#it fits from astarion pov

[suitetarts]

someone please explain to me how will wood managed to make the most astarion x durge song of all time with 'against the kitchen floor'

[ooogaboogabeepbop]

The Ball

(Image is NOT mine, it’s from Kate Kotova’s YouTube Community.)

Astarion x F!reader

Word count: A LOOOTTT

First time writing so please give any constructive criticism. Tell me if Astarion is out of character or whatnot. Here I wanted him to be pretty frustrated so he’s rougher than usual. PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS.

Summary: You were getting ready for a ball until Astarion randomly fucks you into oblivion.

Warnings: use of gross words, cervix fucking, VERY rough sex, extreme discomfort, neediness, blood, ruined makeup, anger, cnc, pain, tears, ripping of clothing, weird inconsistent pov, scent, breeding kink, cringe writing, past trauma, voyerism, harsh choking, lots of eye rolling, short sentences, regret

——————-

The edge of the drawer dug into your ribs harshly and the pain was becoming intolerable. Your palms flat against the waxed wood, pushing against the weight behind you. You winced when the figure behind pressed harder into you, being far from comfortable. It was like talking to a brick wall when you opened your mouth to speak. He was stuck in a deep trance involving your scent, and the unsteady beating of your heart. All he could hear was the hammering of the pulse and you smelled and looked absolutely amazing. Beyond amazing. Astounding. The way your dress fitted you perfectly. Breasts threaten to burst out of the dress, almost overflowing from the top. Your cleavage being the most prominent part of your whole get up, other than the accessories. The dress was white with laces on the rim surrounding your breasts, and on the end of your clothing as well. The outfit shimmered and was made to stand out from the others in the ball. The jewelry was what really stole the show though, dangle earrings, waist chain over the fancy fabric, bracelet, and a pearled necklace. You were adorned head to toe, your beauty would stun the crowd. Yet Astarion has you here, secured in his grip. It’s like he didn’t want anyone to see you in such a glamorous outfit. Someone could steal you away. It has been a while since Astarion initiated such intimate touching. With his view on sex tainted, you withheld from being inappropriate in any way. Worried about scaring him away, or reminding him of anything unpleasant. You stuck to loving words and affections that he so eagerly accepted and appreciated. The man was madly in love, and you, yourself. You showered him in so much care that it perplexed him. He only imagined or dreamed of being looked out for during years of hell, and never thought that it would actually come to fruition.

His nose and lips firmly pressed against your neck, providing soft kisses here and there. Cold breath sends shivers through your body. It was like a chilly winter breeze, making your hair stand. The kisses were sloppy, leaving small trails of saliva up and down your throat. You had an expensive perfume on, a bitter flavor to the tongue that he did not seem to mind. Too engrossed in this moment to care, wanting to feel and taste more. Maybe he liked the combination of the perfume and the flavor of your skin. Grabbing the arm that was locked around your waist, you squeeze, giving him a small warning to stop. The ball had already started, he promised to take you out dancing and flaunt your beauty to everyone there and show that you were his. It appears he regretted this decision. You were excited to sway and spin, to be close to him and your companions. You longed to see the others and the others wanted to see you too. You wanted to see the lights and the decorations. To see just how fancy the place was.

“I want to greet everyone.” You say, with his arms still locked around you. You tried excusing yourself to not remind him of ugly recollections. Trying not to have him cringe in disgust at any possible moment. Even with all of his confessions, he still held 200 years of secrets and uncomfortable experience that he was not willing to share. His coldness migrated behind your ear, hearing his sharp inhale. Very touchy this evening. What has him so worked up? Was he okay?

“They will see you soon enough, my love. Be patient.” He assured whilst rubbing his face against you, groaning, trying to lock in all of your musk mixed with perfume. He was ravenous. Mouth agape. A strong hand traced your left arm all the way up to your shoulder, and flipped the few wisps of your hair to the other side. Kisses now traced your jaw. Lips dry and chapped, moisture gone from the smooches. You could see the white curls come into view. Body flush against yours like a mold. Pale hands gripping your waist harshly and angling them to have the curve of your ass on his groin. “You look like an absolute treat tonight.” You could feel how each roughened finger dug deep to the point of almost hurting. Oh how you loved this. You missed his touch. Whether it be soft or hard, you still managed to enjoy yourself. Every movement made warmth course through you. Unexpectedly, he pricked your skin with one singular fang and licked the sweet red bead that came out with a sigh. Driving him crazy. Cool tongue teasing the sharp pain.

You grabbed the curls and ripped his lips off you.

“How about you be patient?” Your grip was firm, hurting his sensitive scalp. He hissed and even dared to flashed his fangs at you.

“You are hurting me.” You say bitterly. He presses less of his weight against you, letting you finally breathe better. But still being sandwiched between him and the drawer caused a sting.

“Still hurting me…”

He reluctantly pulls back, not much, but enough to keep the edge of the drawer from biting at your skin.

“I am starving—“ Words nothing but a whisper.

“I can tell.”

“Well be a dear, and give me just one bite?” He asked with honeyed words and puppy eyes.

“It’s never just one bite with you, Star.”

His hands roamed your body through your white dress, pawing at your breast, then down in between your thighs. The dress being an annoying obstacle.

“Oh how I missed you.” He sighs. You giggle at his words while you twirl a strand in your finger. It has not been long at all. He was quite literally in the other room while you did your makeup. And before that, both of you organized and planned your outfits for the day of the party together. You look over your shoulder with a smirk and a raised brow.

“Star, I was simply getting ready for the ball. I won’t take much longer.” You take a glimpse at his attire. All white, matching yours. The turtle neck, the colors, the swirls and patterns of his suit were all beautiful. Just like him. The shoulder pads that pronounced his shoulders. And his broad chest. You wanted to run your hands up and down his muscular figure but he firmly held you locked in place. He leaned into you again, though not as hard as before, your back arching to accommodate his body. Grinding on your bum. Noticing just how steel hard he was, your knees shook and your heels almost gave out.

“One bite? It won’t take long, love.” The man was hungry despite being fed the day before.

“Yes.” He immediately dives in and pierces your jugular. Fangs cause a sharp sting that makes you flinch. He will feed, then the two of you can finally go to the ball. Not wanting to suck you dry, he took shallow gulps. A moan rumbled from his chest and it vibrated through you. Astarion looked so hot with his composure uncharacteristically broken. The blood dribbling from the puncture being the sweetest he's ever savored. It was like some form of drug. Astarion’s favorite medicine. Faint whines of his satisfaction adding to the wetness below. You could see his brows knit together in concentration from the corner of your eye. Savoring you. He continued to rub your cunt through your dress while your hips circled to increase the pace that was set. He was too distracted to notice the teasingly slow speed of his fingers. Or maybe not. Perhaps he was deliberately trying to drive you insane. The friction of your panties and dress mixed with his talented digits made your clit throb. Your hand pushed his down, trying to create more traction to satisfy your need. Your hips still managed to gyrate even under his hold, rubbing right up on his erection. You moved faster against him, earning a whine from your vampire's throat. The hard rod pressed to your bum had you yearning for more. He kept moaning. Large pale hands traveled up to the very start of your dress and roughly pulled down, ripping the clothing and bra with it. The initial sound of the rippage filling the room with its sheer force. You shrieked as your tits suddenly jumped out of its confinements. Bouncing from its vicious release. Soft and supple skin, round and pretty nipples. Your outfit is in complete tatters.

“Astarion!” You shouted. Visibly upset. Such a beautiful dress put to waste. You waited months for this dress to be tailored, for its patterns and shimmers to be suited into it. So happy to try it on, so happy the way it hugged your curves when you got your hands on it. You attempted to turn to scold the ever living shit out of him but he held you in place with his strength. “Ugh!” You leered down at the irreversible mess and felt your face grow hot with rage. Then you looked into the mirror at the sight. Your nipples out in the open. How you wished to see him behind you, to see the dark and lustful red eyes looking deep into yours. What's gotten him so wild? Shifting his gaze towards your tits through the mirror, he moaned at the view of you. Quickly moving his palms onto your plump flesh; his big hands dwarfing both mounds. Astarion squeezed and played to his heart's desire and all you did was watch. Pliant skin caving and yielding. You were angry, livid, exasperated but… when was the last time he’s sought you out to touch you so sensually? When was the last time he felt okay with pleasure? You would put your anger aside, albeit begrudgingly, for this rare occasion. You were gonna give him hell afterwards though. Have him pay for the dress AGAIN and some complaining. It felt amazing, having him play, grope, and gently dig his fingers in. Savoring you. Passionately massaging them. You were upset. So upset. But you loved the touch. He was disorganized and chaotic which was so uncommon of him. Eventually, once you’ve calmed, your hands combine with his large ones, joining in on the fun. Then you realized something. The door to the room was open. Your head swirled to its direction and you were able to hear the distant chatter. Terror took a hold of you.

“Star. Stop. They will see.” Your concerns meant nothing to him though even when you pushed. He was too lost in you to even care. A huff was his only response. His fangs soon left you and he raised his head to nip at your ear. The blood from the wound seeped into your pearled necklace.

“I am being serious.” He grabbed your face, the skin indenting in his strong grip, and turned it enough to give you a searing kiss. The smooch was slippery from the gloss and the lipstick stained him, mixing with the blood he took from you. You sighed at the way his lips pressed upon yours. He parted his lips and snaked his tongue in your mouth, drawing an obscene moan as you unhinged your jaw for him. The blend of lipstick, gloss, blood, and the perfume he kissed off was rather tart. You opened your eyes and looked into the mirror. You looked so lewd. Both of you panted into the kiss. His left hand still played with your breast. His right hand grabbed yours and placed it flat against the wood, fingers interlocking. Astarion abandoned your mouth and licked long strides up your neck, cleaning the remaining blood then proceeded to give more pecks to it.

“What is this all about, Star?”

“I simply crave you little love. Is that so bad?”

“You ruined my dress. It was so glamorous…I waited months for this you damned bastard.”

“I’ll have another one made, my treasure.” He did not seem phased by your anger. The glam clothing was being pulled and balled up, enough to show your plush thighs. Wearing stockings and lingerie underneath. You half expected to fuck, just not so early.

“My, my. What’s this all about, dear?” He repeated your question from earlier as nimble fingers ran along the stockings. You blushed deeply at his words. Hands fixed on your butt. Delicately rubbing.

“Astarion, the door. Least close the door.” He pushed your face against the drawer, and raised the rest of your dress, showing your pretty ass. The fabric laid right above your hips. He slapped it hard. Another one came after that with full force. The sting was so intense tears began to form. No, you were not going to cry with how much effort you put into your makeup. He grumbled at your request.

“Not a chance. Where else will I get my warmth from? Karlach? Lae’zel?” He tsked. Red marks adorned your bum now from the manhandling. Blood rushing and heating the stinging flesh.

The warmth radiating onto his icy palms pleased him as it made a nice contrast. “You know, It gets quite cold being undead, darling.” Pouting as he feigned sadness.

“I will still be here once you come back. It's just mere feets away! Plus I'm sure Karlach wouldn't mind sharing her never ending heat.”

“Ah, but that would be no fun. Truthfully, the possible thrill of being caught excites me to no end…and I believe it does the very same to you too, darling.” He said, slipping the panties to the side to expose you. “I can tell just by your heartbeat.” He murmured. You purred when his rough thumb slithered up and down your wet slit. You sway your waist to taunt his desire. Without warning, he soon rooted two digits deep inside to prepare you to fuck hard. The sudden intrusion caused you to bite your lip. He grazed and memorized each ridge of your soggy cunt, especially the spongy part. You grinded in tandem to his fingers but it wasn’t enough.

“Then please, hurry up.” you whimper. He hummed.

“Since you asked nicely.” He caressed the bud halfheartedly. Swiftly he lost interest then pulled his fingers out. You could hear the belt buckle and his pants unfasten.

He slid all the way into your gummy walls with a loud hiss. You felt incredibly full, so stretched out and already worn from his dick. Cunt squeezing and contracting, trying to adjust to the fullness. You were so overwhelmed that it made you dizzy. Your pussy ravenously swallowed his thick dick which was not helping with your lightheadedness. The tip of his cock snuggling your cervix, causing your knees to weaken.Good thing he was holding you up. There was an impossibly deep, deep want inside your walls that set you ablaze. The feeling so intense your legs wobbled more. The desire was gut wrenching, so powerful and desperately needed his cock. He was fully sheathed but it was not enough. You needed him to move, drag and stroke himself along slick walls. Your clit throbbed. Placing your fingers onto the bundle of nerves you spun quick circles that briefly had your eyes roll. You couldn’t wait anymore and began to throw yourself back on him, forcing a garbled moan out of him. Both of you needed to get this over with fast. Cursing yourself for falling into your own desires as easily as he did. All he had to do was close the door but no. He loves risks and this situation made his dick painfully hard for him. What is pleasure without a little pain? You imagined him saying. He observed you like a hawk, watching you fuck yourself. Hearing him gulp then heave faster. His mouth was open, curls misplaced (from his usual hairdo), and brows knitted together again… A deafening laughter came from the halls when you began to panic. You stopped to peer at the cracked open door. He tightly grabbed onto your waist and pressed his thumbs into your back dimples, treating them as thumb holders. The first thrust was hard. You were caught off guard when your body lunged forward, causing objects to fall from the desk you leaned on. The laughing paused. Then the next one was even harder. He barely even started and tears began to sting in your eyes. His hair now falling towards his face, ruining his perfect pomade. Each movement he made, his locks swiftly followed. You felt the way his cock hauled to and fro. He knew how tight and warm you were but it always left him in shambles. Your walls clenched, subduing his bulging veins, and molding his dick on each thrust. He wanted to cum. He wanted to be deeper. He wanted to be one with you. Anxiety was through the roof but, thankfully, the people accompanying the halls continued with their conversation. All your attention was on the door where all the sounds originated from. The pace changed as you tried to listen for any footsteps.

Then all of a sudden he trembled and went stiff. He placed his chest against you for leverage. Lowering his head, listening how each breath was a struggle for him. You could see his wet curls in your peripheral vision. You turned your head to look.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” You asked with genuine fear in your heart. Endless questions began to flood in your head. What if he didn’t want it? What if he regretted this decision? What if a bad memory was prompted? Was he disgusted by the thoughts of long ago?

“I’m close.” He choked out, “I need you to come first.” You found yourself relieved that he wasn’t uncomfortable. He was far from it. He withheld his own pleasure though, choosing to serve you before anything else. Being used to lifelong servitude and to pleasing others, it was only natural to him. This was going to change eventually. Astarion was walking on a thin line and quickly losing his balance. It took all his will and power just not to cum deep in your womb. He was right on the edge, so close all he needed was a push. You whined and wiggled your hips.

“Do not move.” He ordered, cock violently twitching inside you and mouth pulled into a snarl.

“Just cum!” You could see his head shake from the corner of your vision, “please!” You lifted your face from the drawer and held onto the wood the best you could. Your hips snapped back into him. He threw his head back and groaned loudly as if it pained him.

“Please, please, please, please!” You continued to beg. He was seconds from bursting just from your pleading. Your manicured nails drove deep marks on the drawer and the mirror began to shake back and forth. Your rapid breath fogged up the reflection in front of you and blocked the view. You kept going faster. Your earrings swayed back and forth with all the movement, along with your long necklace that was repeatedly bumping against your breasts. His whole body weight was on you now, ceasing your thrusts, and he placed himself deep inside. The drawer was back to painfully jabbing at you and it kept you from breathing properly. And whatever air trapped in your lungs was forced out of you when he rammed into you one last time. His cockhead glued to your cervix when he blew his fat load into you. His eyes went wide. Hair completely down. He looked like he was dying and ascending at the same time then damn near screamed.

He leaned back to give your aching bones some rest with a sweaty forehead against your shoulder. He was groaning even past his orgasm. You reached up to caress him.

“My star. I really wanted to go to the ball.” You sigh. He held onto your breasts again and pinched your nipples. “Are you not done?” Your makeup was ruined and so was your dress. You didn’t even get to cum either. But that was okay, as long as he relished in himself for once.

“Not quite. I’m sorry, darling. I’m sure there’s a spare dress.” He lifted his head and applied soft kisses to your cheeks

“Star, I really liked this dress.”

“I am sorry, my treasure.”

“This occasion was important to me.”

“I’m sorry…” It’s not often he would apologize. “Please, one more…” He sounded so weak and shattered. His head against your back just huffing and puffing. He held onto your waist, lovingly running with thick fingers down your exposed skin. Your skin was squishy compared to his rough finger pads. He was still hard and deep within you, his tip still cuddling your cervix. Another sigh escaped your lips, and you felt your clit throb again. Still unsatisfied. Your eyebrows arched upwards at the sensation. He wanted more and so did you. He felt so good just being seated inside you with his cum seeping out of you, most likely staining his pants and traveling down his balls. You could feel the stretch his thick dick provided to your abused walls. The same familiar feeling of want was still coiled up within, you needed release so badly. You wanted him to fuck it out of you. You bit your lip and looked into the mirror. Pretending to see his own reflection standing behind you. The thought of it made you clamp down on him and you both moaned. You turned your head and looked into his cat-like eyes. His broken voice did not match the way he was glaring at you. Seeming possessive.

Astarion pressed your back against his chest and your lips instinctively pressed on his jaw when he did so. When he pulled out, you could feel his cum spill between your thighs. Must’ve been very pent up. He moved his hand up towards the torn dress that was clinging to your hips, and tried to pass it down your legs, but the waist chain kept it from doing so. He ripped the pearled chain, and the beads fell onto the floor with the dress itself. The torn material was a tripping hazard that pooled around your feet. You didn’t even try to express your anger since he wouldn’t have acknowledged it. The only clothing you had on was the lace panties, the stockings, the jewelry, and your high heels. The vampire behind you was still completely clothed. You could still sense his icy coolness even through the layers of his attire. Your slim hand went down to begin playing with your clit.

His arm wrapped around your waist as the other slid his dick back inside you. Your pussy welcomed him hungrily. Your other hand grabbed onto his strong forearm as he began his thrusts. You kissed his jaw and cheeks, staining them a nice red with the remaining pigment you had on your lips. Astarion shut his eyes for a brief moment, cherishing in your care. He felt overwhelmed with love and lust. He had no idea how to express it. You were the best thing that’s happened to him. Finally someone who would put him first. Providing him soft affection and kind words even when he thought he didn’t deserve it. Being treated so kindly angered him in a way. The way you kissed him was so gentle compared to the way he was fucking you. Astarion felt guilty for rutting into you so harshly, but he couldn’t contain what he was feeling. Whatever that feeling was.

He looked down to watch as you played with yourself. Seeing your hand movements down between your breasts. Each thrust had them bounce. Your mascara ran down your flushed cheeks as your lipstick smeared against your chin and nose. Your eyeshadow and liner was smudged as well. It was all a mess and he loved it. He loved this. He loved you. Something so beautiful ravaged by him. Astarion kept going and wouldn’t stop; he couldn't. Not with the way your walls eagerly swallowed him. How it would squeeze down on him everytime he pulled back, asking him not to leave. You were velvety, tight, and wet. Feeling every ridge and every flutter. Felt your legs shake and wobble. He sensed how you would progressively compress on him the closer you got. Barely even able to shove himself fully into you. The tip kept hitting that perfect spot, the spot that had your eyes rolling and he kept striking and beating it devastatingly fast. You stopped kissing him, having a hard time breathing through the vicious motions. You can’t think. Everything was a blur and you felt dizzy. Your pretty nails dug into his forearm without a care in the world. The sound of your hips meeting was far too loud, anyone with ears would be able to listen. You tried your best to stay quiet, but the hits Astarion kept giving was blowing your cover. The slapping was loud, the way the desk rumbled was loud, the way the mirror shook was loud and each time it trembled it would hit the wall. You hoped the music was deafening enough to muffle everything while he was giving you a throrough fuck. Completely surrendering yourself to him. Taking him so well. Your hair was all over your face now, whisps sticking to sweat, to tears, and to gloss. The edge of the drawer was pinching the hand that was between your legs and it hurt, squishing your arm. Astarion began to lean forwards now which made it even worse making your nails dig deeper into his sleeved arm to brace yourself. He was never this rough before. One hand came up and moved your hair out of the way to smooch you.

“Good pet.” He whispered rasply. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. He bended further into you. Not only did the drawer now hurt your arm but it went back to crushing your ribs. You were on your tippy toes from the positioning and positive that your heels were breaking. Your fingers rubbed quick circles on your clit while he plowed through you, which had a sob escape you. You’ve been trying to keep quiet. Despite the other ruckus the both of you have been doing, the last thing you wanted was someone hearing you delighting yourself in such a publicly debauched way. He himself wasn’t holding back though. Anyone would be able to hear him panting. You were doing this to him. It all felt so wrong but it only further encouraged the throbbing in your core. He let a long, pained groan go while baring his teeth. The sharp fangs gleamed in the light as he slowly glided his tongue over them. He was frustrated and wanted this to last longer.

“Gonna cum again?” You tease.

“Yes.” His eyes were wide now as he slammed in. He looked crazed. Like a rabid animal chasing his own high. White silver hair framing his sculpted features. Red orbs peering through the strands. He was actually enjoying himself. Actually enjoying sex without the weight of his past bearing down on him. That realization made you gush. Eyes rolling as you felt his (previous) cum and wetness drip down your ankles.

“Yeah?” You coo.

“Yes.”

“Then do it. Fuck your child into me. Do it. Fuck me.” You said through gritted teeth. You didn’t mean for it to sound like a command and it made your heart drop the second those words left your mouth. You could only hope at the moment that he was okay with it. You were going to apologize until he jerked your hair back and forced your face upwards. Unleashing something primal the second you finished that sentence. He wanted you to bear his child even if it was an impossible feat. Astarion hates kids but the thought drove him mad and he was willing to give you everything you desired. He kept pulling until you were able to look into his red eyes. Towering over you. You could see just how deranged he appeared. Consumed by passion. The insatiable hunger that radiated off his cold body was intoxicating. Your back was impossibly arched now and you felt like you were gonna snap in half. Even more so whenever he bucked his hips. The severe pain on your arm made you abandon your needy clit.

“Yeah? Like that, darling? Huh? Just like that?” You couldn’t say a word. Not one. The ache in your ribs, back, scalp and neck was intolerable but you needed him to cum. To not care about anything else but his own pleasure. You could feel his dick pummeling through your guts and mistreating your cervix. Somehow you were still reaching your high.

“This is what you want? Huh? Yes? No? Tell me.” He spoke but it didn’t mean anything. All words lost their meaning. Astarion was fucking your brains out. The heels broke under his ministrations. He was wrecking everything. Your vision went blurry from the tears, they kept spilling and wouldn’t stop. You were going to cum crying. You were gonna cum just like this.

