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thiriann · 1 month ago

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Ink - Chapter 4 out of 5

You can also find me on AO3

Link to Chapter 1

Rating: Explicit 18+

Words: 4.6k

Pairing: Astarion (Baldur's Gate)/Original Female Character

Warnings: Named Tav , Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Canon Divergence,Eventual Smut,Lawyer Astarion ,Astarion Being Astarion, Flirting, Getting to Know Each Other, Cunnilingus,Masturbation,Semi-Public Sex

A prequel to my Eggplant Emoji adult mini comic

Summary:

There she goes again, leaving the ball entirely in his court. He cringes inwardly, reduced to making sports analogies. It’s driving him mad. She is driving him mad. How far can he push her before she admits she wants him? Could he take her here and now, right against her desk? Would she let him, embrace him, or would she shy away again, brushing him off with that infuriatingly calm demeanor of hers? The uncertainty gnaws at him, a prickling unease beneath the surface of his confidence, but he refuses to let it show. “It’s one of my many, many talents,” he continues, stepping closer, closing the distance between them. His gaze locks onto hers, unyielding. “And what might those be?” she asks, her voice steady, though her breath hitches ever so slightly. She’s not retreating, not yet, but she’s not giving in either. “I could show you right here, right now,” he says, his voice dropping to a seductive whisper. “If you’re willing to explore them.” There’s no room for confusion in his words, no mistaking his intent. Her mouth parts in a soft exhale, her pupils widening just a fraction. It’s finally sinking in that he’s not kidding this time.

Astarion drags his palms over his face, sighing heavily. He’s so close to grabbing two fistfuls of his hair and yanking, but he’d never risk ruining his appearance like that. Vanity, after all, is a virtue he holds dear.

His latest client is a grouchy dwarven woman seeking to divorce her husband. Like most divorce cases, it’s a complete disaster. The couple’s only asset is a mushroom-picking business, yet they bicker over every spoon and sock. Seventy years of marriage means seventy years of accumulated junk to argue over. Astarion sighs again for good measure before slumping back in his chair, eyeing the mountain of documents on his desk with disdain.

He really should stop taking divorce cases. They do nothing but solidify his view that marriage is a farce. Still, the woman is clearly being abused by her husband, and she’s finally found the courage to leave him. He felt a flicker of sympathy-just a flicker, mind you- when she first walked in so he took her case. And he’s getting paid, it’s not like he's working for free.

Astarion picks up the shiny red pen resting beside the documents, spinning it deftly between his fingers. His thoughts drift to the girl from the office supplies company. Did she notice he’d nicked the pen from her desk? Did she get angry, or did she find his mischief charming? Perhaps she still gets on her knees, searching for it under her desk from time to time. Now that is a pleasant mental image.

She’s entertaining, he’ll give her that. It’s been an eternity since he’s found anyone remotely amusing.

Suddenly, the idea of buying office supplies seems irresistible. It’s only been a couple of days since his last visit, but surely he needs something. Paper is always in short supply, especially with the endless documentation this case requires. With a sly grin, Astarion slips away from work three hours early, claiming the urgent need for more paper.

Thiriann’s eyes dart to the door for the tenth time that evening. The sun has barely set, and she hasn’t even had her lunch break yet, but a part of her can’t help hoping he’ll show. And working alone tonight allows her thoughts to wander to him freely.

It’s stupid , she thinks,how much she wants to see him, to hear his voice again. She can admit Astarion is undeniably beautiful, his features so sharp and refined they could have been sculpted by the gods themselves. And that mouth of his, so wicked and sharp, as if it were forged in the fires of the Hells. It only adds to his allure. He’s charming and graceful, and she expected him to be exactly the shameless flirt that he is. But there is so much more to this man she didn't anticipate.

He seems to have opinions on everything, from interior design, the politics of the larger cities to the various deities still worshiped across the realms. And he shares them freely, with a wit and intelligence that keeps her hanging on every word.

She supposes she could just call him, he did boldly give her his number after all, or at the very least text him, but she feels a pang of embarrassment at how quickly he’s consumed her thoughts after one single, barely-there date.

She tries to remind herself to stay composed, to reel in whatever this is. They’re working together, after all. He’s a client. But then, as if summoned by her thoughts, he strolls in, and any attempt at keeping him out of her head is promptly forgotten.

He’s in his suit again, looking professional, collected, though the strain of the day is etched on his brow, giving him an air of seriousness that borders on cold. But when his piercing gaze finally meets hers, her heart skips a beat, and she feels that familiar pull, that magnetic attraction she can’t quite shake.

“You’re here earlier tonight,” she remarks as soon as he approaches her desk, her voice steady despite the flutter in her chest.

“Is that a bad thing?” he replies, feigning offense. “And here I thought you’d be delighted to see your favorite client.”

She rolls her eyes, ignoring his antics. “It’s always a pleasure to have you. What can I do for you tonight?”

He smirks as he always does when she asks that and she has no doubt he’s dying to make a dirty joke.

“Just this tonight, darling,” he says, handing her a short list.

She skims it quickly, noting the stark contrast to the massive scroll he brought the first time. “I just need to drop off a couple of documents to accounting. Would you like to accompany me?”

“Of course, my dear. Lead on.”

The walk to the accounting department takes them through a series of winding hallways, the faint hum of distant activity echoing around them. Thiriann keeps her pace brisk, her heels clicking softly against the tiles, while Astarion strolls beside her with his usual languid grace. She can’t help but notice how his presence seems to draw the attention of anyone they pass, though he acts as though he’s entirely unaware of it.

When they reach the accounting floor, the first thing Thiriann notices is how eerily quiet it is. The usual buzz of activity is absent, the desks empty and the computers dark. Not a soul is in sight.

Almost on cue, a low moan rumbles through the corridor. Thiriann glances at Astarion, puzzled, but he merely shrugs, his expression a mix of amusement and feigned innocence.

As they approach the accountant’s office, the sounds grow louder, more distinct, accompanied by a rhythmic thumping, interspersed with gasps and other unmistakable noises that leave little to the imagination. She flushes crimson, frozen in place. The situation is mortifying, and Astarion’s presence, his barely concealed amusement, only amplifies her embarrassment.

“Well, darling?” he purrs, clearly enjoying her discomfort. “Didn’t you have documents to drop off?”

“I-I’m very sorry about this, Mr. Ancunin,” she stammers. “I’m sure whatever is happening is… perfectly professional.”

Astarion chuckles, a beautiful, rumbling sound that vibrates through her. His grin widens, revealing a flash of white teeth. “Of course. Perfectly professional, I’m sure. Why don’t we go in, then? After you.”

She hesitates, every instinct screaming at her to flee. But she steels herself, placing a trembling hand on the door handle.

“Wait,” Astarion interjects, his tone suddenly serious. “Don’t interrupt them.”

For a moment, she thinks he’s showing mercy, but then he adds, “Let me do it. They sound disgusting.”

Dread washes over her as Astarion bursts into the office without a shred of shame. Inside, Buthir from accounting and the bugbear janitor are entangled in what is indeed a very compromising and somewhat acrobatic position given the tiny confines of the room.

“What in the hells are you doing?” the janitor yells, pulling back and revealing more to Thiriann than she ever wanted to see in her life.

Astarion’s grin is positively devilish as he drops the documents on the desk. “Just trying to do our jobs,” he says in his most innocent tone. “But I do apologize for the terrible timing. Better leave you two to… finish up.”

He strides out of the office, barely containing his laughter until they’re out of earshot, the sound echoing down the quiet corridor.

“Well, you don’t see that every day,” Thiriann mutters, still reeling from the awkwardness.

“Oh, I’ve seen worse,” Astarion replies, then cuts himself off, as if recalling something he’d rather forget.

“Every time I close my eyes, I see… it,” she mumbles in horror, her face screwed up in a grimace, earning another burst of laughter from Astarion.

When it fades, it leaves a strange, charged silence in its wake. Thiriann, still slightly rattled by the disturbing image and Astarion’s amusement, finds herself acutely aware of the space between them as they step into the warehouse.

The vast, dimly lit space feels different tonight, the usual sense of familiarity replaced by an almost tangible tension.

Thiriann shoves her hand into her pocket, her fingers brushing against the edge the small list, as she tries to ground herself.

Being alone with him here feels different now, after their almost -date. It hadn’t even been a proper date, not really, yet it had left her off-kilter, her thoughts tangled and her nerves on edge. She’s hyper-aware of him now, of the way he moves, the way his presence seems to fill the room. And his vampiric nature has nothing to do with it - it’s him. Just him. The way he looks at her, the way he seems to do his hardest to unravel her composure. It’s embarrassing, really, how much he affects her. She hasn’t felt this way since she was a teenager, all flustered and unsure, and she hates how he seems to bring it out in her.

The worst part is that she wants to talk to him, she’s been hoping for this opportunity all night, but her feelings, and to an extent, the earlier incident, have left her mind blank, her words caught somewhere between her throat and her tongue.

Thiriann shifts a stack of papers in her arms, trying to focus on the task at hand, but her grip isn’t strong enough, her movements clumsy. As she tries to adjust it, the stack slips, and she fumbles to catch it. A sharp pain shoots through her hand, and she hisses, pulling it back to inspect the damage.

“Damn papercut,” she mutters, watching as a bead of blood swells to the surface of her skin.

Before she can wipe it away, his hand is on her wrist, his grip firm but not painful. She freezes, her breath catching as he lifts her hand to his face.

“Let’s not waste any more blood, hmm?” Astarion says, his voice smooth like velvet. His tongue drags slowly over the cut on her palm, and Thiriann gasps, caught entirely off guard.

The sensation is cold but it’s quickly overshadowed by the feel of him against her skin. Her pulse races as she watches his expression shift, his features softening into something almost pleasured, a faint shiver running through him.

“Delicious,” he drawls.

Thiriann’s face flushes, her mind scrambling to form a coherent thought. She should pull away, she knows she should, but she can’t. Not when he’s looking at her like that, not when his touch sends a jolt of electricity through her.

“This should help,” he adds, releasing her wrist with a slow, deliberate motion. His eyes linger on hers, the air between them feels charged, taut with something unspoken.

She swallows hard, her voice trembling as she finally manages to speak.

“Thanks,” she says, though the word feels inadequate.

Astarion smirks, that familiar, devilish curve of his lips that always seems to disarm her. “Anytime, darling,” he replies, his tone light but his gaze lingering just a moment too long.

And just like that, she’s lost again.

—-------------------------

“You know darling, I must say, I never imagined you to be such a terrible host.” Astarion says in mock offense as soon as they reach her desk.

Thiriann freezes, puzzled as she tries to figure out where she might have gone wrong.

He leans casually against the edge of her desk, his tone laced with false indignation. "I’ve been here all night, and not once have you offered me a drink. Honestly, I could kill for a cup of coffee right about now."

