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rabbiquity · 5 months ago

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The Best Laid Plans

Summary: Even the best laid plans may go wrong. Admittedly, Astarion's plan hadn't been that great to begin with. Part 2 of 'Part of His Plan'.

Pairing: Astarion x unnamed female Tav

Word count: 4k

Tags: Romance, Astarion is bad at feelings, Unnamed female Tav, Angst, Tooth-rotting fluff, Romance and feels

A/N: This story has a wonderful beta!! Thank you so much @preciouslittlebhaalbae! 💖💖💖 You are an absolute gem and the loveliest person ever for doing this! 🫂Thank you for your patience and kind suggestions! (because I'm a silly person who can't spot even obvious mistakes and @preciouslittlebhaalbae has the patience of a saint). You might remember me posting snippets from this back in January, so this is my second finished WIP for @thekindredcollective BG3 Spring Cleaning!

Hope you enjoy the story and please let me know what you think! 💖💖 Comments, likes and reposts are always loved! 💖💖

Tav had a shadow and its name was Astarion.

She didn’t notice immediately. She was far too concerned with saving Thaniel, breaking the curse, helping every single one of their companions on their personal quests, and combating the mindless creatures wanting to murder them from the moment they stepped out of the dome protecting the Last Light Inn.

At first, Tav thought that she was just imagining it. Because every time she looked up, she seemed to glimpse silver curls, feel feather-light touches of cool fingers on her neck, all but taste rosemary, bergamot and brandy on her tongue. This lasted only a moment, yet a moment was all he ever needed to leave a lasting impression on her.

At some point, Astarion seemed to decide to stop bothering to pretend that he wasn’t following Tav around, his ruby eyes all but boring holes into her back as he watched her closely.

Now, this wasn’t the first time that Astarion acted somewhat uncanny. Perhaps two hundred years of being forced to do someone’s bidding did that to an elf. Either way, Tav didn’t want to offend Astarion. So she chose not to comment on how odd his behaviour was.

However, the longer they travelled, the more Astarion seemed to insert himself into every situation, making sure that he was at her side at all times. She would round a corner and bump into his leather-clad back. Walk down the stairs and he was already waiting for her, tapping his foot in an impatient manner as he scowled at whoever was walking behind her at the time.

Finally, when she almost tripped over him, Tav decided to ask Astarion about it.

"Astarion, is there something you want?"

"Me? Why would you ask such a thing, my sweet?" Astarion said with a crooked smile, and Tav noticed how tensely he held himself. A coil waiting to spring upward at a smallest tap.

"Well.. Lately, I've noticed that you’ve started to… hover."

Apparently, this was the wrong thing to say. His expression shuttered and he took a step back.

“And I take it that you’d rather I didn’t, is that it?”

“No, that’s not what I meant, I -”

"If you do not wish for my company, you can just come out and say so! Send me back to camp to wallow in misery as Gale attempts to engage me in decidedly unengaging conversation," Astarion all but hissed at her.

Astarion regretted snapping at her almost immediately. He knew that it was uncalled for. Tav was nothing but kind and accommodating. But he couldn’t help the bitterness he felt when seeing her treat everyone else with the same thoughtfulness, the same caring. Was her protecting him nothing but an obligation? Was Tav offering her neck to him time and time again something that she would have done for any soul that needed sustenance? To him, it seemed that lately she led without making sure that he followed. Was whatever they shared coming to its logical conclusion sooner than he anticipated?

"I didn't say that I don't want you around," Tav frowned and took a careful step towards him, trying to mitigate the conflict before they started arguing in earnest. "I just want to make sure that everything is alright."

"As is your duty, my fair leader. To check up on any and all lost causes that seek your company, hm?"

Tav wasn’t sure exactly what he meant. His words felt cruel, though, and she felt herself flush.

"Sometimes I don't understand what you want from me, Astarion.”

He winced at how hurt she sounded. Another, better adjusted person, would be quick to apologise. Blame it all on being tired and frazzled, suggest with a rueful smile that the shadows were getting to him. Yet, Astarion only watched as Tav walked past the rest of the party. Shadowheart and Karlach, who had been standing nearby, choose not to comment on the exchange.

He'd rather have one of them punch him than have them silently disapprove. At least then he’d pretend he was angry at his companions rather than himself. Anger was familiar territory. Fear was nothing new. Whatever he felt now was a different, unfamiliar brand of torture.

An hour later Astarion found himself nervously pacing up and down his tent. Or at least doing something as close to pacing as he could in such cramped quarters. His thoughts a flurry of worries and poorly supressed insecurities, Astarion had no idea how to fix this mess. He wasn’t even sure why he was so worried about it in the first place.

By now he knew Tav well enough to be certain that she would not banish him. She would not do that to any of them without just cause. And no matter how unreasonable and hurtful he had been, she would not leave him to die.

So why did he want to fix this so badly? Surely not because he was worried that whatever this was, whatever tentative trust he’d managed to establish between them, would be over come morning once she had some time to think? Because even someone as forgiving as Tav had her limits. She was kind and warm, accepting and generous; but she was no fool.

Astarion stopped abruptly and put his arms around himself.

He had to fix this. Somehow.

Turning to his trunk, he lifted the lid and rummaged around, digging up the bottle that he was saving for a special occasion. Grovelling for his lover to forgive him seemed like special occasion enough.

Then Astarion spent an age making sure that he looked his best. After all, presentation was half the victory!

Thus primped and primed - and carrying a peace offering - Astarion stalked through the night, making sure to avoid his campmates. He really did not feel like getting some unsolicited advice from anyone for the time being.

Standing in front of the tent, he suddenly felt nervous. A strange, sick feeling in his stomach, he found he was unsure if he wanted to know what Tav would say to him.

Taking a breath he didn’t need, Astarion plastered his best smile on his face and moved the tent flap aside.

"Dearest, how about we both choose to be adults about this and make up, hm?"

"Sure," Tav said without looking up from whatever she was doing, effectively dismissing him. Clearly, it was 'thanks for the half-baked apology', but 'no thanks' to spending an evening together. Choosing to soldier on against all odds, Astarion pretended that he could not read her body language and sat down beside her on the bedroll.

"Now... Can I tempt you with some wine? Or perhaps with some other… delights?" Astarion drawled seductively, fingers dancing down the wine bottle’s curved side.

He was a vision and he knew it. Hair coiffed just so, shirt slightly loose and showing off more alabaster skin than usual. It was a very tempting sight, if only Tav were in the mood to be tempted.

She didn’t even look up.

"I'm a little busy right now."

Astarion fought back a scowl. He was finding that maintaining a charming façade was quite a challenge when Tav was so decidedly against playing along. Yet, he was not about to give up. Oh, he would not be ignored so easily! He didn’t spend an age getting ready, thinking of what he was going to say, and bringing the bottle of wine that Shadowheart squirreled away, just to be turned down. He would not spend the night alone in his own tent!

Astarion chuckled breathily. "Aren't you always? Which is why you should really let your hair down once in a while,” he dropped his voice an octave, inching towards her. “Live a little, whilst there is still living to be done."

There was a pause, and he would hold his breath if he still needed to draw it.

"Fine," Tav sighed, her shoulders sagging. "Wine, please."

"And whilst you are enjoying a goblet or two, I will fix that tear in your shirt I noticed earlier."

"You don't have to."

"But I want to. Allow yourself to be the one taken care of, for once. Or are you truly that upset with me that you would rather have to walk about with that tear?"

"I'm not upset with you. I'm angry with myself."

Now that was a development that he could not have foreseen. Angry with herself? Whatever had she done?

"Care to share why?"

"Not really."

It seemed that Tav definitely was not in the mood to make this easy for him. Luckily, he knew just how to engage her in conversation.

"And here I thought that we would play that question game you are so fond of! Go on, dearest. Question for question, as is our way."

Ah, finally a little smile for his efforts.

"I suppose.”

Tav took a sip from her goblet, eyes widening when she realised that the wine was actually pleasant. Honestly, did she really think that he wouldn’t bring something half-palatable?

"That's the enthusiastic answer I was hoping for! Now come on, off with your shirt."