“So cockdumb you can’t even answer me?” The eye contact was driving you both crazy. The view he had was so fucking hot you wouldn’t believe it. His cum stained balls smacking your clit with each hit. You grounded your cunt against him just to grind your clit against his balls and you rolled your hips for more. Finally your bundle of nerves was getting the attention it deserved. Your mouth was open, spilling silent cries when your eyes moved to the back of your head. No longer able to stare into his blown pupils. He gruffed in anger and grabbed you by the throat instead of your hair.

“Look at me.” He told you as his hand squeezed ruthlessly. You listened. “There you go, my sweet little treat. You’re taking me so well.” Astarion smiled down at you villainously, teeth white and shiny. Silver hair all over the place. Eyes manic. He was fucking mental. Juices flowed down as you came, If his pants were not ruined before, it was ruined now. You came looking deep into his soul, violently trembling and jolting in snapped heels. You needed to scream but couldn't because of the choking. Mouth opened and closed for air. The tear soaked makeup slightly burned when it slipped into your eyes. Veins pulsing the best it could despite the blockade Astarion’s ivory hands gave. Your head was hurting and thumping and your palms laid on what was in front for any form of support. Once again your nails worked itself into the wooden drawer leaving behind more horrible marks in its wake.

Astarion fucked your beaten pussy past your orgasm. Back being all sorts of blown out. Your walls were milking his dick and balls, begging for his seed to flood your womb and hoping to knock you up. It made him grip your throat even tighter. Your Adam’s apple tried bobbing up and down to swallow up any breath you could seek. In his point of view your face was a light scarlet because of the lack of oxygen, with a vein protruding from your forehead. Him mistreating you, and you letting him sent shivers up his spine. He let go once your vision almost faded and blurred, then brutally drove his fangs into your neck. You gasped for air when he unclasped, somewhat because of the sudden pain and mostly because of the choking. Having large amounts of air fill your lungs helped you regain vision. The mirror was no longer foggy and you could get a good view of the situation. You were in tatters. Hair. Makeup. Outfit. Embarrassment creeped in with just how fucked out and shameless you seemed. Is this what you really looked like? Or was the mirror playing tricks? Is this what Astarion has been seeing this whole time? How depraved and disgusting. He loved the view though. Your jewelry, tits, and locks kept moving with the thrusts. But with the aggressive and speedy drinking, your sight would blur up in no time. And with your desperate breathing, the mirror would soon fog up again. The tang in your blood was sweeter than before and his fangs pushed further in to drain you better. Astarion was properly feeding this time and didn’t hold back in greedily sucking you up. Every muscle was sore and you were surely going to pass out. Then the taste of euphoria in your blood made him burst. Abruptly grabbing onto your breast, his yell was muffled since his teeth were still latched. He jerked with each rope of cum he shot into you. The tip probing and nuzzling your spent cervix. You let out a long moan when he started filling you to the brim a second time.

“Fuck. I'm sorry…” Astarion wiped your tears away when he came to his senses. Heavy pants mixing together. Your body was in horrible pain and limp but you felt joy in bringing him pleasure. He nuzzled you while skimming his fingers on the dark bruises kindly. “I’m so sorry darling. I don’t know what possessed me. I’ll make it up to you… what do you want to eat? I’ll bring food to you.” The marks on your neck began to show and he felt intense regret. How could he lose himself like this? How could he treat you this way? To someone he loved and appreciated so vastly? “Please forgive me, my love.” He said, fear in his trembling voice. He fucked up badly.

“Gods…” he whispered. You slumped onto the desk. Astarion was going to be hellbent on compensating you for the harm he had done.

“Did you enjoy yourself?”

“Well, yes, but—“

“Then it’s okay.”

“No. It is not okay. I am truly sorry. Do not try to validate my actions. I am so sorry about the ball, darling.”

“Yeah, you’re an asshole for tearing my dress and for breaking your promise to take me dancing.” You admitted as he embraced you. “But you can make it up to me by buying me a new dress. AND by giving me lots of cuddles. If you’re up for it.” You offer.

“Of course, my treasure, how could I say no?”

[bg-brainrot]

The Thousandth Time (Astarion x GN!Tav)

Featuring: Astarion x Rogue!Tav

Series: Fits into Love at First Knife, AO3 link here

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Summary: Astarion and Rogue!Tav make love for the thousandth time. In a bathtub.

Tags: Smut, Slice of life, POV Second Person, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Fluff, Spawn Astarion, Post-Canon, bathtub sex, sloppy sex, seriously just sickeningly sweet smut, Spawn Astarion, Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Domesticity is romantic, Hand Jobs, Blood Drinking

A/N: Some context-- I wanted to write soft, gender neutral smut. And by the gods is this soft. I tried to look at what it's like to love someone for so long. In my experience, when you've been with someone for so many years, you still find a lot of love in the little things. which I hope I hit? Anyway, enjoy!!

Word count: ~5.3k

The thousandth time you make love to Astarion, you don't know it's the thousandth time.

It's a day like any other, really.

After a long day at the guild, you've arrived home, a sigh on your lips, a furrow to your brow.

"Whatever is the matter, my dear?"

You compose your expression and turn toward your lover. "Astarion," you start, a reflexive wistfulness to your tone. Gods are you glad to see him after a day like today. "Nothing is the matter. Nothing important anyway. Simply glad to be home."

Astarion gives you a look that says he doesn't quite believe you, but knows better than to pry too deeply into issues you'd rather not bring home. "Very well, darling. But you know I'm all pointy ears. Especially if Nine-Fingers has been difficult again."

"Ugh," you say, wincing in annoyance. "Do not say her name right now."

The vampire gives you a bright, toothy laugh. "That bad, eh?" You nod. He walks toward you, arms outstretched. "Mmm in that case, shall we call it an early night tonight?"

You dive into the comfort of his arms, holding him to you, inhaling his fresh, familiar scent. It feels like the day's troubles melt in his cold embrace, and the tension in your body finally relaxes. "That might be nice."

"Dinner first?" he asks, pulling away from you slightly.

You look into his warm crimson eyes, feel that same warmth reflected in your face. Of course, he’d check to see if your mortal needs have been met. "No need, I've eaten. How about you?"

Astarion brings a hand up to inspect your face, this way, then that. It’s as if he’s examining you for injury, not assessing if he can partake in a bit of your blood. "Mmm, you seem a tad tired, love."

"You know I'll manage. Besides, get my blood while it's still boiling with rage," you say, craning your neck for him in response.

"As delectable as that sounds,” he begins, letting go of your face, tracing his fingers along your neck. “I think a bath and bed ought to come first."

You want to argue the point, make sure he's fed to the best of your ability, but the yawn that escapes you is irrefutable. With nary another word, his hand is on the small of your back, guiding you toward the bath.

"Would you like to join me?" you ask him as you open the door. Your expression is calm, the question harboring no hidden intentions. Any other day, you may have raised an eyebrow at him suggestively, begun taking off your armor in a tease– but you're tired, simply not wanting to relinquish the feel of his arms around you.

"Certainly, if it keeps you from falling asleep in the tub…" he trails off, looking at you warily. He appears torn, somewhere between keeping you from drowning and keeping you from resting.

You give him a wry smile. “Imagine that. After felling all manner of beasts and men, finally succumbing to the tub.”

Astarion offers you a reluctant smile in return. “My love, I swear to every god above and below, if you die in any manner even remotely that ludicrous, I shall have to pretend not to know you at your funeral.”

“That’s fair,” you say, holding a hand out to him. “Best to make sure that doesn’t happen then, don’t you think?”

The man can’t argue with that, nor does he seem to want to. After an entire day away from each other, this closeness is exactly what the two of you crave. So he takes your offered hand, and follows you into the bathroom.

It has been years since you had added a tub big enough for the two of you in your house. While the two of you had accrued wealth enough for an entire bathhouse, you’d settled for a more modest setup. At least, modest in Astarion’s eyes.

The floor is made of the finest marble tiles, the walls of intricately laid and patterned brick. And in the center of the room, is the room’s main attraction: the enormous, magical tub. It’s long enough that you could comfortably lay down across the entire bottom, wide enough that you have to extend your arms to reach both sides. The outer edges are infused with enchantments to improve your bathing experience, and the tub itself is made of the highest quality crystal that gold can buy.

Once you enter the room, you activate the heat and water sigils along the basin’s edges and turn back to Astarion. “Would you mind grabbing some soaps from the shelf?”

He gives you a lopsided grin, eyes crinkling with amusement, but still moves to do as you ask. “Would you also like me to bathe you while I’m at it?”

“Oh, would you?” you ask half-joking. You begin to strip your armor off, piece by piece.

“Mmm,” he murmurs, picking out a few of his preferred scents from a shelf on the wall. He’s accumulated quite the collection now, enjoying mixing and matching as his nose guides him. “That could be arranged.”

You’re almost halfway through your armor when he returns, bottles of lemon, bergamot, and sage soaps in hand. “Ah, you know how much I love bergamot,” you say, smiling at it fondly, pausing halfway through undoing your leather straps.

“I know,” he says, placing them next to the tub before turning his attention fully to you. “I also know that you need help with that armor or we may be here all night.”

Holding your arms out wordlessly, Astarion starts to unbuckle each and every strap from the front of your padded armor. As he releases you from its confines, you take a deep, relieved breath and say, “Thank you, love.”

“It’s my pleasure,” he murmurs, leaving a long lingering touch along your now exposed collarbone. “While you strike quite the image in your armor, I think I much prefer you without.”

You laugh, feeling quite light in the now steaming room. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say your mind is straying quite far from rest, Astarion.”

The vampire shrugs, beginning to tug at your undershirt and small clothes with each of his hands. “Merely stating fact, my darling.”

With a few smooth movements, he’s taken off the last of your clothing, exposing every inch of you to the warmth of the room and the heat of his gaze. He seems just about ready to bury his head in your neck, begin covering every piece of you in kisses, when you speak, “Excuse me, are you planning to enter the bath in your house clothes?”

Astarion looks down at his own garb, the comfortable satins and silks of a man who spent the day lounging at home. When faced with your words and, ugh, logic, he says with a sigh, “Would you do the honors?”

You need no more invitation before your hands are on his soft, flowing shirt, running along it appreciatively. “Is this new?”

“It is,” he says, a hint of pride in his voice. “Do you like it?”

“It feels magnificent,” you respond, beginning to undo its buttons. “I may just have to steal it for myself one of these days.”

His lips purse at you. “You know, you could simply ask, darling.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” you taunt, pulling up on the shirt's edges, tugging it up and off of him. Now, faced with the plane of his ivory chest, your fingers act on instinct. They trail down his shoulders, trace the line of his pectorals, drop down the center of his stomach to the waist of his pants.

Astarion gives you a low, approving noise before asking you wryly, “Now whose mind is straying?”

“Not mine,” you respond, pulling his pants and underwear down in one smooth motion. “My hands are just so tired, I’m sure you understand.”

“Surely,” he responds, as he pulls each foot out of his pant legs. “How is the water?”

The bath is steaming by now, visibly fogging up the room, but still, you bend down to skim your hands along its surface. “Ah, it’s warm,” you say, gripping the edge with one hand. “Maybe too warm?”

“No such thing,” he responds, and one of his hands lands next to yours as he bends down to feel the water for himself. The man gives a happy hum before asking, “Shall we then?” Then his now-wet hand is smacking your butt, his head gesturing toward the waiting water. 

“Excuse you,” you say, indignantly, as you turn toward him. “I'm tired.” But you don't feel tired. Not after running your hands over his cold skin. Not after feeling the quick contact of his hand on your backside.

“Not to worry, darling. I’ll take care of you.”

As in, bathing or–? Luckily you don't have much more time to think about it before he’s lowering himself into the tub. Even with his quick movement, even with the water’s slight obscurity, you easily note that Astarion’s cock has stirred in interest.

Ah. While you hadn’t meant to illicit anything by inviting him… it’s certainly not unwelcome. It’s a good thing that your exhaustion is all but melting away under his loving touches.

Acutely aware of his sharp gaze on the length of your back, you turn to face away from him, grab the edge of the tub, and slowly enter its warmth. As was customary in your baths, he would start with your back, so you take a spot in front of him, leaving just enough room for him to settle behind you as he pleases.

Too much room clearly, as Astarion immediately scoots forward, extending his legs to each side of you. You feel his hardening length graze your backside as he does so and can’t help the smile that curves your lips.

"Astarion, dear,” you start, placing your hands on each of his knees under the water. “Are you certain you want to bathe me?"

“And why wouldn't I be?” He leans closer, planting a soft kiss along your spine.

You debate backing up into his groin to prove a point but instead shake your head. "No reason, I suppose."

He begins by lathering his hands in a mixture of soaps, carefully measured out by eye and feel. All the while, you sit before him, hands on each of his calves, thumbs repeatedly rubbing the ridge of his muscles. While he’d had a nice, calm day today, his calves are always so tight from sneaking about– and it’s the least you can do for the man that’s bathing you.

Then his hands get to work.

At first he drags both hands along your back, once, twice. Once he’s made sure that soap covers every inch of you, he starts massaging you, working the soap into your skin, kneading into your sore muscles.

Astarion knows your body so intimately and, after so many years of tending to each other, he rubs all of your tightest spots. His knuckles press deep into your neck. His fingers work around your upper back. His thumbs dig underneath the edges of your shoulder blades, working out the knots he knows lay beneath. And, by the gods, if you thought you’d been melting under his caresses before, now you’re practically a puddle.

You can’t help the noises that come out at the sensation of his nimble fingers at work. Your shoulders ache from a long day of sneaking, stabbing, and general tension of dealing with people– the relief is palpable in the way you relax into his touch, grip his legs, and release several breathy moans.

And with each moan, you can feel his cock growing firmer against you. After the first few, you can feel him shift closer with every noise he draws from you. Knowing your affect on him has always done something to stir the fire in you, and this time it has you shifting uncomfortably as heat blooms between your legs. The both of you spur the other’s building lust, all the while the fresh scent that Astarion’s concocted permeates the air.

Then, when it’s clear he’s done with your back, thoroughly satisfied with each gasping breath of pleasure, his hands drop from your shoulders. They tail down your back, playing along your spine. And, in an almost leisurely motion, they wrap around your torso, where they finally settle on your chest.

I don’t think this is a relaxing bath anymore, you think distantly. Yet you’re unable to resist leaning into his palms, arching into his touch.

Sensing your shuffles, Astarion curls further into your back, almost entirely flush to you now. His fingers feel their way to each of your nipples, first gently brushing against them, then thumbing over them each in turn. They respond eagerly, perking up under his delicate sweep.

“Astarion,” you begin, turning your head back to him slightly and raising an eyebrow. “What are you doing?” Your tone isn’t exactly admonishing– your voice comes out too quiet, desire muffling all other emotions.

His hands trail down your chest, past the surface of the bath water, settling on each of your thighs before he responds, voice low, lips inches away from your ear. “Making sure that every single centimeter of my beautiful darling is clean, of course.”

“Astarion, I thought you would be, ahh… taking care of me," you say, barely holding on to your trail of thought as his hands dip between your legs, brushing your sensitive core.

“I am taking care of you,” he whispers, finally closing the remaining distance between your back, his front. At the feel of his stiff cock pressing against your back, you give an involuntary gasp. He seems to enjoy your reaction, taking a moment to slowly grind the entire length of his hardened arousal along your backside once, before he settles between your cheeks. “Unless you’d rather leave all of this stress pent up, my dear?”

You’d been tired– been ready to bathe and head off to bed. But something about this man never fails to ignite the fire in your heart– or your loins. “I suppose not,” you murmur, releasing Astarion’s calf, running up his leg with your fingers, landing on his arm, gripping it closer to you.

“I knew you would see reason,” he says, taking your grip as guidance. His hand moves down to begin stroking your heat, building up steadily to the fast-paced rhythm he knows you like. In the water’s buoyant embrace, his actions feel a touch more fluid, his fingers more silken.

It has taken time experimenting together to reach this place– one of utmost security and intimate knowledge of each others’ bodies. But now that you’re here, you’ve found that Astarion’s agile fingers are obscenely precise in their movements. Like he knows exactly which pins to tumble to unlock your utmost excitement.

So you can't help the way you buck into his touch, nor the way the water sloshes around you both in response.

"Careful, love," he says, hand stilling. "We don't want to make a mess this time, do we?"

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you remember the last time this had happened, how the floor had been practically flooded. You should agree with him, make sure that such an incident doesn't occur again. But the front of your mind is wholly occupied, thinking only of how he's stopped moving his hand, how being careful may mean that he takes it too gently. "Mmm, we managed to clean it up well enough," you respond, jerking your hips back, pressing against him with need.

Astarion's laughter rings upon the bathroom's stone walls, before it turns into a groan as you roll your hips once more. His voice is a bit huskier when he responds, "You know we’re going to regret it later.”

You smile back at him, satisfied with the noise you’ve elicited. “Sounds like a problem for later, doesn’t it?” Then your hand squeezes his arm, motioning it back down to your now throbbing arousal. “For now, what was that about releasing my stress?”

“Oh very well… in that case, let’s find where you ache most, shall we?” Astarion murmurs, dipping his head, placing a kiss on the base of your neck. “Here?” Your shoulder. “Or perhaps here?” Then his hand settles back between your legs, fingers touching you in a rather delicate caress. “Or maybe here?”

You hum a noise of approval as his . “Oh, there.”

His fingers close on your swollen sex, rubbing languidly as he whispers in your ear, “Mmm, darling. So much tension…” A bit more pressure. “I must simply…” A bit faster pace. “Massage it all away…”

If anything, his touches cause you to grasp at his legs harder, all of the muscles in your body responding in kind to his ministrations. Your back arches instinctively, earning an exquisite groan from Astarion. So when his next stroke causes you to clench, you lean into it, grinding your ass back into the full length of his erection, sliding easily in the water’s low friction.

His other hand finds its way to your hip, helping you match his pace as you continue to rock into him.

The two of you fall into a beautiful, raucous rhythm, each open and generous with your vocal pleasure, the water’s regular splashes punctuating each movement.

“Yes, yes, gods, Astarion.”

“My sweet, you’re the only divine thing here.”

Then your words begin to lose sense, your rhythm begins to falter, and it’s clear that you won’t last much longer under his caring fingers.

You also know that Astarion hasn’t been tended to nearly as well as you have.

So you move to turn toward him. With how his full length twitches against you in urgency, your own nimble fingers ought to return the favor.

Astarion stops you, placing his unoccupied hand back on your chest to hold you in place. "Ah ah ah. Love, I'm here to help you."

"You are helping,” you start, pushing back against his hand. “But I don’t want to leave you like this.” ‘This’ is obvious as the man clearly exercises every ounce of self control he has judging from the visible veins on his arm, the way his legs squeeze reflexively around you each time he strokes you.

He gives you a reluctant groan, one that does nothing to hide his desire. “Must you always be so selfless?” His hand doesn’t release your chest though, and he begins tracing delicate, wet circles around one of your nipples, as he murmurs, “Fine, just let me continue.”

Staying in place for him, you reach back with one hand to feel for his cock. It’s almost unreal how naturally you slot around him, the way your fingers circle around its girth. The entire length, inch-by-inch, the pattern of his veins, the sensitive lip of his head– they’re all intimately familiar to you now. As is finding just the right grip, the right pace.

When you start to pump him in earnest, Astarion can't help but shudder, his movements losing their steady, pulsing beat. In losing his pace, he takes on a new one– erratic, a bit fumbling, but utterly intoxicating.

You're both stoking each other’s fires in tandem, wildly offset in your desperation to touch each other more and more and more. 

The water feels almost cool compared to your heated core, to the sweet friction you're building together.

Astarion's face tilts into your back, grunting as he strains to right his tempo– his forehead presses against you, his cool exhale grazes your searing skin. His chilled touch is a reprieve in the sweltering fog of steam and heady lust. Hearing your sigh of relief, he seems all too willing to make more contact.

His lips crash onto your back roughly, and his fangs nick your skin. An involuntary shiver runs through your body as you imagine the pleasure his drinking evokes from you. As you imagine the man behind you lapping at your neck, moaning in satisfaction, flushed pink with your very blood–

"Take some blood,” you offer, breathless. Imagining would never be enough, you find yourself craving the real deal. So when you say your next word, it comes out more pleading than you intend, “Please."

“Whatever my dearest desires,” Astarion replies, voice low and rumbling. He removes the hand from your chest and places it on your shoulder, holding you in place as he places his lips at the crook of your neck. His nose rubs gently against your fleshly washed skin. “Mmm, you smell so good.”

Then his fangs pierce you.

When you first began your relationship, you hadn’t intended to enjoy his bites as much as you do, but after years and years of them, the pain hardly registers now. All you feel is close– So very close to the man you would gladly give your lifeblood to.

He draws a gulp, and you feel the blood course through you, into him.

Another drink, and heat builds in you as you feel his cock grow harder in your hand, his veins more prominent.

A third long pull of your blood, and you feel his fingers quicken at your aching arousal.

You jerk into his hand in reaction, trying to seek an outlet for your pleasure. Your mouth emits a whimper– you hadn’t been comfortable whimpering with Astarion at first, but after he drew one out of you, he couldn’t get enough.

He still can’t, and you feel his lips curl into a smile at your neck, his fingers move with more urgency.

All the while you continue stroking his length, fingers sloppy in your own hazy state. It doesn’t seem like you need your usual dexterity though, because Astarion is practically writhing with newfound reactivity. Drinking blood always leaves him especially sensitive.

One last shaky swallow and he removes his fangs from your neck. But not his mouth. His tongue begins lavishing your puncture wound furiously as he struggles to hold back his approaching peak.

With the way he haphazardly tilts his hips into you, it’s all too evident to you that he’s reaching his limit. He’s not afraid to tell you so either.

"My sweet," he all but moans into your ear. "I–I can't last much longer. May I?"

You know what he means, and you honestly can’t last much longer either– you’re positively light-headed from a mixture of bliss and blood loss. So you stop your movements, nod your addled head at him.

He removes his hands from your core and neck, reaching out to your legs. Pulling them out and apart, he shuffles behind you, moving impatiently.

Realizing he can’t do this alone, he gestures, motioning for you to put your legs up.

Still a bit dizzy, you carefully place each leg on either side of the tub’s edges, hooking yourself in place by the ankles. It feels a precarious balance, but you can hardly care when you’re this eager to have Astarion inside you.

Astarion seems just as eager, rubbing his length against your ass hungrily as you get into position.

Perched and ready for him, the man is quick to help once more– his hands grip your asscheeks and lift in a swift movement. You’re particularly buoyant in the water, and you rise higher than either of you had expected. Your hand instinctively reaches out, gripping the edge of the tub to brace yourself, and you hear Astarion give a deep chuckle from behind you.

