#tsuki in faerun

[tsuki-in-faerun]

Brilliance

explicit, MDNI - no one under 18 years old please.

tav/astarion post-boss fight at cazador's. there's a lot to dig into beyond the canon when it comes to agency and a realistic path toward healing. in this series, this is tav and astarion's first time together. feat. a chopped and screwed version of the 'pale elf' ending quest dialogue.

gnc tav, unnamed tav, they/them pussy, gender neutral tits. karlach is ot3 with these two in the series but she's not involved in the smut this time.

“To the lives we lead To the dreams we chase To the moments that we make And the fucked up shit we can’t erase”

-Nate Wonder giving a toast on the outro of “Float” by Janelle Monae

The scene by the graveside turns into a picnic after you tell him you just want to spend some time together unwinding from the battle. Astarion feeds you grapes, one by one, and nicks the base of your thumb to feed himself. A taste of passion. When he has the audacity to call the others in camp ‘feral’ without both your guidance, you’re so caught off guard that you double up laughing. The sound of it bounces off every surface in the graveyard, surrounding you both. Astarion listens with a pensive expression to the cacophony of his lover’s laughter in the place where he was buried and reborn. A holy racket.

You both take comfort in a long embrace goodnight back at camp. There is still a pull between you when you separate, reaching for each other’s hands. Even when you let go, the Warding Bond you used during the fight surrounds each of you as you go to your rest. But tonight is a night for reflection. He deserves some space to process and, to be honest, you might need some, too.

Shadowheart and Karlach are sitting together by the fire. You go to meet them but the last few steps you take are shaky. Karlach springs into action, wrapping you in a great big bear hug. You cling to her, tears spilling over, as Shadowheart begins a healing hum.

“I had to let him go,” you cry. “In my heart, I mean. I had to be ready to lose him. I knew that loving him could only do so much. I was trying so hard not to spoil everything!”

Karlach rocks you, kisses your head. “You did good, soldier.” she says with patient tenderness. “You held it together, we got Astarion out of his bonds. And he made his choice to leave with us as a free man. Did something happen when you went off together?”

You sigh, smile with watery eyes. “A heart to heart. He says he’s ready to try living again, but it’s not hard to see that he’s still figuring things out. I almost felt like I was intruding.” A snort of frustration. “I have to keep telling myself that he wants me to be there. He brought me there; he wants to share this with me. I just… everything is so raw still. I feel like if I touch him we’ll both come away bleeding.” You swipe at your face but the tears don’t stop coming.

Shadowheart looks up at you. “I have some potted plants near my tent. Would you like me to bring one here?’

“That’s - a good idea, thank you - princess,” you hiccup and while Shadowheart jogs away from the fire, you turn to press your face against Karlach’s collarbone. She enfolds you in her arms, shushes and pets you.

Shadowheart comes back waddling a bit, but in a good solid horse stance, carrying the big potted palm. She sets it down next to you and brushes the dirt off her hands.

You sink to your knees in relief and wrap your arms around the ceramic.

Karlach sits down and throws her arms around the little palm tree as well.

Shadowheart kneels seiza beside you. You water the tree with your tears some. You keep your awareness with the droplets as they fall and absorb into the soil, letting your mind be still and slow like the water soaking into the roots of the plant. The roots draw moisture up and you are reminded of your own circulation and heartbeat, steadying now in your meditation. There is a silent reassurance emanating from your plant friend.

“Do you wanna talk anymore?” Karlach asks.

You stroke her shoulder, still holding the plant pot between you. “I’m so lucky to love this much,” you tell her, voice quavering. “But it - it hurts. I wouldn’t trade it for anything, my Heart. I’m just battle worn.”

You feel Shadowheart’s hand tracing comforting circles on your back. “It is difficult, as a healer, to keep repairing as quickly as the damage is inflicted.” She says quietly.

You sigh heavily and your head drops from exhaustion. “Yes. Especially when I’m taking damage, too. I’m glad we did the Bond, but being present with him in his body like that was… a lot.”

You manage to lift your gaze to look at your companions. “Thank you both for having my back and saving our lives.” Karlach lets go of the plant to come cuddle you instead. Her kisses on your face are a balm to your battered soul, and she showers you with gentle affection. You rest your weary head on Karlach’s warm shoulder and take one of Shadowheart’s hands in yours.

“You did so well around the wolves, princess.” You tell Shadowheart, giving her a squeeze. “How are you now?”

She sighs and tells you about how her fears have evolved following her confrontation with the Sharrans. The three of you chat about the day, about your journey so far, and comfort each other with open arms.

When it becomes hard to resist your eyes closing, Shadowheart piles her bedroll next to the one you share with Karlach and the animals wedge their way in.

***

As soon as your eyes open the next morning, you get up to seek out Astarion. You do your best to slip out from between Karlach and Shadowheart without waking them, but Karlach reaches for you as you get to your feet. You interlock your fingers with hers. “Tell him we love him, even if he pouts,” she yawns. You nod and press your lips to the back of her hand before taking your leave. You rinse your mouth with the dregs of last night’s tea and spit it into the ashes of the fire, slipping on your soft shoes.

Astarion is already in full armor when you go to him. You suddenly feel very conscious of the space between you. You ache to close the distance but some things need to be said first.

“Good morning,” you finally greet him. “How are you, beloved?”

He fidgets. “It feels ridiculous to still be thinking about Cazador. He’s gone, I’m here - I won.” A scowl. “But I keep reliving everything that happened. Playing it over and over again in my mind.”

“I don’t know if it’s quite as simple as ‘you won.’” You say slowly. “Even if the battle was just you avenging yourself against Cazador. But as it is, you also had to face the only family you know… that place. And your memories.”

You catch his eye. “Some of the people you thought you lost to Cazador might be free now.”

Astarion glances down and you can tell he’s wrestling with himself. “I freed them. But I also damned them.”

“You might have loved some of them, if circumstances had allowed.” His eyes snap to yours again. You smile at him. “The folk like Sebastian. I was moved.”

“Would you call it love?” Astarion puts his hands behind his head and shrugs. His tone is bitter. “Whatever I felt, when I felt anything at all, it was their doom. But I suppose that’s one of the consequences of freedom, isn’t it? Living with the choices you’ve made.”

You take a deep breath. “Living with the choices you’ve made can mean lots of things. Like this.” You offer your hands. Slowly, with care, he takes them.

“You can always get better at loving, Astarion, if that’s what you want. Even if the consequences of your choices are heavy, you’re not facing them alone. Every being here is at your side ’til the bitter end. And I do think that you will relish the chance to explore what you can be outside of pain and power plays.”

He shakes his head, agitated. His grip tightens. “Mmm. I- I came so close to losing everything back there. To losing myself. Back at the ritual, all I could see was the power on offer and the safety it promised. I was so blinded by it. Just as Cazador was.”

Astarion twines his fingers with yours.

“You saved me. I may not have appreciated it at the time, but I do now. Thank you.”

You look down at your hands clasped in front of you, heart full to overflowing. “I only did as my nature dictated. You were fighting your own battles and I was glad to have your back.”

“And if I had completed the ritual?”

You look up at him again. “You want to hear it now?”

His eyes are wide but his gaze is steady. “Yes.”

“I would have fought you til my last breath, beloved. Or yours. Your ambitions would have made a slave of me.”

He hesitates. “… And you’ve considered this before.”

“Many times.”

Astarion just spreads his hands, mouth open, speechless.

“I had to give you the best chance I could to find your feet.” You say quietly. “I told you I would do everything in my power to help you find peace and liberation. To determine the course of your own life. You deserve that as a thinking, feeling being, not just because you’re precious to me. Not just because you’ve suffered, either. You can’t tell me it wasn’t worth the risk when we are standing here together in the sunlight surrounded by people who love us.”

He starts to laugh incredulously, putting his head in his hands, a dazed expression on his face. He slaps a hand over his mouth, chortling, and looks at you with wide, staring eyes. “We are, at that. You… you kept your word.” He finally sees, really sees, where you are and the clan you’ve built around you.

Then he sighs and looks to the horizon, blinking in the light and shaking his head. “When I look at my future, anything and everything feels possible now. I can be whoever I decide Astarion is. And I get to share it, him, me… with you. As a partner. As an equal. This is a gift, you know. Thank you - I won’t forget it.”

You smile and sigh yourself. It’s hard to keep from welling up so you don’t try. An uneasy tension that has stretched between the two of you since your first meeting unbinds in this moment. You savor the release and let it give you strength.

The salt wind off the harbor blows strands of your hair around your face. Astarion reaches out to smooth them down. “Darling, did you rest in those braids?” He asks. “You’ve got flyaways all over the place.”

“I barely had enough energy to crawl into my bedroll last night.” You admit, reaching up to pat your head. “Did you do them so fancy yesterday because you were nervous? I don’t even know where to start taking them out, I can’t see the back of my head!”

“It was calming to have something tactile to focus on,” he admits. He steps closer, stroking your hair, caressing your face. “And you do cut a striking figure. I will never forget the image of you reaching out to me when I was trapped, my love.”

“I shall never forget the way you’re looking at me right now,” you say with the greatest affection. “Mmmm, kiss, please?”

Even his laugh is freer. “My sweet, I would like nothing better.”

He gathers you into his arms and you quickly realize how prickly his drow armor is when you’re just in your everyday clothes. “Ouch!”
 “Oops, sorry. Probably a design feature given the provenance.” He says.

You tilt your head playfully. “Hmm. How do you feel about getting more comfortable in your tent? Without the armor, I mean.”

He raises his eyebrows. “D’you mean?… sex, now?” You nod. “Sex. Now!”

He pulls you by the hand into his tent.

You hear Karlach yell across the camp. “So, who’s up for some pints?! Yenna, you feel like meeting a bard we know?” Everybody in the party sounds highly motivated to go day drinking.