Tav put her wine down and pulled the fabric of her shirt up, his eyes following the ascent as soft skin was revealed inch by tantalising inch. He ignored the unbidden, surprising urge to put his lips onto her neck, not to feed but to taste.

Tav handed him the shirt and as their fingers brushed, Astarion was glad that she wasn’t in any hurry to get away from him, allowing him to hold her hand in his.

“So um… same as last time? A question for a question?”

She moved her hand, leaving his digits to cool once her warmth was gone.

“Yes,” he cleared his throat, “that seems reasonable.”

Tav stood up to get the sewing kit and a spare shirt. This gave him ample opportunity to admire her now that her back was turned. One wouldn’t want to be accused of staring! She slid the shirt on quickly, scars disappearing under the simple cloth, making him once again wonder what the story behind those was.

Tav was usually so forthcoming, answering questions without much hesitation or worry. He could understand why someone would be hesitant to talk about scars, but by the gods was he curious to find out the story behind hers!

Seeing that he probably was still in the proverbial doghouse, Astarion decided to start small.

“What is your favourite thing to eat?”

Tav looked at him over her shoulder as she adjusted her clothes.

“I’m surprised you want to know something so boring.”

“My sweet, when it comes to you, nothing could be boring,” he purred, putting his goblet to his lips and looking at her over the rim in a way that had made hundreds swoon.

Tav smiled and sat down on her bedroll, but otherwise did not seem to be affected by his act of seduction. How annoying.

“Well, whilst Gale’s efforts to make something edible out of whatever we manage to come across is close to miraculous, I do miss Baldurian Mash.”

Seeing the look on his face, Tav giggled, “Too common for your tastes?”

“On the contrary!” Astarion laughed. “I am quite sure that I too enjoyed something like this back when… well. Back when I could enjoy the taste of food.”

Tav’s face softened as he muttered the last part. Astarion shifted uncomfortably and took a gulp of his wine. Damn her and that look! Who even looked at people like that! Only Tav did, in his experience.

“As we are on the subject of food, why did you choose me to snack on? Surely others looked just as appealing?” Tav teased.

The truth was at the time he had already known enough about Tav to put his faith in her, to trust her to at least listen to his explanations. He had been almost certain that the others would strike him down for even attempting to come near their necks. Lae’zel would have probably skinned him alive, given the chance. Even now she occasionally questioned whether he was useful enough to keep around.

Astarion poured her more wine, thinking about the best way to answer her question.

“Perhaps you simply looked delicious enough for a predator such as myself to want to take a bite,” Astarion flirted without looking away, attempting to ascertain her mood.

Tav’s lips quirked into a smile and she took a sip of her wine.

“Or perhaps you had already established your reputation as a do-gooder, unable to turn away anyone imploring you to help them. Pick whichever reason you like, dearest,” Astarion shrugged.

Tav gave him a look that made Astarion both nervous and excited. Not exactly a combination a seasoned professional such as he could afford to feel. Maintaining his cool was crucial, he reminded himself. He could not afford to lose focus. Eyes on the prize and all that. The prize being Cazador's head on a silver platter, of course. Not the love of the woman in front of him. Or something equally ridiculous.

“What are you thinking of doing once our adventure is over? Assuming we don’t all die in some horrible manner.”

“I'm not sure," Tav started, "I might stay in Baldur’s Gate for a while. Assuming my house is still intact.”

“You’re from Baldur’s Gate?”

“Yes. Is it so hard to believe?”

“Hah! And I here I was, thinking that you were a country girl through and through. Meeting each sunrise and sundown in some picturesque little village where all the neighbours call each other by their names.”

Tav huffed and moved to punch his biceps without putting much force behind it.

“Oh, don’t get angry.” Astarion caught her fist and put his lips to her knuckles, fangs moving across skin without breaking it. “It’s a compliment, if anything.”

“I will choose to take it as one.” Tav gave a little laugh and pulled back, making Astarion release her hand.

Perhaps he worded it in a way that did not necessarily sound like praise, but he just could not believe that someone as kind and warm as Tav could be a Baldurian. In spite of being thoroughly and repeatedly defiled by him, she still carried that air of sweetness about her. And whilst this irritated him initially, it was… nice. Pleasant to be around someone who did something for others without any ulterior motive. Just out of the goodness of her heart. It was quite frankly a miracle that she hadn’t been killed yet.

Thinking about her mortality had him taking a furtive glance at her side, where the worst of her scars were.

“About your scars, and you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, how did you get them?”

Tav’s fingers clutched her goblet a little tighter before she caught herself and made a show of wanting to put it down by the bedroll without tipping it over on the uneven surface.

“No, it’s fine. It’s not much of a story. Just a silly girl falling in love with the wrong person only to find out he was using me for his own gain. So, you are right, in a way. Perhaps I wasn’t quite made to live in the city.”

It wasn’t much, but the way her shoulders hunched, her pained expression, her looking at anything but him felt… wrong. To Astarion, Tav was annoyingly righteous, stupidly brave, incredibly stubborn, frustratingly selfless. She was all that and so much more. She deserved better from the world and seeing her look so small made him want to hurt something.

“About earlier…” Tav began tentatively.

“My words were uncalled for. I apologise. I didn’t-”

He wanted to say that he didn’t mean any of it. He wanted to tell her that he just found himself hating that she gave her precious attention to anyone else when he wanted it for himself. He wanted to tell her many things. Naturally, he didn’t say any of them.

“I know. Which is why I was angry at myself. We are all under so much pressure, it’s a wonder that we aren’t constantly at each other’s throats.”

“I was disappointed with myself for thinking that you were like him,” Tav picked her goblet up and took a sip. “Because at that moment, I looked at your face and I saw a spectre that haunted my waking days. And it was wrong of me to assume that you were like that. So, I’m sorry too.”

Astarion felt like someone sucker punched him. Hells, he’d rather she did punch him. Pain he could take. He was used to pain over the years. But this- this raw honesty, the way she looked at him when she said that, the faith she was placing in him-

Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Astarion? Are you okay?”

He was not. Because this was wrong. His nice, simple plan had backfired so spectacularly and in a way he could never have imagined.

Shit.

She was waiting for an answer.

“Yes, of course, dearest! Why wouldn’t I be? We made up! I am well, you are well. All is well,” Astarion put both of their goblets of wine away and then moved towards Tav with an intense look in his ruby eyes.

“Just perfect.” Astarion whispered the last part and pressed his lips to hers to stop Tav from asking any more questions.

Astarion lowered Tav onto the bedroll, one hand behind her head, the other on her hip. Slowly, taking his time to savour the softness of her skin, he trailed his fingers up. The fabric of her shirt bunched as his hand traced the contours of her body and settled just below her breast.

“Are you sure?” He felt warm breath against his lips as they broke apart.

Instead of replying, Astarion put his mouth on Tav’s neck, fangs grazing sensitive flesh, her heartbeat strong in his ears. Her blood called to him, but he didn’t dare bite.

He would tell her everything. And he would tell her soon. Because the thought of him being in any way like that vile man who dared to use her and scar her, to put that dejected look on her face, was something that Astarion could not bear.

His movements grew more frantic as he removed the last of the barriers between their bodies, wanting, needing to do enough that she would stay.

Because whilst he didn’t want to examine his feelings for Tav too much, not daring to hope for anything, he was terrified of what the consequences of his deception would be.

When Tav opened her eyes the next morning, Astarion was still in her tent, his deft fingers moving with precision and making quick work of the tear in her shirt.

“Good morning,” she murmured, pushing her messy hair out of her face. Gods, she must truly look a sight.

“Good morning, my sweet,” Astarion replied without looking up, seemingly too focused on his task to pay her much attention.

Tav didn’t expect Astarion to still be here in the morning. Not that she wanted him gone. On the contrary, his staying the night was nice. The thought that he wanted to stay made her blush.

Except Tav had a small problem now. She had to get dressed and Astarion was still here. She could hobble about with her bedsheet wrapped around her body, but she would probably just end up falling forward like a graceless lump. And that was less than ideal when one was in the company of the most attractive, stunning elf.