Holding back your own almost giddy excitement, you try to compose yourself for him. Angling your hips up, you’re almost floating on the water for a moment as Astarion lines the tip of his cock with your entrance.

However, you’re instinctively clenching a second later when a pair of your lover’s fingers tease at your opening. You barely avoid clamping your legs back together at the sensation. 

Recovering from the tickling probe, you look back to see a lust-drunk fanged smile, lips smeared with red. "Astarion, please,” you mutter. “I can't balance like this all day."

"Come darling, I know you’re quite talented," he taunts, easily gliding his fingers back in, curling until you truly do begin to lose balance.

"Astarion," you breathe out, clutching the side of the tub even harder to stay afloat.

Then his fingers slip back out, replaced a moment later by the head of his cock. “No need to worry, I have a seat for you right here.”

His palms cup your backside, his fingers squeeze, as you lower your hips back down, taking in his entire, slick length effortlessly in the water.

“Now isn’t that better?” he asks, grabbing your hips with one hand, the other finding yours on the side of the tub for support.

“Mmm,” is all that you manage, as you adjust to the sudden fullness. You haven’t lain with anyone else in so long, it’s hard to remember a cock other than his. Still, you can’t help but feel like he settles in you just right. Especially when you both slot together neatly, you taking him to the hilt.

Astarion drops another kiss on your back. “Comfortable?”

“Mhm,” you mumble. Now that you’re securely held in place by Astarion’s hips flush to yours, your legs hanging off the tub’s edges, you place your second hand back at your aching arousal. You begin to stroke yourself back into the same fervor Astarion had you in moments ago.

After a small, deliberate thrust of his hips, testing how you rise and fall in the water, Astarion starts moving against you. It’s slow at first, the water rippling out from you both in small waves. Then his hips rock back, only to drive back into you with sloshing force. 

“A–ahh!” Sweet hells, he knows exactly how to hit your most sensitive spot. You had already been so heated, but now, with your lover’s full, hardened length pressing into you? You feel dizzy with pleasure.

Years of lovemaking, and you’re still in awe of how well he knows your body. It’s more than his previous experiences culminating in some kind of skillful paramour. No, this was built through time, trial, error, effort.

So as this gorgeous man you call love bounces you up and down in his lap, you feel yourself coming undone. Your breaths come ragged as you ride his cock, water spilling out of the tub with each and every buck. Your fingers clench the tub, barely holding on as you feel your pleasure coil tighter and tighter.

Astarion places kiss after kiss down your back, and you hear him murmuring, "Gods you're perfect." A harder kiss. "You feel so good." Another thrust. "Each." A nip at your skin. "And every." A thrust. "Time." Another kiss. "I–I love you."

For your part, you’re finding entire sentences difficult. With the feel of him throbbing inside you, the way his lips feel along your back, each roll of his hips, you're truly only capable of a few phrases. "Astarion." A splashing bounce. "I love you–" A loll back of your head. "Oh hells–" A dip of your hips. "I love you too."

When your peak finally runs through you like a shockwave, when you clench around him in ecstasy, those very same words are still on your lips. "I l–love you."

He moans at the sudden tightness, the muscles that now hold him deep within you. "Darling," he breathes. "Oh love. I can't–"

Astarion means to say that he can't hold on much longer. He'd already been so close, holding back only to keep your pleasure going. So you reach down to his fingers on your hip, as best as you can while still hanging on for dear life, and squeeze his hand. A wordless affirmation, a plea to join you, as he always has.

And it’s that silent communication that has his fingers lacing through yours, his neck craning back, his hips stuttering.

When he comes, there's no pretense or performance. There hasn't been for many years. So when you look back at his face in a hazy fuzz of emotion, the expression you see is utterly unbridled.

It's a look of sheer pleasure– his perfectly pale skin flushed a light rosy color, his usually impeccable hair stuck to his face in a mixture of sweat and water. His eyes are shut, his mouth agape as he spills into you.

So enraptured are you by the mundane beauty of his climax, that you’ve strained too far from your precariously balanced position. Your foot unhooks from the tub’s slippery edge and you fall onto Astarion’s lap with a large splash as he finishes. You’re both left panting and wet in the wake of both your and the tub’s peaks.

Water drips down your face, all of the soap bottles have been knocked from the edge of the tub. The high you’d felt just moments ago feels doused in the stark reality of making love in a bathtub. 

However, when you feel Astarion’s breathy laughter on your back, feel his softening cock twitch with his last few thrusts, you know he’s still in fine spirits.

You stay together for a few moments as you both collect yourselves. Water is wiped from eyes, your second leg comes back into the tub, and several deep breaths are had. Once you’re relatively sorted, Astarion pulls himself out of you with a long, happy sigh.

The man falls back from you, sitting against the end of the tub in a tired flop. Then he’s patting the water in front of him, motioning you to join him in some post-coital cuddles.

You don’t need much more of an invitation.

Floating through the now much lower water, you stop just in front of him. Movements relaxed, you wrap your legs around his waist, your arms around his neck, and scoot into his waiting embrace.

"So," you start, looking at the wasteland of water and strewn soap bottles around the tub. "Looks like we made a mess."

"I told you we would," he says, closing his arms around you, pulling you against his chest.

"I know," you say, leaning into him comfortably. Your body is truly exhausted now, but your mind is a buzz of joy. "It was worth it though."

He laughs into your shoulder, squeezes you tighter. "Feeling better, I take it?"

"Gods yes," you say, tilting your head into his silver hair. "Thank you."

"Oh my sweet, it was my utmost pleasure," he replies, and you can feel his smile on your skin.

You both lean back, grinning at each other like fools. The smiles stay, even when your lips meet in a soft, wet kiss.

You will need to clean the room, the tub, likely your bodies once again– but all you can truly feel right now is content. Enjoying Astarion’s gentle fingers as they trace a pattern onto your skin, the warm water all around you, you very nearly forget that today was merely a day like any other.

The thousandth time you made love to Astarion, it was messy and wet and silly– somehow, it was sweet, caring, and loving all the same.

The thousandth time you made love to Astarion, you didn't know it was the thousandth time.

Just as you hadn't known your tenth thousand kiss, nor your hundred thousandth 'I love you.' Were anyone to ask you about them, you might not even remember the days or events surrounding any of them.

What you do know is that each individual moment holds no less importance, that the affection shared between you doesn’t diminish with each recurrence.

You’re unable to quantify your love, nor would you want to. All you really want is Astarion– his soft lips, tender hands, and whispered words of love– until your dying breath.

[leighsartworks216]

Hello! I have ideas for Astarion and a druid Tav. Atv can shapeshift, and Astarion likes to sit in/enjoy the sun. Once they're close enough, Tav asks if they can use him as a basking perch. So sometimes Astarion will have a dog or cat in his lap, sometimes a snake around his shoulders, or even once a bird nesting in his hair (Tav was scouting and got too tired to shift back).

For some angst Tav could be injured while in animal form or stuck in one by magic and so Astarion takes them back to camp and keeps Tav close until they recover and can turn back.

It is almost 1:30am haha I need to go to bed

I also wrote this in 3rd person pov for no reason other than I felt it worked a little better

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: none

Word Count: 693

Main Masterlist

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

AO3

Tag List Form

Soft purrs fill the morning air. The sun is warm, and where Astarion sits on his rug is the first spot her rays touch every morning. And every morning, he cherishes the time he had left within it.

One hand runs idly along soft fur, while the other holds open a book. Every now and then, his pets slow down as the story becomes interesting, but he makes up for it with a gentle scratch behind the ears.

This was also part of his morning routine. Several weeks ago, the intrepid leader of their group began joining him on his rug in the morning. They asked first, of course, and they never bothered him. It was rather nice, actually. They’d read their own book or prepare herbs or even braid together a flower crown.

A week later, they had taken to shifting into an animal form and stretching out within the beams. They usually fell asleep like that. And once again, he didn’t mind. Their feline purrs were never grating or overwhelming, and even as a dog they had the decency not to drool on his stuff. The occasional snake or bird would warm themselves on a rock or perch nearby with their beak tucked under their wing. It was always a little fun to guess which animal they’d turn into each day.

And then they asked if they could lay in his lap. He’d scrunched his face up at the idea, asking why his lap was suddenly better than the rug. They’d just claimed it was hard to get comfortable lately, but they didn’t push to ask again. That day, they’d curled up in Karlach’s lap. They couldn’t sleep, because the tiefling was so busy gushing over how soft and adorable they were, and Astarion couldn’t focus on his embroidery because he’d become so used to their presence - Karlach’s noise level aside. So the next day he sighed and told them they could lay in his lap.

Now, it was so embedded into his mornings, he felt wrong without an animal on or near him. Cat or dog in his lap, snake or bird on his shoulders - he just needed something. He truly never realized just how nice petting an animal could be - even a druid disguised as one. They always thanked him afterward, though he found he wanted to thank them, too.

The sun’s rays slowly shifted. Warm, concentrated beams diffusing as it continued to rise into the mid-morning. The cat in his lap heaved a long sigh and rose to their paws. He watched as they stepped out from his crossed legs and along the rug, stretching with each step until they sat down nearby. The cat transformed back into a humanoid druid that yawned and stretched out their arms.

“Thanks,” they murmured.

Astarion chuckled. “Still tired? You’re even worse than Gale.”

They made a sound that almost sounded like a chuckle, if it was stretched and morphed by a sleepy sigh. “What can I say? Your lap is extremely comfortable.”

“I’ll add it to my list of remarkable qualities.” His head tilted as he studied them. Their shoulders drooped, their back was hunched, they rubbed their eyes, and stifled another yawn. “You look fit to collapse.”

They breathed out a long sigh. Their eyes were heavy with bags under them, staring blankly across the camp. So much to do, so little time, but Astarion was right. They wouldn’t be able to hold a half-decent conversation, let alone fight.

Astarion pat his lap, an open invitation. “I’m sure they would understand. Another day won’t kill us - hopefully.”

“How reassuring,” they muttered, but they were already shrinking back down once more into a cat. They lumbered over and curled back up, purring incessantly as they gave in to their exhaustion.

He stroked down their back again, lightly scratching along their spine. Their coat shone in the light. He wondered when the hell he’d let them get so damn close.

He sighed, allowing the mystery to fade to the back of his mind, and lifted his book once more, finding where he left off and reading on. Yeah, one day wouldn’t hurt.

---

Tag List:

@hypopxia @flsalazar @beverlybeav @angelofthorr @emiemiemiii @marina-and-the-memes @aurasyn @furblrwurblr @cappsikle @mjmygd @thegirlsadventuresinwonderland @kindadolly @bloopthebat @pandimoostuff @chesb0red @black-star1472 @sessils @olitheghostboy-blog @puppyg1rl666 @maruichio @cyber-dump-171 @katharynmarie @twinkliker3000 @cherifrog @catching-fire-in-the-wind @phantoms-fandom-blog @thespectacularspaceace @lynnlovesthestars

[fangswbenefits]

After some consideration (and with the help from lovely people around me 🩷), I have decided I will be including Astarion's POV in The Arrangement.

It's time, folks.

It's time to dive into his head.

It fits the story, and it's something I've been meaning to do for a while, and I've finally come to terms with it 🩷

I love writing from his POV and I felt "shit... maybe it's too late now for TA.... it's only from Tav's POV... people are going to feel like it's out of nowhere", but I want this story to show all sides and how he feels even when his words don't match his mind 🫂

[brain-rot-central]

Sonnet of the Lone Cardinal, Ch. 6

A/N: Alright, here's the deal: I wrote the next 3 parts of Sonnet all together (including this one), but have decided to split them up for flow purposes. Which, hopefully means more frequent updates, because they're already written lmao. I apologize for this being a shorter chapter, but the next two will be from Tav's POV and then Astarion's. We're doing character building, ya'll. Happy reading!!

Rating: M/Soft E Word count: 2k Pairing: Ascended Astarion x Female Tav (DU, named) Warnings: 18+, body worship, post-breakup, unhealthy relationship Summary: In preparation for the upcoming gala, Astarion commissions a hand-tailored dress for Tav.

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

A small gathering has commenced within Astarion's office.

Tav stands on an upturned wooden crate with her arms outstretched, facing a mirror. A tailor is at her side, wrapping measuring tape around her chest. He scratches something into his notepad, then slips the tape down to her waist. He cinches it tight, causing Tav to gasp.

“Ah, excuse me, may I request something?” she asks, putting up a finger in protest. The man looks up at her through the thick lenses of his glasses.

He's a meek older man; human, likely in his seventies. His glasses sit heavy across the bridge of his nose, and he speaks with a voice that begs for some type of nasal lavage. He nods at Tav.

 “Perhaps leave some extra fabric around the waist?” Tav suggests, sweetly.

She’s wearing an emerald green satin dress. Astarion picked the color – part of their agreement to have her attend tonight's event – as it matches her eyes. The dress is modest, overall. Off the shoulder sleeves with a horizontal ruffle across her chest. The neckline dips slightly into her cleavage, but it's mostly obscured by the bunched fabric. It cinches around her midsection, opening into a wide skirt down the legs. The same ruffle across her chest is present around the bottom hem of the dress.

It truly is a magnificent dress.

…If she enjoyed wearing them.

Astarion looks on from across the room, languidly sipping a glass of wine. He's sifting through various documents strewn across his desk as he chimes in, “You have such a darling figure, my dear. Why hide it?”

With a huff, Tav argues, “I've grown softer in these last few months.” She looks off to the side pensively, chewing the inside of her lip. She knows what he's going to say. It's never been about what she looks like, though hearing him call her a vision always does wonders for her self-esteem.

No, Astarion has always wanted her. Was drawn to her heart, as twisted and warped as it was. Despite that, he managed to find the small beacon of light still shining within. And slowly, ever so carefully, pulled it from the depths.

“And? I hardly see the issue,” Astarion challenges with a slight tilt of his head.

“Astarion!” she shouts, giving a quick stomp of her feet. Heat rises to her cheeks. “Please, Astarion – I would feel more comfortable about wearing this… thing,” Tav says while pulling at the dress, “if it weren't so form-fitting.”

Astarion takes another drink of wine, walking around the desk to lean against its edge. He and Tav exchange glances. When he finds her pouting, he sighs. “I guess it doesn't matter, really,” he says with a shrug of his shoulders. His lips then curl into a devilish smile. “It's only going to end up on the floor, come nightfall.”

Tav shoots a bewildered glare toward Astarion, a wave of embarrassment washing over her. The bastard has the nerve to be smiling so smugly after a comment like that, because he knows. There's no way Astarion doesn't know the impact his words have on her. 

It's another game he plays, but truth be told, Tav likes this one. A lot. It’s rare for him to not make good on those honeyed words. And when he does, gods, does he do it well.

Preventing her mind from becoming awash with lust, Tav shakes her head. She stomps her feet again and huffs out an audible breath in Astarion’s direction. It's a warning for him to ease up on the flirtation, lest she blow a gasket.

His smile deepens.

Of course he'd want to see that.

The poor tailor, caught between their questionable spat, clears his throat. “I-If it's alright, my lord, I'm more than willing to comply with your Lady’s request.” 

Astarion brings the glass of wine again to his lips, looking at Tav from over the rim. She mouths a ‘please’ in his direction; he pushes himself away from the desk’s edge.

“Of course,” he agrees in a posh tone. “Whatever my Lady desires.” Astarion then abandons his glass on the desk, moving toward Tav. 

A shiver runs down her spine as Tav watches his reflection appear in the mirror behind her. She knows he’s handsome, but seeing his form within the glass leaves her speechless.

It grounds her in a way she doesn't expect. Makes this entire situation real. 

She may never get used to it.

“However,” Astarion continues, “I would ask that you please leave the room.” He turns his head to the tailor. “If only for a few minutes.”

“Of c-course, Lord Ancunín,” says the elderly man with a bow. He gathers a few materials scattered from around the room and quickly heads out into the foyer. The door to the office clicks shut behind him.

Astarion then offers Tav a hand in stepping down from the wooden crate. She accepts and stands before the mirror. She takes a quick moment to study her reflection. 

Her hair is being held up in a loose bun. As she tilts her head, Tav can see the scars on her neck through the fallen strands of hair. Yet, she's happy to find that the bruise Astarion sucked into her neck is starting to fade.

“Now tell me truthfully, darling– Why hide this beautiful body of yours?” Astarion asks from behind her. He slips his arms around her waist, pulling her against his chest. The familiar scent of his cologne, mixed with the sweetness of the alcohol on his breath, floods Tav’s senses. She finds herself quickly growing lax under him, slipping further into his embrace. 

“Unless… you're saving it all for me?” he asks, coyly. He slots his face into the nape of her neck and inhales, leading a trail of kisses up the side of her neck, stopping just behind her ear. “How very modest of you,” Astarion teases.

He sways her gently within his arms and Tav wraps her hands around his forearms, fighting to keep herself upright. “I think a better topic for discussion, Astarion,” she deflects, “is how you almost killed me the other night.” She gives a brief pause before adding, “Again.”

“Oh, but my darling, I didn't,” is his sultry reply. Astarion sucks another kiss into Tav’s neck. The sensation has her knees buckling, but she quickly recovers, squeezing his forearms tighter.

He worries over the scars on her neck and Tav whimpers softly, raising her hand to thread through silver locks. “That's hardly the point, Astarion,” she retorts. Her voice is barely audible, more air than sound.

Astarion slides his hands up from her waist to cup her breasts through the gown, eyes fixated on their reflection in the mirror. “I would say that's precisely the point, my dear,” he suggests, accentuating his argument with a gentle squeeze of her breasts. “You asked me not to turn you – I didn't. I respected your wishes.” He rests his cheek against hers, rocking them gently again as he stares into the mirror. “In my defense, I'm used to taking a bit more from you. It seems you've lost some of your resilience in our time apart.”

Tav scoffs, offended, though allows Astarion to continue swaying her within his arms. “Are you really trying to imply that it's somehow my fault for almost dying again?”

“On the contrary, actually.” Astarion moves his hands again to her waist, wrapping them tightly around her. His voice drops an octave as he says, “We've spent far too much time away from one another.” He kisses her cheek. “And we should perhaps fix that.”

Tav turns to face him. “What do you mean?” she asks, panicked. “We've been seeing one another for the last three months. This is certainly all… something.” She's suddenly on edge, but she's unsure why. Does she fear him rejecting her?

…Since when does she care about that, again?

“Exactly,” Astarion agrees with a husky growl. He drops his face, resting his forehead against hers. “It's something. But what if it were more? Would it truly be so terrible?”

They stand together within the quiet office. And as Tav looks into his eyes, she almost forgets the events of the night before. 

How she essentially aided him in ending the lives of two men. How he hid them within the depths of the manor. That he probably would have never told her, had she not found out. 

This man will keep secret after secret from her, if it means staying within her good graces. He will never risk tarnishing her opinion of him. Tav will have to fight, tooth and nail, to pull each and every truth from him.

Being with him will be work, and will likely end horribly.

But now, as she looks at his face, illuminated by the soft glow of the morning sun breaking through the windows, she feels that maybe…

Maybe…

She's been wrong about him.

Would spending eternity with Astarion be all that bad? He would put her in the very best of everything, never letting her go without. Tav knows he would protect her, always, until his dying breath. Hells, she would never have to lift a finger ever again. She would never be lonely; Astarion would make sure of that. She would never want for anything.

Tav plants a gentle kiss to the tip of his nose, giving Astarion a genuine smile. “We should really let the tailor finish working, Astarion,” she scolds, playfully.

‘Maybe,’ she thinks…

‘It's worth trying again.’

With a groan, Astarion rolls his eyes. “That's terribly boring,” he replies with feigned annoyance. “I have a better idea in mind.” He kisses his way up the side of her neck again, and Tav becomes a puddle of girlish laughter in his arms. “We should throw the dress to the floor now, no?” he suggests. “Nightfall is just so very far away...”

As Astarion's hands wander down the length of her back, Tav lets a moan slip past her lips when he cups her arse. “Let the man finish his job, Astarion,” she insists, “or I won't have anything to wear at all.”

He draws back from her, studying her face. Confusion strikes her as she looks back at him, unable to read his expression. The corners of his mouth then curl into a sly smile, and suddenly, she understands. 

“Again,” he says in a velvet tone, “I hardly see the problem.” Astarion accentuates his point by pulling her to him. Tav gasps as their centers collide, and that's when she feels it. The length of him, stiff and proud, rubbing up against her. Heat rushes to her cheeks in embarrassment – he would take her here in the office, knowing damned well the tailor is just beyond the office doors. 

The same doors that happen to be unlocked.

“Good things come to those who wait,” she states, tapping Astarion's chest while peeling herself free of his embrace. “Now, please; I would appreciate if you quit being so fresh and let the man finish.” Her breath comes in labored pants, her cheeks flushed. Her mind begins to clear.

With a playful scoff, Astarion throws up his hands in defeat. He steals a quick kiss to her cheek, snaking a hand down the front of his trousers. Astarion flips himself up into the waistband of his undergarments, pulling out his shirt to cover himself. Tav gives a quick giggle, Astarion shooting back with a smirk, and he finally heads to the office doors. He invites the tailor back into the office with a bow. “My apologies,” Astarion says with a well-practiced smile, “and thank you for your patience. Please, resume your work.”

The tailor lifts his glasses higher onto the bridge of his nose as he walks back into the office, clutching his measurement tape to his chest. He gives a quick bow to Astarion, then helps Tav back up onto the wooden crate. Astarion resumes shifting through documents on his desk, though catches Tav staring at him through the reflection of the mirror.

When their eyes meet, they give one another a knowing smile.

[blue-sadie]

My Darling Baker

Astarion x Baker Reader

Summary: he always knows how to make you flustered even if it's just pie filling next to your lips

Warning: short

3rd person pov

Astarion cautiously pushed open the door to the bakery, the tantalizing aroma of freshly baked pies wafting through the air. His eyes scanned the room, settling on the baker.

Yn who was engrossed in her work. She hummed a soft tune, her nimble fingers expertly rolling dough and filling pies with an assortment of delicious fillings.

As Astarion approached, his gaze was drawn to the corner of yn's mouth. To his surprise, he saw a small streak of reddish liquid trickling down her chin.

Panic gripped his heart as his mind conjured images of violence and impending danger. In his vampire-infused instincts, he believed it to be blood, stirring his innate need to protect.

Astarion stumbled forward, his usually composed demeanor faltering as he blurted out, "yn Are you hurt What happened?"

Startled, Yn looked up, her eyes widening in confusion. She hastily wiped the cherry pudding from her mouth with the back of her hand, her brow furrowing. "Hurt? What do you mean?"

A faint blush appeared on Astarion's cheeks as he struggled to regain his composure. He realized his mistake and managed to stammer, "I... I thought I saw blood. I was concerned for your safety."