Astarion closes the flap at the entrance and you get a chance to look around. There’s a very plush quilt on the ground along with several embroidered pillows, and a charcoal brazier is dying down to its last little embers after burning overnight.

You give him a stunned look.

“You stole my shit!”

You laugh like a loon as he just kind of blinks and shrugs. “Well, I was planning for a big night last night and I wanted you to be comfortable.”

“Beloved, please get out of that armor so I can kiss your face.”

He gives you his patented seductive smirk and gets to work undoing the buckles and straps holding everything together. Even with his practiced fingers, the pieces take some time to get off.

You sit down on your handmade quilt, and stretch your legs out in front of you, pointing and flexing your toes. You rearrange a couple of pillows behind your back and stretch your arms out overhead, leaning back into the motion. There’s a little nervous energy crackling in the air. After his pauldrons come up over his head, Astarion’s hair goes a little bit wild, like dandelion fluff, then the breastplate comes off and he’s down to his undershirt and trousers. He drops to his knees and crawls toward you, eyes smouldering. You bite your lip and feel a curl of satisfaction that doesn’t come from you. You become more aware of the edges of your auras blending together.

You don’t ground the sensation this time. You caress him without touching, a tendril of warmth pulled from the center of your heart winding through his awareness.

When you lean forward to brush your lips against his cheek, you feel the warmth in your heart begin to saturate your being. It emanates from you, radiates from you, and Astarion pulls away to look at you.

“Is this magic?”

“Erm, sort of. In the sense that connection is magical.” You say. “I… this is simply me with my shields down.”

He sits back on his heels, wearing an expression of scrutiny. He picks up one of your hands and kisses your fingertips, one by one. You flush, watching his face knowing that he can feel echos of your pleasure. Can he smell any changes in your scent? Hear your breathing and heartbeat get faster? Locking eyes with you, he bites down on the pad of your thumb with his blunt front teeth. You suck in a breath with a hiss, sitting straight up, chills running up and down your spine. Your flesh throbs between his teeth and you feel a flash of triumph from him before he lets go.

“And the effect goes both ways? You can feel me?”

“As long as you let me inside your defenses, yes. You have a potent presence, beloved.” He smirks in response.

Astarion moves in for a kiss through the haze of your arousal in the air. You can feel that he is pleased with himself, but his own passion only rises to meet yours as your lips touch, the kiss deepening immediately. You feel this facet of his hunger in a new way, it almost pulls at your bones. A longing to connect beneath the skin.

Every touch feels magnified. Like two stringed instruments vibrating to the same note, the edges of your individual perception blurs with his as the sensations you experience harmonize. Joining. Blending. Sharing. Your nerve endings sing to each other.

He breaks away to rest his forehead against yours. His head is buzzing. You take deep, slow breaths and empty your mind. You focus again on the warmth you feel for him in your heart.

“S-sorry.” His voice sounds worn somehow.

“Love you.” You feel him relax, sigh at your words. ”Not going anywhere.”

He holds still on hands and knees above your reclining body.

“Do you want soothing touch?”

“Mmm. Mmm-hmm. Ahem…yes.”

You nuzzle your face against Astarion’s. You stroke his upper arms and press your cheek to his cheek, slide your jaw along his like big cats scent marking. You rub your temples together and he inhales a whiff of your hair.

“thank you for saying the words,” you say softly next to his ear. “thank you for telling me what you want.”

You take his face in both your hands and whisper, “we can just be in each other’s energy, too. we don’t have to worry about what body parts go where. there’s no goal. there’s no rush. i want to know all of you.”

He raises his gaze to meet yours and you become aware of his lack of a heartbeat. A space that is at once full of shadows and empty of sensation exists between his lungs.

Your gentle smile carries the brightness of the sun and memories of golden afternoons. He half flinches, shudders, and you feel his hunger roar to life, filling the chasm in his chest with its reverberations.

Astarion’s scarlet eyes hold you. “I still want sex.” He says bluntly. “I need something. I need to be covered with you.”

Your heart is pounding and you can both hear it. “That - yes. Me, too.”

You watch his predator’s vision narrow focus on your face and the part of you that is a doorway to wild shape responds. You growl much more deeply than your vocal cords should allow.

Astarion growls with you and lays his body along the length of yours. Yes, there is sweetness between you, deep care, but also the blood of the hunt. Of the battlefield. Your life’s blood. You feel the connection pulsing in your veins. Even if his own heart is still something of a stranger to him, he is intimately familiar with his appetites. As are you. You press up into his chest to feel his voice rumbling through your flesh. He kisses your neck, sucks, licks, nibbles, pulling sensations out of you that feed his own desire, too, and you scratch your nails down his back, dragging at the cloth.

Now the energy is more like a push and pull. You caress his cheek with the back of your hand, kiss his brow and his eyelids, stroke the back of his neck. He leans into every touch, soaking in your body heat and your tenderness. When he kisses you again, you can taste the force that animates him in it. A yin to your yang.

“Mmmmmmmmm,” you hum with pleasure, warm and vibrant life force rippling from your voice. Astarion gasps, pupils dilated. You trace his bottom lip with your thumb and press the tip against one of his fangs. He feels the pain zap through you, watches it on your face, and kisses your wound before he takes your whole digit in his mouth. You spread your legs and start moving your pelvis against him and a garbled “Unh!” spills out from around your thumb. When he tastes you, you can feel your blood suffusing him and sharpening his senses. You feel him drinking your pleasure itself and the flavor of it washes over your tongue. It spreads warmth inside your chest like good liquor.

He releases your thumb to bend his head to your collarbone. He’s hungry for your soft places. Astarion makes sounds of delectation as he kisses his way down your shoulder, your arm, the crease of your elbow, inside your wrist, your palm. He sits up to pull his shirt off and then he holds you tight. His skin is cool at first. The touch of his torso against yours raises prickly gooseflesh and makes your nipples tighten. For his part, you can feel how welcoming he finds your heat as he snuggles in close.

It doesn’t take him long to warm. He’s been well-fed for quite some time now.

You flutter your eyelashes against his cheek and he chuffs a little laugh next to your ear.

“Darling, don’t be cute when I’m trying to ravage you.”

“Can you blame me for wanting to feel you with every part of my body?”

Astarion strokes your hair, sighs against your neck, nuzzling your face.

“I suppose when you put it like that… Should we get rid of the rest of these clothes?”

You look into his eyes and see happiness there. You kiss him, a bloom of heat that catches and spreads between you.

“Yes.”

You each sit up and undress, watching the other in the dappled shade of the tent.

His gaze has weight. You touch yourself where his eyes roam across your newly exposed skin. His nostrils flare and he raises his head. You can feel, and see as well, evidence of how exciting he finds this exploration. You can feel him basking in your joy.

He kisses you and you let your hands play across his chest, his shoulders. You scratch your nails lightly down his pecs and he takes your lower lip between his teeth, drawing a gasp from you. He bites down just a little bit too hard and you suddenly taste your own blood. The piercing pitch your voice hits when you cry out in pain makes him let go, startled backwards.

“Shit. Shit!” Astarion swears. His guards are still down. He’s surprised himself and you can feel the spikes of a rising panic. You hear Scratch barking and pawing at the tent flap and you reassure the dog in his language.

“Calm, beloved,” you tell Astarion, raising a hand to your bloody mouth. You close your eyes and hum a droning tone. The punctures close up under your fingers. The dull ache disappears.

When you look at him again, he’s still wide-eyed and he’s taking shallow breaths. He tentatively reaches out a hand to cup your cheek and you put your hand over his. You let the love in your heart swell and spill over as you press your face into his palm.

He blinks rapidly, holding himself rigid and still. You take measured, deep breaths, nuzzling into his hand. You can’t see the memories that are surfacing in him but you can feel how his nerves are steeling in the anticipation of pain.

“Beloved. Astarion.” Your voice still carries the resonance of your healing power. “My cherished one.” He seems to come alive to the here and now, meeting your eyes.

“I’m s-sorry,” he says roughly. Some of the warmth has retreated from his body.

“I’m ok. We’re ok. Are you intact, my love?”

He looks a little tired and waves of turbulent, mixed emotions under the surface of his gaze make your stomach flip flop. “You - it never wavers.”

“What?” You ask him softly, brow creased in concern.

“Your devotion.” Astarion sighs. “I couldn’t do anything right under Cazador and it gave him daily excuses to take it out of my hide. You keep reaching out, and trying to make things right.”

You turn your head and press a kiss in the hollow of the center of his palm.

“I do love you, you know.” He says with a slight tremor in his voice. “It scares the shit out of me.”

You stroke his forearm and lean into his hand on your cheek. “My brave, adventurous Star.”

Air escapes his lungs in a great whoosh. “Did I really hurt you?” He asks.

You smile. “Briefly. I’m all better now.”

Astarion smiles in return and his relief crashes over you like a tidal wave as your lips meet again. Not just relief at the forgiveness in this moment but relief from centuries of overwhelming pressure.

When his hands begin to trace the contours of your body they are warm, his touch sure. He runs his palms over your skin with smooth, flowing strokes, gripping and kneading where your flesh gives him purchase. He pulls at you and you mold yourself against him as best you can while you’re both sat down. The pace he sets is slow but the way he licks at the inside of your mouth, the way your head falls back as you open wide for his tongue, the pressure of his fingers on the back of your neck drawing you closer still hold an edge of ferocious need.

When he breaks away from you to let you catch your breath, you bury your face in the crook of his neck. One of your hands seeks his and your fingers twine together, separate. Now pressing palm to palm. Now clasped. He’s still got some lingering swirls of trepidation hovering about him, some shock, and some emotions dragged up from a darker time. But he’s happy, too.