Astarion seemed to be busy enough not to pay her any attention. And Tav hoped that she didn’t look as horrible with her hair sticking up oddly and pillow lines on her face. She quickly brushed it back and tried to tame it by running her fingers through it.

And then she saw a ghost of smirk on those mocking lips. Oh, he knew what she was doing. And he was laughing at her! That ass. That gorgeous, beautiful bastard! She would show him!

Thus, filled with a strong resolve – that is to show Astarion that he could not have her flustered and stuttering over just a smirk - Tav turned around and rose, stretching her muscles in a feline manner that had ruby eyes following her every move. Astarion’s pupils dilated and his nostrils flared, one fang worrying his lower lip.

“How are you feeling this morning?” He gave his work a quick glance before cutting the thread.

“Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, and ready to infiltrate Moonrise Towers, actually.” Tav quickly (but not too quickly!) dressed and went at her hair with a comb.

“Hm, seeing as how little sleep you got last night, I’d thought you would be postponing that little outing of ours.” Astarion delighted in a little squeak she gave as she dropped her comb.

“Well, I’m fine. But if you are too tired to come with us today, perhaps I can ask someone else to accompany me.”

“Someone else? Perish the thought lest you wish to perish!” Astarion rose in one graceful movement, taking a step and then another towards her. “Who can possibly watch your back better than yours truly?”

“No one can,” Tav conceded easily. She felt cool fingers on her waist as Astarion handed her the mended shirt.

“Thank you.”

“Darling, the only thanks I need is you not leaving me behind today,” he gave a breezy, lilting laugh, wondering if acting nonchalant would be enough to convince himself that her answer did not matter to him.

Please, don’t ever leave me behind.

“I wouldn’t.”

Because I’d rather take a chance on you than wonder what could have been had I been braver.

“Wise. Having Gale try his hand at picking locks could only end in disaster.”

I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if you got hurt.

“Oh, can you imagine! No, we need your magic touch and sneaky ways to make sure we are undetected,” she teased him and his eyes were momentarily drawn to the dimples on her cheeks. He wanted to kiss them, then make his way down the column of her neck, and then lower still until she couldn’t tell him to stop.

They were still holding the shirt, fabric bunching as fingers moved closer. Astarion let go of cloth, hesitant fingertips brushing against warm knuckles as Tav looked at him in a way that he had thought he caught her look at others.

And yet…

Perhaps it was simply a trick of the light. Or his mind playing games with him. Just wishful thinking on his part. But Astarion could not help but think that there was something more between them. Something precious and beautiful that bloomed to life among all the carnage and horror that was his life.

“Tav?” He swallowed nervously.

“Yes?”

“I-”

“Breakfast is ready!”

Saved by Gale, out of all people.

And yet…

Astarion felt a wave of disappointment as he watched Tav quickly put on her shirt, the magic of the moment broken, and they were thrust harshly back into their reality.

And yet…

When Tav took his hand and led him out of the tent, her thumb tracing circles on his cool skin, Astarion wondered if this could be real. If they could be real. Tav put her faith in him, chose to trust a predator with her life. He had thought her a fool. Now, as he looked at how radiant she looked even in these listless, lifeless lands, he wondered if he could summon a fraction of her courage and put his faith in her.

💖 Tag list 💖:

@ninty900, @ayselluna, @dajeong, @ravenswritingroom,

@misscrissfemmefatale,

@clazberryk, @anukulee,

@preciouslittlebhaalbae,

@sh3rl0ck, @mellowenthusiast2299,

@fleetstreet78, @starlight-rogue,

@obsessedwhyyes, @arzen9, @hellethil,

@khywren, @maeryls-journal, @larvasmoon, @xxnashiraxx

(divider by @saradika)

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rabbiquity · 10 months ago

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Pairing: Astarion/f!Tav ~ Astarion/f!OC (Ofelia) Word Count: 9,398 Tags/Warnings: 18+ MDNI, (I somehow managed to put every kink in here? jk) PiV Sex, Breeding Kink, Heat/Rut Similarities, Sex Pollen, Slight Cockwarming (at the end), Bite Marks, Mating?, Blood Drinking, Kinda Minor Dubcon (cause of the chasing I 'spose), Mating Press, Doggy Style (I'm truly sorry for all these tags), Stupid Twilight Joke Summary: Ofelia wakes in the middle of the night to find Astarion missing from their bedroll. A brief glimpse around the camp turns up no signs of the pale elf until she finds his footprints trailing off into the woods and decides to go looking for him. She doesn't know what she's in for once she finds him drunk on blood and unable to recognize her... ˖ A fun, all porn no plot oneshot featuring Astarion and my longfic main character, Ofelia set in between Act 2 and 3 but completely separate from the main fic!

divider here🩸

AO3 | Song Reference: Hungry Like the Wolf by Duran Duran

I got a little deranged with this one! There were some other *cough cough* things that ultimately didn't make the final cut, but I'm overall pretty happy with this! I was supposed to write a prompt for each week, but it's looking like I'm only going to be doing three this year- an honorable start since I've never done this before! I hope next October I can increase the quantity of my fulfilled prompts and reduce their word count, but I've got a lot to work on as a writer and it's at the end of the list, lol. Let me know how you liked it! You can read prompt one here and see my masterlist here!

Stalked in the forest, too close to hide.

I’ll be upon you by the moonlight side.

Do-do, do-do-do, do-do-do, do-do, do-do,

High blood drumming on your skin, it’s so tight.

You feel my heat, I’m just a moment behind.

Do-do, do-do-do, do-do-do, do-do, do-do,

In touch with the ground,

I’m on the hunt, I’m after you.

Scent and a sound, I’m lost and I’m found,

And I’m Hungry Like the Wolf.

***

Ofelia startles out of her sleep at the howl of a wolf, eyes open wide and staring at the roof of Astarion’s tent. Moonlight illuminates the scarlet canvas and she clutches her blanket tightly, eyes seeking him in the darkness.

He’s not there…

“Astarion?” She calls softly, careful to be quiet so as not to wake their companions. She doesn’t hear a stir outside- in fact, she hears nothing. There are no chirps of insects, no breeze to ruffle the tent… A shiver runs down her spine when she rises, grabbing her sleep shirt and shawl to cover her undergarments as she steps into her sandals to poke her head out.

The wooded area where they’ve made camp, about twenty or some odd miles outside of Rivington, looks eerily empty. To her relief, a particularly loud snore comes from Gale’s tent next door, and with a sigh, her gaze sweeps their surroundings and lingers over the glittering waters of the far-off river. All seems normal, yet…

He’s never left her in the middle of the night before- at least not to her knowledge- however, all of their traveling and battling usually knocks her out until first light. But this is new… they’d been doing fine today, no arguments. He’d fed earlier in the night, but they hadn’t even gotten past their undergarments before falling asleep. Or rather, she’d fallen asleep, much to his amusement if his laughing as she dozed while trying to get his clothes off was any indication.

She curses softly at the early autumn chill creeping over her bare legs as she takes the lantern beside Astarion’s tent to look around for clues. As the warm glow of the flame passes over the ground, she sees footprints leading off towards the forest, away from the river, and into the dense fog.

“Wonderful. I’m going to kill him for this.” She grumbles before hugging the shawl closer to her body and trudging off into the night. Maybe a sane person would wait around, go back to sleep, and even ask him where he’d gone once he was back in the morning. Luckily- or unluckily, given she’s adept at smothering him with her concern- she’s not that smart.

He’s been getting more distant the closer they get to the city, for good reason, and she can’t help the prickling unease she feels as she passes beneath the trees, eyes scouring the low fog and sparse underbrush for any sign of him. She dismisses the thought of some unknown assailants kidnapping him in the night- he’s far too clever to let that happen. It’s more likely that he needed peace, and even though it tugs on her heart to picture him needing space even from her, she understands. Maybe he’d let her get a hug in, even if he’d rather not talk about it.

“Eep!” She jumps at the hoot of an owl right over her head, gaze snapping up to the raptor’s reflective amber eyes. She curses softly, shrugging the covering over her shoulders more tightly before continuing on the game path she’s been following for the last five minutes.

