity raised an impish eyebrow at his insinuation and somehow grinned wider. “Temptin’ as that is, dontcha think you might draw a tad too much attention if ya meander back to town from my place shirtless? Keep it for now.“ She pushed up on her toes to kiss his cheek. “I’ll reclaim it later.”

“If you two stand out there flirtin’ much longer, you’re gonna miss the fuckin’ sunrise!” Tavi hollered from inside the chapel. Edér and Charity both laughed bashfully and squeezed their joined hands tighter.

“She’s got a point,” he said, still smiling wide enough to crinkle his eyes at the corners.

“She does,” Charity nodded. “Nervous?”

“I was, a little,” Edér admitted. “That’s good, right? Knowin’ this is important an’ all. But...” He met her gaze steadily. “I’m not anymore.”

She giggled like a love struck teenager because it was her wedding day and she was allowed. “Same. Shall we?”

“Absolutely,” he grinned back and opened the door.

It looked like something out of a storybook; rows of candles lit down either side and across the front, rays of the sunrise spilling in through the windows to highlight the motes dancing through the air. Tavi was waiting at the front, grinning ear to ear. Her outfit was different, Charity noticed--still grey trousers and knee-high black boots, but she’d pulled on a surcoat over her sleeveless tunic that was the fanciest thing Charity had ever seen her wear. The ruffled hem almost brushed the tops of her boots, and the mid-bicep length sleeves were ever so slightly puffed, unless Charity’s eyes were playing tricks on her. The teal and grey color scheme was both typical Tavi and a very good choice.  It didn’t take long for them to traverse the length of the chapel and reach her. Charity raised an eyebrow and cocked her head toward Tavi’s outfit, and the elf just shrugged and mouthed ‘Later’ with a wink as she stepped around them to stand in the center aisle.

A traditional Eothasian wedding would have a witness each for bride and groom, but Tavi was the only one Charity and Edér trusted enough to know how fully they were still practicing Eothasians. And since she was good friends with both of them, they’d agreed that would be enough. The Berathian ceremony was the one that would count in most kith’s eyes, anyway. They could tweak traditions for this one.

Which they had done--been forced to do--in a couple places. Charity set her small bouquet down in front of the unlit trio of candles. She and Edér each took one of the narrower candles, lit it from the line of candles along the front wall, and returned them to their places before facing each other and joining hands.

Charity took a deep breath. This was another change; normally the priest officiating would not be one of the kith getting married, but--as with the witnesses--they didn’t have much choice. “Edér....” The swell of emotion in her chest choked her, and he squeezed her hands encouragingly. This, this is why priests don’t do their own... But she had Edér for support, steady and certain as the sun. She squeezed his hands back with a grateful smile and started again. “Edér, do you freely pledge your heart to me, swearing to stand by me and me alone, holding fast together through any dark times that come until the Light of joy shines once more in our lives?”

Edér smiled wide at her rush to get the words out, thumbs rubbing the backs of her hands, and nodded. “I surely do.”

Another shaky laugh and wide, giddy smile--Wael’s eyes, was she tearing up?--and it was her turn. “And I freely pledge my heart to you, swearing to stand by you in all things, binding myself to you and you alone, holding fast together through any dark times that come until the Light of joy shines once more in our lives.”

They loosened their grip and turned to face the candles. Their inner hands came together again, Edér’s palm pressed to Charity’s knuckles. On cue, Tavi stepped forward and wrapped the palm-wide yellow scarf(the most delicate thing Charity had ever knit, she was actually rather proud how well it turned out) around their joined hands.

Almost through, Char, you can do this. “Do we both pledge to respect and cherish each other, honoring our commitment in times both easy and hard, until the Wheel parts us?”

“I do,” Edér said, slipping his fingers between hers.

Charity grinned wide as she replied, “I do, too.” She took what she hoped was the last steadying breath and proceeded. “Upon... Upon our solemn, freely given oaths, I now proclaim us bonded in marriage from this day on.”

She and Edér each took one of the narrow candles with their free hands and brought them together over the wider one in between until the wick kindled. Then they set down their candles, and together unbound their hands, though neither let the scarf drop as they stared at each other, the world seeming frozen in breathless anticipation.