Thiriann blinks, surprised. "You want…coffee?" she repeats in disbelief. His request is particularly odd considering he hadn’t drank a sip of it during their date.

"But of course, darling," he replies smoothly, a sly smile playing on his lips. "I would adore one."

She hesitates, then shakes off her confusion. "Alright. How do you take it?"

Astarion waves a hand dismissively. "Oh, I’m sure whatever you concoct will be simply marvelous."

Thiriann gives him a wary look but decides not to press further. "Right. I’ll bring you one, then."

Perhaps, she thinks, this is just his attempt to break the tension that’s between them.

She hurries off, returning less than fifteen minutes later, only to find Astarion sprawled lazily in her chair, one of her books, which he clearly pilfered from her drawers, open in his hands. He looks up with a smirk, utterly unapologetic. “Darling, who knew you had such a fine taste in smut?”he teases.

His disregard for personal boundaries is hardly surprising; he strikes her as the type who considers everything within reach his for the taking. It bothers her surprisingly little. Her only concern is whether he’s stumbled upon a certain tome she's been hiding in her desk for days now.

“It’s tasteful erotica, I’ll have you know.” She quips, trying to play it off cool.

He raises an eyebrow. “As he bent her over his desk, he inserted three-"

“Your coffee is ready!” she squeaked, practically throwing the cup onto the desk. Of course, he’d manage to locate the spiciest scene in a five-hundred-page book within minutes.

He laughs, a genuine, giddy sound, at her flustered reaction before lowering his feet from her desk and rising. “Thank you, as always, my dear. Either way, your book is excellent, very captivating.” He winks, the gesture laced with playful mischief as he circles her like a shark until he's standing tall before her, too close and very much into her personal space.

“You can borrow it if you’d like. I finished it a while ago. That, and… this one.” She bends down, retrieving a brown inconspicuous bag containing the necromancy tome from beneath the desk and handing it to him gingerly.

He looks genuinely shocked for a moment before accepting it, sneaking a curious peek inside. His eyes widen with realization, and he wastes no time pulling it out for closer inspection.

Feeling suddenly self-conscious, Thiriann fills the silence with nervous chatter.

“You seemed interested in it, so I thought you should have it, if you still want it, that is. It’s called the Necromancy of Thay. It’s supposed to teach… speaking with the dead, among other things.” She blabbers.

“A magical artifact,” he murmurs, still in awe. He turns the book over in his hands, his fingers tracing the strange symbols etched into its cover. What used to be a gaping maw in the middle of the cover is now filled with a dark amethyst she was lucky enough to dig up from her attic. At least, she hopes it’s a dark amethyst and not just an ordinary stone. He opens the book with ease, and she exhales in quiet relief.

He scans the pages with a feverish intensity, his expression almost pained. After a moment, he closes the book gently, his touch almost reverent.

“Quite the page-turner,” he says, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “I should delve into this in my own time. Thank you for the thoughtful gift, my dear.”

“We’re not exactly supposed to be giving our clients gifts,” Thiriann says guiltily, ‘or going on dates with them, for that matter.’ She adds in her mind.

“No need to worry,” he leans closer, his breath ghosting across her ear. “I’m very good at keeping secrets, darling,” he says, his voice low and smooth, a deliberate tease.

“Oh, I’m sure,” she replies, quirking an eyebrow, humor dancing in her eyes. Her tone is light, but there’s a flicker of something else -curiosity, perhaps, or challenge.

He hears her heart beating fiercely against her ribs, so loud it’s almost distracting. The sound fills the space between them, a frantic rhythm against the quiet hum of the office. There she goes again, leaving the ball entirely in his court. He cringes inwardly, reduced to making sports analogies. It’s driving him mad. She is driving him mad.

How far can he push her before she admits she wants him? Could he take her here and now, right against her desk? Would she let him, embrace him, or would she shy away again, brushing him off with that infuriatingly calm demeanor of hers? The uncertainty gnaws at him, a prickling unease beneath the surface of his confidence, but he refuses to let it show.

“It’s one of my many, many talents,” he continues, stepping closer, closing the distance between them. His gaze locks onto hers, unyielding.

“And what might those be?” she asks, her voice steady, though her breath hitches ever so slightly. She’s not retreating, not yet, but she’s not giving in either.

“I could show you right here, right now,” he says, his voice dropping to a seductive whisper. “If you’re willing to explore them.” There’s no room for confusion in his words, no mistaking his intent.

Her mouth parts in a soft exhale, her pupils widening just a fraction. It’s finally sinking in that he’s not kidding this time. The air between them crackles with tension and neither of them dares to move. His smile remains, but inside, a twinge of nervousness twists in his gut, a feeling he would never admit to, not even to himself. He’s playing a familiar game but for the first time, he’s not entirely sure of the outcome.

Thiriann swallows hard, her cheeks burning as a blush creeps up her neck.

She knows Astarion is …forward. But this is a different level of directness. This is uncharted territory, a step beyond their usual banter and playful flirtations.

She’s torn between embarrassment and the strange, fluttering warmth that spreads through her chest. She can’t deny it anymore, she’s drawn to him, despite his infuriating antics and the chaos he brings into her life.

And as she looks at him, really looks at him, at the intensity in his eyes, the almost vulnerable flicker beneath the surface of his bravado, she realizes she doesn’t want to fight it.

“Alright,” Thiriann says, barely above a whisper. The word hangs in the air, a quiet surrender that sends a jolt of triumph through him. Relief, too, though he refuses to dwell on it.

He leans down and kisses her. His initial intention is to take it slow, to kiss her sensually, to drive her mad with the deliberate pace of his lips against hers. But the moment their lips meet, it’s as if a spark has ignited. The kiss deepens almost instantly, his control slipping as her bottom lip finds its way between his teeth. His hands slide down the curve of her waist, pulling her closer, while her fingers tangle in his hair, tugging gently but insistently.

A moan echoes through the office, and with a flicker of horror, Astarion realizes it came from him. Her tongue brushes against his, soft and teasing, and he refuses to be outdone. His hands move to her hips, squeezing the supple flesh before grasping the tops of her thighs and lifting her effortlessly. She picks up on his intent instantly, her body yielding as he sets her onto the desk.

There’s a flicker of surprise on her face, but it’s quickly replaced by something darker, more daring. Her legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer, and suddenly he’s the one who’s breathless. She’s not just letting this happen-she’s meeting him, matching him, and it’s intoxicating.

The desk creaks under their onslaught, papers scattering to the floor, but neither of them notices. His hands roam her body, exploring every curve, while hers trace the lines of his shoulders, his back, pulling him closer still,as if she can’t get enough of him. The kiss is relentless, a battle for dominance that neither of them is willing to lose.

But then, just as suddenly as it began, she pulls back, her breath coming in short, uneven gasps and he thinks she’s going to stop him, to push him away. Instead, she smiles a slow, knowing smile that sends a shiver down his spine.

“Well,” she says, her voice husky, “I suppose you weren’t exaggerating about your talents.”

He laughs, a low, dark sound that vibrates against her skin. Leaning in again, his lips brush against her ear teasingly. “Oh, darling,” he murmurs, his tone dripping with promise, “you haven’t seen anything yet.”

He drops to one knee in front of her, the motion leaving no doubt about his intentions.

A gesture of surrender, and yet, somehow, it feels like the ultimate power play.

Her breath hitches, caught in her throat, as she feels the heat of his gaze tracing the blush that spreads from her cheeks down to the tops of her breasts. Thiriann shivers, trembling under the weight of his attention, as she stammers, “I-”

Astarion doesn’t move any further, though he’s certain that the tension creeping into her frame isn’t borne of disinterest.

“You don’t have to do-” she begins, her words faltering as her nerves twist her tongue into knots. “Uh, that.”

He isn’t surprised by her hesitation. The palpable intimacy and vulnerability hang heavy in the air between them. Astarion tilts his head slightly, his crimson eyes searching her face. “Do you want me to stop?” he asks, his voice soft but insistent. He has to ask.

He longs to look into her eyes, but they’re held resolutely shut as she wrestles with her thoughts.

It’s too fast, faster than she’s ever allowed herself to be with anyone. Yet, deep down, she can no longer deny the truth: she wants him. She wants whatever he’s willing to give her, whatever he’s willing to take.

“No,” she whispers at last. Slowly, her eyes open, meeting his gaze for the first time since he knelt before her.

A soft smile stretches across his lips even as an uncharacteristic flicker of nerves courses through him. For a fleeting moment, the fear of having grown rusty crosses his mind, but he quickly pushes it aside.

It’s like riding a bike, he tells himself, though the comparison feels absurd even as it forms.

His hands trail from her knees to her thighs, the smooth texture of her pantyhose gliding beneath his fingers. The material makes the motion effortless, almost as if it’s inviting him to explore every inch of her skin. He leans his cheek against one knee, his eyes closing as he savors the sensation, almost feline in his movements, nuzzling against her with a quiet, predatory grace.

She finds the image endearing, adorable even, until he opens his eyes. The hunger she sees there pins her in place, like a panther cornering its prey. His smirk never leaves his lips as he turns his face to her leg, his mouth opening to reveal the sharp, glinting points of his fangs.

Thiriann’s heart skips a beat at the sight, though she isn’t sure whether it’s instinct or anticipation that sends her pulse skyrocketing. She watches, frozen, as he drags the edge of a fang over the pantyhose and with uncanny precision, tugs just so.

A loud rip echoes through the office, sharp enough to make her gasp. It’s only when she feels his cold breath against her now-bare skin that she registers what he’s done. He doesn’t hesitate, grabbing the edges of the hole he’s made with both hands and tearing the fabric apart. The material gives way like paper, shredding instantly under his grip.

She should be offended. She should at least be irritated. But all she feels is relief that there’s nothing between his hands and her skin anymore.

“Astarion,” she whimpers, her voice trembling with a desperation that surprises even her.

He hums with amusement, the sound low and vibrating against her skin. His lips brush against her thigh, feather-light, before he presses the first kiss there and the desire swells within her, a flame he stokes with unhurried kiss after kiss, each one deliberate and maddeningly slow.

When his mouth reaches her inner thigh, he lingers, just long enough to make her ache before pulling away. She shifts in place, impatient for him to touch her where she wants him most, though she refuses to let him see just how much she craves it.

Astarion ‘s hands, which up until now have been resting on her thighs, gently squeeze the firm muscle beneath. He spreads her legs just enough, revealing the smooth black silk of her underwear, edged with intricate lace. The sight catches his attention, and he can’t resist the urge to drag his thumbs over the delicate fabric. The warmth of her skin radiating through the thin material is almost beckoning him to lose himself in the feeling.

As his fingers trace the lace, a thought crosses his mind: does she wear lingerie like this every day? Was this subtle, alluring secret hidden beneath her unassuming office suits every time they’ve spoken? Or did she choose this today, anticipating, perhaps even hoping, that something might unfold between them?