You wonder at how dear Astarion’s face has become to you as he moves in for a kiss, and you feel a magnetic pull between the deepest parts of your bodies. Whatever restraint you had falls away under his insistent mouth and questing hands. He grows bolder the more he can sense you yielding to him. He is so very pleased with himself every time he kisses you to the point of breathlessness. When you next come up for air and try to get your bearings again, he eases an arm across your upper back.

“Lie back, love.” He urges.

Astarion supports your shoulders as you sink back onto the pillows and he settles in next to you. You take his free hand and brush feather-light kisses against his fingertips, one by one. He’s tracking your face, looking at you through lowered lashes. You place his hand over your heart and let go of the layers of protections you maintain. For this stolen moment of time together, you let go of your vigilance against the soul-snatchers you face, conflicts between the heavens and the hells with your whole band of travelers in the middle, the battles for collective survival. You open your heart to experience the breadth of love that exists beyond your body and Astarion is pulled along with you as he presses his hand into your heartbeat.

You are pollen riding the wind, swallowed up by velvet petals and leaving plants swollen with fruit. You are a salmon tasting traces of your home waters at the mouth of a river, gasping in the current, plunging forward toward your ultimate release. You are the streams fed full of snowmelt rising and overflowing their banks. You are lightning kissing sand. The sensuality of the universe enfolds you both. It lights you up.

You feel Astarion’s fingers flex against your chest. When your lips meet again, every lover in your lineage sighs with pleasure. It echoes in both your bodies, cell by cell. Your innate magic not only connects you to Astarion, but to every being who has joined like this across time. It’s his turn to gasp, out of breath and just this side of overstimulated. He stares into your eyes and it feels like his bruised and battered soul brushes up against yours. You smile at him. He smiles back, a bit incredulous.

He moves in slowly to share a kiss. He drinks in the energy you’ve raised together, moaning softly into your lips and around your tongue, growing even warmer under your hands. It feels like when he drains your blood but it’s as if you have oceans to give him, drawing from this collective well. He caresses the front of your body, sweeping his hand from sternum to collarbone. You arch up into his touch as he massages your chest, rolling your spine like the crest of a wave. He rolls right with you, lavishing smooth, flowing strokes over your tits, spanning your ribcage, and exploring the topography of your hips.

You splay one hand across his shoulder blades. His legs tangle with yours, your thighs slippery with sweat and desire. He abandons your lips to indulge his fascination with your neck. You sigh and cry out to him with birdsong in your voice. Astarion is so greedy for you. His hands are everywhere, petting, rubbing, squeezing, groping. Every part of you is alive to his touch.

“Beloved… please,” you catch yourself whimpering. The eddies of pleasure are gathering and building into a tempest.

“‘Please,’ what?” He pants against your skin. Your throat is going to be very colorful later, you can tell.

“I - OHhhhhh” is all you can manage to say as he tweaks your nipple. He rolls it between his finger and thumb, brushes it with his fingertips, palms it as he grabs a handful of your chest.

“OH!” You yelp. Astarion chuckles darkly, low in his throat. He languidly licks the column of your neck and holds you close while you writhe within the restraints of his arms. His hunger for you only grows the more you give yourself up him.

“Something in your blood is calling out to me,” he drawls. “You need only tell me what it is you’re craving, darling.”

You feel a rushing inward, the way starstuff surrenders to the join the core of a new sun being born.

“Oh-Open me!” You implore. “Join with me. Mmm, let me feel you.”

The look he gives you manages to be both tender and menacing at the same time. A snarl escapes him.

He relaxes his grip so that you can lie flat. One knee drops to the quilt and you throw the other leg over Astarion’s hip. He rubs the inside of your thigh, sliding his hand toward the source of your heat then away again. Your mouth drops open and you start to rock your pelvis toward his fingers. You look at him, his silver curls a darker gray where they’re stuck to his skin with perspiration. He’s intently watching the movement of your hips. You gently trace the taper of one ear with your index finger. His hand clamps around the meat at the top of your inner thigh, pulling you to press his whole body against your side. He lunges forward to suck your earlobe into his mouth, growling softly. He sounds so much louder, echoing in your head like thunder.

“Aahhh!” You exclaim, chest heaving. You’re able to raise one hip enough to plant the ball of your foot on the ground on the other side of his body. You use the leverage to grind your ass against his erection. He grunts, fingertips digging into the flesh near the apex of your thighs.

“ohhHHH beloved - PLEASE!” You’re begging but your voice is powerful. Resonant. Every wild shape you borrow roars their own demanding through you.

Astarion takes a shaky breath inward. “gods,” he mutters, taking the edge of your ear between his teeth and sliding the tip of his middle finger between your drooling pussy lips, gliding between them to circle your clit. There’s no friction but his motions are measured and deliberate. You spread your knees wider and match his movements with your pelvis. You stretch and bow your spine as he plucks his fingers across your clit.

“Delicious,” he sighs.

Astarion becomes enamored with the variety of noises you make as he changes the stimulation between your thighs. He moves his hips against the plush of your ass while he spreads your honey lips apart and shows off his dexterity. He uses his fingertips for a light touch, the flats to rub into swollen flesh. His whole hand massages you, slick with your juices, and you moan in rhythm with his strokes.

The pressure of his fingertips against your entrance makes you take a deep breath in. “Mmmmmmmm, yes. More.” He groans softly, making slow circles. He pushes, you pull, drawing his fingers deeper as your muscles relax. Your color is high in your cheeks as you toss your head to one side and bite your own hand. He inhales sharply and his hips snap once against yours. Even though you can feel the demanding of his desire through all your senses, Astarion is incredibly sensitive with his touch, waiting until he can feel you begin to thrust against his hand to work deeper inside you.

He reads you like you’ve made love together a thousand times. Every ripple of pleasure you feel, he amplifies. You contract around his fingers and he flexes just so. You moan and he answers you. Your posture grows tense and he twists his fingers as he languidly strokes inside you, watching your face. You’re riding his hand in earnest now, turning your head to meet his eyes. Astarion’s naked lust catches your breath in your chest. The handful of moments you’ve seen him so vulnerable are like precious jewels to be treasured and held up to the light.

“You’re intoxicating, sweetheart,” he says in a throaty voice. “More. Please.”

Your conscious thought is starting to get fuzzy around the edges. Every place his skin contacts yours is throbbing with heat. Behind his single-minded pursuit of rising sensation, you feel his yearning ache for relief. Yes, Astarion adores you in your pleasure. But something within 200 years of muscle memory will not allow him his release until you find your own fulfillment. All you have to do is surrender. You do so joyfully, with abandon, driving yourself onto his pumping fingers while one of your hands finds a hold in his hair.

“mm, mm, mm, mm mm mm mmf, mmmph mmmm ohhhHHHHH oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck!” you moan as you feel the gathering ferocity of your orgasm.

“Let go,” he rasps. “Give it to me. Give in to me.”

The first pulse throws your head back. Your hips find an angle just right for Astarion to hit every sensitive spot within you with each thrust and you love it, you love him. You love him. The force of your own feeling is like standing under a waterfall as you pulse and pulse again crying “oh beloved!”

Astarion curls his arm around your shoulders so he can angle your face toward him. He watches you for a moment before leaning in for a kiss, devouring your sweet sounds as you shake and fall apart. It feels like the energy is too big for your skin, bursting out of you and rocking your body in the process. Astarion breaks the kiss and whispers “more. don’t stop. more.” as he crooks his fingers inside you and you gush your waters over his hand while you struggle to take a breath.

The sounds that come out of you are guttural and ungraceful. The only thing registering in your awareness besides the throes of your own ecstasy is the feel of Astarion’s fingers inside you and pressure of his erection against your ass. He moves his hips in time with yours. The whooshing drumbeat of your heart is loud in your ears as you are finally able to steady your breath and just rock with him for a bit while the aftershocks run through you.

When you lay still, panting, you and Astarion are entwined. Legs, arms, cum-slicked fingers. He rubs the top of your foot with his own, painstakingly presses a line of kisses from just under your ear to the tip of your shoulder. His hunger creeps back into the edges of your perception.

You shiver a little.

“Want you,” you rouse yourself enough to say. “Tired. But, d’you --“ He captures your lips with a breathy groan and the kiss feeds you a taste of the burning ache consuming him.

“Yes. Yes. Yes.” Astarion manages to say, punctuated by kisses. “More.”

“Scootch.” You tell him.

You resettle yourselves so you are face-to-face. You’re a little askew on your pillow so you move a bit underneath the stretch of his body so you have better support under your neck and shoulders. Astarion grabs another pillow and puts it under your bum to angle your pelvis nicely.

As he lowers himself on top of you, you notice his elbows trembling just slightly under his own weight. You look at his face and his curls are shimmying a little bit as he tries to hide a shiver from you. He is pushing a lot of emotion behind the need for release and his nervous system is approaching overload.

You hum a little without any real power behind it and just the sound of your voice causes the shiver to die down. Astarion comes down onto his elbows and rests his forehead against yours. The volume of his thoughts gets louder at the contact. You can’t make out words through your connection, but the wash of sensation you receive is almost like being pulled apart. You initiate a meditative breath and run your healer’s hands up his chest with enough pressure to ease some of the tension he is holding. He’s not breathing in this moment.

You rub the back of his neck and press kisses against his jawline.

He is trying his best to put something to voice right now and you can feel the individual emotions more clearly as he sorts through them himself. Fear and desire are dueling within his breast, battling alongside the insistence of hunger borne of long starvation, rage at the injustice of having been denied, and a loneliness that seems to be integrated into the very core of him.

His face crumples a bit. “What if it’s not enough?” Astarion asks.

“If what is not enough?” You ask him back.

“Love.”

You look in his eyes and there is almost a preemptive despair. Now that you are within his grasp, now that his master is dead, now that the barriers between you are down, what if love is not enough to slake this need that has hollowed him down to the bone? What if it’s not enough to win against the Absolute?