“And now, Mayor Teylecg,” Charity broke the spell, grinning wide, voice catching, “you can kiss your wife.”

Grinning so wide she thought his face might split, Edér tugged on the scarf to bring her closer, then let go to instead wrap his arms around her waist. “Nothin’ I wanna do more, Missus Teylecg,” he said, and obliged.

Charity was vaguely aware of Tavi whooping loud enough to wake the blazing dead, but that played distant second fiddle to her husband--husband!--holding her close for a kiss so passionately, purely joyful it took her breath away. She wrapped her arms around his neck, almost dropping the scarf as her hands curved the back of his head and she went on tiptoe to deepen the kiss. They both held it as long as they could before pulling away.

Charity settled back flatfooted, her hands slipping around to cradle Edér’s jaw. “You’re a real good kisser, husband,” she whispered.

Edér grinned boyishly and rested his forehead against hers. “You ain’t too bad yourself, wife.”

She giggled and tipped her chin forward to steal another kiss. “I love you.”

He grinned even wider and kissed the tip of her nose. “I love you, too.”

“Much as I’ve been lookin’ forward to this and loathe as I am to fuckin’ interrupt,” Tavi began as she did just that, “Hendyna’ll prob’ly be here before long t’ help you ‘get ready’, Char.”

“No, you’re right,” Charity sighed. She pushed up on her toes for one more kiss from her husband. See you in a couple hours, love.”

“Can’t wait, darlin’,” Edér said, giving her another sun-bright smile as he (reluctantly) let her go.

Neither can I, Charity agreed silently as she headed back to the house.

<>O<>O<>

The Berathian ceremony paled in comparison. It was lovely, of course, and she was touched by how much the people of Dyrford seemed genuinely happy for them, and Harbinger Boedmar did a fine job. But to Charity, that one was window dressing, a show to satisfy local customs. The first one... that was the one that counted, in her mind. She really would need to find some way of thanking Tavi for the suggestion.

But that could be handled later, because she was enjoying the party. Dengler and Peycg had outdone themselves with the food, and their staff insisted on handling the serving so the two of them could join the reception, knowing how close they were to Edér and Charity. There was music and dancing and everyone she considered a friend in her chosen home was here....

But the best part--well, aside from the fact Tavi had actually dressed up for them, and stayed that way for both ceremonies--was that Edér hardly left her side through the whole joyous, wonderful party. There were moments, of course, when they were pulled in opposite directions, but they always found their way back together.

“So happy for you,” Dengler said, shaking Edér’s hand while Peycg eschewed any trace of formality and just pulled them both into a hug. Both were common sentiments among the many friends and well-wishers, and it made Charity almost feel bad about her slowly rising urge to leave. She treasured her friends, but wanted to be alone with her husband, and finally the latter won out.

“Whaddya think the odds are we can sneak away?” she whispered to Edér, head resting on his shoulder.

“Well,” he surveyed the crowd. “They all look pretty happy and occupied. But we are the reason they’re here, so... ‘bout the same as sneakin’ away from that stelgaer.” 

She snorted a laugh and rubbed her hand along the scars that still marked his arm. “’Least they won’t try to maul us...”

“True,” Edér laughed.

“Whatcha talkin’ about?” Tavi asked as she plopped down in a nearby chair.

“How to get outta here without folk makin’ a fuss,” Edér said. “We’re both ready to call it a night.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet you are,” Tavi smirked.

“Not like that!” Charity automatically protested, but blushed and conceded, “Well, alright, yes like that, but I’m also just... tired of bein’ social.”

“I understand,” Tavi said with a wink. “You two just leave, I’ll handle any questions or whatever.”

Edér raised an eyebrow, one arm settling around Charity’s shoulders. “You sure, Tav?”

“Hel, Teylecg, I’m already wearin’ the closest fuckin’ thing to a dress I’ll likely ever wear in my life for you,” she laughed, tugging on the ruffle-hemmed surcoat.  “I think I can play diplomat for ya, too.”

“‘Preciate it, Tavi,” Edér said with a smile and Charity seconded that.

They waited for the right moment--when almost everyone was caught up in another fast tempo song--and snuck off, hurrying through the twilit streets hand in hand. They didn’t slow until they were almost halfway back to Charity’s--theirs now, and gods that made her giddy--house.