Understanding dawned on Yn's face as she chuckled softly. "Oh, Astarion, it's just cherry pudding. I must have gotten too eager while taste-testing the filling."

Relieved, Astarion let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. He leaned against the counter, his eyes raking over Yn's figure appreciatively.

A mischievous smile played on his lips as he reached out to gently caress her neck. "Well, my dear, I must admit, even with cherry pudding adorning your lips, you look rather enticing. A fitting appearance for a vampire, don't you think?"

Yn's cheeks flushed at his words, a mixture of surprise and amusement dancing in her eyes. She leaned closer, allowing his lips to brush against her skin, her voice a soft murmur. "Oh, Astarion, you certainly have a way with words. But I assure you, I'm quite content being a baker and not a creature of the night."

Astarion chuckled, the tension from before dissipating entirely. "Perhaps I spoke too soon after all"

"Or maybe something.... else will just make you look more delicious more enticing"

[tadpole-apocalypse]

I wrote a little something! Yes I’m sure the title is probably overused. It just worked for this scenario.

***

Careful, I Bite [AO3 link]

Astarion gets some blood and puts his plan in motion. A rewrite of his proposition scene to fit my narrative.

Pairing: Astarion x Morgan (female human tav)

Rating: M for sexy blood drinking

Tags: vampire bites, detailed descriptions of blood and the inherent eroticism, high elf bullshit, human tav, Gale slander, emotional manipulation, fangs, licking, astarion pov

***

They had tents now, at the campsite near the blighted village. After days of laying out in the open around the fire like a pack of wild beasts, any sort of shelter from the elements was a luxury in this filthy wilderness. All thanks to their weird little minions, of which the gith has taken complete charge of. She has put the hirelings to work; hauling supplies, tending the cookfire, patrolling for threats, as well as taking care of all the menial tasks around camp Astarion hated doing himself, like setting up tents. She even disciplined one when it performed a task that didn’t meet her exacting standards, which was just delightful to watch!

Morgan’s tent was erected on the outskirts of camp and further from the others, as they all learned her wild magic is capable of surging in her sleep when illusory clones of herself floated all around camp, exploding on whatever they bumped into. Everyone agreed it would be better if she kept her tent far from the others.

It makes it easier to discreetly slip inside, this far away from the light of the campfire. He finds her awake, sitting cross legged on her bedroll with a small wisp of light to illuminate the cramped tent. It casts harsh shadows on her blunt features that do no favors for the scars and blemishes marring her face. Ah well, she wasn’t entirely unfortunate looking for human; he’d certainly pulled far worse in his time.

Her mismatched eyes flick up to meet him when he enters, acknowledging his entry before she returns to her task of trimming the ends of her braids with a knife. A rather dull knife, from the hack job that was being done in his presence.

“That won’t do at all,” he tuts. “That thing isn’t fit to cut a stick of butter. Here.” He pulls his dagger from its holster and holds it up as an offering. “Sharp enough to stab clean through a goblin’s ribcage.”

“Ew.”

“I cleaned it, after,” he clarifies.

She accepts the blade, and slices off the blackened, burnt hair with a few short wrist movements. She turns to show him her handiwork, where one braid now hangs, a few inches shorter than the other.

“Shall we cut the other, so they match?” he offers. Her shoulders slump.

“No, it’s fine,” she says through gritted teeth. The loss of a few inches of hair seems to vex her for some reason. He shrugs, not really caring either way.

She brushes the braids to the side, drawing his attention instantly to the smooth column of her neck. His eyes track the faint marks from where his teeth last pierced her, remembering her hot blood filling his mouth.

Astarion swallows. His fangs feel heavy, as does the deep hungering and craving in his belly. Her heart beats as loud to his ears as one of the goblin’s war drums since he’s been glutted on the blood of thinking creatures, and Morgan’s blood in particular sang to him from under her skin the longer he went without. Her wild magic perhaps, gave it a certain ambrosia that the bandits and goblins he fed from couldn’t begin to compare to. All of it swill, compared to the vintage in front of him.

There’s a moment when the scent of blood so close sends his bestial craving into a frenzy, and he’s overwhelmed with the monstrous urge to pin and bite, to rip and tear into her neck and gorge himself until there’s nothing left of her.

“I take it you’re here for blood?”

She’s staring at him staring at her neck, and he quickly wrests control over the thrashing beast of his hunger and looks up at her with his mask in place. A practiced smile, given thousands of times. “Are you offering?” He leans into her personal space, slides a hand on her hip. Lets a bit of heat rumble into his voice, pitched low next to her rounded ear.

Her expression doesn’t betray her, but the roar of blood rushing through her veins at her quickened heart rate is proof enough of her arousal at his nearness. Typical human, he smirks. Always flattered by attention from their betters.

“Yeah, I guess I am,” she answers him, flipping the dagger around to hand it to him handle first. Sheathing it quickly, he sits back and pats his lap.

“Come here darling, let’s get comfortable.”

She settles between his legs, back against his chest. She tilts her head, holding onto her braids. Her pulse jumps and his craving intensifies.

It hadn’t taken much effort at all to maneuver her into this position. A smug satisfaction fills him from head to toe, all the more potent by the anticipation of their blood exchange.

He intends to draw out the moment of the bite and savor it, but with her neck offered before him he gives into his need and sinks his teeth into her flesh, forgetting to be gentle in his eagerness. She winces and makes a pained sound so he pulls his fangs back to soothe the wound with his tongue with her blood on his lips. As like all the times before, his senses are flooded with sensation and feeling and an awareness he’d been lacking for so long.

How denied he had been! Made to beg for the putrid blood of insects and vermin, decade after decade, and even being happy to receive that after years without anything at all but the deepest pits of hunger clawing at his sanity. The taste of sewage and ash was all he’d known, and now a veritable feast fit for a Lord lies in his lap, freely given. The rich, complex flavor of her magic touched blood bursts on his tongue in ways completely foreign to him.

His mind, sharp and focused now without the fog of hunger clouding his every move. The heaviness that dragged his limbs was gone as a warmth began to bloom in his chest. He could take on all of his siblings in this state, he thinks, feeling drunk on her power. The image of throttling Petras fills him with a giddy sort of glee that makes him grin against her throat.

A drop of blood escapes him and begins to dribble down the side of her neck. He chases it with his tongue, licking his way back up to the wound he’d made to press his mouth back to it. She shivers, the movement drawing his attention with predatory intensity.

Her arousal would be obvious even if he couldn’t taste it in her blood. He could see it in the way she shifted against him, clutching his forearm and making those little breathy sounds he was all too familiar with.

Her life’s blood slides down his throat, and he groans from the taste, his newfound strength, and her own sexual arousal leaking from her tadpole to his. Even his squirming little brain companion seemed pleased by the feast before him.

Careful, careful, he reminds himself. He can’t weaken her too much, in case Cazador’s minions find them out here and try to bring him back.

An unwanted feeling of helplessness and panic runs over him, and he curses the power his old master still holds over him even in his absence. Pathetic.

Still, he needs her hale. He can’t be too greedy, lest the cleric turns her temper back onto him again.

Morgan’s eyelids start to droop and he pulls back reluctantly, staunching the small wound with his fingers. The smell and taste of her blood lingers in his mouth and he sighs, feeling warm and altered.

She stirs and tries to sit up, but falls back against him. Shit, maybe he did take too much.

“Shh…shh…just rest here a moment,” he reassures, guiding her to the bedroll. He hovers over her and puts a hand on her chin, looking into her eyes. She meets his gaze and appears coherent but weakened, which satisfies him. However, best to not leave her in such a state to ensure she wouldn’t suffer any ill effects that would earn him another thrashing from the cleric, or worse, a stake.

“How do you feel?” He asks her, trying to keep her awake and talking.

“Weak,” she wheezes, in that odd accent of hers. He still hasn’t placed it. “Almost blacked out, trying to stand.”

“Hmm.” He inspects the bite marks on her neck, finding them scabbed over already. His fangs itch to open them once more and drain her dry, but he clamps down on the intrusive urge and reaches for a jug of water. He pours some into a tin cup and bids her to drink.

Morgan downs the cup quickly with a shaking hand, prompting him to refill the cup after she drains it. She drinks that one too, then groans and manages to sit up.

He makes his move.

“Ahh, poor little pudding. I do appreciate the sacrifice you are making, on my behalf,” he says, letting his unnecessary breath ghost across her skin as he plucks the empty cup from her grasp. His fingers linger a little longer than necessary on hers. “How could I possibly repay you for such a debt?”

“Umm,” she seems distracted. He smiles inwardly. “It’s fine, if it helps you fight. The weakness doesn’t last long.”

“Still,” he tuts in mock consternation. “You deserve a reward for all of this. I am so very grateful for all you’ve given me…” he sets the empty cup aside, and very gently rests one of his palms on her thigh.

She snorts as she considers him for a moment. “What are you offering?”

“Well…” he lets the phrase linger on his tongue as his fingers dance a trail up her clothed thigh. “Perhaps a night to ourselves, so I can show you in great detail how pleased I am with what you’ve given me.” He pauses. “And I do mean sex by the way, if that wasn’t clear.”

“Okay. When?”

Well, that was easy. This woman was clearly an idiot, agreeing to meet a vampire alone in the darkness, and he couldn’t be happier with his fortune.

“Tomorrow,” he purrs, gracefully sliding next to her on the bedroll. He props his head up with a hand and raises his other to push some stray hairs out of her face. “I’ll find us a nice secluded paradise where we can make all the noise we want without the others to trouble us.”

“Why not now? I can be very quiet.”

That drew a genuine bark of laughter from him. “Eager little thing!” His eyes rake down her form in a show of rakish approval before his free arm snakes around her waist to drag her down to him. She lets out a little squeal, which he likes. “I’d much rather have you screaming my name all night, if it’s all the same to you,” he growls in her ear.

“All night? That’s a bold claim, don’t you think?”

Brat.

“The cleric said you should rest after giving blood in any case,” he reminds her, dragging a thumb across her lips. She catches his thumb and bites it, leaving a weak impression of her blunt teeth. “You’ll have to control your lust for a little bit longer, my dear.”

She rolls her eyes at him, but her smile is lazy and amused. Good.

”Fine,” she yawns, punctuating his point. “Yeah, I guess I’m pretty tired.”

“Then sleep, lover…and after a stimulating day of slaughtering more goblins, no doubt, we will indulge in our every desire.”

“Sounds good.” The word are slurred from her exhaustion, and come out more as “s’goo.” Her eyes drift shut.

Astarion lifts himself off her bedroll and watches her for a second. Her heartbeat and breathing has returned to normal levels, so he lets himself out of her tent. Back into the darkness of the evening, his senses flare to life; vision piercing through the darkness, conversations from all the way across camp playing in his ears, sensing a myriad of delicious heartbeats and pulses throbbing all around him.

None as enticing as the feast he’s had just now.

He slips into the shadows between the tents, remaining undetected until he reaches the one he has claimed as his own. The interior is littered with jars of congealed blood from enemies he’s attempted to preserve, but the thought of consuming them now after the banquet he just dined on is unthinkable. He lays back onto his own bedroll instead to contemplate his good fortune.

It was good he got to Morgan first, given how both Gale and Lae’zel had been looking at her. Though imagining her and Gale together was laughable; if his lectures didn’t put her to sleep they wouldn’t stop bickering long enough to get their clothes off. Morgan had made her disdain of wizards clear enough, not that it stopped the man’s pathetic longing in her direction.

Lae’zel would be a bit more problematic if she chose to pursue his target. He’d have to keep an eye on the gith.

Without those two mucking around in his territory, Astarion was confident he could keep her interest, if tonight’s little dance had been any indication.

He’d secure Morgan’s favor, and convince her to talk the others into helping him kill Cazador after dealing with this worm business. Then? Well he had all the time in the realms to figure that out.

**

Thank you for reading! I did not plan to write any fanfiction for this fandom but @mercymaker and I have been chatting about sexy vampire bites and throat ripping and it changed my brain chemistry and wouldn’t leave me alone until I got this out of my system 😅

[astarion-approves]

Peeping Tav Astarion X Male Tav

A master at his kink, Tav found a new target of his dreams. The tall, pale, and handsome ‘Astarion.' A chef that works long hours, with a body built of marble, and a home filled with easily accessible windows. But Tav may have bitten off more than he can chew. Will he be able to see his target in all of his glory? Or will he become the one that's targeted? Part 1 of ?

NSFT, Peeping, Peeping Tom, Kinks, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Modern Era, Hand Jobs, flesh light, chef Astarion, Anal Fingering, POV First Person

Read below or read on Ao3

Hello, my name is Tav and I’m addicted to peeping. 

Most would agree that peeping is a disgusting habit, and they would be right. Call it what you want, Peeping Tom, Ogler, Rubberneck, Onlooker, Voyeur, and so on. I’ve tried to stop, many times, but it’s just so damn addictive. Watching a stranger undress, them unknowingly giving me a show while I jerk off right outside their window? 

There’s no better feeling.  

Just knowing that they have no idea I’m right there , hiding in a tree or crouching in some bushes, maybe even standing there with no coverage at all… and I’m hard as a rock, my free hand over my mouth as I cover any moans that may slip through as I pleasure myself to their naked body. Eyeing them up and down as they become comfortable in their home, a place that they consider safe but it’s anything but. 

And it wasn’t as if I was your ‘typical’ peeper. Normally I would just go out a few times a week, not every night like some of the guys I knew. On top of that; I wouldn’t upload my recordings online like some creep, that content was only meant to be enjoyed in my own home. Where, ironically enough, I close my blinds. Plus, I looked alright for the most part. My clothes fit well, I was in decent shape, and I’ve been told that I was good looking. Shaggy brown hair, light green eyes, and little dimples. What more could you love? Well… maybe minus the whole peeping part, but really, you’d never suspect me. Just look at me, friendly as ever, not a man that stands outside your window and jerks off! 

Right. Moving on... 

Peeping starts off simply enough. 

First, I find a target. Someone handsome, preferably in great shape with plenty of muscle, and a nice plump bottom. I could find them anywhere, at the store, the park, a movie theater, even just walking down the street. I keep myself open to new opportunities. 

I tend to obsess over one person at a time, which comes to my second step: learning their basic schedule. What time they wake up, when they have breakfast or head to work, if they’re single or dating someone, what they do in their spare time - and most of all; where they undress in their home . 

Thirdly, after doing my research, I plant myself outside their window and chase after the perfect orgasm. If their bedroom is on the second floor and they keep their blinds shut I’m shit out of luck. However , a single story home with plenty of windows is a real treat. 

The perfect man, the perfect schedule, and a perfect home - it can be extremely difficult to find all three at once… sometimes you just have to settle.  

But, god damn , if I haven’t found the most handsome man to follow these last few weeks. 

His name is Astarion, even his name rolls off my tongue like something to be savored. A professional chef that works long hours but makes sure to fit in a quick workout at the gym around 3 o’clock everyday before he goes to work. He would always wear thick, dark clothing, covering his entire body, before changing into a semi revealing pair of shorts and sneakers. And then he would begin his workout. 

I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve followed him to the gym, I even went so far as to get a membership myself just to watch him. I would walk on the treadmill with him directly in my view, my cock tucked up and into the waistband of my shorts to disguise myself as I grew hard just from watching him. 

One day I'd have to thank him for helping me stay in shape.  

The man’s body was like marble, carefully carved, smooth, and flawless. It was almost like he didn’t need to work out, that he was naturally built to look like a god among men. Thick thighs, a thin waist, a great set of abs, a delicious ass, and features so handsome that he made anyone he encountered swoon. His hair was as a cool silver in color and his skin was as light as snow, like a dusting of snowflakes that would shimmer from sweat that I ached to lick off him. It would make my mouth water as I watched him lift weights with ease, Astarion grunting when he added more weight and pushed himself harder… and all I could imagine were those grunts happening because of me. 

It was becoming a fantasy of mine to straddle him as he worked out. To feel his length beneath my bottom, grinding on him as a reward for completing each and every set, then dragging him into the locker room to drop down onto my knees and finally get a taste of that hot, sweaty cock. 

A cock which I have yet to get a proper view of, try as I might. 

Astarion was a fan of speedy showers after his workout, ones that didn’t give me the opportunity to get a good look at anything besides his ass. Which, I’m not exactly complaining about. The desire to bury my face between those buns and have a full on feast was almost overwhelming. However, with his strength, his beauty, and his sweet soothing voice - I needed to see that dick. And his lightning fast showers in the gym showers weren't enough. 

Tonight… I was determined to finally get a peek. I had a plan. A… well, a simple plan that burned a small hole in my wallet but would hopefully work out in the end. 

At 5 o’clock in the afternoon Astarion would be heading to work. He wouldn’t return for a while, around eight to ten hours, depending how his shift went. He was a great chef by the way, always in control of his kitchen, serving delicate little dishes that cost almost a quarter of my rent. It was hard to believe that such strong hands could create such beautiful and delectable dishes… 

Anyway…

After work, anywhere between 1 o’clock and 3 o’clock in the morning, he would head directly back to his home, an adorable little one story brick house with seemingly more windows than walls and enough large bushes to conceal anyone. Perfect for me, not so perfect for him. Astarion would jump in the shower, or so I assumed as it was the only room in the entire house with a fogged window, then, and this was the best part, Astarion would stroll around his home completely nude. 

Did I mention how fucking gorgeous Astarion was? 

It wasn't something he had always done, a more recent development really. And fuck how I loved it. In the beginning he would get dressed in the bathroom, throwing on some pajamas and a towel over his shoulder to continue drying his hair. But as the weather grew warmer, he began waltzing out through his home with nothing on. Only the towel over his shoulder on top of his head. 

The only problem was, he never got close enough to the fucking window s. He was always moving, always doing something to prevent me from getting the view I so desired. I would film him night after night, hoping to record his dick up close and personal; but I was never so lucky. 

If he was lying on the couch in his living room? The coffee table hid him. 

Sitting in his kitchen with a cup of tea? His legs were crossed. 

Resting in bed while he scrolled through his phone? The towel was over his lap. 

It was torture. Slow, painful, blueballs for weeks: torture . 

At one point, I considered knocking on his door myself, hoping that he wouldn’t cover up and would just answer the door with his dick out. I quickly gave up on that idea when he received a late night delivery and threw on a pair of shorts. Which he kept on the rest of the night and I went home more frustrated than ever. 

A few other times he would have different women over at his place at random hours. Either bringing them home with him or they would show up just as the sun was beginning to rise. Seriously, who agrees to a one night stand at nearly six am? …. Okay , I would. With Astarion that is. Really… I’m just being jealous. 

Well, whenever they showed up, Astarion would always close the blinds, hiding their coupling from any possible prying eyes. Basically just me . And I would give up, not bothering to stick around to see them leave. I had no doubt they were leaving with wild sex hair and a blissed out ‘just fucked’ expression as they shuffled back home. 

Again. I was jealous . But I’ve spent weeks trailing after this target, the longest amount of time I’ve ever spent watching a single person, and I was damn close to giving up. I can only chase after someone for so long before I just become exhausted . Astarion was worth it, holy fuck was he worth it , but I was getting more and more impatient as each night passed. 

This entire time I’d never seen him jerk off. Which was… unusual . Most single men were taking any chance they got to take care of those urges. But not Astarion. Maybe it was because of the women he brought home? But even then that was only once or twice every few weeks... Or perhaps he was fulfilling those urges in the morning after I’d gone home for the night? Either way, I needed to see him, I needed to see him fuck his own hand and finish all over his stomach and fat pecs. 

So, a few days ago, I ordered a special delivery for Astarion and prayed that he would… partake in what I sent. Straight porn, gay porn, lesbian porn, videos and magazines, butt plugs, a fleshlight, flavored lube, regular lube, hell I even sent massage wands. Anything to get this man to touch himself with the blinds open and in a perfect view just for me . 

He saw the package on his door as soon as he got home that night, his brows dipping down in confusion as he read his own name on the label before carrying it inside. I was practically giddy as I watched him forgo his shower and unbox everything in his living room instead. He was confused as ever as he pulled out each item. He studied everything as they were revealed, even flipping through each magazine and shaking his head in disbelief as he did. 

I didn’t miss the small twitch of his thin lips when he flipped and paused through the gay magazine. He paused and kept looking through it! Score! 

And then out came the clear flesh light. 

The way his eyes lit up was one of the most adorable reactions I’ve ever seen. As if this was never an option for him, that he never even considered using a toy like this to pleasure himself. For a moment, it was like the heavens opened before me. A light shined through the window and embraced Astarion in a glow that could only be described as angelic as he began to remove his clothing. His strong arms gripping the bottom of his shirt and lifting it above his head and throwing it to the floor, his long and elegant fingers quickly unbuttoning his slacks as he yanked them down - 

And then. 

There it was. 

A dick worth waiting for. 

It hung gently against his thigh, soft and relaxed, a little darker than the rest of his body, a touch of pink at the tip like the most perfect rose - and it was everything that I imagined. Astarion sat back down onto his couch, directly in front of his window, and uncaring of any eyes that could see as he reached for his new toy and a bottle of one of the lubes. 

I chewed my lip and slipped my hand down to the waistband of my joggers and carefully pulled them down to expose myself to the cool night air. I was already hard, my cock sensitive to the touch from my own hand due to lack of use. But finally, finally , all of my work would pay off. 

Astarion poured a generous amount of lube over his shaft, pumping himself lightly until he came to full thickness. I found myself sneaking closer to the window, Astarion's eyes were pointed down and to the magazine beside him - if I stayed quiet and still out of his view… it would be easy to get away with. 

But I wasn't so sure I could hold back once Astarion slipped the flesh light down onto himself. 

He let his head drop back and let out a loud, needy moan; so loud I could hear it outside with his decorative bushes between us. Astarion moved his hand slowly, allowing himself to indulge wholly into the pleasure the toy could offer him. His grip would tighten around the toy as he worked it up and over the tip of his dick, and then loosen as he brought it back down to the base. 

The toy was too small for him, I learned this after Astarion began to fuck it with a little more desperation. As he brought it all the way down his length, the upper half would pop though the top, revealing his glistening tip which was now turning a deep red as he continued to jerk himself off. 

My own hand was moving to match Astarion's as he fucked into the toy, now with his eyes closed and no longer looking at the magazine. This was a moment that would be burned into my memory for the rest of my life… the most gorgeous man before me, gasping and moaning, his hips beginning to lift off the couch and fuck even harder into the toy I've provided for him - 

" Fuck ," I moaned, my voice quiet but I couldn't hold back any longer, it slipped out of me. I was so close to finishing, so close to shooting my load all over Astarion's bushes just outside his window, my first orgasm in weeks right there and ready to blow. For a moment, a quick brief second , I closed my eyes as I nearly finished– 

And when I looked back to where Astarion sat: he was gone. 