The trees are different here than where the nautiloid had crash-landed. Instead of tall pines and towering oaks, slender alders drape the valleys and rolling hills of this landscape as they follow the river to the sea. The color of the foliage is dazzling, spread out above the dark contrast of the sky. The oranges and yellows settle her nerves as she continues, mentally cataloging the different kinds of trees to look up in her piles of books once she returns to camp. It must be Faerun’s equivalent of October here, and her mind turns to apples and pumpkins as fallen leaves crunch underfoot.

Her attention is wrenched from more pleasant thoughts to the snapping of twigs and branches off to her right, the sound ceasing as soon as she looks in its direction. She clenches her teeth in irritation, trying to make out a shape or something in the darkness, but the mist obscures all.

“Astarion I swear to god if you’re waiting to scare me out here…” She hisses, swinging the lantern around towards another sound at her left. Nothing but unnerving silence follows as gooseflesh spreads over her arms and thighs. Maybe… it was stupid to come out here… There is still an untold number of horrors she doesn’t know anything about, Gale’s compendiums and tomes be damned. Not to mention the lingering Absolute forces or roaming bandits along the roads.

This is a really stupid idea, I should just head back... She thinks to herself, wary of speaking out loud again. She looks back in the direction of the camp, much too far behind for her to make out the light of torches or the fire. It’s unlikely anyone would hear her crying for help if she ends up in a dangerous situation, and she exhales in a rush, deciding it may be best to try and reach out to him via tadpole before continuing or heading back.

Astarion? Are you there? It’s me. She waits as the smell of musty leaves and the evening’s previous rainfall cling to her nose. Anticipation for the familiar tether of their parasites teeters on the edge of her mind but it doesn’t come. There’s only the sound of crows cawing from deeper into the wood, and Ofelia shudders. She should go back… if she shows up and he’s in his tent waiting he’ll be angry she went out alone, even more so if he finds out she didn’t tell anyone she’d left.

“Ugh…” She mutters bitterly, turning back the way she’d come. Never mind the fact that he’s now going to get it when she sees him for doing the exact thing she’s worried he’d be upset about. Not even a little note or anything…

The breeze changes, icy air clawing like fingernails as it rushes through her hair. She shudders and hunches further in on herself, eyes darting around at a distant noise. It’s a mix between a growl and a shriek, and every instinct in her body tells her to go back. The pleasant smells that have been lulling her into a false sense of safety vanish, now replaced by the scent of something worse... Blood.

She chews on her lip, fear clouding her mind. It could be his… or it could belong to the prey of whatever creature just made that noise. It isn’t too far off… maybe a minute or two if she goes along slowly.

She looks back and forth between the two directions available to her- safety, or Astarion?

“Damnitt,” She starts into the brush, toward the sound. If it’s him and he’s in trouble, she can’t just go back. She has to make sure. He’d do the same for her. Maybe. No, definitely.

Twigs whip against her shins and calves, leaving stinging red marks and tiny cuts. She tries to keep quiet and stay a little low as her ears strain for any hints or a more precise location. Just as she’s sweeping the ground she sees a familiar white tuft of hair a few yards off to her left. She starts to rise, to call out to him, but the overwhelming scent of blood floods over her again, forcing her to still cautiously. She hovers, frozen, barely able to tell what condition he’s in amidst the fog and decides to creep forward instead, hellbent on figuring out if he’s okay or not as panic starts to set in.

Once she’s about fifteen feet from him she can tell he's conscious. His hair is half covered in glistening sanguine liquid, most of his white curls obscured by the red. She can’t tell if he has any injuries, but he appears to be crouching over some large creature and relief starts to wash over her at the realization. He must have found something in the woods and had to fight it off, not letting a good drink go to waste. Those words bounce around in her skull from some conversation they’d had once before as she rises to full height and startles when his head whips around to glare at her.

Glowing crimson eyes bore into her skull, face slathered in blood and hair falling over his forehead. Any normal person would be terrified by his appearance- clothes torn and askew, slashes to his porcelain skin shallow and pink along his arms and chest. Even from this far away she can tell his fangs are unsheathed- long and pressing insistently against his lower lip. The bloodlust in his stare sends shivers of fear through her, self-preservation instincts overtaking the more subtle reactions to him- the bead of sweat that swelters across her forehead, the short inhales and exhales, the subtle tightening of her stomach muscles. He’s always been beautiful like this- dangerous like a razor-thin blade glinting in the moonlight, but beautiful in its ability to maim.

She swallows around a lump in her throat as he stands, shoulders raised defensively, upper lip lifting over his teeth. She’s meant to be intimidated, but it’s having the opposite effect.

“Astarion… what happened? Are you okay?” She asks, watching his head cock to the side as he listens to her. Her worry blossoms into unease as he remains silent, taking one careful step toward her. She feels the hairs on the back of her neck raise in response, but she holds her ground, careful to keep him cradled in her gaze as she notices two other large masses of fur behind the one he’d been hovering over.

Gods, he’d taken down more than one? Her heart aches and as she refocuses on him she notices he’s covered the gap about five feet, so close she can see the stillness of his chest and the light wounds over his skin more clearly.

“Please talk to me-” He snarls and she clamps her mouth shut, eyes widening. A sudden urge to flee overtakes her earlier concern, realizing now that there’s something wrong, something off… It’s too late to get away. He’s too close- too fast. He’ll be on her in a moment, and for some reason, he isn’t recognizing her. There’s an animalistic gleam to his eyes- sharp and keen as a predator tracking its prey. She feels her throat close and her pulse speeds up frantically, watching in horror as he scents the air and gnashes his teeth.

Shit.

She turns on her heel despite every hiking guide she’s ever read telling her to always back away slowly- they always say that, what is she thinking?

“Okay- I’m sorry! But can you please snap out of it? I can’t run faster than you!” She shouts over her shoulder, cursing her stupid sandals as they obstruct her leaps and bounds. She tears off in the direction of camp she has a vague recollection of, though truth be told, she’s too turned around and shaken by her lover’s strange shift in behavior to recall which way she’d come from.

She can hear him behind, footfalls light but deafening in the quiet of the trees. She heaves for breath, lungs burning, terror closing around her rapidly beating heart. He’s so close that she can smell the blood in the air and the scent of his perfume, beckoning to her. She chances a glance, instantly regretting it when she trips over a tree root and falls flat on her stomach into the damp soil and leaves.

“Ah!” She cries when he overtakes her, chest pressed against her back and hands closing like a vice over her arms as he holds her down. It hurts, especially the way his knees pinch her waist and how her wrist bones grind together, gasping for air under the weight of him. Her hair barely cushions her cheek as she looks up, eyes wide as his eerie, vacant red orbs spear through her. His lips part to reveal his fangs, the pair at the bottom elongated to match and shining in the dim light from above as his blood-stained tongue flashes over them. She’s never felt fear cling to the back of her throat like it is now, viscous and hot like tar. Every nerve-ending pumps adrenaline through her body like she’s a terrified rabbit caught within a wolf's jaws, unable to avert her fate.

“Astarion, please,” She pleads, whimpering when he tightens his grip on her arms. He lowers his face until she can feel his frigid breath against her neck, moist and fanning over her ear and upper back. He growls, low and gravelly, before opening his mouth wide. “No!” She shuts her eyes, bracing for the killing bite, but it doesn’t come.

His lips find the mark he’d left her with earlier in the night, pausing before tearing her flesh open, and with a soft whine he begins to mouth and lap at the healing wound. He’s… never made that sound before…

She shivers when his fangs press over the indents and his hands start to unclench, body slipping over hers until one knee presses between her thighs and nudges them open.

Oh.

The hard ridge of cock nestles against her backside and his hips move, twisting and grinding and seeking friction.

“Astarion!” She hisses, moaning softly when he bites down. It’s rougher than usual, sidestepping his typical routine of laving over her skin and sucking lightly before piercing the delicate derma. What hasn’t changed is the intoxicating pheromones ringing through his venom as it snakes its way through her veins. They’ve never been sure of it themselves, and though it’s useless in turning her, it doesn’t fail to ignite a fever of lust that crashes through her with every sharp pant and muffled sigh coming from her mouth.