You take a deep breath and smile gently. “We can only find out by going forward and loving each other anyway.”

Astarion closes his eyes and inhales, mimicking your calming strategies. When he opens them again, he focuses briefly on your gaze before going in for a kiss.

It is expressive in a way that he rarely allows himself to be in words. This isn’t his practiced passion, it’s a crashing of teeth and tongues, senses tumbling into the abyss where his heart should beat and taking you along for the ride. His fingers drag at your cheeks as the numbing darkness of undeath within him threatens to swallow your light. But there is some echo of love in there as well, despite it all. Of rest, of unburdening, of tender silence. At least enough to let you both exist as yourselves.

When he pulls away to look at you, your mouths are bloody.

You lick your lips and where your tongue touches, golden lines of healing light follow. “Hmmmmmmmmmmmmm.”

Astarion’s eyes go wide before they fill with need. “Tav, please… more!”

Almost to yourself, you mutter, “yesyesyesyesyesyesyes,” while you drape your arms about his shoulders and bring your knees up to the level of his hips. He dips his head down to you for a kiss and his hips switch against yours aimlessly, just sliding sensitive flesh over sensitive flesh. He varies his movements depending on what sounds he wants to get out of you and you are more than happy to give voice to your pleasure.

When a long, delicious stroke makes you buck up against him, Astarion murmurs low in your ear, “Guide me, sweetheart.”

You bite your swollen lip and reach down to position the head of his cock at your entrance. The soft “ah!” he gasps at your touch sends another surge of arousal through you. There is some shifting to make sure your connection is angled comfortably before he eases his pelvis forward and, inch by inch, buries himself in the heat of your body.

Astarion has pushed himself back up onto his hands and uses his center of gravity to drive his thrust home, bottoming out. You’re gasping and panting as you open for him, taking your hands and physically spreading your pussy apart for him so you can get closer. You feel him sink even the tiniest bit deeper and it’s worth it for the way the sensations are magnified. He grunts and you see his neck muscles tense as his whole body involuntarily rocks into yours.

You reach up and bring his face down to you for a kiss.

It takes Astarion a while to adjust to his new sensitivity, so you move at your leisure. You let go of the chorus and cacophony of creation that is the backdrop to your every day reality. Instead you find your focus being drawn to the little ways of encouraging your mutual pleasure. You feel his attention going to your breath so you press your chest to his chest and sigh. He groans, snaking his arms around you to grab your ass. You feel your joints get looser with desire as your knees fall open more and your inner muscles shift around erection. He pulls out just an inch only to lunge forward, bringing one knee up under your thigh and using his hold on you to grind your pelvis into his.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and hang on for dear life.

Astarion caresses you everywhere he can reach and you can feel him savoring the way your nerve endings light up under his touch. He kisses you deeply as you moan for him and then props himself up on his hands.

His first big thrust pushes the breath out of you. “Ha-ah!” escapes your open mouth. You can’t help tossing your head back into the pillows.

His cock flexes inside you and, reflexively, you grip him back. Your eyes roll up as the delicious drag of his pumping starts to drive you wild.

“Gods, Tav… you.. unh,” is about all that Astarion can manage to utter. You can feel the knot of tension building in his guts, the energy and gravity of it almost crackling. Even then, you can feel his determination to make you come again.

You feel a tidal wave of love swelling within you. The undeniable truth of it causes Astarion’s breath to catch and the rhythm of his strokes grows more urgent. It is, perhaps, the first time he really recognizes a similar feeling within himself and knows himself capable of the kind of love he has craved for centuries.

You cry out together. He brings his forehead down to meet yours as you pulse around him and spill over once more in your release. Your neck goes loose and you toss your head from side to side, moaning his name. He grunts as he works you through your orgasm, his throbbing hardness moving in and out of your flesh driving you to greater heights. You shudder under him as you spill over again and again and again.

“Tav… I can’t…” Astarion says through gritted teeth. His face is twisted with need.

You’re breathless at this point, but you know what to tell him. “Drink, beloved,” you gasp.

His eyes widen. He rears back a little and then strikes at your neck. You’re deep enough in your pleasure that the impact feels good. As your life’s blood flows into him, he gulps it down greedily and it feels like he grows even more engorged inside of you. With your thrumming heartbeat against his tongue and the taste of your essence in his mouth, you come together.

You reach down and grab the back of his thighs to pull him closer. Astarion’s back arches and you can hear the wet slap of your bodies as he pounds into you, teeth still clamped in the meat of your neck. He finally has to let go of his bite as he spurts the last throes of his orgasm deep in your body. “hah! hah! hah-ohhhhhhhhhhhhh!” punctuates his thrusts.

He collapses on top of you, lying heart-to-heart and still open to you as you both bask in the afterglow.

You caress and pet each other, exhausted but still savoring this time of tenderness. At some point Astarion’s head plunks down on the pillow next to you. He cracks one crimson eye open to look at you. Your blood and his drool are dripping from his mouth onto your pillow. You see his throat work as he gulps, his open eye rolling back to show the white. His pink tongue licks every trace of you off his lips and fangs. Obscene.

He brings his hand up to your face, sweeping his thumb over your lips before kissing you again. There’s a subtle, soft sense of harmony between the two of you as you rest together, still entangled.

***

It’s very late in the afternoon before you feel like your legs are up to bearing your weight again. You pull on a shirt to wobble about camp and gather some supplies to wash with.

You and Astarion take turns wiping the sweat and various fluids off of each other’s bodies.

You’re rubbing the damp wash cloth across his upper back when he begins to talk.

“I’ve never bitten anyone accidentally,” he admitted. “Whenever I was close to living beings, every cell in my body would be screaming at me to feed and I’d simply snap at the air, or I’d go weak when I was seducing a mark and tried to steal a taste. So many times I wanted to tear into the person my body was fucking.”

Your mouth presses into a thin line but you say nothing at first. Instead you lean against him and put your arm around him. He blinks rapidly as the memories pass through him.

“Sweetheart, I still don’t fully understand how one goes about loving,” Astarion says. “But being able to be with you without the inner conflict goes a long way.”

You tuck his damp curls behind one ear. “Do you think we’ll get there, beloved?”

“This is the most hopeful I’ve felt, maybe ever, darling. I kind of hate it but here we are.”

You chuckle a little bit. “I can’t say I blame you in the slightest, but even so, I’m just so proud of you.”

He wrinkles his nose a bit before smirking at you. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

He picks up the wash cloth and rinses it in the basin, wringing it out before he starts to rub down your back in turn. You relax and let your mind go blank at the touch of your lover.

Until…

“Astarion. I’ve got an idea.”

***

You feel tired and a little clumsy as you and Astarion make your way back to the cemetery. He’s half holding you up. You lean your heads together and chatter quietly to each other about nonsense. The setting sun casts the stone streets in shades of blazing orange and dusky purple. You lean on him, savoring the strength he’s forged over your time together. You watch him take everything in, just being with no agenda, and you fervently wish for more time like this. Please, you pray, let this man know peace.

You stand holding each other in silence when you reach his graveside. He nuzzles your hairline.

“Do what you came here to do, darling.” He murmurs. “I’ve got you.”

You smile and press a kiss against his jaw, take his hand to steady yourself as you kneel next to the plot. Astarion sits next to you and leans up against your side.

You rake your fingers through the soil to break it up. Once the earth atop the grave is soft and crumbly, you reach into a pouch on your belt and bring forth a handful of seeds. You scatter them across the surface and then you and Astarion both press them into the ground. You conjure a brief rainfall over the plot, waiting for the moisture to soak in before calling on more primal magic.

Astarion twines his fingers with yours. The connection hasn’t really faded. Perhaps you’ll always be able to feel each other. You clear your throat, take a deep breath, and sing one note; a pure tone redolent with life energy.

The seeds vibrate with your voice. You both feel each tiny, individual life awaken and begin to unfurl. Little rootlets spread into a net and extend down through the earth, reaching for the heart of the planet. Baby cotyledon leaves appear, then the true leaves, the plants’ growth fueled by your energies and nature asserting its influence in the midst of the city. Central stalks rise, stretching toward the last of the light. Deep purple blooms appear amidst the whorls of lance-shaped leaves.

When you stop singing, a stand of basalm plants grows atop the grave. You gather three plants to make a healing potion that Astarion can carry into the final battle. He tosses the Szarr family ring into the thicket.

You’re able to get to your feet without his help. Being a vessel for the primal forces restores your energy somewhat. When you’re both standing again, he gives you a lingering kiss. Your hands carry the scent of the healing herbs as you run your fingers through his hair.

As you stroll arm in arm back to your camp, you lean on Astarion again, more for comfort than support this time. You walk in companionable silence as the twilight deepens.

***

He wraps himself around you when you both go to your rest. When visions of bloody corridors and long-starved, neglected undead interrupt your trance, he comes awake too. You reach for his face, eyes wide in the low light. Your hands touch his hair, his cheek, his neck.

“you’re here with me,” you whisper urgently, “you never have to go back there again. never again!”

“shhhhhhh, darling. i’m here with you. i’m not going anywhere.” He whispers back.

You clutch at his shoulders, nerves electrified. “you got out. you got out. you’re here with me. you got out.”

“sweetheart… we’re both intact. i’m here with you.” Astarion gives you gentle kisses on your flushed face, holds you firmly as you shiver. “i’m here with you. breathe.”

You close your eyes and take a deep breath. You release your hold on his shirt and meet his gaze. “200 years. and you got out,” you say with awe. “you’re here with me.”

He kisses your lips. “i found you. and i’m here. with you. because of you.” He whispers, kissing your tears away.