My hand stilled, fear enveloping my body as I frantically scanned the now empty living room in front of me. Astarion was nowhere to be seen. Even the fleshlight was missing, meaning he was in such a hurry he took it with him. 

My moan must have alerted Astarion, he most likely saw me outside his window with my dick out and about to apply a fresh layer of white to his house. I knew that Astarion was fast, and that more than likely he was sprinting for his cellphone and about to call the police. If I moved fast enough, I could have my pants jerked back up and get to my car before they arrived– 

"And what do we have here…?" 

I froze, my entire frame unable to move as a cool body pressed against my back. One hand appeared on my left hip before sliding under my shirt and coming to rest on my stomach. A warm breath cascaded down my throat as he spoke again. 

"Don't let me ruin your fun, darling. Keep going." 

Words were lost, the ability to move was gone, my breathing short and labored, everything inside of me telling me to run. But I couldn't. There was nothing I could do as my target stood behind me, teasing me, knowing that I was completely at Astarion’s mercy.  

There was no telling what his plan was. If I were to keep going would he drag me into the street and call me a pervert? Was he secretly recording me and planning on exposing my dirty kink to the world? 

"Relax," Astarion purred into my ear, chucking as he slowly slid his hand down my stomach and stopped just before my groin. "I won't bite." 

"I'm sor–" I tried to speak, to blurt out some kind of apology; but Astarion shushed me before anything could be said. 

"Hush. I think it's only fair I get to play with you now… wouldn't you agree?" Before I could register what was happening, Astarion was yanking my joggers down to the ground and slipping my dick into his used fleshlight. 

" Oh ." Astarion gave me no time to react, his right hand gently swiping the toy up and down over my cock while his free hand moved even lower to massage my balls as he jerked me off. 

"Feel good?" Astarion asked, his voice dipping lower, turned on, needy, almost out of breath and it was because of me. 

I nodded, my mouth hanging open but words still far, far away from me as I allowed Astarion to work my length with his skilled hands. He gave me pleasure the same way he had to himself, slow at first, focusing on my tip and applying careful, gentle pressure as he eased my cock in and out of the toy. 

"Such a pretty little human." Astarion's cock was hot and heavy resting against my back, although he was dressed now, I could feel his length pressing into my lower back as he forced me into his chest. 

Wait, 'human' ? 

Astarion peeled his left hand away from my balls, leaving me panting and missing the feeling of his hands massaging me there– 

And then his hand was on my ass, easing between my cheeks and pressing a single finger against my entrance. I almost buckled over, gasping as he softly caressed my hole with a slicked fingertip. 

"Oh, you dirty boy. You love that, don't you?" 

" Yes ," I hissed as he managed to slip the tip of his middle finger inside. It has been so long, far too long, since I've touched my own ass. And now Astarion, my perfect target of all people, was the first to touch me in months. 

"So… tight," Astarion spoke almost as if he was in disbelief. The back of my shirt was damp from his precum, only turning me on further as I felt his dick twitching and rubbing on his cool precum all over my back. 

I was close again. As much as I fought it… it was impossible to hold back any longer. I was trying to savor Astarion's touch as he worked my dick and fingered my ass, it was all too much. I was shaking in his arms, my hips weakly pushing forward and back, trying to get as much of Astarion's lubed finger up my ass and as much pressure over my cock head to finally cum. 

"Come on, cum for me," Astarion whispered into my ear, his lips bushing over my skin as he spoke. His middle finger reached as deeply as it could, titling up and pressing against the bundle of nerves that made me break. 

I threw my body back against him, my hips jerking wildly as I finished into the fleshlight. Cum spilled over the top of the toy and down the sides until it coated Astarion's fingers leaving a dirty mess behind. Astarion groaned alongside me, his head ducking into my neck and biting down harshly as my cum cascaded down his knuckles….

------

Let me know if we need a part two ;P

[jessiemeows]

Underdark Trysts

A/N: Hello! Although I am holding off on my long fic. I decided I want to write more little drabbles that I believe I'll eventually add to my long fic. I want to let everyone know I never really written anything with smut so this is my first time lol. I hope it's at least decent enough. I made this in Astarion's POV because throughout my upcoming fic I want it to be divided from Eris' prespective and Astarion's :)

R: E for explicit!!

Content Warning: fingering, PIV, cum inside without protection, hints of him maybe becoming overly jealous?? a little too dominant at one point

Word Count: 1300

Pairing: Spawn Astarion x F! Dark Urge Tiefling, My OC Eris, Selunite Cleric/Paladin

Summary: After completing the Soverign Spaw's quest to rid the rot of duergar that killed his young, Eris and Astarion are looting a small hut together. Astarion gets turned on and wants to have a quickie. His simple plan fell apart weeks ago (even before the tiefling party) but he's refusing to realize it and keeps blaming his tadpole for any feelings he gets.

Eris scrunched up her face, nose twitching in distaste. "Ugh, do these duergar eat anything but mushrooms?" She rummaged through wicker baskets and rotted crates, her eyes scanning for anything of use. Astarion stood with his arms crossed, his lean frame leaning casually against the rough-hewn wooden planks, a small smile playing on his lips as he watched her and her furry friend, Scratch search the hut. A short respite after he and his companions had just finished defeating a group of Absolute-worshiping duergar who had slain the young myconid followers of Sovereign Spaw, and were forced to kill the rogue myconid Sovereign Glut, who had sought to overthrow Spaw. 

Astarion chuckled, shaking his head. "I don't know, darling, we are in the Underdark. I'm pretty sure that's all they eat."

Eris spun around, a pouty look on her face. "Well, it's gross. I don't think I've ever liked mushrooms and that's saying something since I don't remember much. One of these days I hope we can find a nice dessert. Maybe a chocolate fudge cake!"

Astarion's smile grew. "Hmmm, I'm not sure that will happen, my sweet but maybe." He couldn't help but find her pout adorable.

Eris turned back to face a couple of shelves, but they were just out of her reach. "A little help?" she pleaded, looking back at Astarion. He snorted and sauntered over, pulling down the book and holding it just out of her reach. "Go on, take it."

Eris glared at him. "Astarion, I swear by the moonmaiden’s grace I will smite you if you don't give it to me." He laughed and relented, handing her the book. "thank you" she muttered, rolling her eyes and stashing the book in her bag of holding. Scratch followed her as she moved to the next area of the small hut.

Astarion's breath caught as he drank in the sight of her. The warm glow of the mushrooms illuminated her freckled now blood-stained skin and fiery red eyes. Her blood soaked low-cut armor and form-fitting corset accentuated the swell of her breasts, just staring at her he could feel his trousers begin to tighten as his arousal grew... He needed her. Now. Straining to listen, he heard the others down by the Ebonlake. Lae'zel and Shadowheart were arguing about the artifact yet again, while Karlach, Wyll, and Gale discussed what they suspected lay across the lake - likely more Absolute cultists. This was wonderful because no one was paying any attention to the two of them.

He turned to her, trying to sound casual. "Darling, turn around I found something." Eris spun around, curiosity in her eyes. And then his lips were on hers, needy and demanding. Without hesitation, he let his hands wander down her waist and firmly grasped her ass, giving it a gentle squeeze. He could tell she was startled, but she leaned into the kiss, letting out a little giggle at his eagerness. 

"Astarion," she warned, but he deepened the kiss. "They are all busy, no one will know," he muttered against her lips. He trailed kisses down her neck, feeling the slight bumps of the bite scars he had left the previous night during their nightly trysts, when he drank her blood. Gods, she was so sweet, allowing him to drink from her each night. He was fortunate she was a cleric, and that he gifted her the amulet of Silvanus back at the grove or she would have been left exhausted every day. A soft moan escaped her as he kissed her collarbone, his hands squeezing her breasts.

"Shhh, pet, as much as I adore your sweet moans, those sounds are meant for my ears alone. But, do you want more?" he whispered against her skin. She nodded and he pulled back, looking at her. "hmmm what was that? I'll need words, little love."

Astarion smiled as Eris whispered, "Yes, please, Starry, I want more." He pressed his lips against her skin, then murmured, "Good girl."

Astarion swiftly scooped up Eris and placed her on a somewhat stable, broken desk. He shooed away Scratch without delay. With deft fingers, Astarion quickly unlaced and pulled down Eris' trousers and pink laced underwear. Eris was already so wet, but Astarion wanted her to beg just a little more. His icy fingers found their way into her folds, pumping slowly inside her, moving rhythmically. As he kissed her neck he quickened his pace. Hearing her quiet whimpers, he paused the kisses to see Eris concentrating on not being too loud.

Astarion placed his free hand over Eris' mouth. "Moan for me, my little moon. I'll make sure no one hears you," he whispered smugly. He savored watching the writhing tiefling submit to his dominance, reveling in her willing surrender. Only he was allowed to do this, no one else- not Gale, not Wyll, not Lae'zel, no other tiefling that had hit on her back at the grove, only him. His simple plan was succeeding tremendously.

"A-Astarion," Eris mumbled through his fingers. 

"Yes, love?" Astarion cooed. "I need you to use your words. You know how dearly I adore your sweet voice."

Eris struggled to force out the words, "P-please.". 

"Love, I don't know what you want," Astarion teased. Eris pleaded, "I want you, Starry. Please, I need you."

He wasted no time unlacing his own trousers and pulling Eris close. With a covetous murmur, "Only because you asked so sweetly," he plunged his hard, aching cock into her folds. Eris squealed, but Astarion quickly covered her mouth to stifle the sound. He began thrusting slowly, allowing her to adjust to his length, before gradually picking up the pace, pounding into her harder. Eris' tail curled around his leg as her long nails gripped the collar of his jacket.

Astarion could feel Eris's body tightening around him as they neared climax. Her fingers were now wrapped his curls. "Fuck, you feel so good," he muttered breathlessly. His thrusts grew sloppy and ragged as he reached his release inside her.

Both breathing heavily he rested his head against her shoulder, still inside her. She played with his curls, then gave him a small but sweet kiss on his forehead, just as she had done back at the tiefling party. That simple gesture grounded him, keeping his mind from wandering as it had then. He didn't want to wander; he wanted to savor this time with her, for he truly enjoyed it. Cazador wouldn't whisk away this sweet, lost, murderous fool of a selunite. They were both safe. 

Astarions ears perked up when he heard soft foot steps moving closer to them, giving Eris a nervous look the two quickly jumped apart, hurriedly pulling their pants back up and trying to look nonchalant. Shadowheart entered the doorway, saying, "Hey, are you guys almost done looking around in here? The rest of us are ready to head back to camp. I don't know about you, but I need a bath after that Mushroom got his guts all over me."

"Haha! Yes, we're done. Just give me a minute to organize my bag, and we'll be out," Eris replied quickly, her face flushed with embarrassment. Astarion chuckled to himself, amused by her discomfort.

"Okay, I'll be out here with Gale. The other three have already started making their way back," Shadowheart said, her confused expression clearly indicating she didn't want to know what had just happened. With that, she left the doorframe.

Astarion looked at Eris smugly, teasing, "Look at you, you little minx of a Selunite, lying to your best friend. Maybe the Sharran and I are bad influences on you."

Eris lightly punched his arm. "I really don't think she wants to know what just happened," she teased back.

"Probably not. Alright, let's go, before you make me want to go for another round," Astarion said, his voice low and seductive.

Eris walked through the doors ahead of him, and Astarion paused for a moment, his stomach filled with butterflies. He quickly shook off the feeling and followed Eris, muttering, "Stupid tadpole is playing tricks again."

[senseandaccountability]

I'm sorry, I had to take a break from the game to write this little act 1 ficlet because I'm obsessed and wanted to try out this POV for a bit. Sorry/not sorry.

Build this ship to wreck pg-13, 900-ish words

*** It’s so simple, seducing her. Almost boring in all its pettiness. A little flattery here, a carefully worded promise there - their lives are dark and dreary and full of worms and Elnys Tavren is not even half as immune to vain delights as she’d like to pretend she is.  “You don’t have me yet,” she reminds him and all the freckles and scars of her skin seem visible in the moonlight at that moment. The darkness rising from the earth nearly disguises her but not to him. Never to him, he doesn’t miss a beat and that’s why he’ll win in the end.

There’s something wild about the way she moves. Something raw and unrefined that makes him think not of the endless line of perfect, willing bodies he’s lured and baited over the centuries, but of a before that he no longer knows ever truly existed outside of his imagination. Hundreds of years of make-believe take their toll, he assumes. Perhaps that’s why he - apart from the fact that she’s the least powerful fighter of the group - had chosen to bite her, not so long ago. Glaringly obvious reasons aside, she’s also someone the living man he used to be might have desired, once, before he made a deal with the devil and lost all traces of himself to cruelty and death. Cazador, at least, wouldn’t enjoy her, of this he’s absolutely certain. Look what the pets dragged in. He’d feed, soften the worst of his bottomless hunger and throw away her corpse; the notion rattles dangerously in Astarion’s chest for a fraction of a second. No.

The chasm of his pasts thunders and rages, but he can’t give in to it, can’t twist up this chance at turning the tables. Nothing matters but that freedom, the sheer might of it. Does it?  Mere hours ago Elnys had allowed him to deal with the filthy Gur monster hunter the way he saw fit and Astarion had cut the man down - sloppily, without much glee, but instead a sinking sensation at the pit of his stomach. Disappointment, surely, at the lack of grandeur. Surprise that the dreadfully dull woman holding the reins had loosened them like that when, normally, she’ll jump in between an arrow and a bystander for no good reason. On the way back to camp he had meant to ask her why, meant to prod further into the shades of what his power over her could be wielded from - lust, loyalty, naivety - but the words had got caught up in between their companions, then in a camp full of celebration and revolting wine. There’s so much to consider, wound tight around others like this. Obstacles, idiocies, downright doubts, but Astarion is nothing if not resourceful so here they are now. He tells her he’s been wanting to have her since he first saw it. It’s cheap, hells is it ever, but what is seduction other than a mutually signed pact to play certain parts? An animal and its prey. The consummate lover and their chosen one. There’s a glint in her eyes as he steps closer, a flicker of hesitation perhaps. He changes his tone, tilts his head, adjusts to her unspoken demands and just like that, it’s gone again. It’s so simple, seducing her.  And hells, it would be boring if it wasn’t for her rough edges, the unpolished lust and the memory of nights in camp, listening to her spin tales from the sordid places she grew up in, her glee after a successful battle, her sharp insights and filthy mouth. All those details of her, they fill up every empty space between them, flatten out the hollows. 

She tastes of cheap wine and smoky fish and her hands get lost in his hair, twisting themselves around his curls as he kisses her; he gets lost in his own well-rehearsed theatrics, then in her blood as she rolls her neck and allows him. No fear, no sense of obligation and he’ll remember this for at least a century, he thinks, the way her fingers trace the wretched scars along his back as he drinks her, the way her breath catches and her lips are on his, licking her own life from them. Afterwards, she’s flat on her back beside him on the ground like they’re some lost wood elves frolicking about; he plays along, thinking this woman's surely predictable enough to appreciate that sort of romantic delusion. She’s glancing at him with that particular gaze she has sometimes, letting it graze over his face. It makes her seem puzzled and determined at the same time, as though she’s measuring them quietly, holding them up against a scale of her own making. 

There’s that rattle again, the sound of bones in him as he realises he doesn’t want to know what she makes of this, let alone of him. Nothing to see in here, he thinks, pushing himself up on one elbow to meet her gaze. Nothing, nothing, nothing. “Are you alright?” “Am I… what?” Elnys shrugs; the corners of her mouth twitch. “Forget it,” she says, but he won’t. After Cazador, he doesn’t forget a single thing. “Darling, of course I am, as you so eloquently put it, alright,” he retorts instead, stifling a scoff with a smile and her possible further questions with a thumb rubbing over her nipple.  She growls, low in her throat, and pulls him down over her.

“’s not a strange question, you know, just common courtesy,” she mumbles later still, arms curled around herself, a few fingers vaguely brushing his arm. He doesn’t care for it, or wouldn’t under any other circumstances, but the sun will be up soon and he can’t find it in himself to spoil the wonder of seeing it by moving anywhere. Elnys’s crimson-dyed hair is spread out over the grass, over the place where his heart once could beat and Astarion lies there watching the stars fade into a bright sky as she begins to snore, her breaths tickling his shoulder. It’s so simple, seducing her. 

[femslashhistorian]

3 Great Lae'zel/Shadowheart AUs (femslash fic rec)

Shadowheart and Lae'zel are two characters (companions) from the roleplaying video/computer game Baldur's Gate 3. Their ship name is Shadow'zel and there is a good amount of femslash (F/F) fanfiction for this ship on AO3: Lae'zel/Shadowheart (link)

The three fics I've picked for this fic rec share a few common themes: They are modern setting AUs and fit broadly speaking into enemies to lovers category. Plus: there is a bonus (non AU) rec.

You don't need to know anything about the game's canon to enjoy these fics and there is no danger that you might get any spoilers for BG3. Of course, it is helpful if you have seen a few pics / gifs / snippets to get a feeling for the vibes between Shadowheart and Lae'zel.

(There is also an interesting short article about what Shadowheart's voice actress things about this ship.)

I really love their dynamics in these three fics and the tension and bickering are delicious.

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Mrs and Mrs K'llir by justasimplelesbian

Complete, 1 chapter, 22k words, 2024

Teen and up; Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Summary: Mr and Mrs Smith AU

Shadowheart and Lae'zel is the focus, Astarion, Karlach, and Gale all make like very minimal appearances.

Note: there is an additional smut chapter (in a separate fic): link

I guess technically you might get spoilers rather for the movie Mr and Mrs Smith (2005) than for BG3.

But to be honest is has been many years since I saw the movie and thus, I don't know how closely the plot of the fic follows the plot of the movie (according to the author's notes it is pretty close). What I do know is that the author did a great job to fit Shadowheart and Lazel into this AU and a few other BG companions also show up and fit in perfectly as well.

This fic is probably the most literal enemies to lovers fic of the three, as they actually get to fight each other, however technically they start as a married couple.

I really enjoyed this fic. Highly recommended.

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the gith in 14G by yeahitshowed

Complete, 1 chapter, 3k words, 2024

Teen and up; No Archive Warnings Apply

Summary:

The door swings open just as Shadowheart slams her fist forward to knock again; the apartment’s occupant, a githyanki woman in workout gear, catches Shadowheart’s wrist to avoid being decked in the face. “Whatever you aim to sell me,” the githyanki says testily, “I hold no interest, and I dearly hope whatever two-bit company you shill for files for bankruptcy.”

“Are you being murdered?” Shadowheart says, yanking her wrist free. “Or possibly doing the murdering?”

The githyanki cocks her head. Each of her long ears sports a line of piercings; the little hoops clink together. “Hm. A unique sales strategy. I will listen to your pitch if you speak quickly.”

-

Modern AU; Shadowheart moves into a new apartment, and the githyanki next door is infuriatingly loud.

Told mostly from Shadowheart's POV, the author did a tremendous job to capture her frustration and annoyance towards Lae'zel. Switching the POV in the last scene to Wyll is working very well. What Shadowheart does to pay it back to Lae'zel is kind of relatable and also very funny.

Loved the fic. Highly recommended.

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put her canine teeth in the side of my neck by yeahitshowed

Complete, 1 chapter, 3k words, 2024

General Audiences; No Archive Warnings Apply

Summary:

“Hey!” shouts an unfamiliar voice. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Maintaining her grip on the wriggling German Shepherd, Lae’zel looks up. A woman’s stalking over from the benches, arms tightly crossed over a deeply un-dog-park-like goth getup.

“Thwarting an unsportsmanlike assault,” Lae’zel says. “The dirty one baselessly attacked – ”

“Yes, she’s playing,” the woman says. “How dare she. Can you let go of my dog?”

-

Meeting at a dog park, Lae'zel and Shadowheart's dogs are instant pals. (Lae'zel and Shadowheart, not so much.)

In contrast to the other two fics, the enemies to lovers aspects are handled without violence, however this does not mean that the bickering is not deliciously strong. A nice change of pace and a very cute fic. The names of the dogs also gave me a good chuckle. Highly recommended.

Also check out the cute fan art that inspired the fic.

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Bonus rec: non AU

to feel love (like a sinner) by mermaiddrunk

Complete, 1 chapter, 9k words, 2024

Explicit; No Archive Warnings Apply

Lae’zel’s breath grows heavy. “You feel it too?”

“Yes.”

“Tsk’va!” Lae’zel swears even as the knowledge makes her sick with lust. “I believe we have been poisoned. The wizard’s confections—”

Shadowheart lets out a small manic laugh devoid of any real humour. “It’s not poison,” she says with a trembling voice. “I think they were aphrodisiacs. I assume one or two are sufficient to do the job.” Lae’zel isn’t sure if Shadowheart is going to laugh or cry when she says, “We ate an entire bag.”

Note: There is also fan art inspired by the fic (tumblr)

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Notes:

This was cross-posted to tumblr and my WordPress blog. Check it out for more femslash fanfic recs.

Image credits:

Pexels from Pixabay

Mohamed Hassan from Pixabay 1 2

Ralf Seemann from Pixabay

[athina-blaine]

Bloodweave Fic Recs (12/8/2023)

I've been devouring fic lately and I figured I may as well do something productive with it.

Format from @inevitably-ineffable-husbands fic rec lists, check out some of their Good Omens fic recs if you're a fan ♥️

||

Four Eyes by trashmaven (G, 1.2k w || Light Angst, Pre-Relationship, Fluff) Gale has a secret.

Of Jackpots and Sticky Fingers by Asidian (G, 2k+ w || Humor, Banter, Gambling) "The nerve," huffs Gale. "Imagine setting a jackpot and then punishing anyone who won it fair and square!" Astarion's eyes flicker from the stalking lizard to Gale, and then back again. It's entirely too innocent of a look.

Hoarding Tendencies by Asidian (G, 4k+ w || Hoarding, Trust Issues Past Deprivation, Past Abuse, Misunderstandings, Starvation, Gift Giving) "My word," says Gale, caught between taken aback and genuinely impressed. "Where does this all fit in your pack?"

Letters From Gale by Modmother (G, 5k+ w WIP || Epistolary) A series of letters from Gale Dekarios to Astarion spanning the year after the defeat of the absolute.

Out of Breath, Out of Time by SadinaSaphrite (T, 1k+ w || Asphyxiation, Strangulation, Hurt/Comfort) Gale is caught in a meazel's garrote and needs some rescuing.

Might Just Make It by lavvyan (T, 2k+ w || Alternate Universe, Canon Divergence, POV Outsider) The group (sans Tav) meet Astarion by the beach. They don't meet Gale. If you ask Astarion, that just means they have to look harder.

in your arms I lie till dawn by shroomonabroom (T, 3k+ w || Hurt/ Comfort, Fluff, Sleep Deprivation) Gale hasn’t slept in several days; Astarion makes things better via food and almost cuddles.