“Evenin’ stroll’s a good way to end things, huh?” Edér said, slipping his hand from hers to wrap his arm around her shoulders again.

“Nice an’ peaceful,” Charity agreed softly, before letting mischief color her voice as she amended, “though it ain’t over ‘til I’ve gotten this shirt back....” and wrapped one arm around his waist to tease her fingers under the green fabric meaningfully.

Edér chuckled, flinching as she brushed a ticklish spot. “I like the sound of that, but hang on til we get home, huh?”

“S’ppose I can manage that,” she said playfully. “Long as we don’t dilly dally too much. Husband.”

He kissed the top of her head. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Wife.”

----------------------------------------------------

OH MY GOD I DID IT THEY’RE MARRIED NOW WOO.

I’m gonna type up something separate with all the details about the Eothasian wedding headcanons, but I will say Charity’s dress is loosely inspired by this one(yes, Ranna, I was in your Ixamitl tag :D), just with less poofy sleeves, and Tavi’s outfit is from the Vailian clothing concept art, the one on the far right

[ben243s-transformation-stories]

Sam’s Dog Summer

“Sam, What do you want to do for the summer?” his mom asked. It was the last week of his sophomore year in high school, and sam wasn’t interested in any of the typical summer programs. “Mom, I want to spend the summer as a dog. Your dog.” he replied. “What?!?!” his mom could not believe her ears. “I’ve always loved dogs, and want to see what it would be like to be one. Besides, all of my friends will be gone and camp is so boring. “ he told her. Sam’s mom thought for a moment. Did he really want to do this? is he just testing me? “if you really want to do this you must remain naked the whole vacation, eat out of a dog bowl sleep on a dog bed use the bathroom outside like a dog obey my commands and no t.v. movies or video games.” she offered. She figured he would never agree with the inclusion of no tav. and video games, but he responded, “Fine, lets do it.” A couple of days later Sam's mom took him to the pet store to pick out his collar, leash, bowl, and toys. “Are you sure you want to do this?” She asked him. “Never more so” he replied. He looked carefully knowing the collar would be the only thing he would be wearing for the next few months. He hoped it would be a warm summer. Sam picked out a collar and leash combo with a patriotic motif. It was red white and blue and covered in flags. He picked out a shiny metal bowl, which his mom had engraved with his name. They picked out some squeaky toys, rawhide chews, and a big bag of dry dog food. Mom picked out a dog house for rainy days. Before they left sam had an ID tag made with his name on it for his collar. While sam was at school for his last day of 10th grade, his mother had a privacy fence installed around their backyard, and found a nice shady spot for the dog house. When Sam walked in from school he headed straight to his room. He found all of his clothes boxed up and a dog bed in the middle of the floor. All of his other furniture was gone. “Good you’re home.” his mom greeted him. “Strip!” she ordered. “But I have to go to the bathroom” he protested. “After you’re naked and outside Dog” she told him. Sam remembered the agreement and quickly stripped off his shirt, pants, shoes, and socks. He hesitated about his underwear, but shed that too after a moment. His mom looked him up and down, this was the first time she’d seen him totally naked for a long time. She snapped the collar around his neck and led him out the back door. “ Your toilet awaits.” she announced. While sam was exploring the backyard, his mom scooped his clothes up and locked them away. “Well this saves on a summer wardrobe” she thought. Sam walked around the yard for a while enjoying the breeze on his bare skin and penis. Soon the urge to pee hit him and he decided to pee where he was standing. it felt strange to be peeing in the yard and yet somehow liberating. he decided to checkout his dog house next. He found it was just roomy enough for him to lie down in. Next to the dog house was a bowl of water. he stuck his head in and tried to drink. it took a lot more effort than he thought it would. After lounging in the sun for a while his mom called him for dinner. “Come sam, Dinner, Good Boy!” sam got up and ran into the house as fast as he could. The instant he walked in the door he could smell the steak and french fries that his mother had cooked. He was starving. She led him to the kitchen and said “Here’s your diner”. and showed him to a bowl of dry dog food. The dog food nuggets were a huge let down after smelling the steak. The dog food tasted awful, but it was all he was fed so he ate it anyway. “Lets see how long he keeps this up” thought his mom as she watched him over her steak. Sam spent the rest of the evening lying on the floor of the living room as his mother watched CSI, as dogs aren’t allowed on the furniture. Secretly his mom thought this was a strange way for her son to want to spend his summer, but enjoyed seeing him completely helpless and dependent on