[tsuki-in-faerun]

Photosynthesis

(idk if i'm gonna link to ao3 anymore)

fairly sfw. inspired by 'reader who loves to cook' headcanons written by @avocado-writing. gnc tav, tav is not physically described. astarion/tav, w/mentions of astarion/tav/karlach.

trigger warning for descriptions of food and talk about deprivation.

You and Astarion have settled down under a pocket quilt you pieced together from the most intact bits of cloth you’ve found along your travels. It’s stuffed with cattail fluff, what you glean from Scratch and the owlbear shedding, fur and down from various game. He hunted supper tonight. Cleared a warren of rabbits and donated their carcasses to the stewpot. His belly is actually sloshing a bit as he settles in next to you.

Astarion had physically kept his distance somewhat while he tried to figure out how to fit himself into your partnership with Karlach. She was still untouchable and you occupied your bedroll alone, but the companionship and intimacy you shared was palpable to everyone in camp. Beyond the initial discussion between the three of you, Astarion had not responded much to questions about his feelings nor showed you much affection. He still preferred to feed while you were resting and he still preferred a sardonic tone when addressing you.

But he had started bringing meat from his hunts back to camp. Healthy game worth eating was much more scarce in the Shadowlands and his ability to wander while your living companions were busy taking care of other needs meant that his contributions to your larder became that much more important. Once or twice, you felt his eyes on you as you ate the evening meal. You would smile at him in gratitude and toast him with whatever was in your dish. When Astarion came walking up to the makeshift kitchen table bearing his brace of rabbits, you whistled.

“Ooooh, you do know how to spoil a body,” you said playfully. “I hope the flavor doesn’t get too repetitive. I’ll probably taste of rabbit stew later. Gale, will you please wash these greens while I dress the meat?”

“Yes, saer,” Gale called from his little station. “Just let me finish pulverizing the spices. It’s actually quite good for exorcizing frustrations.”

“Pent up are we?” Astarion teased.

“Exceedingly.” Gale answered without hesitation. “I’m holding a number of things very closely to my chest. Keeping a tight rein on every single vagary of emotion or desire lest I literally explode has not been an easy habit to drop now the orb is contained.”

You squeezed his shoulder and gave him a reassuring smile. “Best get it all out then. We’ll benefit from a happier Gale and a more flavorful stew.”

His eyes softened as he returned your smile with one of his own.

You had set up the rabbits on a branch nearby and started skinning the first one.

“Astarion,” you asked, “can you actually taste what I’ve eaten when you feed from me?”

He laughed a little. “You do taste different now that we’ve built a stock of better quality provisions, but I don’t believe I’ve noticed much variation from night to night, darling. It’s more like tasting the essence of a person, I believe.”

You finished cleaning the guts out of the first rabbit and looked at him curiously. “Fascinating. In species who nurse their young, the babies will often react when their parents eat strong flavors. There’s a healer’s theory that all bodily fluids are made from the blood, so I wondered if the flavors in food were passed on via that route. You’re probably one of the few creatures I could ask to see if there’s a correlation.”

Gale visibly perked up. “Oh ho ho! This companionship certainly does present us with some exhilarating research opportunities, I must say!”

Astarion scowled. “Must you? It takes some of the fun out of the blood lust when I know I’m under observation. Just listen when it comes up as part of my sparkling conversation.”

“You made a verse, beloved.” You chuckled. He turned to see you making quick work of the game and the scowl fell from his features.

“I did, at that,” he purred. “My, you are handy with that knife.”

Your eyebrows shot up. You became aware of the cooling blood on your hands and wrists. Astarion looked you up and down and flashed you a grin with his fangs out.

Gale heaved a sigh and went back to crushing spices with a renewed vigor.

“I have to get these rabbits ready to roast and then salt the pelts.” You said with a silly smile on your face. “After that I have a free hour.”

Almost more quickly than you could follow, Astarion moved into your personal space as close as he could without actually pressing his body against yours. He picked up one of your bloody hands and kissed your fingers, eyelids drooping as he inhaled deeply.

“Mmm. I shall be by the fire warming up.” He said quietly. “You can ask me any number of questions in private, if you can stay focused on the topic.”

He snaked his tongue into the crease between your fingers and lapped at the blood there. You felt the heat rising in your chest and cheeks, and let your eyes drift closed for a moment, savoring.

“Questions about what?” You asked, voice husky.

“That’s the spirit, darling.”

“Are you still hungry for my blood after draining all those rabbits?” You ask Astarion once you’re squirreled away under your quilt together.

“I’m always hungry,” Astarion murmurs against your neck, lips brushing your skin just enough to cause you to shiver.

“Truly?” You say as you pull away from his grasp. “Even away from the Loveless One’s thrall, you haven’t been able to drink your fill?”

He sighs, reaching for your waist to draw you to him again. “I don’t know exactly how it works. You’re wasting your hour.” A wafting scent drifts up to his nose and he pauses. “Darling, why have you got a handful of herbs?”

You blush. Your free hand plays with the collar of his shirt. “I - well. It seems a little absurd now, but I was wondering if there might be a way to share with you how our supper tastes. If you were up for a little experimentation. But perhaps I should concern myself more with making sure you get enough to eat in the first place?”

Astarion wears a look of detached amusement. “We have got Withers at our disposal if you’d like me to drain you dry. However, I’d rather not have the entire camp at my throat for doing so. Especially Karlach. What kind of absurd experimentation did you have in mind?” A wicked grin spreads across his face. “Does it end with you flooding my mouth, gorgeous?”

You bite your lip a little. “You are marvelously skilled at distracting me, beloved. If you’d rather I stop poking at something painful, I can respect that. Can you forgive me my concern? I do care about you.”

He rolls his eyes and sighs loudly this time, flopping onto his back. “I - that’s not something to apologize for. Why do you have to be so… nice? It makes me want to be nice back. I do not appreciate it.” He groans like someone long-suffering. “What do you want to do with your little leaves, hmm?”

His gaze softens when your face lights up. “Are you sure?” You ask. He nods. “Thank you for indulging me, love.”

He shakes his head, seemingly at himself. “I have a feeling this won’t be the last time.”

“Perhaps,” you smile. “However, I’m sure there will be plenty of opportunities for me to reciprocate.”

“Technically, you’ve been indulging me since that first night you let me bite you,” he drawls. “But don’t expect me to bring it up much.”

Your smile drops and you take one of his hands. “Astarion, your well-being is not an indulgence. No matter what yours and my relationship is, you deserve to be fed and happy.”

His face is hard to read. You stroke his hand with your thumb and wait. “I know you believe that, darling.” He says after a spell. “Come on, Subject A is ready to be briefed on your hypothesis.”

You laugh and show him your handful of herbs. “Well! So much of how the living perceive taste is in the aroma of the foods we eat, I was thinking that perhaps we might be able to approximate the experience of eating supper with the group if I scented my skin with the herbs we use for the meal.”

He stares at you. “You want to rub leaves on your neck before I bite it?”

You squint and purse your lips. “Kiiiind of.” You sit up and spread the herbs out on the quilt. “There are different substances which carry scent in different plants so I think we will have the greatest chance of success if we try a few different methods and locations on my body. This rosemary is resinous and could be rubbed directly on my skin to impart its aroma.” You pick up a small section of lemon peel. “The aroma of citrus is carried in its oils, so I could just twist this over my skin to scent it.” Next you point to a parsley leaf. “Now the smell of something like parsley is aqueous, so I’d probably have to crush it and express the juices onto my skin for you to get a good whiff. What do you think?”

Astarion looks mildly impressed. “I think you’ve been very thorough. You want me to bite you three times tonight?”

You shrug. “Well, I’m not relishing the prospect of so many puncture wounds but I can heal them once I get some supper in my belly.”

He tugs you back down to lie next to him. “Then I’m game if you are, sweetheart.”

You blush again, a little flustered. “Sweetheart?”

“Why not? It fits.”

“I thought you preferred more savory offerings.”

“I’m developing a taste for you, whatever my preferences were before.” He leans in for a kiss. The first real affection you have shared together, not simply the promise of sex or food. Just a brief press of his lips, lingering slightly before he pulls away again.

“Oh!” You sigh, bringing your fingers to touch your mouth in an unconscious gesture. You look deeply into his eyes but are unable to discern the emotions there.

“Come on, stay focused, darling,” Astarion teases. “Where am I biting you first?”

You blink and try to clear your head. “Ummmm, the - the results might be more clear if we pick spots that are a bit farther away from each other. Let’s try the rosemary on one side of my neck, then the parsley on the other. How about my wrist for the citrus peel?”

“Sounds eminently reasonable,” he says smoothly. “How unfortunate. I must lavish some more of my seductive skills on you once I’m buried in your flesh.”

You can feel your eyes turn as big as saucers. He laughs, low and throaty. “You know, I thought you were oblivious to my charms when you fell so quickly for Karlach. Perhaps I was just taking the wrong tactic.”

That brings you back to yourself a little. “You asked once me if I wanted to lose myself in you when I wanted to be present with you. It just didn’t feel like we were on the same page.”

“Hm.” He raises one eyebrow, lifts his chin. “And you feel like we’re on common ground now?”

You reach over and tuck a curl behind his ear. Smile softly. “We’re getting somewhere. I’m not foolish enough to believe there’s an easy way into your heart, if that’s even what you want. But I will do my best to honor how far we’ve come, no matter where we end up.”

A beat.

Astarion’s eyes go to your mouth before he kisses you. Talk about presence. He had sat by the fire so his lips would be warm for you. You sigh with happiness and enfold him in your arms, sharing your body heat freely.

“Mmmmmm,” He moans. “I like this flavor.”

When you gasp, he steals your breath with another kiss. And another. His lips part against yours and without thinking, you open to him. He grabs the back of your thigh as leverage to pull you against his body and he hasn’t stopped kissing you. You have to push on him a bit, tap his shoulder so you can come up for air.