A Practical Guide To Camping by Lunarwench (T 4k+ w || Pre-Relationship, Friendship) How the hell do these idiots have so much stuff when they were all abducted by a flying squid; A Character Study

Come To Mind by ZiGraves (T, 7k+ w || Memory Loss) Something has happened to Gale. Who was Gale, anyway? Well, Gale was himself, obviously, but what did that entail?

In the Dark by LeaXIII (T, 7k+ w || Whump, Light Angst, Tight Spaces, Blood and Injury, Impalement, Blood Drinking, Sexual Tension) Gale and Astarion are caught in a cave-in and no one has a good time. Takes place somewhere in Act 1.

Weakness Coming On by bloodweaving (shipwreckblue) (M, 5k+ w || Enemies to Lovers, Humor, Autistic Gale, Banter, Getting Together) Astarion’s expression settled into an alarming rictus of forced nonchalance. “Oh, please, darling, did you think I was serious?"

The things lost along the way (The things gained at the end) by ThatKorka (M, 14k+ w || Body Horror, Slow Burn, Hurt/Comfort, Hopeful Ending, UST) I can smell what’s under those bandages, Wizard, You’re all rot and ruin!

Deliverance by porcelain (E, 2k+ w WIP || Incubus Astarion, Angst/Hurt, Religious Guilt, Minor Character Death, Alternate Universe, Trauma/PTSD, Priest Gale) Third row, on the right, between a now awake grandfather and a nodding teary-eyed mother and bored children and still untouched scriptures. The red of the man’s irises narrow, and he flashes a smile at him, wicked in a flash of dagger-like teeth. He doesn’t look away, even when Gale does.

Rest, Indulge by ZiGraves (E, 6k+ w || Consensual Somnophilia, Blood Drinking) The slow, drowsy way that Gale’s eyelids flutter before they open fully is its own particular pleasure, and he leans into Astarion’s hand while still half-dozing enough to luxuriate without thinking. Consciousness comes back in a slow rolling wave, free of the stresses of their old camp life that might necessitate instant wakefulness. Astarion watches each moment as it builds, crests, breaks, until his wizard is awake and meeting his eyes with warm curiosity.

Friday Nights by SadinaSaphrite (E, 23k+ w || Alternate Universe, College/University, Modern with Magic, Getting Together, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Blood and Injury, Violence, Fluff, Medium Burn) Professor Gale Dakarios loses his research, his magic, and his lover Mystra all at once and only has himself to blame. When he goes to drown his sorrows, he meets a pale stranger with mysteries of his own.

The stars began to burn by peregrinefeathers (E, 33k+ w WIP || Alternate Universe, Canon Divergence, Slow Burn, Past Sexual Abuse, Psychic Bond, Emotional Manipulation, Blood Drinking) After two centuries of torment, Astarion has given up hope of escaping Cazador's clutches, until a chance encounter with a stolen book introduces him to the disembodied voice of a wizard named Gale of Waterdeep. With the fate of Baldur's Gate in the balance, they must confront their demons and win their freedom - together.

||

Let me know if you'd like a specific rec or want to share some recs of your own!

[bg-brainrot]

More than Vampiric Charms (Astarion x Tav)

Featuring: Astarion x Rogue!Tav

Series: Fits into Love at First Knife, AO3 link here

Summary: After some banter between Astarion and Jaheira goes too far, you (Tav) take some time to remind Astarion that he is so much more than a pair of fangs.

Tags: POV Second Person, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Fluff, Comfort, Vampire Spawn Astarion, set in Act 3, Astarion is Bad at Feelings, Blood, Blood Drunk, blood as a coping mechanism

A/N: Thank you to everyone who voted for this banter in my last poll! This was a fun one c:

Word count: ~3.2k

Walking through the streets of Baldur's Gate is always an adventure with your group– a particularly fraught adventure on this day, as Jaheira and Astarion seem hellsbent on trading barbs.

It had started out playfully enough, with a snide remark from Astarion, "Oh that building used to be a delightful little sweets shop about a hundred years ago. Though I suppose the crone would remember that, wouldn’t she?”

Jaheira, used to remarks about her age, often being the one to start them, was ready with a quick quip back, “Was that before or after your hair turned gray? With my old age, I can never remember.”

Astarion visibility bit back a remark about this being his natural hair color when you glared back at both of them. “Could we focus a bit please? You two can reminisce after we’ve seen to this latest bloody basement.”

One trail of blood, a disgusting array of corpses, and a piece of clown later and the two of them were at it again.

“Jaheira,” Astarion had started in a light tone– a clear indicator that he had no intent to focus. “Have you considered taking on the role of Dribbles the clown yourself? The makeup might help cover all those pesky wrinkles.”

The druid had snickered, appreciating the comment, and shot back, “I think you would be better suited to the role, given you are already a fool.”

That time, Karlach had interrupted, “Don’t either of you dare! No one could replace this Baldurian hero.”

“Which is exactly why we’re helping to piece him back together,” you’d confirmed with a nod. “Besides, you’re both cranky enough to make the children weep.”

“Darling!” Astarion had gasped, an offended hand on his chest. “How could you say that about me?”

You’d ignored his question, instead choosing to deposit a quick kiss on his pursed lips. A soft, effective bandaid that left the man with crossed arms and a reluctant smile. 

Moments later, you were ushering the group out of the building and into the city. Insults forgotten, everyone began trudging the familiar path back to the Elfsong to clean up.

Now, along this very path, you hear Jaheira strike up a new conversation with Astarion– one that has your ears perking up, even as you continue to lead the way ahead.

“It seems that you and our leader are closer than ever,” the woman observes, a smile in her voice.

There’s a moment of silence, and you can practically see Astarion’s suspicious expression in your mind’s eye as he assesses the situation. “Yes, you could say that,” he finally replies. “What can I say? I am, after all, quite charming.”

“I am glad it is your non-vampiric charms our friend has fallen for, Astarion.” A short, thoughtful pause follows before she asks, “It is, isn’t it?”

“Of course,” Astarion responds, his voice reaching a comically high pitch– one that almost makes you laugh. You want to hear this conversation more than most though, so not a sound escapes your lips. The vampire scoffs before he continues. "Is it so unbelievable that they would simply like me?"

There’s a clear hesitation as Astarion’s words hang in the air.

You wonder why Jaheira isn’t responding, what her expression must be– but before you can turn around to find out more, Astarion is speaking again.

“If you insist on prying,” he starts, clearing his throat a bit pointedly. “Perhaps you’d care to join us. And see how much we enjoy one another.”

The insinuation in his tone is almost enough to have you spinning around– teasing Karlach or Shadowheart is one thing, but Jaheira? Gods, you can feel the heat rising up your neck– “Why?” Jaheira snaps back. “Do you require some instruction on how the deed is done?”

“I’m sure even I could learn some new tricks from an old veteran such as yourself,” Astarion replies, mirth shining through in his tone.

Wait, is he actually inviting her?

You know you need to stop this conversation before it mortifies you any further. “Stop it, both of you!” you say, turning your head back, trying your best to keep a stern, not-at-all embarrassed expression on your face. “We don’t need the next installment of ‘Love at First Knife’ getting any more convoluted.”

There’s some grumbling from Astarion, an amused smile from Jaheira, and a chortle from Karlach, but otherwise your group makes it back to the Elfsong without tearing each other– or their clothes– apart.

__

That evening, Astarion slips away.

It’s not an unusual occurrence– some days his hunger is harder to ignore than others, on some you hadn’t found nearly enough evil to suck dry. Ultimately, he never wanted to take too much blood from you, so he chooses to forage as he has taken to calling it.

As a result, you think nothing of it at first, settling into bed after dinner with a book propped between your hands. After all, Cazador is dead, and Astarion is more than capable of taking down some of the most fearsome enemies in the city– he should take all the time he needs to himself.

But the hours pass, and Astarion has yet to return. The candles around you begin to dwindle, words begin to swim on a page you haven’t turned in quite some time, and sleep slowly but surely starts to drag your eyelids down.

It has almost claimed you when the door to your shared room at the Elfsong slams shut. You hear groans from around the room as those who were similarly drifting off to bed are shocked awake, everyone expecting yet another unwelcome visitor. You almost don’t have time to react before an armor-clad vampire lands atop of you.

You do react though, instinctively striking at the man with the spine of your book, a loud ‘thwack’ letting you know that your contact was true.

“Oof,” Astarion mutters, now fully splayed across your torso like a stretching cat. “Darling, must you be so violent?”

“Astarion?” you ask, putting down your book, shaking off the beginning throes of sleep as you realize what’s transpired. “Weapons down everyone, it’s Astarion.”

After a few affirmative grumbles from around the room, you turn your attention back to the vampire, “Are you alright? Did you get injured?”

“Mmm,” he murmurs, burying his face in your blanket, and rubbing at the spot where you’d hit him. “Nothing's the matter. Everything is perfectly dandy.”

His words slur though and something seems to be amiss. His movements are fluid, his body weight is completely and utterly relaxed onto you.

Almost as if…

“Are you… drunk?” you haven’t seen him like this since the bear he drank near the grove. When you’d asked him the question then, he’d shrugged it off– but it was certainly the closest to drunk you’d ever seen him.

“Not strictly speaking, no…” he drolls, tilting his head slightly to stare at you with one eye. His cheeks are flushed, a telltale sign of his recent feeding, and his eye is glazed over, its blissful sheen telling you all that you need to know.

“Have a good dinner, did you?” you ask, smiling down at him wearily. You can hardly fault him for indulging, especially after the couple of weeks you’ve had.

He chuckles, his one visible eye crinkling a bit. “Oh yes. A rather large bugbear. Hardly knew what bit him.”

You run a hand through Astarion’s hair, and respond, “Well done, my sweet, bloodthirsty vampire.”

Normally, such sweet words of unabashed ​​flattery would elicit a smile, a laugh, maybe even a kiss– but tonight Astarion freezes under your touch, his eye going wide before he tucks his face back into the bedding.

“Astarion?” you ask, your previous worry about injury now promptly replaced by a worry of a much deeper hurt.

“It’s nothing,” he mutters, voice sounding distant.

You scratch at his scalp, a bit, trying to encourage him back toward you. “Love, you know you’re a terrible liar. What’s wrong?”

He gives a soft, annoyed huff– an endearing, drunken noise were it not for the fact that he seems determined not to look at you. And continue to crush you with the full weight of his body.

“Astarion,” you say again, with a bit more emphasis, shaking his head a little with your next scratch. “If nothing is truly wrong, I will wake up Karlach. You know she would love to see you in this state.” As if to punctuate your point, a snore sounds from a few beds over, where you know the barbarian slumbers.

“Please don’t,” he murmurs, finally turning around to look at you fully.

You’re surprised to see his eyebrows furrowed, his lips turned down in a truly melancholy frown– always an expressive man, it seems that Astarion’s intoxicated demeanor is twice as exaggerated. Cute, you think. But also concerning. “Love,” you whisper, running a hand along his face. “Talk to me.”

Astarion hesitates, his watery eyes wincing as he debates his next words. Those same red eyes show an unexpected amount of vulnerability– all that bugbear blood is keeping his expression open, his entire face a rosy hue. His mouth opens, closes, his body shifts, and he fumbles with the latches on his armor as he thinks. You simply lay there, playing with his curls until he’s ready.

When he finally speaks, his words take you by surprise.

“You don’t just like me because I’m a vampire… do you?”

“What?” you ask, eyebrows raising in disbelief. Surely, you misheard him.

“You know,” he continues, waving a hand about the air. “My vampiric charms. The fangs. The blood sucking. The mysterious allure?”

“Why in the nine hells would you think that?” You reach a hand out to grab his, tugging on it gently to try to get him to sit up.

Astarion’s eyes drift away from you, but he does sit up, legs draping over your stomach. “Just… because of something Jaheira said.”

Oh. The conversation you’d been eavesdropping on.

“Do you mean what she said earlier? On our way back to the Elfsong?” you ask, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Well, yes,” he mutters, still not looking at you. “Though I can’t help but notice you haven’t answered my question…”

“Astarion,” you start, releasing his hand, only to place it on the slightly flushed skin of his cheek. “No, I do not only like you because you’re a vampire.” Your words are firm, leaving no room for misinterpretation.

His eyes meet yours again, and still you can see so much doubt, so much unmitigated fear. “Are you certain? You truly do seem to enjoy it when I bite you.”

“Well, that’s true,” you admit with a small wince. It does feel rather… good when he bites you, it would be a lie to say otherwise and, besides, you’ve told him as much before. “But that’s not why I like you, you fool.”

Astarion’s bottom lip slips into a small pout and he moves away from your hand. “You’re not very convincing, you know? Especially when you call me a fool.”

You scooch out a bit from under him, leaving your legs under his. With all of the severity in the world, you reply, “If it makes you feel better, I’m a fool too.”

“You are?” he asks, curious despite himself– easily falling for your little trap.

“A fool for you.”

The noise that escapes him is half groan, half chuckle, and his mouth pulls into a lopsided little smile that you’re not certain you would have earned were he not a bit blooddrunk. “Gods, how the hells did I fall for you?”

“Now you’re asking the right questions,” you respond with a smirk on your face. When you place a hand on his knee, the smirk turns into a small smile. “But I’m being genuine– I don’t like you because you’re a vampire. And before you ask, I don’t love you because of your vampirism either.”

He gives a small huff. “Well, Jaheira made it sound as if there wasn’t much else to care for.” An uncharacteristic admittance from him– normally he would brush off such a statement with a proud declaration of how phenomenal he is. But it seems that Jaheira’s words cut deep– and that blood has loosened his lips.

“Jaheira, despite all of her many, many years of experience–” you enjoy the full laugh that elicits. “simply doesn’t have my refined taste. There are so many reasons to like you, love. In fact, vampirism doesn’t even make the list.”

“Oh, you’re keeping track, are you?” he asks, folding his arms and body over his legs and smiling up at you.

“Maybe,” you murmur, leaning forward toward him. “Would you like a sampling of reasons?”

The look he gives you then is hopeful, but more than a little dread slips through in his shining red eyes. When he answers, his voice is barely above a whisper. “Only if you mean them.”

This withdrawn, unsure Astarion isn’t a common sight to you, but, like every other facet of the man before you, he’s no less lovable. So you lean forward, placing a kiss on his pale forehead, and say, “I mean them with my whole heart.”

“Then… I suppose I ought to be lavished with them," he murmurs, and you spot the blush intensifying over his cheeks, now also coloring his ears.

Coupled with his fluid, inebriated state, his heart laid bare before you, you want to scream the reasons from the roof of the Elfsong, if only for him to believe you. But, as it is, the soft snores of your companions keep your voice hushed, your face close to his as you begin.

“Let’s see… should I start with the first thing that stood out to me?”

He hums in agreement, and closes his eyes, as if preparing to listen to the sweetest tune known to the entirety of Faerun.

“Well, it started with your first lie, I think,” you start.

Astarion gives a disapproving groan, but doesn’t open his eyes.

“My dear, you said you said you had a ‘brain thing’ cornered– I hope you know the smile on my face wasn’t from confidence,” you say with a new, fond smile at the memory. “I just knew from that moment on, you didn’t much care for what others thought of you, as long as your goals were met. A kindred spirit. Or so you said that day.”

At that, he reopens his eyes. “That’s not true.”

“We’re not kindred spirits?” you ask, an unexpected tinge of hurt blooming in your chest.

“That’s true,” he says, balming the hurt quickly. “It’s not true that I don’t care what others think of me. I do. Well, maybe not everyone.” His eyes dart toward Gale’s bed and you stifle a snicker. “But I certainly care what you think of me.”

You look into his crimson eyes, a bit clearer now than when you began talking– the blood seems to be working its way through his system. His words come from a place of honesty, not a lack of inhibition.

“Then, let me assure you here and now,” you murmur, leaning down to press a kiss to his lips. “I think–” Another quick peck on his lips. “you’re the funniest–” A kiss to his nose. “the most deft–” A brush of lips against his temple. “creative, endearing, brave–” Each word comes with a kiss along his jaw. “man I’ve ever met.”

Astarion’s eyes look at you, his face still for a moment as he considers your words. When he finally speaks, it’s a quiet, choked up question, “Oh, is that it?”

“Would you like me to keep going?” you ask, lips perched just above his eyebrow, ready for another round.

He shakes his head ever so slightly. “No– no need or you’ll be here all night, surely,” he says, posturing as best as he can while still looking at you with fearful eyes. Almost as if your candid praise is simply too much for him to bear.

It may be too much, and you’re not one to push it.

“Very well,” you say, pulling back. “But I didn’t even get to how good you look covered in blood…”

The man gives a light laugh at that, some of his nerves melting before praise he understands– his appearance is a source of comfort, one that brings him back to himself. “Oooh yes, I do look dashing in red, don’t I?” he purrs, a content smile forming on his face.

“That you do,” you assure, with your own warm look. You wish he would accept all praise this easily, but you suppose this is all you can do for now.

So little of what matters to you is his vampirism, his looks… but for a man like Astarion, for whom a kind word felt like a double-edged blade for two centuries? Well, you’re reminded that regardless of how many times you may tell him, whether now when he’s a bit fuzzy around the edges or when you’re in your cups, he may never truly believe you.

No matter, you suppose. I’ll simply keep finding new ways to show him how much I care for him…

“So Jaheira was kidding, right?” Astarion asks, sitting up and finally beginning to remove his leathers.

You nod, moving to help him remove his greaves. “Naturally. I thought you’d been enjoying the conversation, actually.”

“I had been,” he replies, thoughtfully. “But the more I remembered how sinfully you shiver under my fangs…”

He’s dodging before you can so much as flick his ear. “Excuse you. Is that any way to treat your most reliable source of sustenance?”

Astarion smirks as he leans away from you in the bed. “Oh darling, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. After all, you can’t help it.”

“Astarion–”

“Ehem!” You hear from somewhere behind you. It’s followed shortly by Shadowheart��s annoyed voice, “Would the two of you please keep it down? Some of us are trying to rest.”

If by ‘rest’ she means ‘reach the end of her copper novel’, then you suppose she’s right. Either way, you whisper back, “Sorry, I was defending my dignity.”

“What dignity?” she murmurs back. “And in case you’re wondering, you’re both utter fools.”

Oh great, she’d heard everything.

“Shadowheart, were you eavesdropping?” Astarion asks, crawling over you to glare at her from the edge of your bed. He’s half-dressed and still somewhat out of sorts, so you just lean back against the pillows and accept your fate.

“Is it really eavesdropping if I can hear it all clearly?” the cleric says, and you hear her book snap shut. “Besides, Astarion, if you really needed someone to reassure you, you should have asked me.”

“You?” he asks, incredulously. “And why should I ask you?”

“Because,” she starts, and you can hear her wicked smile in her tone. “I can confirm without a shadow of a doubt that there’s no such thing as ‘vampiric charm.’ I’ve never felt less charmed in my entire life.”

You can sense Astarion is just about ready to light Shadowheart’s hair on fire, so you tug him back down from the divide. “Thank you for that clarification, Shadowheart,” you call, biting back a laugh. “And I’m starting to realize none of us really have private conversations, do we?”

“No, we do not,” you hear Gale reply from a few beds away.

With that, Astarion gives an exasperated sigh and the two of you finish removing his armor in silence.  When you’re both finally ready for bed and you whisper to him, “Goodnight.” Shadowheart, Gale, and Wyll all respond, “Goodnight!”

[bolognamayhem117]

Title: Rat-holed Memories.

Length: 4500 words

POV: Astarion

Pairing: Astarion/M!Elf!Tav(Rorik), rogue/paladin

Rating: MATURE 18+

Themes: mlm, consent, clarity of expectations, dissociation, manipulation, setting boundaries, light erotica, internal conflict.

Content Warnings: References to rape, incest, broken family dynamics, murder, slavery, mild knife play, anger, emotional outbursts.

Author notes: First and foremost, I created this character on my first playthrough after Robert and I bought the game a year ago. I picked up the controller with zero knowledge of the game's contents after being told you could play as a vampire. I said "That's bold of the developer, fuck it, I'll make Rorik's dumb ass and Smegol my way through the forgotten realms or whatever..." Turns out the person who told me that was referencing the Astarion Origin playthrough. I said "Screw It I'm Doing It Anyway! With the power of IMAGINATION." To my delight and surprise it really wasn't all that hard to use paladin spells, items, scroll hoarding, and armor to very closely model the homebrew build of Rorik the Degenerate Dhampir Sun Worshipping Paladin. He has his own issues which this ficlet hints at. He's cringe, be gentle.

@ghostkingart wrote a post desiring that the fandom wrote more fic about Astarion being denied intimacy due to concerns about intent and whether he's actually in the headspace to do so, with emphasis on his canon tendancy to go somewhere "a million realms away". I thought I could oblige. Digging in my docs for inspiration revealed that I'd basically already written this exact piece, give or take a few details. Decided to put on the Big Boy pants and be brave enough to post this.

I think healing is going to be messy for him. He's a big personality and these are some big complex feelings for a man who's been on the world's shortest leash for 200 years and also has had to solve every problem with either his body or a blade.

This fic also heavily implies that some healing and learning has already taken place so bear with me. Enjoy

“I don't know. It's veiled from me… I can't remember that clearly. Just. Parts… I think so.” Rorik told Astarion.

"Nothing? You remember nothing of circumstance or even who delegated to you at all?” Astarion scoffed and crossed his arms.

Astarion had been warned that some questions he might have may not have much of an answer, for Rorik was good at burying memories too sharp to hold. Knowing of the predilection toward purposeful forgetfulness didn't make this conversation any less frustrating. He wanted to know if Rorik had ever been sent to Baldur's Gate on loan, as Rainar often ordered him to do if a nobleman or another vampire lord bid high enough. He said he'd been to the city during that time, but maintained that he couldn't remember why.

“You want to know if Cazador ever paid Rainar to have someone vanish, don't you?” Rorik asked a new question rather than answer one they both knew the answer to.

“You told me the name Cazador Szarr was familiar, once.” Astarion probed.

“It is.”

“Then you should understand why that would concern me.”

"I do.” Rorik assured him with a single nod as he half-dozed, sprawled on his back.

Silence fell upon them as they lay still but restless in Astarion's slightly tidier than usual tent. Fitting two bedrolls in it necessitated some level of order. Frankly, Astarion hid the trash and used glassware behind his temporary abode. Rorik probably knew where the mess was, but said nothing.

“What would you say if you found out tomorrow that we passed like ships in the night long ago? What would it change?” Rorik inquired, appearing curious toward the demeanor of the bees in Astarion's bonnet.