An alluring thought no doubt. One which will certainly linger in his mind.

His fingers slip into the sides of her underwear, and she lets him tug them down, tossing them aside without a second thought. She’s fully shaven, her smooth skin glistening, flushed and so deliciously wet that it’s impossible for him to look away.

Thiriann whimpers again, the sound escaping her before she can stop it. With Astarion’s face now between her legs, the impulse to cover herself is overwhelming. She wishes, suddenly, that the room was darker.

“Don’t hide,” he says gently, almost tenderly, as if the idea of her hiding from him saddens him, wounds him in some small, imperceptible way. And then his lips are on her inner thigh once more, firmer this time, his fangs grazing her skin just enough to make her gasp. His breath washes over her in waves, each one making her tremble.

He kisses his way to her core, his tongue smooth and wet as it brushes against her entrance. Thiriann jolts, her back arching as a sharp gasp slips from her lips. His tongue is surprisingly gentle, licking her in soft, rhythmic motions that ease her into a state of trembling relaxation.

Thiriann shudders as he moves slightly higher, the new intensity sending a fire through her gut, embers glowing behind her eyelids. It’s maddening, the way he takes his time, building her up with agonizing patience, drawing out the pleasure, making her crave more with every deliberate touch.

She is openly panting, her hands gripping the edge of the desk as if it’s the only thing keeping her grounded.

His grip on her thighs tightens, his fingers digging into her skin with just enough pressure to be encouraging. It isn’t long before she’s lost in the sensation, her hips grinding into him, her legs flexing helplessly where he holds them. There’s a meditative quality to it, a soothing rhythm that lulls her into a state of blissful surrender.

When he draws back, Thiriann hears herself keen pathetically, the sound escaping her before she can stop it.

Astarion suddenly feels torn between watching her blissed-out expression or letting his eyes fall shut as his own arousal builds with relentless urgency.

He drops a hand between his legs, teasing himself through the fabric of his pants. He’s trying to stay focused on Thiriann, but the pressure is too much. He needs just a little relief, something to take the edge off as he feels his restraint fraying with every passing second.

He brings two fingers to his lips, swirling his tongue between them in a show that is absolutely sinful. His eyes never leave hers as he brings his spit-slick fingers down to her entrance, dragging them from her clit to her hole, teasing, always teasing. The burning desire inside her is becoming unbearable, that primal urge to be filled, to be taken, making her lightheaded.

She shifts her hips against him instinctively, trying to get more of that sensation, to feel him inside her.

“Getting impatient, are you, darling?” he teases, his voice dripping with amusement.

“Astarion,” she gasps out when he flicks a finger over her clit, bringing a new wave of wetness gushing out of her. “Please.”

He’d been right—the word sounds positively delicious on her lips.

His gaze remains locked on hers as he slides a single finger inside her, watching intently as pleasure flickers across her face. She clenches around him so tightly he wonders if she could even take more.

The digit moves with the sole purpose of exploring as if he’s cataloging every reaction, searching for the spots that make her gasp.

A second one joins, stretching her, gliding against her slick walls. She is so hot and wet, her cunt sucking his fingers back in with each teasing withdrawal.

Astarion moves within her, slow and gentle, each thrust deliberate and maddeningly good but not enough. Not nearly enough.

She hears him shift, and then his mouth is back on her, his tongue dancing over her clit with a precision that makes her toes curl. He maintains the rhythm, pushing deep inside her and curling in a way that has her seeing stars.

His movements are practiced, almost instinctual, though he loathes to admit it.

Oh, Gods, Thiriann thinks, her earlier assumption shattering. She was wrong to think this wasn’t satisfying. With his tongue and fingers moving in tandem, it’s everything.

He’s relentless, pressing against her sweet spot over and over, applying more and more pressure until it’s too much.

Every thrust feels overwhelmingly intense, leaving her unable to do more than moan, torn between the desire to have him deeper inside her or to tell him to stop. His mouth is on her clit, gently sucking on the sensitive bud in stark contrast to the brutal pace of his fingers.

Through half-lidded eyes, Thiriann sees Astarion push the heel of his hand against his crotch, where a faint outline bulges in his trousers.

The image of him touching himself while eating her out brings an impossibly strong wave of desire to wash over her and her hips buck upward, seeking more of him, more of this. She whimpers pitifully, thighs tightening around him.

He hums against her in approval, the vibration rippling through her body and drawing another weak whine from her lips. The sound is embarrassing, but she’s too far gone to care. Her mind is blank, her thoughts scattered, careening toward something bright and powerful.

She focuses on the sound of his heavy breathing, the occasional throaty moan that slips from him and warms her core in a way that’s almost possessive.

Hells, she wants to taste him, to see him, to bring him the same pleasure he is giving her, but she’s already at the precipice, and he shows every intent on bringing her over the edge.

With one last deliberate suck against her clit, she feels the pleasure coalesce, and comes hard around his fingers. Her broken moan bounces off the office walls and echoes in his ears as more of her wetness gushes down his hand.

Astarion watches with satisfaction as she comes undone, her body trembling with the force of her release.

When she stops convulsing, he slowly withdraws from her before licking his fingers clean, savoring her warmth, her sweetness.

She looks at him tiredly, hungrily, before bending down and capturing his lips in hers. She can taste herself on him, but she doesn’t care, she just needs to feel him against her. Her fingers tangle in his curls, pulling him closer just as he reaches for her.

The angle is awkward, she's bent way too low and his head is thrown back too far but it's not nearly enough to separate them.

He’s so hard it hurts. He wasn’t planning on taking this further, not yet, not like this. But he’s so embarrassingly close. Her fingers trail higher, rubbing against both tips of his ears simultaneously, sending a jolt of pleasure through him, and he whines pathetically into her mouth as he feels another drop of precome dripping out of his tip and soaking his already ruined underwear further.

“Astarion,” she whispers. Her fingers tighten in his hair and she breaks the kiss just enough to speak, her lips brushing against his as she does. “It’s… it’s alright. If you want to…” She trails off, suddenly shy, but her meaning is clear.

He looks almost surprised, as if he hadn’t expected this. But then his expression shifts into something smoother, more practiced. His voice is low, rough with barely disguised need as he murmurs, “You’re too good to me, darling. So good.”

His hand drifts lower and he deftly unbuckles his belt and tugs his pants down just enough to free himself. She watches transfixed as his fingers wrap around his length. His brows furrow, sweat beading on his forehead and face flushed with whatever blood he’d drank that day.

He strokes himself quickly, already worked up past his limits. There’s something about this, more than his lingering touch, that has Thiriann shivering with renewed want. It’s the desperation in his movements, the way he’s completely unraveled, his usual composure shattered.

It’s knowing that he’s so far gone because of her, that he’s brought so close to the edge without even being touched. A warmth spreads through her, a heady mix of arousal and something else, something akin to tenderness.

Astarion’s eyes close, his head thrown back as loses himself in the sensation. His breath comes in ragged gasps, his hips jerking slightly as he chases his release.

Just as he’s about to reach his peak, a loud slam of a door echoes through the room, followed by the sharp click of heels on the floor.

“Thiriann? Are you here?” a voice calls out, growing louder as it approaches.

#astarion #astarion bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion ancunin #bg3 #astarion x tav #astarion smut #astarion fanfic #astarion fanfiction #modern au #astarion x thiriann

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thiriann · 1 month ago

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It's always a pleasure to see you sauntering over.

#astarion #astarion bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion ancunin #bg3 #bg3 spoilers #baldurs gate #3d artwork

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thiriann · 1 month ago

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The Road to Waterdeep- Ch 1.

You can also find me on AO3

Rating: Explicit (smut in later chapters)

Pairing: Astarion (Baldur's Gate)/ F Tav

Tags: Adventure & Romance, Domestic Fluff, Named Tav Tiefling Tav , Vampire Spawn Astarion, Established Relationship, Post-Game: Baldur's Gate 3, Non-Sexual Intimacy ,Canon-Typical Violence, Magic, Smut in later chapters.

A lot of adventures, DnD lore and monsters, drama plus the occasional fluff and smut.

Summary:

A year after the fall of the Netherbrain, Astarion and Thiriann manage to get their hands on an ancient tome, setting them on a new path toward the fabled city of Waterdeep.

Astarion bent over the still-breathing creature, and with swift, practiced precision, sank his fangs into its neck. The deer gave one last convulsive shudder before going limp in his grasp.

"You know, you don't have to stay while I feed." he said, pulling away after taking a few deep gulps.

"Would you prefer I didn't?" Thiriann asked, gazing up at him from where she'd sat by his side.

He went silent ,considering her question. "Well, no, it's… nice," he admitted after a moment.It was true. Her company was always welcome, and it certainly improved the quality of a rather bland meal.

Their little tradition felt strangely peaceful, almost domestic but he knew the act itself was anything but. It was predatory, savage, reducing him to no more than a beast ,and while he'd taken strides in accepting his nature, he wasn't proud of this aspect of it. "But I wouldn't want you to be uncomfortable.”

Her expression softened. Despite all of the healing he’d done over the last few months she could tell he still felt like a monster so often. Perhaps a part of him would always see himself that way. But she never would, no matter what, and she yearned for him to believe it.

"I've seen you drink the blood of countless enemies," she reminded him. "And you've drunk my blood, remember?"

"How could I forget your delicious taste, darling?" he purred, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "But I know this isn't exactly a candlelit dinner and flowers."

"It doesn't bother me," she insisted. "And you keep me company while I eat, even if you find my food gross.”

He nodded, silently accepting her words before bending over again and finishing what was left of the deer.

“Should we make camp here? The stars are beautiful tonight,” she suggested, gesturing towards the vast expanse of the night sky.

He hummed in agreement, leaning back on his hands and gazing upwards. “We could. But the nights are growing longer and colder. Perhaps we should find shelter in some town until winter passes.”

She’d noticed it too; with each passing day, the fire burned out quicker, and the chill seeped deeper into her bones.

But as much as she loved to hunker down in a warm cottage, actually she’d really love that, there was something rather important they needed to discuss.

“Actually,” she said, meeting his gaze directly. “I’ve been meaning to tell you something else.” He raised an eyebrow, a question in his eyes.

"I received word from Gale about the tome we acquired in Candlekeep," she began, her voice taking on a more serious tone. "He sounded very interested and has invited us to his tower in Waterdeep so he can examine it."

Astarion’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. Gale hadn’t sounded positive about anything they’d found in their search so far.

A year had passed since they’d faced the Netherbrain, and six months since they’d last seen their former companions. Six months since they'd exchanged so much as a letter. He loathed to admit it, but he missed them. This invitation from Gale held a certain appeal, for more reasons than one.

"So, we're going then?" he asked, trying to keep his tone neutral.

“Just… don’t get your hopes up too high,” she cautioned. “You know how these things are. It could be something… or it could be a spell for making porridge without boiling.”