You lie panting open-mouthed. Smiling. You let your hands play with his collar again and say, “We have time for my experiment before I have to get back to supper.”

His whole face crinkles up when he laughs, head thrown back. “Wha..? HA! Oh, I suppose I do think such curiosity should be rewarded. Alright, darling. Where do you want to start?”

You have to feel around blind for the herbs on top of your quilt, giggling breathlessly while Astarion indulges his oral fixation all over your throat. When you finally grab the plants, you wave them in front of his face, triumphant.

“Ahahaha!” You crow. “I will not be denied!”

“Neither will I,” He rasps, choosing to spend this remaining time kissing you senseless.

Once again, it’s only when you start to feel a greater desire for air than for Astarion that he chooses to let you go.

“…perhaps…” you say between gulping breaths. “Perhaps if I put the herbs upon my lips?”

You’ve never seen him laugh this hard. A silly high-pitched giggle gives way to hearty belly laughs that have his whole body rocking. A watery red tear escapes the corner of one eye.

You can’t help but laugh, too. You both reach for each other in your mirth, sharing little touches and pressing your foreheads together.

“Oh! Hahahaha! Hooooo! Haahaha. Ohhhhhhhh. Oh, fuck me.” Astarion swears, beginning to wind down. When he can open his eyes again, he finds you looking into them. He appears merry, but then the briefest expression of pure panic twists his features. You reach for him again in concern and he deflects by clearing his throat, unable to meet your gaze.

“I do rely on your patience.” He says after a time, patting your thigh.

“That’s not exactly fair to me, beloved,” you tell him softly. “But I understand. Just… please don’t fake it. If you love me, don’t fake like you don’t. If you do not love me, don’t pretend like you do.”

He’s angry now. “You don’t know what you’re asking of me.”

You do your best not to match his tone, but you are heated when you tell him, “You’re right. I have no idea what it would take for you to get to that place of honesty. But I do know how I’m willing to be treated, Astarion. My love and support has never been contingent on a romantic relationship between us. You sought me out.”

He sputters indignantly as you get to your feet. “You might consider what has been asked of me along this journey, beloved,” You say fiercely as you brush yourself off. “And just how many others are relying on me to follow my best instincts. In fact, I shall leave you to it.”

You walk away and take a second at the edge of the circle of firelight to breathe deeply and regain your equilibrium. Your other companions are keeping themselves busy and take no notice of you as you begin to dig up the pits where the rabbits have been roasting among coals. Wyll and Gale come over to help when they do notice, scraping out the grains and pine nuts that had been stuffed in the carcasses and shredding the meat. Half the meat goes in the stewpot along with most of the bones and half goes in a bowl with greens and a wine-based dressing.

You give Scratch the rest of the roasted bones and the offal that didn’t go in the stew while Gale sets up the cup board. The owlbear cub gets a whole rabbit with the pelt on.

Arabella runs up to you after having spent the day learning about the Weave with Withers. A green glow is just now fading from her eyes as she chatters to you about her lessons and peppers you with questions about druidic magic. You tell her to call in the rest of the camp for the evening meal and she takes off running and shouting with Scratch bounding behind.

Karlach comes to chat with you while your company gathers around the ware board to serve themselves and you feel your heart ease just being near her. She, Lae’zel, and Arabella join you when you sit down to your meal. The owlbear cub curls up around your feet. You bask in the coziness afforded by this moment. You’ve just planted a kiss on top of Arabella’s head when you look up and see Astarion.

He’s frowning. Not at you, more in a general, arch sort of way that reminds you of his demeanor when you first met. You nod and he returns it, but he wanders over to Shadowheart and Halsin by the fire instead of coming to join you.

“What were you and Fangs laughing about earlier? It echoed around the whole camp.” Karlach inquires. “I didn’t know he was into… joy.”

You snort into your cup. Wiping a dribble from the corner of your mouth, you sigh, “Oh, I was just pestering him to let me try a cheeky experiment with some culinary herbs. He found the whole thing ridiculous and that was just more incentive for me to pursue it.”

She laughs, too. “You and Gale, man! You keep putting curiosity over common sense and I love it.”

You gasp in faux indignation. “Pardon me? Are you saying I have been… unwise???”

Karlach cracks up. Lae’zel instantly answers, “Yes,” without even looking up from her plate, which only makes Karlach laugh harder.

Arabella is trying to hide her giggles and you wiggle your fingers at her before you attack her ribs with tickles. “How’s this for unwise?” You shout. “I’m antagonizing a DANGEROUS tiefling spellcaster!” The girl shrieks with laughter and half-heartedly fights you off while Scratch tries to get in between you, whacking both of you with his wagging tail. It’s only when he manages to snatch a mouthful of your roasted grains that you stop and haul him away from where people are eating.

You and Scratch are sat snout-to-snout discussing two-legger table manners when Astarion approaches you. You ruffle the fur around Scratch’s collar and wait. The dog noses your cheek and whines. The man sinks to the ground in a cross-legged seat, a little glum. He opens his mouth, shuts it, and sighs, scratching the back of his head. You don’t push him, but you don’t fill the silence for him, either.

“How…” Astarion looks like he’s losing steam before he even begins. “How was supper?” He finishes dispiritedly.

“Really delicious. Thank you for your contribution.” You tell him. He grunts an acknowledgement.

More waiting.

Even Scratch looks concerned.

“I don’t… want to lose you.” Astarion finally says.

“Which part?” You ask.

He meets your eyes. “Your h-heart. Your laughter. Your warmth.”

A little smile crosses your face before you get serious again. “Are you still hungry?” You ask him. A look you’ve seen a thousand times on thousands of faces in the Lower City tells you the answer is “yes.”

“Does it pain you?” He gives the slightest of nods. You suspect that if it were a lesser pain, he would announce it loudly and as often as he felt he could garner sympathy.

“I wish we were free.” You tell him. You rub the back of your neck and draw your knees up to your chest. Tears prickle your eyelids. “All of us.”

Astarion lets out an explosive breath and hangs his head for a moment. “Sweetheart… it hurts too much to hope.”

You nod in understanding, taking his hand and kissing it. There is fear in his eyes but he lets you see it. He sits with it, and with you, squeezing your hand.

Scratch’s tail thumps the ground as he wags.

“I care about you, too.” Astarion says.

“Beloved…” you murmur. “Can I kiss you?”

“Can you?” He asks, amusement lending him some bravado. “Yes, I suppose you can.” He pulls you to him. When your lips touch and he is already warm as life, you recall him choosing a seat by the fire at the meal. Then you let go of all thought as Astarion devotes himself to kissing you thoroughly. He kisses you so thoroughly that you actually feel deprived when he gives you a break to breathe.

You’re reaching for him again when he holds up his hands. “Darling! I came prepared.”

He reaches into his belt pouch to pull out a sprig of rosemary, leaning in close as he brushes it against your parted lips.

Your smile genuinely dazzles him. Astarion has the look of a deer surprised by torchlight at night. You pluck the rosemary from his fingers and trace it down the curve of his cheek.

“Plant lore tells us that rosemary can aid one in committing events to memory.” You say softly. The longing in his stare leaves you just as breathless as his kisses.

Astarion turns his head and inhales deeply of the herb before wrapping his arms around you and holding you tightly. You gently press your lips to his face, run your fingers through his hair, as he releases a shuddering breath. He moans when he finds your mouth, then his weight is bearing you down into the dirt. The rosemary falls from your grasp and gets crushed beneath your body. The scent of it is thick in the air.

“Now.” You whisper at the earliest opportunity in which your mouth is free. “Drink. Please…”

He’s practically vibrating with need. The impact of his bite shocks you, almost knocks the wind out of you. But you’re so happy in this moment that all you can perceive is how expansive it feels to have your love flow into him. To have it nourish him.

Astarion’s grip becomes more tender and the pull from his mouth less intense. You feel your ability to focus begin to fray right before he lets you go.

He’s nuzzling your face with his own, stroking your body everywhere he can reach. You share a tired, giddy laugh.

“See?” You slur your words a little from exhaustion. “You feed me, I feed you. And then there’s more to go around for everybody!”

“Hush,” he whispers, drawing you into slow and sultry kiss.

“But yes. I’m starting to see.”

[tsuki-in-faerun]

i finally finished

jfc

[tsuki-in-faerun]

tsuki with their hair down

[tsuki-in-faerun]

owie, samantha beart owes me damages from karlach's quest ending scenes

[tsuki-in-faerun]

pov: it’s bedtime and you’re trying to explain your latest evil plan to a tiny, battered druid.

[tsuki-in-faerun]

Occluded Light

so, the elf snuck up on me. i made a healer!druid tav and was romancing karlach when the vampire wedged his way into my heart in act 2. so, now i have a series of fics exploring astarion's storyline as i was/am playing it, head canon is that you can progress his romance without sleeping with him in act1/2 and be in a throuple with best girl karlach. we both anchor him while he bounces around getting his bearings and figuring out a way to be.

technically sfw. astarion and tav have not had sex yet or really talked about being involved. gnc tav, 2nd person POV, angst, grief, lots of projection on astarion's part but also he's confused. basically me processing through creative writing. justice for arabella 2k24.

ao3 link if you'd prefer to read it there

“The longer I live, the more deeply I learn that love — whether we call it friendship or family or romance — is the work of mirroring and magnifying each other’s light. Gentle work. Steadfast work. Life-saving work in those moments when life and shame and sorrow occlude our own light from our view, but there is still a clear-eyed loving person to beam it back. In our best moments, we are that person for another.” -James Baldwin

“Gods DAMN you, Withers!” you cry “She’s a child NOW! Let her grow into maturity in her own time.”

The bone man only stares.

You kneel and open your arms to Arabella and he puts his body between you and the shivering little girl.

“It cannot be explained to thy satisfaction, but thou must live with it.” He intones in his sepulchral voice.