“I'd ask what Cazador would have paid to have you do. I have to lay there, every damn night, wondering if that bastard sent the Gur down the street where I lost everything. It could just as easily have been you.” Astarion explained irritably. Sometimes Astarion felt like he had to spoon feed Rorik his thoughts. He should be able to string together the pieces by now.

"I have an opinion, Astarion, but it might not be a thought you want reinforced.” Rorik offered with a warning.

“give it.”

The dhampir spoke as if reading off law rather than opinion, the gravity of his tone leaving little room for argument. “Vampires are known to stalk a target for days. You should know, to a point. But lords, or true vampires, looking to create spawn for their own uses are different. They assign much, although sometimes arbitrary or even nonsensical, ritual to their pursuit. I'm certain, if he didn't send the Gur himself, he was already watching your every move for months.”

“...You're telling me he was inevitable.” Astarion muttered with venom and a curl of his upper lip.

“...I'm saying: vampire lords aren't spontaneous.” Rorik clarified.

“Well, all I'm saying is: you're missing my point. I wish you remembered. So I could be sure.” Astarion complained with a flick of his hands in the air above them.

“If it reassures you at all, I know for a fact that Cazador didn't send me. I'd have proper fucking killed you too completely to bring back.” Rorik abruptly stated.

“What!? Exactly what makes you so sure of that.” Astarion spat.

“Beating the guts out of a magistrate but not enough that a vampire cannot turn him sounds like a miserably delicate chore… I was never bought for things like that. I'm too heavy handed.” Rorik asserted bluntly.

In mostly mock hurt, Astarion went on the defensive. “No, I mean: what in the hells makes you think I was an easy mark?”

“Hmm? How much do you weigh?”

“Eh?”

Rorik sat erect to turn and loom over Astarion, arms caging the other as he held himself up with palms pressed flat to the floor by each of the elf’s shoulders.

He huffed through a smile full of sabers, he was about to tease, “Couple sacks of grain, if you were soaking wet, I’d guess. I could toss you over my shoulder and run up a hill without losing my breath. I imagine you wielded a quill and inkpot then. The sharpest thing in your arsenal might've been a letter opener.”

How dare this often bald cunt of a man wear that disgustingly smug grin, smear insults, and manage to be bizarrely charming all the while?

“Wrong,” Astarion rebutted, “men of Baldur's Gate are required starting at age nine to learn archery, and it is short sighted for an individual of my former station not to be prepared for scorned citizens challenging him to a duel over an unfavorable ruling. You would've bitten off more than you thought.” Astarion stubbornly asserted, completely guessing although he wouldn't admit that. He had no idea what he used to do in his spare time as a mortal, or where he lived, or even what his favorite food used to be…

“Hmm, you make a good argument, sure. But your hands wouldn't have known much hardship. Could they have fended off these ragged mits?” Rorik's right hand slid against the reed mat until fingertips found Astarion's elbow, from there encircling his forearm and following its shape until he met a wrist, then the hand he meant to squeeze.

Rorik's hands were square in their shapes, knuckles scarred until the skin remained thick and rough, crooked fingers from many breaks, and strange knots of bone that betrayed how many times he'd fractured his dominant hand as he gripped his sword and struck a shield or armor rather than flesh and bone. Astarion could feel every callus like a knot under the skin of Rorik's leathery palm. Their textures were jagged and would pull runs in fine silk.

Such a gnarled paw might've repelled Astarion a month ago. His always empty guts used to twist at the touch of a victim with hands like these. Those nights and those marks did feel as though they pulled vicious runs in the silk of his skin.

Rorik was just, as per fucking usual, the one outlier. Terrible hands on him, but they squeezed his fingers carefully, they were almost warm, and their textures were becoming nuanced to Astarion's touch. He was starting to think, perhaps, if you queued up ten men of the sword, whose hands were all terrible, he could pick out Rorik's while blindfolded.

He brought Astarion's knuckles to his lips, dragging them across his cheek with a sigh that teased a quick flash of his maw of ruthless thorns.

Rorik's eyes flickered an uncanny glimmer from the candlestick glow, the eyes of a smitten predator fixed to Astarion's equally haunting gaze.

“So soft now, softer still long ago I bet, but not as soft as your eyes.” Rorik cooed down to him from behind a finger he selected to kiss.

It made Astarion's throat itch dryly to hear that. His thirst always doubled when Rorik spoke of his eyes.

The bastard grinned against his hand with too many teeth showing. Rorik's way of flirting and giving a compliment was very different from Astarion's well practiced methods. He was much too frank. Rough cut gems was what the rogue called these moments in the relative privacy of his thoughts. Rorik was getting too cocky, however, so strange charms couldn't go unpunished.

Astarion hooked a heel into Rorik's knee, kicking that load bearing joint out from under him and destabilizing him just enough that the edge of a palm clapped around his jaw easily pulled him over. This allowed Astarion to roll with him, reversing the pin. His dagger, kept tucked under his pillow, was gathered in the lightning swipe of searching fingers and brandished at Rorik's jugular.

And Rorik? He simply went limp and chuckled. The Jackass had offered no resistance and gone slack under him, hands thrown back in surrender. It offended Astarion to be allowed to win their grapple, but Rorik's implicit trust in spite of the blade threatening him always made Astarion ache somehow. The inveterate crank under him snapped his jaws at anything that pressed his boundaries, but never Astarion. Adorable Idiot. To be fair, Rorik knew that these jabs and tussles were only fun and games.

“I was not entirely defenseless, and certainly no guileless lamb. Besides, you were no different than a spaw- pardon, but you were under the complete control of Rainar. If you were ordered to destroy a man without outright killing him, you’d have no choice but to comply.”

“I think you'd remember me. I'm not something you'd mistake for Gur. Unlike some people, I shall not name them, I actually look like an undead wretch.” Rorik shook his head -foolish to do with a blade pressed near to skin- and laughed softly against the cold kiss of Astarion's dagger.

The way the apple of his throat bobbed under the razor edge could wring any vampire’s stomach with hunger.

“...True, but not quite so any longer.” Astarion dragged a finger led by a languid arm from Rorik's navel to the space under his chin.

He meant to tilt this face for a closer appraisal. Rorik's expression changed, glazing over as Astarion's thumb followed the shape of his lower lip.

“You've turned rather pink since we began this little jaunt,” Astarion reminded him.

Interesting creatures, dhampirs. One foot in the grave at all times and a hand clawing a stubborn grip on life. Apparently, if they've been behaving like their undead half they will look the part, but Astarion had yet to observe Rorik feeding. That abstinence from the sanguine was reflected in his freckled, peachy skin. He might've been a touch sunburned across the bridge of his nose and the tip of each notched ear.

Rorik gazed up at Astarion, eyes searching, questing about his shapes. He stared as though he were looking upon that sun god he claimed not to love. Silly beastly thing. Blindly devoted damn fool.

“...Would you let me kiss you?” Rorik breathed.

What could one more impossible moment hurt? Who knew when Rorik would wake up and realize Astarion had no precious light to offer him?

“Mm, just this once, darling,” Astarion hummed with lips pulling into a loose smile. It was his turn to tease.

Rorik waited so very patiently, licking his scar streaked lips with what could be perceived as lewd eagerness, but eyes wide and full of something else that called softly.

Astarion retracted the dagger, slowly, making a show of it as he held it away from their bodies. Then, Casually, as he leaned back and settled his weight over Roriks lap, he allowed the blade to slip from his fingers and pierce the mats and dirt below. He left it sticking there, at the ready, but easily forgotten as he pitched forward to claim his companion's delectable mouth.

Rorik had tried to lift himself to greet Astarion, but palms clapped over his shoulders sent him back to the floor with a hollow thud resonating from his chest. The dhampir let slip the faintest moan of approval as his jaws parted for Astarion, offering the warmth within and the taste of his nightly herb brew. His arms wove themselves all about high elf.

Rorik always squeezed, held, stroked the rogue. It briefly repulsed Astarion that first time, when Rorik held so tightly and explored him so earnestly, but that had changed. The paladin longed to be close. He didn't want Astarion's body, Rorik wanted Astarion. That came with its own new form of revulsion. How could Rorik's standards be so low that he actually wanted all of the filth under Astarion's perfect surface?

Astarion knew the answer to that. He winced silently and masked the upset by delving deeper into the pleasures of Rorik's gasping mouth the moment he was done stealing a breath.

The ex-wife, Zarla, must surely be why Rorik found Astarion an acceptable partner. Astarion himself had uttered the perfect analogy for it once before. When you're accustomed to drinking from the sewer, even plonk is a marked improvement.

Anything at all must be better than being forced to swallow every last drop of misery to survive a borderline incestuous arranged marriage to a complete and whole nightmare of a woman.

Rough fingers massaged up the back of Astarion's neck, soon cradling the back of his head. Rorik seemed to like playing in his hair, since he had none of his own until very recently.

The moment Astarion thought of it, he moved to push his fingers though that scant half-inch of strawberry blond. Rorik had still been shorn up top the last time they… But he'd thought about it, curling his fingers in it, gripping it so tight, using it to shove Rorik's keening face in the pillow to muffle him.

Once, it was their second late night encounter, Rorik had mewled things in a tongue Astarion didn't know, both betraying the wellspring of his faint accent and revealing his patron god. A heathen sun diety which pre-dated Lathandor. That night many moons ago, Astarion had delighted in watching the paladin slap both hands over his gaped jaws to keep that holy name out of his mouth while he behaved profanely.

All Astarion could think about was gripping that short ginger crown and pulling Rorik’s head up from a pillow to hear his name mingling with half formed prayer. Oh, the things which come unraveled from Rorik's disciplined tongue when Astarion fucked him were always delectable. There was something sinfully gratifying in defiling a holy man. It must be the same thing which kept Rorik coming back for more and more of Astarion. He must crave to be engulfed by the elf’s tainted touch, like an addict who craved the deadly bliss in his own destruction.

Astarion slipped his curious tongue between the split halves of Rorik's. Maybe after, he'd ask why the man had his tongue sliced. Could be a faith thing, or perhaps a fun story, but hopefully not another rat-holed memory from worse times. He set aside the thought and chose instead to be gratified in the way Rorik arched under him.

Rorik's hands curled in hair and slid down Astarion’s spine, but that left claw hesitated at his waistband and instead formed a self-restraining fist in the elf's untucked shirt. No, no, he wanted Rorik to go further. He wanted to give Rorik his hit of destroying bliss, keep him close, keep him asleep and unaware of how unfit his favorite “pain in the ass” was for him.

His guts were grinding acid at the wolves playing tug-o-war in his silent chest. Rorik aroused Astarion's dead flesh and dead heart, that was true, but it repulsed him that the only catharsis he could summon for that were the things he could do to Rorik's flesh to lure him closer. It made it feel like working one of his marks, the men and women who’d walk and blush at his side without knowing they were good as dead. This felt like raping himself and Rorik with a predatory false self.

Astarion wanted to sink through the floor into the dirt and become beetle shit, he wanted to make Rorik wail his name, and he wanted to drag all of the beauty in the world through the tar in his soul for revenge. He hated feeling it all at the same time, but most of all, his worm-holed brain screamed to keep Rorik in place, with him, blind to his truth but with him.

Gods, five minutes ago he'd accused Rorik of potentially being involved in his murder, then held him at knifepoint while the fool giggled at the game. It was only a matter of time before he saw it all for what it was. The flailing of some irreversibly ruined creature. But he could keep Rorik coming back...

I just need a little more. Stay a little longer. A few more moments to last me once you-

Astarion flattened himself to Rorik's sprawled body to let him feel the arousal he’d inspired. Putrid. Rorik's lips stretched open to drag in a much needed breath, face screwing up as his head fell back while he was ground upon. He submitted to the desire to crush Astarion closer. His arms would snap taut about Astarion so fast when he became overcome by desire. This yearning squeeze was the signal of victory for Astarion every time. He'd won. Rorik was his. He'd pushed him to the-

Rorik broke from the embrace of their lips and turned his face away, sucking down two great breaths between his words “Solan's tits… Astarion?... Astarion, Wait.”

Rorik's arms loosened from him, then carefully lifted away. He put them at his sides and flattened his hands against the reed mat in a calculated manner. Astarion's command over the situation had slipped away. He could feel warm breath heating his cheek and sense eyes trying to find his own. Astarion didn't meet the other's gaze, he couldn't because he didn't want to see Rorik's bloody concern. It was worse than the most depraved leer.

“What? Darling, you're souring the mood. Wouldn't you rather…” Astarion tried to put them back on course by laying a perfectly placed kiss at the space just under Rorik's right ear.

Predictably, the man shivered at that delicate affection and his hands clapped over Astarion's thighs to apply their crushing squeeze of approval. Gods, you're easy. Right back on the road, like recalling a loyal mutt gone sniffing too far ahea-

The thought nauseated him the moment it completed itself in his head, comparing Rorik to an animal to be commanded. The revulsion turning his stomach gave him pause, stopping him dead in the middle of suckling a decadently soft earlobe between his lips to hiss mournfully.

Rorik's hands pressed over the mound of each shoulder. He pushed slowly, putting space between them. Chaos erupted within Astarion like a crowd of men shouting over one another.

No! Not yet… Gods, thank you… Don't leave!?

Astarion was made to sit up with Rorik as he rose from the mat. He was then seated in the paladin's lap, but there was nothing titillating about it. Rorik's eyes bore through him like drill heads. His stare made Astarion feel naked when they were like that, stripped, but not erotically. He just saw him. Through him. Into him. He used to hate that and it still unnerved him, being seen.

“Astarion, let's talk about this first,” He spoke much too softly, like addressing a sniffling child. It made Astarion feel infantile.

“Talk? Why? Don't you want to forget where we are? For just a moment?” Astarion pivoted, sliding a palm over Rorik's cheek to hook his fingers over the back of his neck, bringing him close again.

If he kissed and nibbled just right, between the scars, Rorik would offer a feed. Bastard loved pain. Probably needed it to get off at this point. A bite would put a stop to this nonsense, all Astarion needed was permission. It was time to bring a sword to a knife fight.

“Ast-... Oh my….- wait, wait! No.” Rorik forced his hands between them again to put a foot of distance between his neck and Astarion's fangs.

Gods damn it. Astarion's stomach twisted, but not out of hunger, at the word no. A word he barely knew how to use. He couldn't ignore it. Rorik had refused him. He had to stop.

“Astarion, I don't-... I want to be told what you want. I don't want to guess. We agreed not to, I want to be sure this is really what you want.” Rorik told him, again too gently, and let his hands settle at either side of the other's waist.

“I would have thought I seemed damn sure of what I wanted eight seconds ago, but I'm starting to think you've gone and robbed me of even that!” Astarion swatted at Rorik's hands to banish them from his body and spat bitterly before he could think better of it.

He’d lost at his own game, all because he couldn't hold his disgust at bay anymore. Rorik must have sniffed it out. Bastard had ruined him. Taken away the one thing he truly was good at. Or good for.

Rorik said nothing and only looked at him, brows pinching and turning upward just as his eyes revealed his exhaustion. Astarion had to look away. It hurt. It was fucking agony to be looked at that way and see how lost Rorik appeared on what to do or say.

I'm projecting. Fuck.

No, Rorik knew exactly what he wanted to do. He'd wanted clarification on what Astarion wanted and expected and asked. Astarion on the other hand…

“I-... I don't know what I'm trying to do.” Astarion lied and told the truth at the same time. Felt disgusting, hiding intentions but admitting uncertainty in the same breath.

“What do you not want to do?” Rorik asked, but Astarion wasn't sure what to make of the phrasing.

Ah! Yes, a reference toward Astarion's lurid tendencies. Yes, he used to pretend to “want” just about anything to hook a mark and gain their implicit trust. Astarion's palm struck Rorik, albeit not as hard as he deserved, upon the cheek and jaw to shove him away. Bastard's hands clenched in his shirt on reflex, making escape more difficult than it should be. “The hells is that supposed to mean? Do I have to spell it out for you again?! I played the role of a prostitute. It was all lies and-”

“No no! I meant that: Sometimes it's easier to know what you don't want.” Rorik barely restrained a bellow as he rushed the words past the hand which muffled him. He continued, more mindful of his voice. “Which is. I don't know… Something to go on.”

Gods, Astarion loathed to do it, to let go of the misfired anger, but the wisdom Rorik spoke was sufficient. He felt foolish for the misunderstanding, too, and he burned with renewed anger and irritability. He knew one thing he didn't want, and it left him feeling that he appeared inordinately needy as he dropped his hands into his lap uselessly.

“I don't want to be alone… Tonight I mean. I don't want to be alone tonight.” Astarion admitted part of the problem, painfully.

“And I am happy to resolve that. Anything else you don't want?”

Astarion was reassured, a little. Trying to think about what he wanted was, indeed, fucking impossible. He was too shameful to admit that he was trying to pick up where he left off seducing Rorik for fear he would one day leave him in the absence of sex. Astarion tried to figure out how to tell enough of the truth not to hate himself.

“I don't want to… I don't want to hate it. Sleeping with you. I don't want sex. But I want it.” Astarion gripped Rorik's shoulders tightly and mimed jerking him close, but his eyes soon had to crush shut to hold back tears. “...But I can't. The thoughts, the loathing. It comes when I used to be able to just. Put myself away and do what I came to do.”

Rorik's hands covered the back of Astarion's fingers where they pressed red marks into his shoulders, pulling them down to be held tightly between their bodies. Thumbs stroked over his knuckles so tenderly. It was far more than Astarion felt he deserved.

Rorik kept his eyes on their entwined hands. “I understand, I think.”

“I don't… Want to treat you like a victim. But I don't want you to..-” he lost his words in his throat.

Rorik lifted Astarion's left hand to his lips, as he so often did. He was starting to wonder if the man had a hand fetish. “You can tell me anything, I swear that I'll try to understand. What don't you want me to do?”

Why are you good to me?

“I just. Don't want you to leave… Tonight.” Astarion wasn't ready to tell Rorik that he was waiting for him to wake up one morning jaded and too exhausted from this game to carry on playing it.

lips pressed to the inside of Astarion's wrist. “Then you have me until Sol calls me to prayer, and then you'll have me again if you wish it. And you may do, or not do, whatever you like with me... And changing your mind is perfectly legal."

That made Astarion's chest tight. Bastard was getting too good at quelling the storms in Astarion's head. It scared him, the possibility that Rorik could use that new talent to manipulate just as he'd been manipulated. Drag along the carrot of innocent affections. But, to gain what? Rorik had offered it countless times with almost no gain. He just didn't seem work the way Astarion did.

I don't deserve this.

At least, for now, Astarion knew what he wanted after a moment more watching Rorik tenderly worship his hand with a savage mouth. He longed for more of that specifically.

“Would you let me kiss you?” He parroted, then added after another moment of careful thought, “...I want that. With certainty. I want to kiss you until our lips bruise, actually,”

Rorik smiled in Astarion's favorite way. His head tipped to one side while a silent laugh left him through a grin which pressed his eyes closed.

“I could gladly piss away the whole night with that if you let me, you should be careful what you wish for,”

“Oh? You're dealing with a professional. I doubt you'd last ten minutes.” Astarion goaded.

“Sounds like grounds for a bet. Loser has to be the big spoon.” Rorik taunted back.

“Done,”

Arms clenched tight under Astarion's weight, scooping him under the rump to smash him close. Rorik slotted his face under Astarion's chin for a kiss at the join of his clavicle.

“Cheeky,”

“You never specified where I was to kiss you, care to offer further instruction?” Rorik murmured into his skin.

Smart bastard, “You're tricking me into setting boundaries again, aren't you?”

“Yep,” was Rorik's shameless, one syllable admission of guilt.

“Fine, nothing below the neck.”

“And not my ears, please.” Rorik added.

“... Because that gets you-”

“Unreasonably hot, yes.”

A kiss brushed under Astarion's left jaw as Rorik's arms relaxed to let him sink again. It made him shiver.

“So, we have an accord?” Astarion had to beg one more assurance just because he knew he'd be given it freely.

Lips pressed dryly over his own before he got his answer. “Yes,” he heard right before another peck landed right between his eyes, followed by a chuckle.

“This isn't exactly what I had in mind.” Astarion complained softly, unsure what to do with the squirmy, restless feeling in his core. Rorik was being too endearing. That's what got them into this mess. Fucker kept making him feel- well…. Making him feel.

“Then, I will require another round of your instruction on how, precisely, Mr. Ancunin wishes to be kissed?”

“Gladly.” Astarion promised.

[astarionfreak]

Days of hedonistic debauchery | Chapter 1

// Gale x Tessa (Fem!Tav) x Astarion

!! Reposting! Sorry, this isn't an update. I just realized I hadn't posted the full chapter to Tumblr and with AO3 being down (even tho I think it's back up now) I thought I'd post it here for future outages. !!

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For Tessa, Astarion coming to stay with her and Gale in Waterdeep has been a dream come true. Even Gale is learning to enjoy the taste of chaos. But nothing can ever really be that simple, can it?

18+ • NSFW • 14.2K words (3/9) | Read on AO3 (the first chapter is available below)

Tags: POV Third Person, Past Tense, Post-Game, Vampire Spawn Astarion, Professor Gale, Polyamory, Threesome, Vampire Sex, Vampire Bites, Blood, Menstrual Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Double Penetration, Anal Sex, Cunnilingus, Oral Sex, Face-Sitting

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Tessa reached out in front of her to find only empty space in the bed. She wriggled backwards until she bumped into a warm body. Gale. She continued to squirm closer and closer to him until he woke up, wrapped an arm around her, and pulled her close.

“Good morning, my love,” he mumbled, voice still slightly hoarse. Gale trailed his fingers down her exposed arm, then back up. Even just these feather-light touches in the most innocuous of places managed to awaken her desire.

Tessa sighed dreamily. She wished they could stay like this, here, forever. Eventually, though, she had to open her eyes. Sunshine poured in through the window and flooded their bed. How long had they been sleeping?

“Don’t you need to leave for the academy?” Tessa asked.

Gale pressed a kiss just below her ear. “We have a little time.” He slid his hand across her chest, down her shirt, and brushed his thumb over her nipple.

Tessa rolled over to look at him, a coquettish smile on her face. “If I didn’t know any better, Mr. Dekarios, I’d say you were trying to get with me.”

“Get with you? That’s how you’re choosing to describe my seduction?” Gale rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

“I call it like I see it, Gale. And what I’m seeing right now, is a man who wants to fuck.”

“I do so value your predilection for such succinct speech,” Gale said with a sleepy smile. 

Tessa put a hand on his shoulder and pushed him onto his back. She moved quickly, lifting the blanket and swinging her leg over his body to position herself astride him. “That means you like that I just say whatever I’m thinking, right?”

“Correct, Tessa. That is precisely what that means.”