“Is that even a real spell?” he asked, a flicker of amusement in his eyes.

“Well,” Thiriann shrugged, a wry smile tugging at her lips, “we might just discover it within these tomes.” She laughed, but he detected a faint strain in her voice.

A year into their adventures and he was still bound to the shadows,still unable to see the light of day again. He’d found a strange sort of peace in it, embracing aspects of his nature he’d once reviled. And, against all odds, he’d found happiness, a fragile, precious thing,at Thiriann’s side.

Despite how much he longed to see the sun again, he knew she was the one who truly clung to hope with every scroll they stumbled upon. She never openly displayed her disappointment, always trying to hide it and appear cheerful, but after over a year together, he’d learned to read the subtle signs. The faint furrow between her brows that he always made a point of smoothing away, the way her eyes would water just a bit. It still baffled him that someone could care so deeply for him. Yet she remained resolute, determined with unwavering hope that they would find a solution one day.

“No matter what we find,” he said, his voice warm and reassuring, “I’m sure we’ll have fun on this adventure regardless.”

She smiled then, a genuine, radiant smile that warmed him from the inside out. “Every day is fun with you, my love.”

It never ceased to amaze him how effortlessly she could make his heart flutter with just a few simple words, without even trying. Maybe that was the secret, how effortless she found loving him.

He swooped in and kissed her then and she groaned in displeasure at the taste still lingering on his lips.

“What? Is my meal not to your liking, darling?” he teased, mock offense lacing his tone as he pushed her playfully to the grass. “Why not offer me something sweeter if it bothers you so much?”

He trailed ticklish kisses and nips down her neck and collarbones. She laughed, her arms flailing behind his back trying to summon her magic.

“Astarion, wait! At least let me cast prestidigitation ,” she pleaded between giggles.

“Better hurry if you want me clean, darling. I’m positively famished,” he teased, his fangs lightly grazing the tops of her exposed breasts.

She barely managed to breathe out the incantation before he fully captured her mouth with his once again.

Thiriann was woken up by the sound of rustling of papers. She blinked, her gaze traveling across their tent- their tent now, though it had been only his originally. He was hunched over in the corner, surrounded by a chaotic sprawl of maps.

“You’re up early,” she murmured, stifling a yawn as she rolled onto her side to face him. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to figure out where in the hells bloody Waterdeep is,” he grumbled, his voice laced with frustration.

“It’s north of Baldur’s Gate,” she offered, pushing herself up onto her elbows.

“I still don’t see it,” he muttered, his brow furrowed as he scanned the intricate lines and symbols on the map.

"Higher than that, yes, a bit more."

"Hells," Astarion muttered, his gaze tracing the vast distance between the two cities marked on the map. "Imagine the distance those mind flayers undertook just to snatch Gale of all people."

"It's quite a journey," Thiriann agreed, unfazed by his mocking tone. "It'll take us well over a month on foot."

He groaned miserably. "In this weather? We’ll freeze, especially traveling at night."

“We could take a boat," she suggested.

"Oh, no. We are not doing that again," Astarion retorted, cutting her off sharply.

The memory of their voyage to Candlekeep was still fresh: a journey filled with… discoveries. One particularly unpleasant discovery had been the unfortunate fact that vampires, it seemed, were not immune to seasickness.

“How about buying a wagon and a couple of horses?” she tried again, undeterred.

“And having to deal with those beasts?” he replied with a grimace. “Absolutely not.I’ve already had my fill of equine for one lifetime, thank you very much.” He shuddered dramatically.

“Yes, I remember Dobbin,”Thiriann interjected, a flicker of annoyance crossing her face. “The horse you devoured before I could even get you near a saddle.”

Astarion tilted his head, presenting a perfect image of bewildered innocence. But the amusement dancing in his crimson eyes gave him away. “Dobbin? I have no idea what you mean, darling.”

“One of these days, I will teach you how to ride, Astarion,” she insisted, a playful glint in her eye, though her tone held a hint of playful disbelief. “It’s really not that difficult.”

“Not going to happen,” he countered, his tone laced with childish mockery.

She sighed, dragging a hand wearily across her face. “Well, we could always travel through the Underdark. Perhaps even pass through the sanctuary your siblings built and offer them some help.”

He remained silent for a long moment, not even glancing up from the map spread before him.

“Perhaps,” he finally said, his voice flat.

It seemed a decision had been made, albeit a reluctant one on his part.

“But setting aside the prospect of… dreadful family reunions,” he continued, pointing to a marking on one of the maps, “it appears there’s a village not too far from us.”

“We’ll head there tonight, then,” she said, pulling the blanket tighter around herself against the persistent chill.

They approached the village at sunset, the sky a uniform, oppressive grey. A heavy, damp chill hung in the air, promising rain.

In this kind of weather a hooded cloak was enough to provide Astarion with ample protection from the light. Passing the village gates Thiriann immediately sensed something was off as if an unsettling stillness had settled about the place.

The only sounds were the low mooing of cattle and the occasional clanking of distant bells. The usual bustle of villagers going about their evening chores was absent. Not a soul stirred in the streets, despite the early hour. They scanned the buildings one by one, searching for the telltale signs of a tavern. Usually that was an easy task, it'd be the one all the people gravitated towards, more often than not it was the noisiest one around. But all the windows they passed were shuttered and dark, and the streets remained eerily deserted. Finally, Astarion pointed to a lone, weathered sign creaking in the wind: "The Sunbreeze Inn." Ironic, considering it looked as forlorn and desolate as the rest of the village.

Thiriann pushed open the heavy wooden door and was greeted with a more familiar sight inside :A roaring fire crackled merrily in a large hearth, casting a warm glow across the room. A few sturdy tables and chairs were scattered about, two tall bookcases stood sentinel on either side of the fireplace, and a long, polished bar occupied the far corner.

Her eyes settled on the dwarven woman behind it, whose face was etched with a deep scowl. Judging by her expression, one might have assumed they’d stumbled into someone’s home rather than an inn.

"Well, well," the woman began, her voice rough and laced with suspicion. "It's not often we see new faces 'round these parts, especially not one of your kind."

Thiriann’s eyes narrowed. It was always the same. No matter where they went, people were quick to judge at the sight of her horns and tail. It was hardly a surprise anymore, but the familiar sting of prejudice never failed to irritate her. Astarion huffed in annoyance behind her, a sound that promised a cutting remark. Thiriann hurried to speak before he could give voice to his displeasure.

"We're adventurers," Thiriann replied, keeping her tone neutral. "Looking for a room and perhaps some work."

The woman paused, considering their words. Her eyes flicked to Astarion, narrowing as she scrutinized him, taking in his pale skin and the way he kept to the shadows. After a moment of tense silence, she returned her attention to the mugs she was polishing.

"Twenty gold a night for the room upstairs," she stated curtly.

It was way more than it should have been for such a small and remote village. Clearly an attempt from the innkeeper to drive them away or maybe she was just bigoted enough to think they lacked the coin.

"We'll take it," Thiriann agreed quickly, placing the coins on the bar before heading straight for the stairs. Sometimes, minimal interaction was the best course, especially when they were clearly unwelcome.

The room itself was decent enough: a large bed piled with thick blankets, a sturdy desk, and a simple wooden dresser.

"What is with this place?" Astarion asked as soon as the door clicked shut behind them.

"Something very unsettling is going on here," Thiriann replied, her voice low. "We shouldn't linger. Let's wait out the storm and leave as soon as we can."

"I couldn't agree more."

"Come," she said after depositing her bag on the floor. "Let's try to get warm by the fire downstairs."

Thiriann settled into a surprisingly comfortable armchair, a thick tome resting in her lap and a tankard of ale warming her hands. Across from her, Astarion sat hunched forward, a large, woolen blanket wrapped around his shoulders, making him look almost boyish as he carefully turned the pages of a heavy, leather-bound book.

"You're staring, darling," Astarion stated, not looking up from his book, though a note of quiet pride laced his voice.

"Sorry," she murmured, looking away quickly. "I was just enjoying the atmosphere. For all its strangeness, it's surprisingly cozy here."

"It is," he agreed, sighing contentedly and finally meeting her gaze.

“Evening," a gruff voice rumbled from behind Thiriann making her turn around. A large, burly human man stood there, his eyes shifting between them. He was an older man, his face covered in unkempt stubble and his hair steadily greying, but his eyes were sharp, stone-cold, and serious.

The man bypassed Thiriann entirely, approaching Astarion and extending a hand. "My name is Vagdan. I'm the head of this village. It's a pleasure to meet you, new adventurers."

With some evident displeasure Astarion extended his own hand engaging in a brief, perfunctory handshake. “Astarion. And this is my partner, Thiriann.”

“By the gods, lad,” Vagdan exclaimed, recoiling slightly, his brows furrowing. "Your hand is as cold as ice.”

“We've been on the road for some time," Thiriann interjected smoothly. "My partner has been rather chilled by the unexpected weather."

“Yes, well, it’s a good thing you made it here when you did, then. Best get yourselves warmed up.”

“Is it always so… quiet here?” Thiriann asked, deciding to address the obvious tension in the air. Vagdan’s shoulders slumped, a visible weariness settling over him. "Forgive the… miserable atmosphere," he said, his voice dropping to a somber tone. "A terrible misfortune has befallen our village. Our children… they’ve started disappearing, you see." His gaze remained fixed on Astarion's face, intently studying his reaction. Astarion’s expression twitched almost imperceptibly, but he quickly masked it with a practiced, sympathetic smile.

"My, how distressing," Astarion said smoothly. "You must be beside yourselves with worry."

"We're ready to do just about anything to get them back," Vagdan replied, his voice thick with desperation.

Thiriann felt a tension radiating from Astarion, a subtle shift in his posture reminiscent of their encounter with the Gur hunter. He was poised, alert, his hand at his dagger undeniably ready at his side.

A tense silence hung in the air for a moment before the man sighed and turned to Thiriann. "So, please," he pleaded, his voice laced with a desperate hope. "If there's anything you can do… it would mean the world to us."

"Alright" Astarion spoke up, suddenly surprising her "We’ll look for your children."

A warm wave of pride swelled in her chest at his offer.

"But before we begin," Astarion continued, his tone regaining its characteristic edge, "I must warn you: our services don't come cheap. Be prepared to compensate us handsomely."

"I assure you, you'll be well rewarded," the man promised, a flicker of hope and disbelief blooming on his face.

Thiriann waited until they were back in their room before questioning Astarion. She could proudly say he'd grown as a person since they first met, embracing his life as an adventurer and even, at times, a hero.Although she was often more inclined to accept jobs without payment than he was.

"Do you think their children are alive?" she asked as she closed the door behind them.

"Who knows?" he shrugged nonchalantly."They could be as good as dead.Honestly, I was just trying to get rid of him.I didn't appreciate the way he was looking at me. As if he was trying to assess my reaction.”