She melts into his hands like butter as he pins her wrists down with one of his arms, the other trailing down her side to tear away her underwear. Her eyes wrench open, in the throes of hazy desire, but not too far gone to want to put a stop to this before it gets out of hand. He’s not himself, and it’ll make her sick if she allows this to continue, no matter how badly she wants it.

“Wake up!” She snaps, bucking into his groin. He snarls softly, clearly taking it as a challenge, and his hands fly to her thighs to force them open as he grinds his clothed erection against the heat pooling between her legs. Her vision goes white and she bites down hard on her lip to keep from crying out at the sudden jolt of pleasure, his jaw locking around the back of her neck to keep her pinned and restrained. She can feel the dampness at the front of his pants, making it easier for him to slide over her dripping folds, and with immense self-restraint she remains still instead of meeting his thrusts like her body is screaming at her to do.

Gods… this is so unfair.

She swallows another crude noise from pouring out of her as he growls and grunts in her ear, nails digging like claws into her pelvis to softly pierce her flesh and draw weeping red from the gashes. Her control begins to slip, descending into his compulsion of lust, head dizzy as all her blood rushes both south and into his mouth. Lewd hums of approval brush against her skin as he continues to drink, and when he starts to nudge her tight bundle of nerves she curses and wades through the mess her mind has become to search for a solution. She settles on the only thing she can think of in her desperation, whispering a soft apology before bending her arm back to press a palm to his side.

“Dolor,” A red beam of energy rockets into his ribs, causing him to shout in pain and relax his jaw enough to let go, collapsing onto the ground a few feet from her. She flips onto her back, scrambling away from his grunts of pain, vision tilting and swaying from the sudden movements as she rises to her feet, hunched over and clutching her neck. Her shirt’s laces are loose and hanging low, revealing the only intact garment on her body- her bra- as her shawl hangs loose around her elbows.

He recovers swiftly, growling again, and she swallows around a lump in her throat at the sight of him- so far gone and still not back to himself. She turns and darts into the trees, determined to put some distance between them, hoping it’ll snap him out of whatever trance he’s in.

As she runs, sandals lost somewhere long behind her, she contemplates just what the hell is going on. He’d clearly been in some kind of struggle, the dead creatures at his feet earlier being the likely offenders. This is nothing like drinking from a cougar or bear- he’d still be himself, drunk on the quantity, but still Astarion. Battered, annoyed, but still him. She almost wants to hear his pompous voice, irritated that she’d followed him out into the woods, an “Of course I’m fine, darling.” echoing in her ears.

But he’s not fine. If only she’d woken up when he left…

She looks over her shoulder more carefully this time, eyes scanning the treeline and murky mist for any sign of him. She doesn’t see a trace, not a wisp of his silver hair or the broad shoulders of his sleek figure, and that fact offers neither comfort nor relief. He hasn’t lost sight of her just because her meager human senses can’t detect him amongst the shadows- he could be lurking just around the next tree, ready to pounce. He’s a hunter- his senses unrivaled and honed for tracking the one thing regretfully leaking from her neck, and it doomed her long before the chase began.

Her blood.

In the blink of an eye, he’s at her left, crashing back into her- silent as death and just as terrifying. A cry of surprise from her mouth cleaves the night in two, her back thankfully landing in a bed of leaves as he covers her again. His eyes are wild and manic as he pins her down and despite the mad stuttering of her pulse, the gleam in his eyes sends a thrill of arousal down her spine, his tongue sweeping over her scarlet smeared over his lips before leaning down until his face hovers over hers.

She twists her body weakly, a pathetic attempt to get away as he snags her wrists again, and his lashes dip to half-mast as he presses his face close to her hair and breathes her in.

“Astarion… you’ve got to be in there-” She’s cut off by his tightening grip as her chest rises and falls, nipples straining against the thin fabric of her bra. Her eyes flutter shut as he rocks against her, his low breathy moans and sighs making her feverish and faint.

Her breath hitches as he grabs a fistful of her hair before yanking her head back to bare her throat for him and she chokes around another noise as his lips drag over her neck, leaving a trail of hot kisses from ear to shoulder. It’s so soft and familiar that she angles her chin to peer down at him hopefully, looking for any sign that he’s returned to normal, but it falls by the wayside when he sinks his teeth back into her skin like a savage animal. His body feels warmer from her blood and hard in all the right places as he presses against her, delicious weight caging her against the cool ground.

“Astarion… p-please,” She hiccups, words stumbling from her lips as she fights the heat surging between her legs, losing composure and logic as she feels him throb against her center through his trousers. The grip on her sanity begins to slip, the prospect of giving in to his primal urges sounding better by the second. She clenches her teeth as he grinds more urgently against her and she tries to wrench her hands free of him but he’s too strong- she can imagine, after draining three creatures about the size of a horse each.

He flips her onto her stomach again and mounts her, one hand pushing her face into the ground as his other tears the straps on her bra to free her breasts. His hand is rough and punishing, tweaking her nipples and squeezing until the flesh spills over his fingers. She bites down on her lip until it bleeds, body almost completely bare for him as he frees her arms to touch her everywhere and it’s so much, so good-

“Ofelia?” She sobs in relief.

***

The closer they get to the Gate, the closer Astarion gets to the end of all he’s been working to achieve. The prospects of failure, of success- they all pale in comparison to the knowledge that he’s yet to face the worst of it.

He sits up from where he’d been trancing lightly, turning to look down at the soft snores coming from the woman beside him. He snickers at her slackened jaw and line of drool, the side of her face mashed in the pillow.

Somehow, despite everything, she’s still by his side.

That gives him the strength to keep going.

He presses a kiss to her temple before shuffling out of their makeshift bed to redress and pull his boots on. The night is quiet, bathed in the glow of the full moon as he glances around the small clearing their group had chosen to take shelter in for the night, seeking solitude before coming back to bed.

Animals skitter about through the broken tree limbs and dry vegetation, the sound of owls ringing in the wind above him. He inhales deeply, scenting the air, decay from the fallen leaves and withering plants clogging his nostrils. He sifts through the smells, straining for anything out of the ordinary, and that’s when it comes to him.

“Vile,” He scowls, face twisting in displeasure. Mangy hounds, rotting flesh, and an overbearing musk rush past the veil of autumn, assaulting his senses. He’s smelled it before, a few times in Cazador’s palace. Monsters low and willing to do dirty work for abysmal gains.

Werewolves.

His ears twitch at the sound of paw pads, faint but unmistakable. They’re closer than they sound- he knows how they move, knows how they think. They’ll tear his throat out and leave his body mangled for anyone to find. Amateurs.

There are three, and they’re all as stupid and uncoordinated as he expected. Something lingers beneath the usual stench, something he should have anticipated. If this had been a regular night, moon nothing but a sliver, they may have even spoken or threatened him first. Rather than make conversation, they immediately go for the kill, and it’s evident once he’s gasping and clenching his teeth in the aftermath of his meal just what he’s done to himself.

He should have told her he’d gone, told her not to worry about him, that he’d be back by morning. As the tattered threads of his mind start to drift away, he hopes beyond hope that she doesn’t try to look for him. Every muscle in his body is wound taught, heat coiling in his belly until it’s unbearable, cock throbbing with a need he’s never felt before. Each rush of blood makes him strain painfully against the cage of his clothing, and he forces his body into a crouch, panting and swimming through his eyes to try and anchor back onto reason.

And then he smells it.

Sweet and enticing on the midnight breeze, carrying over the ground along with the mist until it scatters all the self-control he has left. Beneath the typical bouquet of her intoxicating scent, there’s another, much sweeter and alluring like sun-ripened fruit. He needs her. Needs her now and needs to have her like his life depends on it, every thought zeroing in on the impulse. His senses succumb to it's will, caught within a desire to find her and a losing battle of wanting to protect her from himself.