her. She decided to put him out one last time before putting him to bed. This time sam had to do both so he ended up squatting on the lawn. When he came back in, she led him up to his dog bed and left him there for the evening. As she tucked herself into bed, she thought maybe this wont be so bad after all. Sam certainly seemed to be enjoying it. It took sam a while to fall asleep, partly from newness of the bed, but also due to the giddiness of the whole situation. He had never expected his mother to agree to it. Sam Slept in, and when he got up he remembered the best dreams he had ever had. He also had the biggest erection he had ever had. He waited for it to go down, but he had to go to the bathroom so he found his mom to let him out. She looked at his erection and smiled as she opened the door. She watched him from the dining room window, and saw that he had no embarrassment about being naked, or using the yard as a toilet. After finishing her breakfast Sam's mom took a tennis ball out with her and asked sam if he wanted to play fetch. He nodded his assent, so she threw the ball. Sam ran after it. when he reached it he reached down to pick it up and his mother said “Not like that, dogs pick them up with their mouths.” Sam instantly bent down and scooped up the ball in his mouth. He carried it back to his mom. They continued to play this way for an hour. She noticed that he started panting. That was a nice touch. She couldn’t help but stare at her sweat covered son as he chased the ball across the yard. After a hard morning of play, Mom brought him in for lunch and watched as he ate. “You know, if you’re going to be a dog, you should be walking on all fours.”. “OK mom, whatever you say.” he replied and dropped to his knees. They played most of the rest of the weekend and mom petted Sam's back enjoying him more as her pet than her son. When the week started Sam’s mom had to go back to work so sam was told he would be spending the day outside. It was nice and sunny so sam was thrilled. He gulped down his breakfast that morning and ran out the door to explore the back yard. Work was boring that day, and when she got home she found sam sunning himself in the yard. Sam had hardly noticed the passage of time, he had been chasing birds and the occasional squirrel and had thought that this was how he should be spending his his life, not sitting in a boring classroom. She walked out and patted him on the stomach, and led him inside. She fed sam a special treat of beef with his dog food which he lapped right up. As the weeks progressed Sam's mom noticed that he seemed to be taking to this dog thing better that she thought he would. If anything he almost seemed to be acting more like a dog than a boy with each passing day. Mom was a little concerned, but found herself liking the way he was acting and wishing she could keep him this way forever. Sam's mom did some research and found places where people enjoyed acting like animals and found there was a vet in her area who sometimes saw people like that. She decided to make and appointment for sam for the weekend. The vet agreed to see them, but only late at night when the office was closed for his “regular” clients. Sam's mom found a robe and made him put it on for the ride even though he resisted. “I’m a dog” sam thought. “Dogs don’t wear clothes.” the instant they were in the office sam shed the robe and licked the vet. He did a full examination, and declared that Sam was fit and asked his mom if she wanted to have him vaccinated. “I sure do. I would also like to have him microchipped in case he ever gets loose.” She replied. “Of course, just fill out this paperwork” said the vet and handed her a stack of forms. While Sam's mom was filling them out the vet filled several syringes and proceeded to inject sam with the fluids. He whined a little but took them well. “Good Dog!” the vet praised him. “He’ll be a little sore for a couple days but should be all right. Here are you rabies tag and a tag for the id chip.” “Thanks. now I can get a license for him.” Sam's mom told the vet. Sam sat on his haunches on the exam room floor and found he only vaguely understood what they were talking about. Something told him he should understand more, but he knew his mother only wanted what was best for him so he didn’t let it worry him. “Would you like to have him neutered?” the vet asked. Sam's mom thought for a few minuets, but then decided “Not yet, thanks.” “Ok, lets settle up the bill and get a copy of the records for you.” the vet said. Mom paid and tried to get sam to wear the robe to the car. He refused and since it was dark his mom just let him walk to the car in all his naked glory, hoping no one would see them. The drive home from the vet was peaceful, as it was late and not many cars were on the road. Sam’s mom (Owner?) reflected back on how the summer had played out so far. She had enjoyed talking and spending time with sam, but he had always spent most of his time watching tv or playing video games. Although they no longer spoke (everyone knows dogs don’t talk) Sam was spending more time with his mom and