Thiriann’s heart ached at his dismissive words. She recognized the familiar detachment, the way he distanced himself from anything that threatened to stir up difficult emotions,but it still hurt to hear him speak so coldly.

"Even so," she persisted gently, "we should still look."

He was silent for a moment, his gaze shifting to the window, avoiding her eyes. Finally, he turned back, a reluctant look in his eyes. "It's pointless," he murmured. "But… if it's that important to you…" He sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. "Very well. But I’m doing this for you, darling."

"Then we shall start at sunset," Thiriann replied, a small, hopeful smile gracing her lips.

#astarion #astarion bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion ancunin #bg3 #bg3 spoilers #bg3 tav #astarion x tav #baldurs gate #post game #astarion fanfiction #astarion fanfic #adventure #dnd #dungeons and dragons

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thiriann · 2 months ago

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💜Happy Valentine's Day ❤️

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thiriann · 2 months ago

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A date under the stars 💖

Happy Valentine's Day!

#astarion #astarion bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion ancunin #bg3 #bg3 tav #astarion x tav #baldurs gate #3d artwork #valentines day #baldur’s gate 3 #astarion x thiriann

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thiriann · 2 months ago

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Straight up villain

Inspired by the song "Villain" by K/DA. I had this strong urge to see Astarion in Evelynn's clothes and I am not at all disappointed by the results.

#astarion #astarion bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion ancunin #bg3 #baldurs gate #3d artwork #kda evelynn #kda #crossover #baldurs gate astarion #3d art

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thiriann · 2 months ago

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Ink - Chapter 3 out of 5

You can also find me on AO3

Link to Chapter 1

Rating: Explicit

Words: 4.6k

Pairing: Astarion (Baldur's Gate)/Original Female Character

Warnings: Named Tav , Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Canon Divergence,Eventual Smut,Lawyer Astarion ,Astarion Being Astarion, Flirting, Getting to Know Each Other, Smut in later Chapters

A prequel to my Eggplant Emoji adult mini comic

Summary:

When he reaches the table, she’s leaned forward slightly, her posture relaxed yet deliberate. He notices the first two buttons of her shirt are now open, revealing a tantalizing line of cleavage. He’s certain they were closed before he left to order. The subtle change doesn't escape him, stirring a mix of curiosity and frustration. She wants him, he’s sure of it. Yet she doesn’t respond to his flirting or try to initiate anything. Instead, she beckons him with these quiet, calculated gestures, her body inviting while her tone remains polite, formal, and utterly composed. The contrast is maddening. It makes him want to push, to see how far he can go before her mask of propriety crumbles.

On a much-needed day off, Thiriann luxuriates in the rare treat of sleeping in, waking up well past noon.

The sunlight filters lazily through her curtains, casting golden streaks across her room. For once, she allows herself to savor the quiet stillness of the morning—or rather, the afternoon. There’s a local book fair in the center of town today, and the promise of fresh air, a taste of civilization is too tempting to pass up.

She dresses quickly, throws on a light jacket, and heads out, the crisp autumn breeze brushing against her skin like a gentle reminder that the world is still alive and moving.

The fair is a riot of color and sound, a vibrant tapestry of stalls and vendors stretching across the town square. The air is thick with the mingling scents of rain-soaked pavement and old books, a nostalgic combination that makes her wish for nothing more than to curl up in a cozy café with a good read for the rest of the afternoon. She wanders aimlessly through the stalls, her fingers trailing over stacks of weathered paperbacks and hand-bound journals, her mind pleasantly adrift.

Then, something glitters in her peripheral vision. Instinctively, she turns toward the light, her gaze drawn to an old, forgotten bookstall tucked away in a corner. Unlike the others, this one is shrouded in neglect, its merchandise covered in a thick layer of dust. Mold creeps along the edges of some books, while others are draped in delicate spiderwebs, as if the stall itself has been abandoned for years.

But her eyes land on one book in particular, and she can’t look away. It’s grotesque, its cover made of what looks like leather—or perhaps even skin, if such a thing were possible. The cover bears a face with two piercing purple eyes and a gaping, empty hole where a mouth should be. It’s both fascinating and repulsive, and she feels an inexplicable pull toward it.

Kneeling down, she reaches out to inspect it, her fingers brushing over the binding. As soon as she makes contact, a faint tingle runs through her fingertips, like static electricity.

Magic.

The realization hits her like a jolt: this book is a magical artifact. Quite a powerful one at that if the lingering pain in her palm is anything to go by.

She picks it up from the basket, turning it over in her hands. The weight of it feels unnatural, as though it’s heavier than it should be. She tries to open it, but the cover doesn’t budge, no matter how hard she tugs. The face on the cover seems to mock her, its hollow mouth a silent reminder that something is missing. A key, perhaps? Or some kind of ritual? Whatever it is, the book isn’t giving up its secrets easily.

“That looks awfully heavy. Why don’t you let me carry it for you?”

A smooth, familiar voice breaks the spell and Thiriann nearly jumps out of her skin.

“Astarion?” she blurts, her voice tinged with surprise.

This is the first time she’s seen him in daylight, and somehow, he looks even more radiant. His hair is a halo of soft curls, glowing in the sun, a stark contrast to his ruby-red eyes that seem to promise nothing but sin. The day is unseasonably warm, and he’s dressed impeccably in a burgundy turtleneck sweater that clings to his frame, paired with black khakis. A matching blazer is draped over one arm, a briefcase in his other hand. He looks like a model in the midst of a photoshoot, entirely out of place in the dusty bazaar of secondhand books.

“You seem surprised, my dear,” he says, his tone lightly accusatory. “Didn’t expect to see me in the light of day?”

Shame floods her as she realizes he knows about the rumors—the whispers she’s foolishly believed.

“A little,” she admits guiltily, her cheeks warming. “What brings you here?”

It’s a clumsy attempt to change the subject, but he lets it slide, his smile widening as if amused by her discomfort.

“Just had a meeting with a client in the area,” he says, waving a hand dismissively. “Terribly tedious. But that's about to change now that I've run into you."

His gaze shifts to the book in her hands, and a flicker of interest crosses his features. “I see you’ve been busy,” he remarks, his voice low and almost husky. He leans closer, his curiosity bordering on intense fascination. The scent of bergamot and rosemary fills her senses—soft, inviting, with a subtle spice underneath. It’s intoxicating, and she can’t help but take a small, discreet inhale, savoring the way it seems to suit him perfectly.

As she hands the shopkeeper a few crumpled bills with shaky hands, Astarion’s eyes linger on the grotesque cover, tracing the lines of the disturbing face with a strange intensity.

“Just doing some book shopping,” she replies, trying to sound casual. “Looking for something I could take to bed—I mean, read in bed.”

She stammers, heat rising to her cheeks. To her horror, his eyes sparkle with mirth, clearly enjoying her slip.

He leans in further still, his voice dropping to a low, teasing purr. “Well, darling,” he drawls, the word dripping with seduction, “perhaps I can help you find something you can take to bed.”

Thiriann swallows, her throat suddenly drier than a desert. He’s mocking her, simply toying with her, reveling in how easily he can fluster her. The bully. As if she isn’t already making a fool of herself quite effectively on her own.

“You… uh, you still want to help me carry this?” she asks, desperate to move on from the moment.

“Darling, it would be my pleasure,” he answers cheerfully, his tone light but his gaze sharp, as if he’s savoring her discomfort.

Astarion’s fingers brush against hers as she hands him the bagged purchase, and she feels a jolt run through her at the contact—partly from the fact that it’s him, and partly from the shocking coldness of his skin. Reflexively, she wraps her hand around his fingers, the instinct to warm him up overpowering her for a moment. He startles but doesn’t pull away, his crimson eyes widening slightly in surprise.

“You’re freezing,” she says, the words slipping out before she can stop herself. Realizing what she’s done, she releases him immediately, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment at the casual intimacy of the gesture.

“Just poor circulation, dear,” he replies smoothly, though there’s a faint tremble in his voice, a crack in his usual composed facade. He adjusts his grip on the bag, his expression unreadable,but before she could question it a voice interrupts them.

“Mister, over here!”

Thiriann’s salvation comes in the form of a small, scruffy tiefling child. The boy stands a foot away, waving enthusiastically—more at Astarion than at her.

“Hold out your hand, mister. Let me show you something,” the boy says, his voice brimming with excitement.

Astarion raises an eyebrow but obliges, his expression a mix of amusement and skepticism. The child waves his hand dramatically in the air, and a shiny trinket appears in his palm, glinting brightly in the sunlight. It’s a cheap-looking ring, its surface polished to a deceptive gleam.

“Go on, take this ring. It’s lucky,” the tiefling urges, holding it out to Astarion with a grin that’s equal parts charming and rehearsed.

Astarion plucks the ring from the boy’s hand with two fingers, examining it with a practiced eye. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he makes it disappear into thin air, his movements smooth and effortless. Unable to resist, he glances sideways at Thiriann, a smirk tugging at his lips as he notices the awe on her face. For a moment, he preens under her gaze, his confidence radiating like a second skin.

“Weeping, bleeding hells,” the child exclaims, his eyes wide. “Okay, maybe you don’t need extra luck. But since you’re already holding the thing…” He pulls out a coin. “Call it. Heads or tails?”

Astarion’s smirk sharpens. “You can drop the act,” he says, his tone cutting through the boy’s bravado like a knife.

The tiefling freezes, his grin faltering. “I, uh, I don’t know what you mean.”

Thiriann feels a pang of sympathy for the child, but Astarion isn’t swayed. “Come on. This is a Tinker’s Trash scam. A clumsy one,” he says, his tone dripping with mockery. For a moment, Thiriann wonders if this is how he is in court—confident, collected, and cutting straight to the throat.

“Hey, that hurts!” the tiefling protests, though his voice wavers. “I’m running an honest—” He stops, realizing he’s not going to convince Astarion, and tries to save face. “Look, I swear to you. These rings are the real deal. I promise I’m not running a scam.”

Astarion turns sharply, his movements almost too quick to follow. Behind him, a second tiefling child freezes mid-step, her hand hovering near his pocket.

“Well now, someone’s starting young,” Astarion says, a teasing smirk on his lips. “Who taught you that?”

“One of the big kids,” the girl answers shyly, her voice trembling. “How… how did you catch me?”

“How else? You’re clumsy. A dead man could’ve caught you,” Astarion replies without hesitation. Thiriann watches the exchange, her curiosity piqued. Astarion’s street smarts are unexpected, clashing with the image she’s built of him in her mind. He gives the impression of someone who grew up with a trust fund—or even noble blood—but now she’s second-guessing that.

“I guess I’ll try harder not to get caught next time. Bye!” the child says before darting off through the book stalls.

Suddenly, Astarion hisses and flinches, his hand flying to his arm. “Ah!” he winces. “What the—?”

They both stare in shock as his skin begins to flake rapidly, cracking and splitting like dried clay under the sun.