Everything is lost when she appears, his body acting on its own as he chases her down despite her pleading cries for him to come back, to wake up, to stop this. He can't resist, the way she molds to him and arches for him grabbing his will like a vice, and when he sinks his fangs inside gods… His cock pulses and still he needs more, mind-numbing pleasure shooting from the crown of curls at the top of his head down to his toes as he drags himself over her wet cunt, stunned to find her so ready for him.

Is she… enjoying this?

He almost startles out of it before she casts an Eldritch Blast that stings like hell- he’ll have to scold her for that later- tracking her by the scent of her blood until he’s on her again. He wants to stop, but when he fights, it beats him down until he’s relying only on instinct. He has his hands on her hips, about to remove his shredded pants, wanting to sink into her waiting heat and never leave, when control flashes back through him with staggering effect.

“Ofelia?” Her body relaxes, a quiet sob leaving her lips. He swallows and turns her over, her limbs shaking slightly in his hands. He’s… terrified. Is she angry? Did he… ruin this? But she’s looking up at him adoringly and when she reaches up to bring his face down to hers, soft lips pressing against his, he lets go of the breath he’d been holding.

“Are you okay? You’re all cut up and… what was that? What’s going on?” He rests his hand over the one cupping his cheek, pouring his regret into his gaze.

“Who the hells cares about me- are you alright? I’m so sorry…” He murmurs, trembling under the sweet strokes of her thumb against his lips.

“I’m okay,” She smiles, impossibly soft and forgiving beneath him. “What’s happening to you?” He looks away, still achingly hard and at the mercy of the blood he’d drank, discomfort weaving through his mind at what he’s about to tell her.

“I’m… fine.” He assures her, squeezing his eyes shut and biting back the groan that threatens to slip past as another wave of desire washes over him. “But… I made a mistake. I killed some werewolves,” Her eyes widen.

“There are werewolves here?” The look of shock on her face would almost be comical if the circumstances were different, but he can’t fully acknowledge it as he grinds into her core to keep the need at bay. She makes a soft noise and pinches his earlobe, the little flash of pain keeping him surprisingly grounded.

“There are… and I killed them during a full moon,” Her brow furrows, slightly shaking her head to indicate that she doesn’t understand.

“Well yeah, that’s when they come out, right?” He snorts.

“They can come out anytime, but… darling, the full moon is when they’re in rut.” She stares at him a moment, eyes falling down his body before flicking back up to his, and when they subtly widen he knows she’s starting to put the pieces together.

“Oh…” She mumbles, flush spreading over her cheeks. He laughs, bringing his hands up to cradle her jaw before he can’t resist any longer. They dip lower and he squeezes the plump swells of her breasts, so full and spilling over his fingers and she makes another soft noise as he pays special attention to the deep rose peaks that pebble beneath his touch.

“So now you’re um… affected. And that’s why you were all… like that before?” He nods at her scattered questioning, biting his tongue from spilling more embarrassing sounds as he detects another sharp stinging scent of arousal from below. It’s far sweeter than it’s ever been, and when he grinds into her again she moans, a soft whine spilling from his lips.

“I need to be inside of you…” He pants, straining against the front of his trousers as he rocks against her, her head falling back to expose the pretty column of her throat. “I’m sorry for this…” He murmurs brokenly, sharp fingernails scratching her breasts to leave long raised pink lines beneath.

“Don’t… please, go ahead…” He hesitates, peering into her soft brown eyes when they finally crack open.

“I don’t know how long it lasts… I don’t want to put you in this position-”

“It's okay, really-”

“I could hurt you-”

“Seriously, Star, it's okay. I know you, we'll be fine-”

“But I might lose control. I don't think I can stop once I start-”

“Astarion! Please just fuck me already!” His entire body ignites.

“As you wish,” He tears the remaining fabric from her like it’s made of paper, awed by how her skin looks beneath the moonlight. During the day it’s a warm, deep tan, but like this… she looks like blue gleaming silk, and his mouth waters as his eyes roam over her. He’ll never get enough of the soft curves of her body, supple flesh nice and plush beneath his fingers as he parts her creamy thighs and rips the lace of his trousers clean off.

“Ofelia… really, I might hurt you.” His voice is barely above a whisper as his cock finally springs free, shivers running down his frame as he tries to reign in his desperation.

“We’ve got health potions back at camp.” Hells. He swallows, wanting to sink inside and fuck her senseless just for that.

“Gods… I just need you to understand that first, you desperate little thing.” He clenches his teeth hard, strangled moans caught on his tongue as he slowly lists forward and his aching length rests against her belly. She looks down, eyes heavily lidded as she reaches a tentative hand up to rub against his shaft. His entire body shudders as she strokes, pre-come leaking from the engorged tip before dripping down to pool against her skin.

“Don’t worry, I get it.” She smirks and he growls and leans down to kiss her, nicking her lip and reveling in the sweet little gasp of surprise as he sucks the crimson from the cut until she’s whining at him. He grins as he pulls away, hands grazing her breasts before sinking into her hips. Were they always so wide? He freezes as thoughts he’s never once entertained flash through his mind.

He sees her neck and body decorated with his bite marks, covered in his scent. He pictures the bliss of finally filling her, of emptying his seed into her fertile womb, of her shivering body beneath him. His eyes track over her abdomen, thumbs stroking over the plump flesh beneath her navel, of her belly growing round, swelling with his child-

A possessive growl rips through his chest as his clawed fingernails scrape up her sides and yank her hips up higher. He’s never felt out of breath since he’s been dead, but now he’s panting, clenching his teeth against the unbelievable strain of holding back from plunging his cock into her as he fucks her hand to stave off the urgency.

“Please, Astarion…” She whispers, grip tightening just the way she knows he likes it, and gods he adores this woman as he watches her lip caught between her teeth, blown wide pupils swallowing him whole. He clenches his eyes shut, mind slipping as his hips move in jagged snaps, ragged groans spilling from him as ineloquently as the sinful movements of their bodies.

He can’t hold it anymore, gripping the base of his cock before lining himself up and he shudders in surprise, the visual burned behind his eyes from their many previous encounters to realize something’s off. He’d not noticed how heavy and swollen the scalding blood running through his veins seems to have made him, and thinking about squeezing inside melts his brain.

“A-Astarion, oh gods please I need you to-ah!” Her entire body spasms at the slow penetration, sparks of electricity zipping up and down his spine as they both cry out in pleasure. Just the tip, and fuck does it feel like he’s going to explode. Nothing he ever imagined could have prepared him for the feeling of being inside her at last, tremors wracking his limbs as he throws his head back and sinks his nails into her skin. His entire length pulses, imploring him to keep going, and her juices coax him in until he can go no further. With a lurching sigh, he finally opens his eyes, the breath he doesn't even need vacating his lungs.

She's so perfect, wrapped around him like this… She shivers and whimpers beneath him, legs spread and chest rising and falling as a trickle of sweat drips down her breast. He leans down, clinging to her through the sensations rippling over his skin.

“Did I hurt you?” He asks softly, body trembling in an effort to hold still and not immediately start thrusting.

“A-a little but it's okay… what was in that blood? I’m pretty sure I would have noticed how much effort it took before,” She breathes, wiggling her hips and he clutches her skin tighter as a warning.

“I'm sorry… didn’t realize till right before…” He murmurs, regret needling his mind. He didn't want her to find him like this… didn't want her to put up with it and suffer the consequences. But ever the kindred spirit that she is, her palm comes up to cup his cheek again and she pulls him in for a sweet kiss.

“I asked you to do it, didn't I?” He holds her gaze defiantly until he can no longer deny her and nods with a heavy heart. “Then don't worry,” Her fingers find his loose tresses and she brushes through them with a soft smile. “Besides…” She brings him in closer, lips brushing against his earlobe, sending heat pulsing south. “You’re so full, Star… I need you to fuck me. Please,”

Something in him snaps at the sound of her voice- at the way she sounds as she whispers that last word. All breathy… needy… hells he wishes he could have spared her from this, but he would thank the entire pantheon personally just to hear her sob and wail like she does now, perfectly squeezing him as he finally pounds into her.

It's pure euphoria, the way she takes him. He wants to fill her over and over again, wants to make sure that by the end of the night, she's so full of his seed that there'll be no question about whether she's carrying his child or not. Vampirism be damned.