they seemed to be connecting in ways they never had before. She looked in the rearview mirror and saw sam sleeping on the back seat of the car. His legs were waving like he was running and he was moving his rear as if he had a wagging tail. Then next morning Sam's mom got a call from one of her friends that he was going out of town and wanted someone to watch his dog. Sam was sitting on the floor staring up at her with his tongue hanging out of his mouth. “Would you like a friend to play with?” She asked him. “woof woof woof” he replied. She told her friend she would love to watch his dog and he could drop it off before he left. When Ryan dropped off Fangs, Sam was still in the backyard. “I hope he doesn't give you any trouble this week. Just feed him and let him out and everything should be great.” He instructed. “have a great trip” Sam's mom told him. After he left she brought sam in and let them greet each other. They sniffed and licked at each other. Sam's mom couldn’t tell the difference between the dog and her sons behavior. The two spent most of the week chasing each other around the yard, rolling in the mud and even shared a rawhide chew before heading off to dinner. When Sam's mom saw them covered in mud, she had to hose them down before she would let them into the house. When Ryan picked up fangs the next morning, Sam's mom decided to confide in him as they had been flirting across the fence for months. “Sam told me he wanted to spend the summer as my dog. I could hardly believe my ears when he said it. I thought he was crazy, but he’s taken to it like a fish to water.” “That's odd, but why are you telling me this?” Ryan wondered. “We’ll I’m going to have to go to a conference for work, that I can’t get out of. Would you mind watching him for a while?” She asked. He readily agreed since she had watched fangs for him and they had gotten along so well. Sam's mom dropped him off early the next morning so she could catch her flight. Ryan took one look at Sam and smiled. “I’ve got big plans for you this week.” Ryan spent the next few hours watching Sam to see how far he had taken to his new roll as a dog. Sam's behavior was almost exactly what you would expect to see from an average dog. He tried to talk to him but anything more than basic commands were met with a puzzled look. “Good“ Ryan thought. “His mom will be pleased when she gets him back.” Sam's sleep was uneasy and he awoke feeling tired. when Ryan greeted him in the morning he sensed that something was different. “So you want to be a dog do you?!?” he asked. “your vet and I have been talking, and we have an appointment set up for you. I think you’ll like the results.” The vet was normally closed on Sundays but had come in early to set up for the special procedures that Ryan had requested. “You’re sure you have the ok to do this?” the vet asked. “yep heres the form” Ryan produced a form on which he had forged Sam's moms signature. “Very well, I’ll get started in a few minuets. let me set up a few last things.” Ryan had requested that the vet remove most of his fingers and thumbs, neuter him, and attempt to graft a tail unto him. This first round of surgeries would produce a dramatic result and make sam feel more like a dog he was becoming. “The surgeries went well, and you can take him home in a few hours. I suggest you set a place where he can sleep in a comfortable position for the next few days. If he takes well to this, we can do the next round in a few days once he's had time to heal.” the vet instructed Ryan. He also handed him some bottles of pills for the pain and to prevent an infection. When Ryan finally took sam home, he was still groggy from the anastesia and was heavily bandaged around his waist and hands. Ryan could see a long furry tail sticking out from under the bandages. “The perfect touch” He thought to himself. It would be several days before the bandages would come off and he could see how well the surgeries went, but so far Ryan was pleased. When sam came to, he knew something was different but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. The vet had given him enough pain killer that he had a nice buzz. The vet had also decided to forgo the typical lampshade collar, as Sam's teeth weren’t sharp enough to damage any of the incision sites. Ryan walked into the room to refill the food and water dishes that sam and fangs had been sharing, and when he saw that sam was awake, he smiled. “Glad to see you’re finally up” he said. Sam Tried a wag and felt something flopping against the floor. Looking around he saw a tail swishing weakly behind him. Something in his mind said “But I don’t have a tail?”