“No!” he snarls, his voice furious but tinged with unmistakable fear. “This can’t be happening.”

Before Thiriann can react, he turns on his heel, his movements quick and panicked. “I’m sorry, I have to go,” he says, his tone clipped and urgent.

With that, he bolts, weaving through the crowd with surprising speed, his figure disappearing into the nearest cafe. Thiriann hesitates for only a moment before hurrying after him, her heart pounding in her chest.

Inside, she finds him in a far corner, his back to the room as he frantically examines his hands. His shoulders are tense, his breathing uneven, and for the first time since she’s known him, he looks genuinely rattled.

“Dammit,” he mutters under his breath. “That thieving rat.”

“Astarion,” Thiriann says, approaching him cautiously. Her voice is laced with worry and confusion. “What happened back there? Are you hurt?”

He turns to face her, his expression softening slightly at the concern in her eyes, though his anger still simmers just beneath the surface.

“I’m fine, dear. Just that street urchin robbed me of something rather valuable. She was too slow to take my wallet but apparently fast enough for other things,” Astarion says with a grimace.

“What? The one just now?” Thiriann looks out the window, but the children are long gone, along with any trace of their belongings.

“We should make a police report,” she suggests, though even as she says it, she knows how unlikely it is to lead anywhere.

Astarion snorts. “Yes, darling, I’m sure it’s on their top priority list to pursue thieving children,” he mocks sarcastically. “The rat can keep it. I should give her credit for managing to take it without me noticing in the first place.”

“What did she take?” Thiriann presses, her curiosity piqued.

Astarion pauses, his crimson eyes locking onto hers. For a long moment, he seems to weigh his options, his expression unreadable. Then, with a sigh, he makes a decision.

“I suppose there’s something I should tell you,” he says, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant. “It’s nothing big or terrible, just a small detail about me that hasn’t come up naturally. I happen to be… well, a vampire.”

He laughs awkwardly at the end, the sound high-pitched and startling, as if he’s trying to downplay the weight of his confession. Thiriann blinks, processing his words.

Her heart begins to race as the pieces fall into place. But instead of fear, she feels a strange sense of relief—as if she’s finally seeing the real him. His glinting fangs, his ruby-red eyes—there was never any room for doubt, was there?

Vampires aren’t exactly unheard of. Not since a group of monster hunters freed thousands of them from their tyrannical master centuries ago, allowing them to walk freely among the living. There are even entire cities and villages populated solely by vampires. Still, they aren’t exactly liked, and most people still fear them. His apprehension is understandable.

Gods damn it, she mentally groans. I owe Shadowheart a twenty.

“Yes, I suppose it’s obvious,”she says, her tone dry but not unkind.

Astarion looks taken aback for a moment, as if he’d been bracing for a very different reaction. His eyes flicker with something—relief? Or is it fear? —before his usual mask of confidence slides back into place.

“Right. Well then,” Astarion replies, clearly relieved she isn’t screaming or running for the door.

“But how come you were walking in the sun up until now?” she asks, tilting her head in a way that looks oddly adorable.

“That’s the thing,” he says, looking mildly embarrassed. “I had this ring—enchanted to allow me to resist the sun’s rays. And now it seems that street urchin’s made off with it.”

Thiriann raises an eyebrow. “A Ring of Resistance? You had a Ring of Resistance? Isn’t that incredibly rare?”

“Maybe a hundred years ago,” he scoffs, waving a hand dismissively. “Now you can find them in almost every city in the Underdark. The drow started mass-producing them once they figured out it stops them from getting irritated by the sun.” He omits the part about the massive vampire population from the Underdark that also benefited from them.

“I have more at home,” he continues. “But for now, I’m forced to huddle up here until nightfall.” He grimaces, clearly unhappy with the situation.

Thiriann nods, glancing around the café, her expression thoughtful. “Alright then. Where should we sit?”

Astarion stares, a flicker of surprise crossing his features. For a moment, he looks genuinely confused, as if suddenly remembering they’ve been having this rather revealing conversation in the corner of a public establishment. To their credit, the baristas are studiously avoiding eye contact, pretending they haven’t overheard every single word.

The creak of a chair draws his attention, and he sees Thiriann setting her purse down on a small table tucked into an inner corner of the café. She looks up at him, her smile warm and unbothered.

“As much as I appreciate self-sacrifice,” he says, his tone laced with sarcasm, “this isn’t your problem, darling. You shouldn’t waste your precious daylight hours skulking about in the shadows with me.”

“Is that your way of weaseling out of buying me that coffee you promised?” she asks, a teasing smile playing on her lips.

He huffs, a sound that’s equal parts disbelief and amusement. “Well, since you’re so earnestly seeking my company, I suppose I’ll just have to allow it,” He strikes a pose, ever the picture of condescending magnanimity.

“How do you take it?” His question, as always, carries a salacious undertone, but Thiriann is getting better at ignoring it. Mostly.

“White, two sugars. Please,” she adds quickly, her politeness almost endearing.

The word please lingers in the air, and for a moment, Astarion can’t help but picture her saying it in a myriad of entirely different contexts. He smirks, shaking off the thought as he heads to the counter to place their order.

On the way back to their table, Astarion feels a pang of trepidation. He’s prepared for the inevitable barrage of vampire-related questions. Over the years, he’s automated most of the answers in his head, but he still doesn’t particularly like them. Each question tends to dredge up a myriad of miserable memories—an old, tedious, uncomfortable routine he’s learned to live with.

He catches her watching him, her gaze lingering on his crimson eyes, which burn with a hunger he’s all too familiar with.

“You’re staring, darling,” he says, his voice low and teasing, as he slides into his seat.

“So are you,” she counters, refusing to be the only one flustered. Her cheeks flush faintly, but she maintains eye contact, her lips curving into a small, defiant smile.

He smirks, leaning back in his chair, there’s a flicker of something deeper in his expression, something that makes her heart skip a beat.

“I can’t help it,” he admits, his voice softening. “You’re… intriguing.”

His fang catches on his bottom lip as he speaks, and for a moment, she wonders if she’d be able to feel them if they kissed. The thought shocks her, and she shakes her head, trying to push the unexpected, intrusive image aside.

To fill the silence, she asks the first thing that comes to mind. “So, what made you pursue law?”

“What?” he replies, caught off guard.The question is so far from what he expected that it takes him a moment to process.

“You’re a lawyer, right?” she asks, a flicker of confusion in her eyes.

“Ah, well. I used to be a magistrate, a long time ago,” he starts, a shadow passing over his features. “But then I had to… retire. Rather… forcefully.”

He pauses, his crimson eyes flickering with a distant thought. “I suppose returning to law felt like reclaiming something I’d lost.”

There’s a melancholy in his tone that he doesn’t bother to hide, and for a moment, the mask slips, revealing a glimpse of the man beneath.

She nods, taking a sip of her latte. “So, do you enjoy it?”

“Gods, no.” His abrupt answer makes her snort with laughter into her cup.

“The paperwork never ends,” he continues, his voice dripping with mock despair, “and neither do the ceaseless grievances over the smallest things.”

He leans back in his chair, his smirk returning. “But I suppose there's a certain satisfaction in taking down corrupt, abusive bastards.

“And every now and then, someone’s ready to fight to the death over something trivial,” Astarion says, his smirk widening. “So that makes for a fine entertainment.”

He snickers, and Thiriann silently questions exactly what kind of lawyer he is but decides not to voice it. Instead, she takes another sip of her coffee, her expression thoughtful.

“What about you, darling? How did you end up… where you are?” he asks, smoothly redirecting the conversation.

“I went to a wizards’ academy,” she begins, her tone matter-of-fact. “Graduated and enlisted in the army.”

“The army?Really?” He scrutinizes her, a judgmental eyebrow arching high. “You’re hardly what I’d picture as the soldier type.”

She’s small, slim, and while she seems fit, she’s not muscular by any standard.

“And the everyday lawyer is not how I pictured the vampire type,” she counters, her tone dry. “But here we are.”

“Touché,” he concedes with a mock bow of his head.

“I traveled all over the world while deployed,” she continues, wrapping both hands around her coffee mug, savoring the remaining warmth. “Then I came back home and needed a job.”

“And you chose… office supplies?” Astarion asks, his bewilderment slipping through despite his efforts to mask it.

“I needed any job,” she says, taking another sip. “I was down on my luck, running out of savings, when I ran into an old acquaintance, Minthara. She hired me immediately.”

“Ah, good old-fashioned nepotism. Nothing like knowing people in high places,” he comments dryly, a hint of amusement in his tone.

“It does have its perks,” Thiriann admits, her smile turning devilish before her eyes sadden. “No one is dying to hire a ‘devil-kin,’ especially one with no experience in their field.”

Astarion’s smirk falters for a moment, but he doesn’t press further.

“Don’t take me wrong, it’s a very good job,” she adds quickly, “There’s something very peaceful about working around all those books. And I’m always learning something new. About history, about different cultures… even about obscure magical theories. You never know what you might stumble across in the back room.”

“Doesn’t it ever get, oh, I don’t know… tedious?” he asks, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips, knowing full well the answer.

Thiriann smiles, batting her eyelashes innocently before her expression shifts into one that clearly says, You fucking bet.

The two of them linger in the café for a while longer, their conversation meandering from work to travel to the absurdities of life. Astarion finds himself surprised by how easily the words flow between them, how her laughter,soft and genuine,draws him in. He hadn’t expected to enjoy himself, not truly. Yet here he is, leaning forward in his seat, a smirk playing on his lips as he recounts a particularly ridiculous story from his earlier centuries of existence involving three minotaurs and a spectator. Thiriann listens intently, her eyes sparkling with amusement, and for the first time in what feels like an eternity, he realizes he’s actually having fun.

By the time they part ways, the sun has dipped below the horizon, and the streets are bathed in the warm glow of streetlights.

“And then what? I want all the juicy details,” Karlach asks, plopping a glass of wine on the bar counter with a grin that could only be described as trouble.

“What details?” Astarion asks, feigning ignorance as he picks up his glass of wine. He swirls it delicately, breathing in its deep aroma. It tastes like vinegar, it always does, but at least it smells nice.

“Come on, fangs,” Karlach presses, beginning to dry some washed mugs. “What happened when you walked her home?”

“I, uh…” Astarion pauses, his usual confidence faltering. Despite Thiriann’s obvious interest in him, he isn’t sure if his advances would truly be welcomed. For the first time in a long time, he feels uncertain—unsure if he still has the charm he once relied on so heavily.

“Oh, Astarion,” Karlach groans, her face etched with deep disappointment. “Don’t tell me you didn’t walk her home.”

He remains silent, unwilling to admit the truth: that he hesitated, that he second-guessed himself.

“You can’t be serious,” she continues, her voice rising in exasperation. “When was the last time you actually went on a date?”

“I fail to see how that’s any of your business,” Astarion grumbles. He crosses his arms defensively, avoiding her gaze.