Tonight he's more alive than he's ever been.

***

Ofelia’s never given much thought to werewolves, let alone really considered them when she thinks of monsters. Tonight, they're high up on a pedestal and she thanks the stars for their stupidity as Astarion sinks his fangs into her neck and pistons into her.

He growls with every thrust, subsequently losing his composure as he relinquishes control to the heat that bounds through his veins. Since he's indulged, every part of her body sings his praises. In the form of his name staggering from her lips, in the way she desperately meets his thrusts, in the erotic sounds of her slick cunt sucking him in with each pitch of his form. Her mouth falls open, breath rushing from her lungs, heart beating like a drum, ecstasy like a gossamer sheet wrapped around her neck as her choked cries fill her ears and he takes and takes and takes from her.

He's always been so gentle when they're intimate- anticipating her every need, every desire. He refrains from biting her in the moment, too afraid to lose control to the lust that burns when he drinks from her. She's always wondered what it’d be like if he did, and though she loves his usual passionate gaze and the gentle rolls of his hips, this untamed inferno they’re swept up in ravages her in its wake and it’s heaven. Right now, all he’s focused on is extracting what he wants until he's sated, and its unintended greed corrupts her thoughts until all she can think about is Astarion, Astarion, Astarion.

She drowns beneath him, lost in the tide of his pleasure as it crashes around her. She wants him to devour her until there’s nothing left- until all he can think about is his own ravenous need and how he can use her to satisfy it.

“‘Felia… almost there…” His words break and shatter, throat hoarse as he pleads into her neck before sinking his teeth in again. Every nip and bite has left bleeding crescents all over her body and she wears them proudly like little red jewels inlaid into her skin.

“Please,” She pants, the word like a brand over their union, clenching around him to draw more of those sweet moans from his mouth. Fire pools in her belly- where his hands are draped adoringly - and she squeezes her eyes shut and gasps against the sensation of his pelvis purposefully grazing her clit with each thrust, making her muscles tense at her approaching climax.

“Going to fill this pretty cunt up,” He growls possessively, slick and juices squelching and dripping off of his shaft with each thrust. She throws her head back, sobbing at his vicious pace. “So perfect and tight… you’re always so wet for me, darling… ” She whimpers, nails scraping his back, careful of the scar tissue as his movements become more erratic. The sounds coming out of his mouth drape her cheeks in the bloom of crushed currants, and she rises to meet him so he can chase his high over the edge. The way he feels as he twitches inside and his claw-like nails move to dig into her hips finally pulls the band taut and she’s fraying at the seams, crying out and holding onto him as tightly as she can manage so she doesn’t get washed away.

He comes with a tortured shout, making good on his promise as he paints her insides white. It’s so warm and there’s so much that she winces at the pressure before feeling it gush out around his still throbbing length. He pants over her, eyes closed and face angled toward the sky, his fingers anchored to her sides as he rides out the aftershocks.

She’s whines in frustration, bucking up into his hands, and he levels an arrogant smirk at her before folding his legs down. Her backside rests over his thighs and as she settles into the angle he’s created, she feels him nudge the tender spot inside that blanks her mind. She rocks her hips on instinct, panting and feeling the tension rise in her belly as his thumb circles the swollen budle of nerves at the top of her slit. At the sound of his deep laugh he drives her clear off the edge, crashing through the haze in her mind like a lightning bolt.

She cries his name, arching into his touch, arms covering her face as she basks in the force of it as it violently claims her body. She can’t remember anything that came before, can’t even remember what her name is as hot tears spill over the corners of her eyes. She vaguely feels him stroking her clammy skin, cradled by a calm sea and staring into the endless void of the night sky.

She’s too busy finding her way back to Toril to notice that he hasn’t softened, instead busying himself with moving her body onto her stomach, somehow still inside her, until he starts to rock into her again. Shivers explode over her skin and her muscles tighten in response, his spend fucked back into her as he holds her hips up and takes her from behind.

“F-fuck, fuck!” She rasps, madly trying to steady herself as he drives his cock into her over and over again. Little tremors spasm through her body as he sinks in, her arms on the ground as meager support until one of his reaches down to circle her waist and hoist her up, back against his chest as he expertly thrusts into her and sinks his teeth into her shoulder.

“Not finished yet?” She whispers breathlessly, feeling a second orgasm lurking on the horizon and she has a feeling that it certainly won’t be the last.

“Not… for a while,” His voice is muffled by the flesh between his teeth and as the rivulets of red trickle down her right breast, his fingers find the tight bud coated in her blood and he roughly pinches.

“Mmm!” She shudders and rests against him for support, soft bursts of light dancing behind her closed lids.

“Gods, have I ever told you how pretty these are?” Her cheeks burn despite the circumstances and she sighs as he cups both swells of her breasts. The tender skin spills over his fingers and she watches him knead carefully before urgency prompts his squeezes to become painful and hungry. She whimpers beneath his bruising grip, grinding her hips down onto him and he groans into her ear, letting up a little to smooth over the lingering aches.

“You’ve… mentioned it a few times… doesn’t hurt to say it again,” She huffs, smirking at his amused eye roll.

“They look much better with these,” He murmurs, fingers ghosting over the many marks he’s left on them tonight. “It should be a sin to keep them hidden beneath all those clothes you wear,”

“Oh yeah, having them out for all to see just for you sounds like a great idea,” He pinches her nipples roughly, earning a yelp that he devours with a kiss.

“Second thought… I’m glad I’m the only one,” He grins as he pulls away, his gaze bleary like he’s drunk on the passion and their lovemaking and she feels a new flame lick at her already raw heart. She’d go through the Nine Hells just to see him like this forever, burning the image in her mind as she takes in his ruddy cheeks full of warmth and his messy hair falling over his crimson eyes. She swears she can almost feel a heartbeat against her back as he captures her lips again, resuming his deep thrusts as he swallows each of her eager moans.

She dissolves into the plushness of his lips, tongue slipping against his as she teases his fangs, a pleased hum vibrating in her chest when they finally unsheath. They knick her and she winces at the sting, but it only serves to ignite his passion anew as he laps at the fresh blood in her mouth and pistons his hips deeper.

“Mine,” He growls, breaking the kiss to let her catch her breath as his lips drop down along her bruised neck. With a rough prod he forces her onto the ground, her elbows bowing out to cradle her head as he loosens the reigns to indulge in heat of the werewolf blood again.

“Star…” She coos, her back arching so he hits just the right angle. Her soft mewls fill the cool night air, saliva tipping over her parted lips as her vision starts to go fuzzy. His teeth sink into the nape of her neck, fingers moving to tangle in her long dark tresses as his other hand reaches around her front and dips between her legs. He provides the relief she’s been seeking as the soft pads of his fingers circle her swollen bud and coax her approaching orgasm out once again. A landslide of bliss steals her mind as she comes again, his growling only devolving further.

“Need… to make sure you’re full,” He rasps into her ear, soft groans muffled through her state of listlessness as she floats gently back down. The hand that had previously been between her legs comes up to press against her belly and she feels him throb, the head of his cock kissing her cervix with each rough roll of his hips. “Mine… want everyone to know you’re mine,” She smiles into her forearms, sensations boiling over and into her tight throat as renewed tears gather around the corners of her eyes. She’s overstimulated and weak, but he’s still making love to her with all the vigor of a freshly fallen evening and she can’t help but meet him in each thrust wanting more, more, more.

“I am yours,” She whispers back, knowing he can hear her despite the volume of her voice. He presses into her belly harder, fingers caressing the skin beneath her navel with such reverence that it makes her whimper. He stills, sinking his teeth back into her abused flesh, and she cries as he comes again, heart so full it feels like it’ll burst.

This time he doesn’t move, doesn’t keep driving into her like his life depends on it. He rocks them side to side gently before deftly grabbing the back of her knee and hissing as his movements jostle their bodies. He drapes her trembling legs over his shoulders, leaning down until his hands cage her head, and his gaze is finally unclouded, seemingly more him than he’s been all night.