“You know how hot it gets me when you use those big, fancy words of yours.” Tessa rolled her hips, grinding herself down against his half-hard, clothed length.

“Tessa, I —”

She leaned forward, silencing him with a kiss. “I’m hot enough as it is, Gale. Save your big words for class.” She kissed him again, sweet and gentle this time. His beard tickled and scratched her face as they kissed, drawing out something almost animalistic within her. She kissed him deeper, pressed her body against his, and moaned softly into his mouth. The taste of him reminded her of their indulgences the night before.

Gale gasped into the kiss and slipped his hands under Tessa’s loose-fitting shirt. He managed to pull away and met her eyes. “As much as I’d enjoy spending all morning doing this — I did have something in mind that was rather focused on your pleasure. If you’re interested?”

Tessa got plenty of pleasure watching Gale melt beneath her touch until he was all flustered and begging for release. But, she supposed it wouldn’t hurt to see what he was thinking. “What would that be?” She pushed Gale’s shirt up, exposing his stomach. She lightly dragged her fingernails down his skin — not hard enough to leave a mark. Only enough pressure to tease.

“Only that you allow me to put my practiced tongue to use.” Gale shivered and smiled up at her.

“Put it to use where, Gale?” Tessa knew exactly where he was thinking, she just wanted to hear him say it.

“Betwixt your thighs, of course,” Gale said.

Tessa liked that idea. She liked that idea very much. She rolled her hips again and bit back a moan when her thoughts wandered to the image of his face between her legs. “Are you sure you don’t have to get ready for class?”

Gale gave her hips a squeeze. “I assure you, we have enough time.”

“You know exactly how long it takes to get me off, don’t you?” Tessa laughed.

“I’d rather not dignify such a question with an answer,” Gale said.

Tessa snorted. “Of course you do. Whatever, let’s fuckin’ go” She gave Gale another quick kiss before she flopped onto her back next to him. 

She kicked off her shorts and had her underwear halfway down her thighs when the bedroom door swung open.

“Darling, you’re bleeding. Is everything alright?” Astarion expertly moved a steaming mug from the crook of his arm to his other hand — so he was holding one in each hand. The scent of freshly made coffee drifted across the room.

“Blood? I’m not . . .”

Tessa glanced down at her underwear and that’s when she saw it. A wet, red, stain letting her know that it was that time in her cycle. “Oh. That’s a bummer.”

“A . . . bummer? For you, perhaps, but certainly not for me.” Astarion flashed her a sly smile. He was shirtless. His usually perfectly-coiffed hair fell around his face in loose, messy rings — evidence that none of them got much rest the night before. “Gale, do you mind?”

“Hm? Oh.” Gale stepped out of the bed with a soft huff and padded over to where Astarion was standing. He took one of the cups from Astarion’s hands — Tessa assumed that one was tea. The other one was coffee, that one would be for her. Astarion didn’t drink either.

Gale sipped it and started walking back to the bed.

Astarion peeked around Gale at Tessa and rolled his eyes. “Darling . . .”

Gale took another sip and turned around to look at Astarion. “Yes?”

Astarion eyed him with a teasing grin. “I know how distracting it can be when your blood flow has been redirected, but perhaps, you could use that brilliant brain of yours for a second.”

“Brilliant?” Gale choked on his most recent sip of tea.

Astarion didn’t move from the doorway. “The curtains, darling. Do you mind closing them?”

“Oh, gods, the sunlight, of course.” Gale conjured a mage hand and sent it flying across the room. “I’m truly sorry, Astarion. I didn’t think.”

With a few good tugs, the mage hand pulled the thick curtains closed, blocking the sunlight completely, before dissipating.

Astarion stepped into the room and put the coffee on the bedside table nearest Tessa. “I can see what had you so distracted.” Astarion’s gaze raked down Tessa’s body, over her flushed chest and hard nipples peeking through her thin shirt, to the delicious mess between her legs. “Now, about your little situation . . .”

Tessa felt herself blushing deeper. “Gale, you don’t mind, do you?” she asked.

“I am nothing if not amenable,” Gale said with a slight wave of his hand. He sat on the edge of the bed, tea cup and saucer still in hand. He was careful as to not spill a drop.

“Thank you,” Tessa hummed. “You will be greatly rewarded . . . after Astarion has his breakfast.” She crawled toward Gale and kissed him again, their lips quickly finding a comfortable rhythm.

Gale pulled back after a moment, bumping his forehead against hers. “I imagine watching will be quite the reward on its own,” he whispered against her lips.

The bed sank as Astarion crawled in behind her. He curled a finger around the hem of her underwear and tugged lightly. “On your back, darling,” Astarion purred.

Tessa flopped onto her back, kicked her underwear off, and tossed them onto the floor. Then she popped up onto her knees with ease. “Why don’t you get onto your back, darling,” she teased.

“It’s going to be one of those mornings is it?” Astarion licked his lips, eyes already darkened from the scent of her blood and everything this morning promised. “If you insist.” He grabbed a pillow, fluffed it slightly, and then leaned back and rested his head on it.

The three of them fell into a rather predictable routine since Astarion arrived in Waterdeep. Tessa never wanted it to end. Especially when she got mornings like this.

She kissed Astarion, savoring the way his lips moved against hers with precision. She reveled in the hitch of his breath and drank in the low rumble of a moan when she sucked his bottom lip into her mouth and bit down with her dull human teeth.

“Gods, you are just — perfect — aren’t you?” Astarion whispered.

“So I’ve been told.” Tessa laughed and kissed the side of his mouth. “Now, where were we? Oh, yes. Would you like me to sit on your face?”

Astarion nodded eagerly.

Tessa looked over her shoulder at Gale. “What do you think, Gale? Should I sit on his pretty face?”

Gale blushed deeply. He held the mug of tea carefully, but Tessa noticed the slight shake of his hands. He sipped from the cup once, swallowed, and then spoke, “Only if he asks nicely.”

Tessa glanced down at Astarion and smiled slyly. “Can you do that for me, Astarion? Can you say please?”

Astarion growled softly. “Must I?”

“If you want to taste me, you will say please. Isn’t that right, Gale?” Tessa smiled at Gale.

“Yes. That is correct.” Gale seemed to be holding his breath now. His hands continued to tremble, the tea cup rattling against the saucer.

It almost made Tessa long for the days with those damn tadpoles, when they could see and feel what the other was thinking. Was he excited? Did he like this? Yes. There was a code worked out. If he was uncomfortable, surely he would say something. She had to trust him.

Astarion licked his lips slowly, eyes flicking from Gale’s trembling hands to between Tessa’s legs — then back up to meet her eyes. “Please, Tessa. Please sit on my face. Please let me taste you.”

Tessa swallowed back a moan. Gods. He was so fucking good at begging. She didn’t know if it was the pitch of his voice, the look in his eyes, or both — but his words went straight to her cunt and she clenched around nothing.

Astarion smiled as if he knew exactly what he’d done to her.

Tessa patted his face playfully. “Good boy.” She shifted to put one knee by his ear. “Good boys get what they ask for. Even when they’re being cheeky little fucks about it.”

Astarion huffed out a breath that might have been a laugh if he wasn’t so focused on the blood smeared on her thighs. The way he stared only intensified the heat pooling between her legs.

Tessa threw her leg over his face and positioned herself just over his mouth. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Gale finally put the tea on the bedside table. Then Astarion grabbed her leg, pulled her close, and licked a stripe up her inner thigh with the flat of his tongue.

Tessa gasped with surprise and threaded her fingers through Astarion’s hair. With her other hand, she grabbed the headboard and steadied herself.

There was no time for her to enjoy the anticipation. He was hungry and she was the meal. Astarion’s fingers dug into her skin as he pulled her down onto his face with a satisfied groan.

“Gods, Astarion,” Tessa whimpered. She threw her head back and began rolling her hips in smooth motions, fucking herself down onto Astarion’s tongue.

She felt another low growl beneath her as Astarion drank up her blood and her warmth. His tongue delved through her folds and lapped at her needy cunt. Tessa allowed him to continue like that, just the swirl of his tongue and hungry moans beneath her. To his credit, even with the distraction of her blood, Astarion was careful not to scratch her with his fangs.

When his pace slowed, that’s when she shifted, angling herself to grind her clit against his tongue.

Astarion was quick to listen to her body,  latching onto her clit and flicking his tongue over it just the way she liked. Gods. The pleasure that coursed through her body was nothing compared to the feeling in her chest. Fuck. She hadn’t said it. Fuck. She loved him. Both of them. Her boys. Fuck.

Astarion’s hands each found an asscheek, spreading them apart as she continued grinding on his face. She gripped the headboard tighter, careful not to use her full strength. Her thighs trembled as Astarion worked her clit with his mouth.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Tessa whimpered.

A gentle hand brushed her hair away from her shoulder. Gale kissed the back of her neck. His hands traveled, light, down her spine — down, down, down. Then paused, just above the cleft of her ass. As if asking permission.

“Yes, yes,” Tessa moaned. She leaned back. “Fuck, yes.”

“Ask nicely,” Gale whispered into her ear, voice gruff with desire.

“Fucking — gods,” Tessa sputtered. “Please, Gale. Please.”

Astarion moaned beneath her again, squeezing her asscheeks — hard.

Tessa had a fleeting thought that was something along the lines of good thing Astarion doesn’t need to breathe.Because she was quickly losing focus and had clearly lost control of their little game.

A slick finger teased her asshole, circling the rim. Tessa’s mouth dropped open, a moan rolling up her throat and spilling out. She rocked her hips back — chasing the pleasure of Astarion’s mouth and yet still craving more.

Then, finally, Gale gave her what she wanted and his finger entered her. She whimpered, her body shivering. Her mind already falling so peacefully quiet, leaving her with nothing but how it felt to be touched by them.

The sensations were almost too much. She lifted herself off Astarion’s face just as a second finger pressed inside her. “T-tell me we have time for more,” she whimpered.

Astarion nipped gently at her thigh, fangs dragging against her sensitive skin — but not tearing into her.

“I don’t know. I really should be going,” Gale teased. “But I’d just loathe leaving you stretched out and wanting.” Gale’s fingers continued to press into her asshole. “Maybe Astarion isn’t as cruel as I am.”

“But, Gale,” Astarion purred. “Look at her. Positively dripping.” Astarion slipped two fingers into Tessa’s cunt and she clenched around them. “She’s such a needy little slut. Just my cock won’t be enough. Will it, Tessa?”

Tessa continued to rock her hips back and forth, fucking herself on their fingers. The sensations were definitely too much now — and yet, also, not enough. More, more, more. Gods. She loved them so fucking much.

“Y-yes. I’m a slut. Please stay, Gale. Please fuck me. Both of you. Please,” she whimpered.

When Astarion brushed his thumb over her clit, it sent another wave of pleasure crashing over her and she nearly cracked the headboard with her grip.

“What say you, Gale? Are you really going to deny her?” Astarion asked, teasing.

“We shall see,” Gale murmured directly into Tessa’s ear. “Get on his cock, my love.” Then Gale slid away from her.

She immediately craved his body, his warmth. He’d return to her. He always did.

Tessa glanced over her shoulder. At some point, Astarion’s trousers had come off. She scooted back and then fell forward, pressing her breasts against Astarion’s face.

“You’re a dirty, dirty girl, aren’t you?” Astarion mumbled against her breasts. He bit gently, always teasing. His lips and chin were still coated a thin sheen of Tessa’s blood, only diluted with her desire.

“Yes,” Tessa whispered. “I’m anything. I’ll be anything. Please, please fuck me.”

Then she felt hands on her hips — Gale’s hands — and she was guided onto Astarion’s cock. She took him easily, a comfortable stretch. Familiar.

Tessa’s breaths came in short gasps, now, and she allowed her weight to settle on Astarion’s chest. If she angled herself just right, he might be able to sink his fangs into her throat.

Before she could move someone — Astarion — probably — grabbed both her arms and pinned them behind her back. She was held in place, all her weight on Astarion, taking his cock to the hilt as she waited.

One of Gale’s hands was on her hip, the other on an asscheek as he spread her for him. The tip of his cock bumped up against her asshole — then, slowly, and carefully he began to push inside.

“Yes, yes,” Tessa groaned. “Gods, fuck. Fuck.”

Her mind went numb, nearly blank. There was nothing in the world she had to worry about. Only this. Only how it felt to be touched, and held, and taken by the two people she loved most.

When Gale pressed himself inside her completely, that’s when he grabbed her other hip. His fingers dug into her skin and he began to rock her. Tessa gave her body to them, let them take and give as they saw fit.

The pace began slow until it was clear she could take more. There were no more thoughts, no more words. She could only hear Astarion’s breath in her ear, the low grunts from Gale as they took what they needed from her willing body.

She was reduced to a trembling mess as her orgasm inched closer and closer. Even her typical string of cuss words had been silenced as she fell into wave after wave of crushing bliss.

“I’m so close, please,” Tessa whimpered. “Right there. Please.”

But she would not be allowed to stay right there. Her mouth dropped open, another moan clawing its way up her throat as Gale grabbed her by the back of the head and pulled her against his chest. Neither man stopped fucking her.

“Tell me what you want, Tessa,” Gale whispered.

“I wanna come, please, please,” she whimpered. She’d been so fucking close. So. Fucking. Close.

“What else?” Gale’s thrusts slowed, and his free hand gripped her hip, fingers digging into her skin.

Tessa whimpered. She fought through the fog and managed to remember. “Astarion to —”

Tessa choked out another moan as Astarion thrust up into her, harder this time. Just once, before returning to shallow thrusts. “— bite me while I come.”

“Did you hear that, Astarion?”

Tessa squeezed her eyes shut. She didn’t hear Astarion respond, but it must have been a yes because soon her body was pressed back on top of his.

Hands moved her, shifting her until she could feel Astarion’s breath on her neck. His lips. But no fangs, not yet.

A hand, Tessa wasn’t sure who it belonged to, was suddenly between her legs — stroking her clit at the perfect rhythm.

“Fuck, fuck. Holy hells. Gods —”

Tears burned at the corners of her eyes as pleasure and pain blended together, pushing her up and pulling her towards the edge.

“I’m gonna come — fuck, right there. Please — yes —”

Then fangs sank into her neck. A quick, sharp pain — and then numbness. The pain was just enough — it sent her toppling over the edge of bliss. The orgasm wracked her body, as she came, clenching around Astarion’s cock. She may have said something — but it wasn’t words — there was nothing in her mind and only a white, hot flash behind her eyelids. Time seemed to stop for Tessa. Pure, inescapable pleasure was all she knew as she rode out her orgasm.

Astarion drank from her in slow, easy swallows as he fucked her with equally languid movements. It wasn’t long before she felt him lose his rhythm. There was a tightness, then warmth as he came undone inside her.

Gale. Where was Gale? She couldn’t move. Her body was so tired. She was reduced to just weight on Astarion’s chest — then she felt Gale’s cock tap against the cleft of her ass — and shortly after the warmth of his spend on her lower back.

The world spun around her, but it didn’t matter. She was so fucking comfortable. So fucking content. And so fucking tired.

She thought, maybe she felt Gale kiss her cheek and murmur something to her. She may have responded. She wasn’t sure. He knew that it would take her a little bit of time after coming like that to readjust to the world.

“Don’t worry.” That was Astarion’s voice. His face was still pressed so close to her neck, but he wasn’t drinking anymore. “You can go. I’ll take care of our girl.”

Tessa snuggled close to Astarion. That’s right. Gale had to go to the academy. Certainly, he’d be late now. Oops.

But — what was it that Astarion had called her? Oh, yeah.

Our girl.

---

Tessa was still blissed out and dizzy when Astarion shifted out from beneath her. She groaned softly and smushed her face into a pillow. Beyond that, she didn’t move. She didn’t think she could if she wanted to. Her thoughts still wouldn’t form into anything useable.

At some point, she felt a warm, wet cloth against her lower back and between her legs. She grunted out something as close to a thank you as she could manage. Then there were hands, gentle, as they grabbed her sides and flipped her onto her back.

Tessa sighed and her eyes fluttered open. “Can’t we just stay in bed?”

“If that’s truly what you want? But, you should know I have already filled the tub.” Astarion leaned over her and held out his hand.

“Are there bubbles?” Tessa asked.

Astarion laughed. “I’m not an idiot, Tessa. Of course there are bubbles.”

Tessa took his hand and used his weight to pull herself into a sitting position. “In that case, count me in.”

Astarion stepped off the bed and tugged Tessa along with him. She was still a little unsteady on her feet, and quite sore, but she followed him to the bathroom.

He wasn’t lying about the bubbles. The tub was completely full and bubbles were already spilling out onto the floor.

“I may have overdone it,” Astarion said.

“Nah, it’s perfect.” Tessa reached into the tub to test the water temperature. She decided it was good enough and grabbed Astarion’s arm to hold herself steady as she stepped into the tub. She sank down into the water with a happy groan. “Yep. Perfect.”

Astarion tilted his head slightly. “Do you want anything? Wine? Cheese?”

“Why?” Tessa asked.

Astarion sat on the edge of the tub. “Why what?”

“Why are you being so nice? Did you do something?”

Astarion put a hand to his chest, mocking offense. “How dare you. I’m always nice?”

“You’re always . . . you. Which, I adore. But, you’re not always nice. So, why?”

“Am I not allowed to take care of you?”

“No, you are. And, it’s appreciated, seriously. More than you know.” Tessa grabbed a handful of bubbles and placed them on top of her head. “If that’s all this is, then I’ll drop it.”

“That’s all this is,” Astarion said.

“Alright. Great.” Tessa blinked up at him.

“So?”

“So?”

“Do you need anything?” Astarion asked.

Tessa sat upright. “Oh. Yes, actually.” The pile of bubbles fell off her head and onto her shoulder.

“What?”

“I need you to join me.”

“In the tub?”

“Yes.” Tessa grabbed his hand. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but it is big enough for both of us.”

“I’ve noticed. I just . . . I don’t know.”

“What don’t you know about it?”

“It’s . . . intimate.”

Tessa laughed. “Astarion. We’re well past that. Come on.”

“Are you sure?”

“Completely sure.” Tessa gave his hand a little tug.

“Fine.” Astarion slipped out of his underwear and stepped into the tub. The water sloshed around them and splashed over the edge as he settled down in the water across from her.

“Turn around,” Tessa said.

Astarion lifted an eyebrow, uncertain.

“I promise you’ll like this.”

He huffed quietly and managed to turn around so his back was to Tessa. More water sloshed around and spilled out of the tub.

His scars. Tessa’s breath caught in her throat. She’d seen them countless times, but it never got easier. She was always careful not to touch them.

Seeing them made her chest ache. Even though his vile master was dead, the scars were a reminder that the pain Cazador inflicted remained.

Tessa placed a careful hand on Astarion’s side and pulled him close, slotting him between her legs. “Lean back,” she whispered. She guided him down against her until the back of his head rested against her shoulder.

His body, usually so tense, seemed to finally relax. Astarion sighed softly.

Tessa pressed a kiss to his temple. She ran her wet fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp as she held him close. “See? Told you so.”

“Mm. You were right.”

Tessa pressed her face against the side of his head. She touched his hair, his sides, and held him close.

I love you. I love you. I love you. The thought was there, nagging, gnawing at the corners of her mind. She couldn’t say it. She wouldn’t — and she hated that she had to keep it to herself. She always spoke her mind. She hated secrets. But she was afraid, she didn’t know how he would react.

“You keep clenching your jaw,” Astarion said. “What are you thinking about?”

“What? Was I?” Tessa opened her jaw wide, trying to relax her muscles.

“Mhm.”

“It’s nothing,” she said.

“It’s clearly something. You can try to lie to me if that would make you feel better.”

Tessa sighed. “Fine. Yeah, I mean, I just . . . I miss Baldur’s Gate. It’s different here. It doesn’t really feel like home yet.”

“I know,” Astarion said. “You’ll adjust.”

“You think so?”

“Yes.” Astarion reached under the water and gave her leg a gentle squeeze.

“And if I can’t? If I don’t?”

“The city will still be there, waiting for you, if you change your mind.”

“I just . . . I don’t wanna disappoint him, you know?”

“Tessa, you couldn’t disappoint anyone if you tried.”

“That’s very kind of you, Astarion. But, we’ll see, I guess.”

“You’ll see,” Astarion said.

Tessa continued to hold him. Eventually, she relaxed again. She stopped worrying, stopped thinking, and just enjoyed this moment of peace.

It was only when she noticed that the water had cooled off that she broke the silence. “What are you doing tonight? Some old fuck is paying me a bunch of coin to protect him. From what I hear he’s just paranoid and it’ll be boring. I could use some company.”

Astarion took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I would love to join you, darling, but I actually have a job of my own tonight.”

“Bummer,” Tessa said.

“Bummer. That’s the second time you’ve used that word. What do you mean?” Astarion turned his head to look up at her.

Tessa shrugged. “I don’t know. Just feels good in my mouth. I guess, I just mean I’m disappointed you can’t come with me.”

“I see. I can think of something else that —”

“Don’t say it, Astarion.” Tessa laughed.

“What? What was I going to say?”

“You were going to say something about what else feels good in my mouth.”

“And spoil such a lovely moment? I would never.”

“You certainly would.”

Astarion laughed. “Yes. Yes, I would.”

Tessa rolled her eyes. “We should get out of here soon. I promised Gale I’d meet him for lunch, and honestly, I have no idea what time it even is right now.”

“Ah, of course.” Astarion pulled himself up by the edge of the tub and scooted away from Tessa. “I’ll just . . . find something to do around here. As usual.”

“I’m sorry, Astarion.” Tessa sat up as well. “I won’t be gone long, and then I’ll come right back here we can find something to occupy us.”

Astarion stood, water dripping off his body. He held out a hand and helped Tessa stand too. “You’re very . . . sweet. But don’t rush back on my account. Gale has books locked up that he doesn’t want me to touch. So, I have plenty to keep me busy.”

Tessa laughed. “He can be a bit precious with some of them, can’t he?”

“He doesn’t seem to like to share,” Astarion said.

“Not everything, no.” Tessa got out of the tub and grabbed them each a towel.

Astarion accepted the towel, stepped out of the tub, and began drying off. “But he still doesn’t mind sharing you?”

“He’s happy with our arrangement. Are you?” Tessa studied Astarion’s face, looking for any hint of a mask — a lie beneath whatever he was about to say.

“Delighted,” he said. His smile looked practiced, but Tessa decided now wasn’t the time to press him on the issue.

“And you’ll let me know if that changes?” Tessa asked.

Astarion nodded. “Of course.”

Tessa gave him a small smile and continued drying herself off. Her chest ached in a familiar way.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

She was clenching her jaw again, but she kept her mouth shut. She wasn’t ready for things to change.

Read the next chapter on AO3.