Despite Karlach’s obnoxious nosing into his affairs, she manages to make him pause and think. When was the last time he’d been on a date? The last time he’d walked someone home? Once upon a time, he’d been compelled to take everyone home with him.

Lost in thought, he barely registers Karlach hissing angrily under her breath.

“That’s it,” she declares, tossing the dishrag onto the counter with a sharp flick of her wrist. She plants her hands on her hips, her fiery eyes locking onto his. “We’re doing a romcom marathon this weekend at mine. And you will be bringing beer.”

Astarion grimaces, his nose wrinkling in annoyance. “By the gods, you have no manners at all,” he mutters, though there’s no real bite to his words. “But fine, if you insist on wasting my weekend, at least turn on the heater this time. It’s always freezing at your place.”

“Oh, boo-hoo,” Karlach shoots back, rolling her eyes. “Maybe if you bring a date, you’ll have someone to keep you warm.”

“Charming,” Astarion responds flatly. “But I’d rather not subject anyone to your taste in ‘entertainment’.”

“Hey!” Karlach barks, pointing a finger at him. “My taste is impeccable, thank you very much. And don’t think I won’t notice if you try to sneak out halfway through ‘Love Actually.’”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Astarion replies, though the mischievous glint in his eyes suggests otherwise.

—--

Thiriann walks out of her shower, her hair damp and tangled as she towels it dry. Her eyes land on the bag she’d carelessly tossed by the couch earlier, and she feels a familiar pull of curiosity. With a heavy sigh, she sits down and pulls out the book, turning it over in her hands.

In the dim light of her living room, the book looks even creepier than before. A faint purple glow oozes from its edges, like tendrils of smoke curling into the air. The face on the cover seems to watch her, its hollow eyes and gaping mouth unsettling in the stillness of the night.

She grabs her laptop and quickly logs into the university’s database. By now, the list of known magical artifacts is practically public knowledge, and it doesn’t take long for her to find what she’s looking for. The image of the book matches perfectly: ‘The Necromancy of Thay’. According to the records, it can only be opened with a Dark Amethyst.

Humming to herself, Thiriann wonders if she might still have one tucked away in her attic. Gods know she’s collected every trinket and oddity during her travels—surely a Dark Amethyst isn’t out of the question.

The book is listed as one of the more dangerous items, but without a codex to fully unlock its power, it’s considered only a minor threat to civilians. It mainly teaches its owner to speak with the dead. It is supposedly useful in the medical field, criminal investigations, and… law, apparently.

Her thoughts drift to Astarion, and how his eyes had lit up when he saw the book. Did he know what it was? Was that why he’d shown such interest? She isn’t sure, but she wishes she’d asked. Then again, maybe she should stop thinking about Astarion altogether.

But that’s easier said than done. He has a way of worming into her mind, lingering there. They’d talked for hours today, long after the sun had set, discussing everything and nothing. He’s charming, of course,that’s no surprise,but there’s more to him. He’s also witty, funny, with a dry, sharp sense of humor that could slice through a grown man like a blade.

Thiriann can’t help but feel drawn to him. She wants to get to know him further. Despite his air of confidence and charm, there’s a certain strain about him, a lingering sadness he carries and it pulls at her in ways she doesn’t fully understand.

It’s in the subtle shadows that flicker across his eyes, the tremble in his voice when he speaks of his past. She finds herself wanting to understand the complexities that lie beneath his carefully constructed facade.

But a nagging voice whispers in the back of her mind that it’s unwise to get romantically interested in a client.Crossing such boundaries is a dangerous game to play. Still, as she lies awake, her mind keeps circling back to him, to the way he makes her feel both intrigued and unsettled. She tells herself to focus, to stay professional, but the pull is there, undeniable and growing stronger with every passing moment.

#astarion #astarion bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion ancunin #bg3 #bg3 spoilers #bg3 tav #astarion x tav #baldurs gate #3d artwork #baldurs gate astarion #baldur's gate 3 #astarion fanfiction #astarion fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #ink #astarion x thiriann

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thiriann · 2 months ago

Text

"Join me, won't you, darling?"

Made for the wonderful Selene Shield.

NSFW on Bluesky

#astarion #astarion bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion ancunin #bg3 #baldurs gate #3d artwork #baldur’s gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion

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thiriann · 3 months ago

Text

"Do be quiet,darling."

Full NSFW version on Bluesky

#astarion #astarion bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion ancunin #bg3 #baldurs gate #3d artwork #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bloodweave

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thiriann · 3 months ago

Text

Howdy Darling

#astarion #astarion bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion ancunin #bg3 #bg3 spoilers #3d artwork #yallstarion #western

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thiriann · 3 months ago

Text

Elven accuracy

#astarion #astarion bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion ancunin #bg3 spoilers #bg3 #bg3 tav #baldurs gate #3d artwork #3d art #3d render #baldur’s gate 3

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thiriann · 3 months ago

Text

Days of hedonistic debauchery- Ch. 2

You can also find me on AO3

Rating: Explicit

Words: 3.3k

Pairing: Astarion (Baldur's Gate)/Original Female Character

Warnings: Named Tav , Multiple Orgasms, Blood Drinking, Vampire Bites, Vampire Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Teasing, Falling In Love

Prompt:

"In public"

Note:

A collection of short stories depicting Thiriann and Astarion as they engage in the most hedonistic, tender, loving and consensual debauchery of their lives. A part of the 12 Days of Kinkmas 2024 BG3 Smut challenge created by ShandoraTheExplorer .

Summary:

Summary: “You've been on edge all day haven't you? Poor dear. I can give you what you need, but you have to ask for it. Do you want it?”

“I…”

She bit her lip, glancing around the camp, acutely aware of their exposed position. They were in the middle of camp, in plain sight while their companions slept around them, hushed snores coming from their tents accompanied the occasional flicker of firelight—it would be obvious to anyone who looked what they were getting up to.

Yet with him pressed so close to her, his hand buried between her legs rubbing lazy circles against her clit , she could barely think straight, feeling like she'd burst into flames from desire on the spot.

"I want you," she admitted unabashedly. "Gods, I want you."

As another eventful day drew to a close, Thiriann settled beside the roaring campfire, engrossed in a freshly plundered tome. To the casual observer, she might have seemed the picture of tranquility, but Astarion knew better. In the short weeks they'd spent together, he'd become adept at reading the subtle signs her body betrayed.

She'd been on edge all day, practically buzzing with excitement since he'd fed on her during the previous night. The memory of his last feeding lingered, the way she'd trembled beneath him, her breath catching in her throat with each deep, satisfying draught.

Even now, her gaze was drawn to him, fixed on his form with quiet intensity. It was a familiar dance, a game he'd played countless times. Almost too easy; it always was. Yet, something about Thiriann was different.

He should have been able to dismiss the persistent images of her in his mind, the unexpected spark of joy that came as he drank her blood for the first time and had lodged itself in his heart, stubbornly refusing to be extinguished. Nor could he ignore the connection he felt when he talked to her about his past, the genuine attentiveness and care in her eyes.

His plan was working perfectly; he should have been happy about that.

With him tightly glued to Thiriann's side, the others had already mostly left him alone about the whole vampire thing. Mostly. There were some occasional comments about their budding relationship but it seemed they weren’t enough to dissuade her from continuing to share his company… and his bed. Naturally, of course. He was very skilled in the art of pleasure, and he wasn’t holding back on the myriad of tricks he knew.

Some twisted part of him didn't mind it. Wanted to show her just how good he was, wanted her to know he's worth it.He tried telling himself it was because she was useful but even he couldn't believe that lie.

And another part could say he even found a certain enjoyment in it. It had felt different with her, in a strange way he couldn't exactly point out.

He delighted in her reactions: the way she’d forget what she wanted to say when he dropped a flirtatious remark or how he could see her cheeks flush with blood at a simple wink. He had to admit it had been the most… fun than he'd had in a long time and it was getting to him.

He caught her gaze again; she looked puzzled. With some level of trepidation, he realized he'd been the one caught staring this time.

“What’s wrong? Are you hungry?” she asked, still watching him with uncertainty.

Astarion did his best to shift his expression into a predatory look, a slow smile curving his lips. “Ravenous,” he purred, his voice low and seductive.

As if on cue, her cheeks flushed, and he felt his own throat tighten. The air between them crackled with tension, a sudden stillness charged with electric anticipation.

“Alright,” she said, her voice a little shaky as she closed her book. “You can feed from me, if you want.”

"I was so hoping you’d say that, darling." he replied, moving swiftly to position himself behind her.

There was always a certain eagerness he couldn't hide no matter how hard he tried. As if she'd rescind her offer if he took too long.

She began to shift onto her back, but he placed a hand on her shoulder. “Now, now, there’s no need to disturb your rest. I’m more than content to drink you in like this.”

She gasped as his cold breath ghosted over her ear, raising gooseflesh all over her skin.

"Are you sure it's comfortable?" she asked calmly, though he could feel the tremor in her voice.

“Of course. Just… perfect.” He deliberately spoke the words against her flesh, his lips brushing her skin with each syllable.

She fought the urge to squirm as his touch on her nape sent sparks of arousal down her body all the way to her core.

A visible shiver ran over her form, and he heard the quickening pulse of her blood as it flowed with every heartbeat. Anticipation surged through him, the melodic sound more inviting than a harpy's song.

His lips traced the delicate curve of her neck, a gentle caress that masked the primal hunger within. The hunger that made him feel both so powerful and so vulnerable.

He bit quickly, he always did. Always eager.

The pain was sharp, piercing but there was no force behind it, no pressure on her skin to tear or on her muscles to give in. Within a moment it faded as if it never happened and the only thing that remained was him. His lips still pressed against her neck, she felt them clearly now, felt the subtle movements of his tongue, the satisfied rumble in his chest as he drank, as well as the way his grip tightened on her hips, holding her close. She hadn’t even realized when his hand had moved there.

The moment was intimate. Deeply so.

The connection between them as she offered him a part of herself, a part of her life was something she never expected or could have prepared for. This profound closeness, this shared vulnerability, always made her stomach flutter and breath quicken.

And as much as he tried to cover it with flirtatious remarks she could see the truth in his eyes, how much it meant to him. It wasn't just sustenance nor was it just about satiating a need.

Desire pooled in her belly, hot and molten, making her head spin. Or maybe it was the blood loss that was responsible. Either way, she lay stock still, lust coursing through her, making her tremble.

She wanted more of him, inside her, around her, surrounding her until nothing else existed. In that moment, only he mattered; everything else faded away. The loneliness she carried everywhere she went, the horrors that they faced each day, the responsibility she felt towards everyone around her—she wanted to forget it all and simply feel him, just this, just them.

When he finally drew back, his lips stained crimson, the world rushed back, sobering her slightly.

Suddenly, he pulled her closer, bringing their bodies flush against each other.