“Just two orgasms do werewolves blood doth allow?” She mumbles, head a little light and likely contributing to the silly giggle bubbling up in her throat. He barks a laugh, eyebrows creasing his pale forehead as he squints his eyes shut and she joins him, gasping for breath when she finally can’t take anymore.

“I was going to say something sweet, darling,” He smiles, fingers brushing the hair off her face before lingering over one cheek.

“Don’t let me stop you,” She hums, leaning into the touch.

“Thank you,” The severity in his voice draws her out of her stupor and she blinks up at him, searching his face for the reason. All she finds is his gaze, laden with what she can only describe as warmth, and the way it softens his features makes her heart melt. “Thank you for… helping me through this. I wish I could have spared you from it, in fact… I should have remembered what to expect when fighting werewolves during a full moon. I was a fool,” She squeezes his side affectionately and presses a peck to his lips.

“You’re not a fool… you’ve had a lot on your mind lately. I get it.” An exhale shakes out of him at her words, and she smiles in reply.

“Suppose even further thanks are in order,” He mumbles as he kisses her again, slow and disarming, and she crumbles into it. “You must be a saint to put up with me.” She shrugs, helping to untangle his many loose curls.

“They should give me a statue,” She teases, laughing as his fingers torment her sides. “I wouldn’t have it any other way, Star. I told you I was in it for the long run. No matter what you’re going through,” His features crumple again and she gasps when his lips crash against hers, feeling her body reignite as his softening length stiffens inside her again. Once he’s fully hard he drags out of her until only the tip remains nestled between her folds and when he pulls away to peer into her eyes, there’s something so frail and sensitive there that it steals her breath.

“I still don’t know what we are… but I don’t ever want to lose you.” He mumbles, and despite all the turmoil between them, their rocky start, and her at times unrequited feelings… she’s certain she can read between the lines, even if he’s not ready to say it yet. She’ll wait for him until she’s old and weak and even then, past all that… she’ll still love him.

“You never will.” She fights past the tears, wrapping her arms around his neck as he reclaims her lips. Where their movements had been an inferno before, now they’re as soft as the rolling currents of a serene river. It doesn’t take long for them to end up shaking together in their shared embrace, clambering back into their prisons of flesh from highs breathtakingly transcendent. Words fail compared to the enormity of how she feels for him as he presses kisses over his bruising bite marks and soothes her tender skin with his hands, body aching all over.

“Think you can carry me back?” She mumbles as he covers each mark with saliva, sealing any open wounds as he moves down her torso.

“You’re too heavy.” He mumbles flatly and she gasps.

“Wow, seriously?” She snaps, crossing her arms over her chest to shoot daggers at his playful grin.

“Bring any strength potions with you?”

“That’s it I swear to g-ah!” She exclaims, hips jerking into his waiting hands as he nips the inside of her thigh. His amused laugh fills her ears, her stomach fluttering with enthusiasm even though she’s supposed to be angry, and she pinches his ear until he pathetically bats her hand away.

“It’s too easy,” His dark eyes swallow her whole when he moves back above her, and she finds her flaring temper waning in the depths of them.

“I’m glad it’s entertaining for you, making fun of me,” The hard edge in her voice weakens as his lips drop to her jaw.

“It is, my sweet.” She sighs, squirming in his arms as his hands reach around her back and gently scoop her up into his lap. Suddenly freezing, she presses to his chest, still mildly warm thanks to the copious blood consumption, and presses the icy tip of her nose against the hollow of his throat. His touch is soothing as he runs soft fingers up and down her spine, nuzzling into the mess her hair has become before he rises and she clings to him for dear life.

“I was totally kidding before- I really am too heavy Astarion.” She looks down at the ground and her tattered clothes, lamp long gone somewhere along the chase, and shawl bunched into a dirty bundle at their feet.

“Nonsense, I drank a lot tonight. I’m stronger now,” She huffs, leaving the protests there. He sets her briefly on her feet to adjust his trousers- as best as he can after destroying them too- and wraps the shawl around her shoulders before securing her in his arms.

“So… what was all that talk about filling me up? You sure vampires can’t get people pregnant here?” He chokes and coughs a nervous laugh, eyes trained ahead.

“It was the blood,” He protests, thought that high lilt to his voice condemns him.

“Uh huh. I’m not going to have a baby in three months and we’re going to have to name it something ridiculous- oh! How about a mashup of our last names since we don’t know our parents!” He lifts his upper lip in a sneer and looks down at her, brows etched in disapproval.

“Spare me,” He grumbles and she laughs, knowing the joke is lost on him. “I… believe the blood had an effect on me. That’s all I’m willing to discuss on the matter.”

“You’re seriously no fun. I can’t believe you don’t want to name our child Anatez or Moncunin or something-”

“Gods, Ofelia, no, I can’t get you pregnant.” He snarls and she giggles until he shifts and silences her with a rough smack on her bottom. “Those are appalling choices, darling.”

“The hormones will force you to let me name it one of those two, you won’t have any say in the matter.” She’s pretty sure she can see his eyes roll into the back of his skull. “Anyway, it was really nice. I wouldn’t mind if that behavior made a reappearance in the future.” He cocks a brow, ruby eyes narrowing on her.

“No?”

“Nah,” She smiles, fingers tightening around the back of his neck as he continues to carry her through the woods.

They make it back to camp almost unnoticed. A certain cleric is awake, brushing her long white hair under the last of the moon’s light, and when her eyes fall on them and the state of their bodies, she rolls her pretty green eyes.

Astarion drops Ofelia gently onto their mess of blankets and pillows once inside their tent, her shawl spilling open to expose her to his gaze. His eyes drag over her body with an almost careful desire, slotting himself between her legs as he opens his pack to pluck a health potion out of it.

“Drink this,” He lifts her head, and though she can do it just fine herself, she relishes in the tenderness of his touch as she drains the bottle and feels all the aches and pains flow into the earth below. His bites recede into dark, crescent impressions against her skin as they usually would if she were to only down a potion after his normal feedings. She sighs, knowing he’s likely not used a scroll of lesser restoration on purpose so the evidence of their time together isn’t completely wiped from existence, but it’s almost sweet in a way. His little acts of declaring their bond to the world, no matter whether he does so consciously or not, still leave her heart catching on every other beat and she pulls him down beside her so they can curl up together beneath the quilts and sheets.

“Got a fourth in you?” She mumbles sleepily as he pulls her against his chest, feeling him stiff at her back

“Just need to make sure nothing more leaks out tonight…” A rush of heat rockets down her body and she grins, delighting in the sensation of being filled again even as exhaustion shuts her eyes for her. He kisses her softly as he bids her goodnight, the last thing she thinks before drifting off being how perfectly they slot together.

With the fast approaching of morning, they pack up for the day and dress for the last leg of their journey. Fatigue from the previous night’s activities joins the heavy packs weighing them down and his fingers linger on the buckles he secures along her armor, fondness clouding his gaze as she pulls him in for a lingering kiss.

Kicking at some stones, they idly chit-chat as the others make pleasant conversation or discuss the city no longer so far off. The late afternoon sun burns on, warming them some against the brisk chill of the wind as summer fades to a distant memory. She meets his eyes when he crowds into her space after they’ve all stopped for a break, a wicked smile tugging at the corners of his lips as his shameless fingers dip beneath the slits in her dress to massage her upper thighs.

“Think we can get away for a bit?” He mumbles, quiet enough that the others don’t hear. She cocks a brow, feeling a bit coy herself as the monotony of the last few hours dissolves from her bleary gaze.

“It’s too bad that werewolf blood isn’t still running through your veins…” She teases as he peppers ticklish kisses along her tingling cheeks.

“Perhaps it wore off on me more than I let on,” His words are punctuated with a gravelly growl that sends a shock through her. Memories of his heat, close on her heels as he chases her under the stars, has her blood soaring south and she clears her throat to aim an innocent smile up at him.

“Race me to that empty farmhouse we passed a few minutes ago?” She whispers in his ear and his deep chuckle stokes the fires between them, eyes flashing in recognition.

“Run,”

#incredible smut #incredible writing #this is perfect in every way #fic recs

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