Devastated, you turn away in tears.

***

You are not sure why Astarion would seek you out. You found a semi-secluded spot to weep into Scratch’s fur, your arms thrown about his neck. The owl bear cub presses itself into your side.

“Is this about the dead tieflings?” Even without looking at him, you can hear the sneer in his voice.

You raise your head to meet his eyes and something of the raw emotion in your gaze makes him step back a pace. You take a deep breath, steady your voice. “Beloved, if you have no comfort for me, please give me the respect of some distance tonight.”

His lips pull back in a slight snarl. He turns to leave, hesitates, pivots back to you, dancing a little on the spot in his discomfort. “Does that extend to the invitation to feed later?”

You know he was asking out of self-preservation, not kindness. “Thank you for checking. I will still share blood with you.”

Silence. He hasn’t turned away from you yet. Scratch whines and puts his chin on your shoulder. Fresh tears rise and you let them flow.

You feel a cautious touch. Astarion puts a hand on your back as he sits at your unoccupied side. He gives you the stiffest hug you’ve ever received. One arm crushes you against his ribs and he awkwardly pats your shoulder. You sigh, relaxing into it anyway, and lean your head on his shoulder to cry some more. So many conflicting feelings and the weight of all you’ve been through wrack your body with sobs. Yes, he was right, you have a big heart, and right now it’s overflowing with grief.

After a time, you wipe your face and laugh a little to yourself.

“After all that, you’re laughing?” Astarion queries.

“After all this time,” you sigh, “after all we’ve seen and done, I am astonished and grateful that my heart is still capable of breaking. I am not numb to cruelty. Not yet. Hopefully, not ever.”

He scowls. He starts to say something but is interrupted when Wyll walks up and offers you a damp cloth for your face. You smile warmly at the horned man and bow your head in gratitude. The coolness of the cloth soothes your tired eyes as you lean up against Astarion again. Wyll sits down across from you and ruffles Scratch’s fur.

“Thank you, love.” you say in a rough voice. “For the washcloth and for your presence.”

He gives you that charming half smile that tugs at the corner of his mouth. “To be honest, I needed the company, too.” He says, “Feeling a little tender about parents these days. And I’m with you. I don’t understand why we must let Arabella go the way of so many orphans.”

You close your eyes and sigh. “It isn’t the druid way. There are no orphans in the Grove, for every sapling belongs to the whole forest. Arabella would be under the tutelage of the Grandmothers’ Circle and welcomed at every hearth fire. She has our magic. She should be allowed to choose to be raised in our culture, if she wishes.”

Halsin clears his throat to announce his presence. “The more I speak with you, the more I realize how my own Grove has festered in seclusion. That child may have been harmed by one I trusted to lead. To fail her again in this way is…” His voice breaks a little. You turn and reach out to take his hand, eyes welling again.

“Please sit with us,” you say. He squeezes your hand and takes a seat next to the owlbear, stroking its feathers and scratching its neck.

Karlach wanders over next. You can feel her distress at not being able to physically comfort you, see her almost reaching for you and stopping herself, but she’s angry for other reasons, too. Her jaw clenches and flames lick across her skin as she paces. “FUCK this. FUCK the whole thing! Withers doesn’t understand what he’s asking of us. I’ve been a tiefling kid loose on the streets of Baldur’s Gate. If you don’t have people to look out for you, you’re meat!”

You thrill at the alto growl in her voice even as your heart breaks anew for her pain. “Sweet one, I don’t intend for us to let him have the last word on this, if it’s at all within our power. But I will respect Arabella’s choice and do everything I can to help her should she walk a solitary path,” you say.

Karlach’s tears evaporate as they fall from her glowing eyes. “shit…” She mutters, almost to herself.

You find a stone on the ground that resonates to your touch. Good. Even in the shadow cursed lands, the Earth will work with you. It’s a little large for your hand, but you squeeze it and let your love flow into it. You imbue it with the warmth and tenderness of an embrace.

“Catch,” you tell Karlach, tossing her the stone. It fits perfectly in her palm. Her eyes go wide when she touches it, feeling a phantom pressure of the hug you both so desperately want. You give her a watery smile and she mouths “love you.”

Astarion has withdrawn his arm from around you by now. “I truly don’t understand what you all are sniveling about,” he says with frustration. “The girl has gained powers many would envy and a guarantee of her future. We don’t even have that.”

Karlach’s flames jump higher and Wyll’s expression grows hard.

You hold up a hand to stay their remarks.

“Love is taught as much as any other skill, dear one,” you say quietly. “And unloving ways are difficult to unlearn. You wouldn’t attack a tree with an axe to make it grow stronger. You allow it time to build its heartwood and enrich the soil it thrives in.”

Astarion snarls, “Your little tree metaphors are wearing thin. Everyone in this camp has been through hell. Literally, for some of us! And we could stand to become some of the most powerful beings on this plane if we succeed.”

He is met with silent stares from the others. “Hmph, you all can be sensitive about me saying so, but Arabella will be better off in the long run the less sheltered she is.”

“You can’t know that, beloved,” you tell him gently. “Even Withers can’t know that, for all his magic. The interconnecting choices influencing the passage of time do not lead down one unwavering path. I wouldn’t waste the remaining tenderness of her youth for the possible promise of greatness to come, whatever that means. We have become as powerful as we are despite the hell we’ve survived, not because of it. And it may not be destiny, but luck, that ensured we survived at all.”

His face is almost stricken. “No. No, you make your own luck or you lay down and die!” Fangs and red eyes flash.

You sense he is beginning to slip through time to a place of wounding. You hold up your hands, show you have no weapons. “Astarion, please hear me. No one here is going to harm Arabella. Or you.”

He laughs a high-pitched, stilted laugh. “You can’t know that! You can’t protect me. You can’t even protect your own heart from breaking! How can I trust you - how can anyone trust you with your false confidence and your fake smiles?”

You say nothing. Halsin curls his hand around your shoulder. Karlach kneels next to you, staring up at the pale elf, and Wyll takes your hand. You close your eyes and the sorrow flows forth again.

“They aren’t lying, Astarion,” Shadowheart’s voice echoes slightly, emerging from the darkness before she does. She kneels seiza behind you. “Grief is not a weakness. And.. and perhaps the meaning in our own suffering is that we should not see it repeated.” She places her hand on your other shoulder. The injury on that hand pulses with Shar’s light.

Astarion pulls away as if stung. “You’re all mad.” He spits.

“Is it truly easier to believe that than to believe you could be safe in this moment?” You ask.

Dark veins begin to pulse in his face as he sputters in anger. “Y-y-you can’t make me believe it! Safety?! SAFETY?! What’s that supposed to mean? In this place of all places!”

You hold out your hands on your knees in front of you, palms up, and close your eyes. Does he expect a blow? You open your awareness. The tadpoles are quiet thanks to Omeluum’s ring. You will not use an advantage that may remind him of violation. The ground beneath you lends its peace and steadiness. You give thanks for the ki that nourishes you in the air. Your heart is turbulent, so you let your mind stay with your lungs filling and releasing. Filling. And releasing. You do not look at Astarion as he shakes and quivers. Your companions lend you their silent support.

“Well?” He howls, “WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?”

“My hands are empty.” You say. “I am not striking you. I am staying right here.”

“STOP LYING TO ME!!” He screams, backing away.

You say nothing, move not a single muscle. Lungs are filling and releasing. Filling. And releasing.

Insects chirp and the leaves rustle.

“And what if I’m the villain?” Astarion asks breathlessly. “What if I’m willing to play that part?”

“I will give you all the aid I can in seeking your peace and liberation. But I can do no less for other beings.” You tell him as lovingly as you are able.

Something in his expression cracks. “And when I come creeping to you in the night, is that to keep me under your thumb? Dependent on you? Docile? Am I your pet spawn now? Are you not afraid I will kill you?! Are you that stupid to offer your neck to me every night!?!”

“You are not the first or last body I will have fed with my own.” You tell him. “You are the only vampire, but there are other ways to nourish a life that could leave me just as dead.”

“And if you die tonight for that mistaken kindness?” He cries out.

“You would not waste time asking me questions about killing me if you were going to kill me.” You say. “I can only follow the evidence of my senses and my experience.”

His jaw goes slack and he reels a bit. He snaps at the air and his hands form claws at his hips. The violence behind his unseeing stare has no target. Yet.

You and the companions do not move. You close your eyes. Lungs filling and releasing. Filling. And releasing. It would have been better if the animals were well out of it, they were practically vibrating now. You soothe them as best as you are able while not making any sudden moves.

Astarion’s eyes are wild and his chest heaves, drawing in air he no longer needs. Bloody tears begin to trace paths down his cheeks. “What peace is there for me?” He asks, exasperated and desperate. Blood drips onto his shirt.

You break the silence after a moment. “Will you allow me to touch you?”

He peers at you through a crimson mask. He nods.

“Thank you, Astarion.”

You stand up, approach him deliberately and calmly, making sure he can see your hands. You use the damp cloth you’ve been holding to wipe the blood off his face, touching him with reverence. As his tears continue to flow, you dab at them before they can stain his clothes. You hum an elvish cradle song from your Grove under your breath.

“Well?” He says raggedly. “Do you have an answer for me?”

You hold up the stained cloth. “I can care for your injuries, wipe your tears, and watch your back. Further than that… I don’t think it’s up to me.”

Karlach sighs loudly. “Mate, peace isn’t something you’re gonna find when you’re big enough and bad enough to be the scariest motherfucker on your block. There will always be someone bigger and badder than you somewhere.”

Lae’zel chimes in from her work at her grindstone. “Peace is when your focus and your desire are at one without conflict.”

You nod. “I like that.”