She gasped at the hardness against her backside, twitching in the confines of his trousers.

“Astarion…” she whimpered.

He traced her earlobe with a slow, deliberate lick, a subtle smirk playing on his lips. The sensation made her arch against him, seeking more friction against the one spot she wanted it most.

"Do you want to go somewhere more private, darling? Somewhere we can indulge?” he murmured, rolling his hips sinfully against her. “ Or should I take you right here? In the middle of camp where anyone can see?" A faint whimper escaped her.

“I guess I have my answer,” he chuckled. His hand slid down her front, expertly unlacing her leather pants and pushing them past the delicious curves of her hips. His fingers slipped beneath her underwear and he reveled in the way she trembled in anticipation. Poor thing really was desperate for it.

At the first brush of his fingers against her clit, she hissed, biting her lip against the onslaught of stimulation. A sadistic impulse urged him to continue the teasing, to rub the sensitive nub again and again, wringing more pathetic whines out of her until she begged him to take her.

He’d never felt this desire with a lover before. It was always going through the motions, waiting for it to be over, the constant threat hanging over him. But here, in the middle of camp, he felt a strange freedom to indulge in this game, just a little.

“Astarion, please,” she whispered.

Mercifully he relented, lowering his hand to part her folds. There was barely enough space between her legs, trapped as they were by her pants but his fingers were dexterous enough to easily find their way inside her. She was eager, slick dripping and coating her thighs.

Her breath hitched as he started slowly pumping in and out of her.

“You're so wet, darling. I don't even need to lift a finger,” he murmured, hearing the quickening of her pulse in her neck,it's enticing call making his mouth water. “You've been on edge all day haven't you? Poor dear. I can give you what you need, but you have to ask for it. Do you want it?”

“I…”

"I want you," she admitted unabashedly. "Gods, I want you."

He chuckled behind her, satisfaction rolling over him in waves as he began to circle his finger, applying just enough pressure to send waves of pleasure rippling through her. Thiriann arched her back, her eyes fluttering closed.

“Then you shall have me, darling,” he whispered, his tongue tracing her earlobe.

He withdrew his hand, and she heard the rustle of his trousers as he unfastened them. Then, she felt the head of his cock slide slowly, agonizingly slowly, against her.

She keened at the sudden sensation before biting her lip trying to stifle her sounds. With her legs held tightly together by her leather trousers he felt so much bigger inside of her, stretching her walls and filling her completely.

He entered her fully, the force of their joining causing a rush of heat through her.

In this position his length could push right against the spot inside her that could drive her crazy. Unable to stop herself she moaned loudly as he finally bottomed out.

"Shh, darling. We wouldn't want to wake poor Karlach, would we?" he teased, but with some pride, she noticed he too sounded breathless.

Gods, Karlach was sleeping barely a few feet away from them. If she were to open her eyes, she'd see everything, there'd be no mistaking what activity they were indulging in.

A wave of arousal flushed over her traitorous body and she squeezed him, her walls gripping around him almost painfully.

Her hungry sex seemed to pull his cock deeper inside, and before he knew it, he had sheathed himself completely inside of her.

He let out a surprised whimper that flooded her body with heat.

She chuckled softly. “Yes, we really should try to be quiet.”

He growled at her teasing and bit her ear in retaliation. Her reaction was instantaneous as she arched her back and pressed her ass even more firmly onto him.

“Please, Astarion,” she whispered.

“Please what, darling?”

“Please… move.”

“I don’t think so, darling. I think I’ll make you come just like this, without moving a muscle.”

“Astarion…” she whined in disappointment but he only chuckled at her misery.

“You can do it, darling. Go on, touch yourself,” he whispered, his breath ghosting over her ear. The suggestion was deliciously vulgar.

She could, with the way he was pressing inside her stretching her so fully it would take her no time at all even.

Burning with a mix of embarrassment and arousal, she lowered her trembling hand between her legs. Her fingers brushed her swollen clit, and she mewed at the contact. Slowly, she began to circle it, applying gentle pressure. She’d never touched herself in front of anyone before, and a flicker of shame mixed with the rising pleasure.

Her body on the other hand was loving every second of it, ecstasy flooding her with every stroke as she felt herself squeezing around him tighter and tighter. Instinctively, her hips began to push back, impaling herself further on his cock, craving the friction. The closer she got to orgasm, the more desperate she became for him to move within her.

He grasped her hip, stilling her movement. “Ah-ah, no cheating, love.”

She whined again, the feel of his strong fingers gripping her skin causing a wave of anticipation to wash over her.

His cold breath against her neck sent shivers down her spine, heightening her sensitivity. She was so close, already fluttering around him. Every muscle tightened as she neared her peak. With a final sweep of her fingers, she moaned and toppled over the edge, squeezing him rhythmically as wave after wave of pleasure wracked her body.

He gasped against her neck, fighting the instinctive urge to thrust as her muscles clenched around him like a vise. But this little power play of his was way more delicious than he anticipated.

There was something rather fun about teasing her, pushing her buttons to see her squirm under his control.

Finally, she relaxed against him, quiet gasps of exertion escaping her lips.

“Good girl” he purred in her ear and she blushed at the praise. Before she could reply, he withdrew almost completely, then thrust back in, filling her to the hilt. She gasped loudly, and he quickly covered her mouth with his hand.

“Come now, darling,” he whispered, his voice low and husky. “You didn’t think we were finished, did you? You deserve a proper reward.”

Her inner muscles tightened around him, welcoming him deep. With a few slow, deliberate thrusts, he felt himself nearing his own release.

He pulled back again, dragging his cock out until only the very tip of him inside, slick with the juices of her climax. He inhaled sharply, then pushed back in, his body flush against hers.

“Fuck,” he hissed, gripping her sumptuous ass to adjust her position, reveling in the warm heat of her contracting walls.

A sudden rustle of fabric tore through the night, startling them both. They froze, watching as Gale emerged from his tent and headed toward the woods.

Lazily Astarion began to move his hips once again, establishing a steady pace.

“Astarion!” she whispered, a mix of protest and arousal in her voice.

“What? He left.”

“He is going to come back!”

“Do you want to stop, darling?” he asked, still fucking her leisurely.

“No,” she breathed.

“Say it.”

“Please don’t stop, Astarion.”

“Good girl.”

In truth he didn't relish the idea of being caught like this. Intimacy in private was always preferred when he could.

But the little deviant in his arms seemed to love the idea. Tightening up around him at every rustle or creak in the night.

The danger of the moment seemed to heighten her sensitivity, amplifying every touch and sending ripples of sensation through her.

The wet sounds of their coupling echoed obscenely in the night. As Gale's footsteps got louder and louder Thiriann felt the rush of panic and arousal rise in her chest. Her heartbeat sped up enticing him with it's melody just as she started fluttering around him again.

She tried to stifle her gasps, but they escaped her lips as she neared her peak once more.

Her hand shot up desperately trying to muffle herself as she was sent careening to the edge.

With a final, exquisite touch, she cried out softly, her body shuddering.

The world narrowed to Astarion. His touch felt electric, every point of contact magnified.

She quaked through the aftershocks, each one less intense as she remembered how to breathe again.

“Thiriann?” Gale’s voice called out, breaking through her pleasured haze. “Hey, Gale…It’s me and… Astarion. He was… hungry,” she managed, fighting impossibly hard to keep her voice steady.

She could only pray his eyes make out what was happening between them in the dark.

“I see,” Gale replied. “Carry on, if you must. But I implore you to exercise a modicum of discretion in the future. Perhaps a more private location would be better suited for such activities.”

She had no idea how he could still be half asleep and carry out a lecture like that.

“Right. Sorry, Gale.”

Relief washed over her as Gale retreated into his tent, closing it firmly for good measure. She relaxed against Astarion’s chest, a blissful smile on her face and he felt his own lips tug upwards.

Brushing a sweaty stand of hair from her forehead he caressed her cheek and turned her face towards him.

“Did you enjoy that darling?”

“It was incredible.” she whispered, her smile widening. Something tightened in his chest at her happy expression and he leaned down taking her lips in his. She responded by gently pressing hers back, barely a kiss but it send a shiver through him. His ignored member twitched inside of her and she gasped into his mouth.

“You still haven’t…?” she murmured.

“Don't fret darling. It was plenty satisfying bringing you to ecstasy. It's all the fulfillment I need.”

“You can… continue, if you want. Until you finish,” she suggested shyly.

He hesitated before schooling his face into a more practiced, nonchalant expression. “I wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable should this end up taking too long.”

“I don’t mind if it does,” she said softly. “Take your time. I want you to feel good.”

Those words struck him with unexpected force, cracking his carefully constructed facade. Two centuries, countless lovers, and not one had bothered saying those words to him before. A genuine desire for his pleasure, freely offered. It was disarming.

He nodded stiffly, looking away before resuming his movements. Focusing on her and her pleasure was the only thing he was used to, and he felt strangely adrift, unsure of how to proceed when the focus was meant to be on himself.

He wrapped both arms around her middle, pulling her tightly to his body, burying his face in the back of her neck.

She responded by gently holding his hands in hers as she began to move against him, her hips grinding against his, trying to help him along.

He chased his pleasure, the sounds of their lovemaking growing louder in the night. She was incredibly sensitive; each thrust sent a wave of pleasure through her, so intense it bordered on pain, yet the feeling of him growing thicker inside her, his moans vibrating against her neck, was pure unadulterated bliss.

Her quiet moans filled the air as his pace quickened. He was so close, so very close but that precipice was so hard to reach sometimes.

He rutted into her with a raw, almost wild abandon, his desperation becaming evident.

With an aborted, surprised gasp, he went hurtling over the ledge he’d been tiptoeing on since they began. He grunted and surged forward, burying himself fully within her as his seed spilled into her, finally releasing the tension that had been building within him.

White spots danced in his vision as he began to descend from the peak. Distantly he noticed her fingers were tracing idle circles on his arms as he slowly came down.

“Fangs?” Karlach’s voice, thick with sleep, cut through the night, making them separate instantly. “Bring me one of them boars you catch, okay? I’m starving…” she mumbled before rolling to her side and letting out a sleepy snore.

Astarion looked at her in disbelief and a touch of affront before he heard Thiriann snickering.

“I guess you’re on food duty tonight.”

He tucked himself back into his pants, shaking his head slightly at the absurdity of it all.

Gods, they’d fucked in the middle of camp like a pair of green youths. Even he had to admit he’d gotten a little carried away in his desire to tease her.

“Thank you, Astarion. I needed that,” she said, kissing his cheek.

It was a peck, barely a kiss really, a simple thank you. Yet it was sweet, almost as sweet as her blood. He had no idea what to do with it so he resorted to his practiced charm.

“You know where to find me if you find yourself in need of assistance in the future again, darling,” he said with a practiced, flirtatious smirk. “My tent is always open.”

And with that, he hurriedly walked into the woods.

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