. When sam tried to rise he felt a jolt of pain in his hands- no now definitely paws. He looked down and saw they were very different than he remembered them. Sam realized he was very hungry and gingerly maneuvered himself the few steps to the food dish. He was happy to see the softer moist food instead of his normal dryer fare. He ate as much as he could than he drained the water dish. Ryan was pleased to see him eating, But was distressed because he had hoped to get one more surgery done to Sam's hind legs to make it easier for him him to walk and some facial surgery in an attempt to give him a snout. Sam's recovery had taken longer than expected and his mother was due back soon. Ryan wondered how she would react to the changes. He felt that she would have some trouble accepting them, but knew that he could sweet talk her into accepting them. He had been watching them since they moved into the neighborhood, and had gotten to know both in ways most people never do. He had only recently started flirting with Sam's mom in an effort to get himself into their lives. This twist had been exactly what he had been waiting for. He had known of Sam's request long before he had asked for dog sitting help. He had parked his car in the airport lot and caught a cab home. It was fairly expensive, but well worth it. Ryan had hastened the mental transformation with hypnotic suggestion, which sam had proved very susceptible to, but the majority of the change had been done by sam himself. This was truly the way he felt he should be though sam would never have been able to put it into words on his own. Sam grew stronger over the next couple of days and when the bandages were fully removed he seemed to be able to move without pain. His tail still seemed kind of weak but he was gaining control quickly. Ryan made sure sam was clean and neat in preparation for his mom to pick him up. When she saw him she nearly fainted. When she left she had left her son, and was now picking up some strange cross between the man and dog. Secretly she had hoped to keep him this way, but she was not prepared to take such drastic steps. “What have you done to him?!??” she demanded. Ryan replied “I have only helped him become what he was truly destined to be.” Sam's mom was furious that she had not been consulted, but was not upset with the results. “now I can keep him with me forever” she thought. She had already started selling off his clothes and stuff and had made a tidy sum. Acting as indignant as possible, she grabbed sam and dragged him home. She wasn’t thinking too clearly and didn’t care if anyone saw them. Ryan was smart enough not to try to stop her or follow. “Give her a day or two, and she’ll see that this was a change for the better.” he thought to himself. He watched carefully through the window of his house to be sure they would be all right. Sam's mom considered her possible courses of action over the next few days. While she was sitting in the chair, sam came over and put his head in her lap. He let out a small whine to get her attention, and she soon found herself scratching his head and petting him. There was no way Sam could return to school. It was due to start in a few days, so she would have to withdraw him. She hoped she would not have to explain too much, maybe just home schooling would be a good explanation. What was she going to do about Ryan? She was still mad, but she was deeply attracted to him. Whenever she tried to complain to him she fell under his spell and just started agreeing to whatever he wanted. Before she knew it, she had withdrawn sam for school (the classes were over crowded already and the staff seemed happy to have one less student to worry about. Sam's mom and Ryan had also scheduled sam in for his second round of surgeries since he was already half way through. Ryan had even convinced her to let him move in to “help take care of Sam after the surgeries.” Sam's recovery seemed to go much quicker this time with both of them nursing him back to health. He took to the leg modifications like a fish to water. He seemed to move around more easily and had less trouble with things getting in the way when he relieved himself. The vet had proven him self to be a prodigy with how smoothly everything went, and how few scars and how small they were. As she watched him running through the yard with fangs playing, she was happy that she had decided to go forward. Once the surgeries were complete sam could almost be mistaken for a normal dog. There was still a problem with giving him a coat of fur, but he had a nice snout, and with a few modifications his tongue hung out. The vet had warned that he would have to learn how to talk again, but sam hadn’t said anything but “Woof Woof” since the summer started. He now had control over his tail and could wag it as well as any other dog. He and fangs had become great friends, almost like they were from the same litter. Behaviorally Sam was now fully canine. There was no human left and sam seemed quite happy with his new life. As the weather stared to turn colder sam spent much more time inside with his two masters and friend. Life could not be better, Sam's mom thought and had convinced herself that Ryan's ideas and surgeries were for the best for sam. She was impressed with the results. and knew that this was how things should be. They finished getting rid of all of Sam's human stuff and used the money to pay off all of her bills. This gave her and Ryan more time to spend together. Ryan turned his attention to Sam's mom, and thought “I wonder how she would like to be a dog?”