His face is shell-shocked. Almost mechanically, he raises a hand to your neck. You stay stock still. His eyes go to your bite marks. He brushes a thumb over the punctures with the lightest of touches. Your eyelids flutter as the tender gesture balances on the knife edge of pain. “A gift…” he says to himself under his breath.

You can hear Scratch’s tail thumping on the ground behind you as he wags. Karlach jumps to her feet and shakes out her hands, bouncing on her toes. Wyll takes his chin in his hand and cracks his neck. You ask him how he’s handling the weight of his horns. The group begins to chatter. Gale comes over rather gingerly to announce that he has dinner for everyone and Lae’zel leaves off her weapon maintenance to grab dishes for the group. You stand with Astarion who says nothing, moves not an inch.

Arabella approaches you cautiously. “I heard shouting,” she says.

“Yes, love. Ours is a difficult path to walk. Sometimes the wounds of the soul can be even messier than the wounds of the body,” You tell her gently. “Do you want to talk about it?’

She shakes her head “no,” eyes wide and red from crying.

“Are you ready for the evening meal? Hands and face washed?” You ask her. She nods and you beam at her. “I think you can sit with anyone you want. If you’d like to be left alone, I’ll let the others know.”

“I want to sit with Scratch and the owlbear,” she says. You nod. “Just remember they eat different food than us, ok? And the owlbear might take your fingers off without intending to if you give it scraps, so please don’t be fooled by the big doe eyes.”

She laughs a little, “Thanks for the heads up.”

“Bowls and spoons are by the cauldron. The water jug is on that slab where all the cups are laid out. There’s some poached fruit for dessert if you want to save room.” You tell her. She nods and runs off.

You turn back to Astarion and he finally seems a bit more present again. “Do you want to sit with us for the meal?” You ask.

He simply nods “yes,” grabs a bottle from his tent, and sits next to the fire, staring into the flames. Maybe not so present after all. You make an offering plate for the Ancestors and put it on the altar near your tent with a prayer of gratitude.

When most everyone’s stomachs are satisfied, you sit Wyll down in front of you and massage his neck and shoulders. You tell him druid tales of the Horned Hunter and Halsin rubs your back after. Shadowheart tries to relieve some of Karlach’s aches using acupuncture with moderate success and only a couple of singed fingertips. Lae’zel oils everyone’s main weapons. Arabella and the animals find you for some cuddles and you feel something in your heart unclench. Gale catches your eye from across the fire and gives you a wink. Volo insists on declaiming a story or two before bedtime even when the audience participation turns into pelting him with balled-up, dirty socks.

***

Astarion is getting his resting spot ready when you approach him.

“Arabella doesn’t want to sleep alone tonight,” you tell him. “We’re putting her bedroll next to mine and the animals will probably join us.”

“Oh,” he says simply, turning away from you.

“If you want to feed, we should do it now before we go to bed.”

He’s unable to mask the shock on his face. “I - While you’re awake?”

“Mmhmm. Is that ok?”

“It’s rather more intimate than I was expecting.”

You nod an acknowledgment. “I suppose so. Is that too much right now?”

He hesitates but slowly shakes his head “no”.

“Sooo… shall we find some privacy?” You ask.

“Lead on,” he says with some of his normal charm.

You offer your hand and he places his hand in yours.

You find a little niche in the stone walls surrounding camp that’s well away from the others. You press your back against the rock wall for support and smile as you feel the ancient songs within the stone, similar to the ones you know from your Grove, but slightly alien. Like a childhood song sung in a different language. Still there underneath the distortion of the shadow curse.

You open your arms to him. “Can I hold you?”

He stands frozen, his face in shadow, posture bowed.

“You didn’t come find me.” He says haltingly.

You lower your hands a little, confused. “What? When?”

“The night of the tiefling party. You said… You said you would get back to me about spending the night with me. And then you didn’t.”

“Oh!” You exclaim. “Ohhh. My memories of the party are a little fuzzy. Everyone was looking to bed down with somebody and I ended up talking to Karlach after people found their company for the night. Did you try to come find me?”

He snorts, his head snaps up to look at you. “Of course not! I won’t go begging where I’m not wanted.”

You tilt your head and consider him. “Was I wrong in thinking it was an impulse of the moment? I thought for sure that if you didn’t seek my company you would find someone else. You told me as much, didn’t you?”

He huffs a little. “That’s not the point!”

“Alright,” you say softly. “I’m sorry, I’m a little overwhelmed with everything that’s been happening. I don’t think I understand. Was there more to that offer than I was picking up on?”

“Yes!!” Astarion bursts out. “OBVIOUSLY. Gods, you’re thick.”

“Ouch.” You tell him, looking at him with wounded eyes. “Please try that again.”

He growls in frustration. “FFFFffffuck!! It’s - I can’t- I’ve never felt this way! I can’t tell if I want to snap you in two and suck the marrow from your bones or fuck you until you melt into my pores. I don’t know why you get under my skin when, by all rights, you are no different from the hundreds who came before you. And I know I’m not the only one in your life.” He laughs sardonically. “I know the way I move through the world disgusts you. So, how can you open your arms to me like a lover when you won’t come to my bed? Why do you INSIST on complicating everything?!”

You struggle to find something to say. “I- I don’t know if you’ll believe if me if I tell you!”

“Tell me what?!”

“That I do love you!” You blurt. “That I want to see you thrive surrounded by people who also love you. That I would travel to the deepest hellspit to release you from your pain.”

He scoffs but he can’t take his eyes away from your face. “You wouldn’t even entertain Raphael for me.”

“Beloved, we made it through the Grymforge. You’ve seen how I deal with people I am truly unable to entertain. Even if I will not bargain with him, I’ve done all I can to make sure you can get your answers.”

He bares his teeth. “You still think I’m a monster.”

“You’re the one who keeps calling yourself that.” You snap, “I call you ‘beloved’ and you still won’t hear it.”

Astarion’s eyes burn and his muscles are clenched. You’re breathing heavily from the tension in the air.

“What do you want to do, Astarion?”

His nostrils flare. “I’m hungry.” His voice has a slight whine to it.

“Ok.” You sigh. “Do you want to avoid making it feel intimate?”

“…what do you want?”

“Well, I don’t want to hurt you further.”

He makes a noise of frustration and you hold up your hands again. “If that’s a difficult question to answer, I’m sorry! But I’m not about to initiate anything with someone who can’t even say the words ‘yes, I want that’! You will still be fed regardless.”

He glares at you and you glimpse the vulnerability that gives rise to his anger. Just for a second.

“Astarion, do you want to be close with me? Can you stand my affection?”

He finally nods his head “yes”. “I - I want that.”

You open your arms to him. He steps into the circle of your embrace. You cautiously press your body against his and tilt your head back. He cradles the back of your skull and pins you up against the stone face, a little reckless.

You gasp at the impact, threading one hand through his hair while the other grips his shoulder. He inhales your scent, buries his face in your neck, raising gooseflesh along your spine. Your eyes drift shut.

“Oh, beloved,” you whisper. Astarion moans as his fangs pierce your throat. His vocalizations turn into a buzzing sensation against your skin. You breathe through the initial pain until it gives way to the feeling of the pressure of his mouth and a pulsing hypnotic chill. You can feel a thread wound with all that you are flowing into him, unspooling from the center of your heart: the tranquility and comfort of your Grove, generations of wisdom echoing in your cells, the joy of creativity and healing, the ecstasy of wild shape, the present connection with all nature as it rebels against fell influences. You amplify his notes within the harmonies that all things in material reality emit and let it reverberate through your body, resounding with the intensity of this shared experience.

He pulls back from you, pupils dilated, mouth wet with your blood. His hands are braced against the rock on either side of you. The weight of his body pushing you into the rock is all that’s keeping you standing right now. Eyes half-lidded, still close enough to kiss, he languidly licks all traces of you from his lips. Unconsciously, you mirror the gesture. He strokes his thumb across your lower lip. “This is a gift,” he murmurs.

You nod, drained in more ways than one.

“Do you want to rest near us tonight?” You ask him.

His mouth quirks up in a smarmy smile, “Can’t stand to be without me?”

“Beloved, I believe we’ve established that.”

His gaze is softer than you’ve ever seen it. “You’ve given me a lot to digest, beautiful. I’ll do my best to come find you tonight, but I… might need some time.”

You bring your hand to his face, cup his cheek, smile softly. “That’s fair.”

When you return to the circle of the campfire, Arabella is already asleep between Scratch and the owlbear. Halsin has shifted into bear shape and the little ones’ heads are pillowed against his belly. Gale is asleep sitting up, an open book in his lap and his back against the bear. It looks like he was reading to Arabella. Shadowheart is in a bedroll near the hearth with one of Karlach’s plushies tucked in with her. Wyll and Lae’zel have first watch. The easiness with which they converse now makes you sigh with happiness even though you can’t hear what they’re saying. Karlach is still awake tending the fire and you blow her a kiss. Her warm smile soothes much of the volatility of the day from your heart.

“Alright?” She asks.

You nod a bit. “I think I will be, all things considered.” You look up at the swirling darkness above you. “I miss the stars. This is a hard world to be in.”

“Yeah, babes. It is. But I reckon it’s worth it with some loving company.”

You take in all the details of her face in the firelight. “I lucked out in that regard, Sweet One.”

“Maybe.” Karlach says. “Looks like you worked at it to me.”

A weariness that goes all the way to your bones makes itself known. “Done all I can, anyway. Time for rest.”

You say your gratitudes for the evening and wriggle your way into your bedroll to curl up around Scratch. Astarion appears by the fire and you catch his eye. He shakes his head “no,” just slightly. You give him a tired smile and a little wave goodnight. You slip into a meditative state filled with song and dappled light as the day passes away.

[tsuki-in-faerun]

this character deserves chubby cheeks and a soft chin

[tsuki-in-faerun]

[tsuki-in-faerun]

shart and i have a big yin-yang dichotomy going in act 3